by John Sadler
As the fast warships, moving at full speed, surged along the coast of Crete, the rather ramshackle fleet Student had been ordered by Hitler to assemble, comprised some twenty odd commandeered caiques, a handful of coastal steamers and only a single escort, the Italian destroyer Lupo and four torpedo boats; on board some 2,330 soldiers, mostly from Ringel’s 5th Division, with an array of heavy weapons, field and AA guns, tanks, motorcycles and transport vehicles. For these Alpine troops the sea was as foreign as the skies: ‘Few of us had been on board a ship in our lives.’4
At 11.15 p.m. Glennie’s ships fell upon this flotilla in a singularly one sided engagement. The job was quite simply to kill Germans, as many as possible, and to send their heavy weapons to the bottom of the Mediterranean. For the men on board the British warships this was an opportunity to strike a blow – to make up for the hours of nerve shredding bombing and strafing they’d endured. It did not go to waste; for two and a half hours Student’s armada was rammed, shot up and machine gunned; few of the leading vessels survived.
It was distasteful to fire on the hapless Greek crews press-ganged into hated service but this was war at its most brutal and business like. The job was to frustrate a seaborne attack and this was ruthlessly accomplished. The German flotilla, as a tool for invasion, was a total write-off, neither men nor any matériel reached the shore. The Royal Navy had fulfilled its promise to the letter. Jahnke, a soldier with the 5th Division, recounted the terror of the ordeal:
Suddenly and without warning the sky was filled with brilliant white parachute flares which lit up whole areas of the sea. The blinding light lasted for about three minutes … then searchlights swept across the water and fixed on the ship ahead and to our port side. We saw several flashes from behind one of the beams and soon realised that these must be from enemy guns because … shells began to explode on that caique. Soon she was alight and we could see our boys jumping into the sea. Our ship was illuminated by the fire and the lieutenant told us to put on our life jackets and to remove our heavy, nailed boots. Barely had we done this when we too were caught by the searchlights … We formed two ranks. Our officer called ‘Good luck boys!’ and ordered our first rank to jump into the sea … All this happened in less than five minutes ... [but] everything seemed to slow down so that it seemed as if hours had passed. The water was very cold and the shock of it took my breath away.5
The Lupo did her best to protect the convoy. Hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, her captain fought his ship with great skill, courage and determination, despite the many hits she took. Having accomplished his mission, Glennie withdrew his squadron while still shrouded by the cloak of darkness. Cunningham was later to criticise this decision for it left King, still sweeping the north coast as dawn began to filter, exposed.
It was known that two flotillas had left the mainland. One was accounted for but that still left another which could not be allowed to proceed unmolested. Force C, therefore, continued on its northward course, soon sighted by enemy spotters and then harassed by scores of dive bombers. The AA Waltz struck up its deadly tune, Bofors and Oerlikons blasting in continuous, ear shattering concert throwing up the umbrella of fire and the enemy aircraft swooped and screamed like flocks of demonic gulls.
Mid morning and the British were less than a score of miles from the island of Milos, having already passed the small islands of Ios and Thera.6 Then, having sighted a scattering of ships and a couple of enemy destroyers, the second convoy was discovered, a plum ripe for picking. At this point, however, King decided not to attack, a decision which later brought obvious criticism.
His expressed reasoning was that his ships’ supply of ammunition was already too low; he then ordered them to discontinue the attack and clear away westwards. Cunningham, when he read his subordinate’s signal to this effect, was outraged and immediately sent a reply ordering King to engage and destroy regardless of hazard. But by now the convoy had panicked into a random dispersal and scattered – the effect, in terms of the fight for Crete, was the same as it if had been sent to the bottom; neither troops nor equipment reached the island. The Navy had not broken its promise.
For the sailors of Force C there was another pressing concern, the prospect of a four hour dash to the Kithera Channel under continuous and sustained aerial bombardment. Now the might of the Luftwaffe, their aircraft barely thirty minutes’ flying time away, was pitted against the skill and resolution of the Royal Navy and its exhausted gunners who faced the further, potential horror of their ammunition running out.
With Carlisle, the slowest ship incapable of more than twenty knots, and Naiad damaged by bombs, the duel began in earnest. The more damage sustained by individual ships and the slower the overall speed and manoeuvrability of the fleet, the quicker the precious ammunition was expended. Realising the desperate plight of his ships Cunningham ordered the main battle fleet, which now included Glennie’s squadron, to steam eastwards and add their greater firepower to the fight.
It was now a fight to the finish. Like hungry hawks, spotting their prey below, the Luftwaffe pilots pounced, again and again, throwing their planes against the wall of fire, those refuelling, rushing back into the storm. Warspite was hit and damaged, losing part of her formidable arsenal. Greyhound on a solo mission was bombed into oblivion, sinking in fifteen minutes. Kandahar and Kingston were detailed to pick up survivors, supported by the guns of Gloucester and Fiji – both withdrawn when it was realised in what parlous state their ammunition reserves stood. This was an opportunity which the circling predators were sure not to miss, nor did they; Gloucester was lost.7
Charles Maddon, Executive Officer on Warspite, provided a graphic account of what it was like in the confined spaces of a warship when such colossal punishment struck:
One four inch mounting had gone overboard completely .. there was a huge hole in the deck … from which smoke and steam were pouring out. I … went down to the port six inch battery … to try to get at the seat of the fire through the armoured door that connected the port and starboard six inch battery decks … We had great difficulty in opening the door and had to use a sledgehammer. Finally, it gave, to display a gruesome scene. The starboard battery was full of flames and smoke, in among which the cries of burned and wounded men could be heard. This was very unnerving … I was soon joined by more fire parties … but was hampered by the continued cries of the burned men, which distracted the fire parties who wanted to leave their hoses to assist their comrades. I therefore concentrated on administering morphia … As it was dark and wounded men were thrown in all directions amongst piles of iron work and rubbish this was not easy .. I then went to the starboard mess decks where a fresh scene of carnage greeted me … When all was in control I went to the bridge to report. The calm blue afternoon seemed unreal after the dark and smelly carnage below.8
The gallant Fiji fought a heroic but doomed fight; by 8.15 p.m. she turned turtle and went down. At least the two destroyers were on hand to pick up survivors as the sheltering darkness once again enfolded the battered ships. Cunningham’s last and freshest reserve was Mountbatten’s 5th Destroyer Flotilla. This he committed to a further sweep of the north coast via the Kithera Channel. Due to an error in the signals which confused the words ‘empty’ and ‘plenty’ – a significant confusion when reporting upon the capital ships’ supplies of ammunition – Cunningham had decided not to commit his ships to a further night’s action.
This now left the five K class destroyers of Mountbatten’s squadron exposed in their westward dash to the Channel. Sleek and very fast, these nimble vessels confounded the dawn chorus of dive bombers but, as the morning wore on, the attacks intensified. Kashmir was the first to succumb, soon followed by the flagship Kelly which continued her mad 30-knot dash even in her death throes. Had not one of the surviving vessels turned back to pick them up then all aboard would likely have been lost. Despite the fury of the onslaught unleashed against her, Kipling was successful in rescuing survivors and in returning, amazingly unsca
thed, though out of fuel, to Alexandria.
In the course of the sea and air battle the Navy had prevented the German convoys reaching the battle zone. Admiral Cunningham had been true to his promise, but the cost to the Navy in men and ships had been fearful. The survivors, limping into Alexandria, were in a frightful state. The Admiral thus intimated to London that further naval operations would be too costly to contemplate:
I am afraid that in the coastal area we have to admit defeat and accept the fact that losses are too great to justify us in trying to prevent seaborne attacks on Crete. This is a melancholy conclusion but it must be faced.9
By way of reply the chiefs of staff (or more likely the Prime Minister) remained obdurate, stressing the need for operational sorties to be made, in daylight if necessary, in support of the land battle, regardless of the scale of loss that would, as it surely must, result.
Cunningham was brutally direct in his riposte:
It is not the fear of sustaining losses which will cripple the fleet without any commensurate advantage which is the determining factor in operating in the Aegean … The experience of three days in which two cruisers and four destroyers have been sunk, and one battleship, two cruisers and four destroyers severely damaged shows what losses are likely to be. Sea control in the Eastern Mediterranean could not be retained after another such experience.10
In the first major trial of strength between a conventional battle fleet and a determined air force, the destructive capacity of the planes had been clearly demonstrated. Victory had gone to the Luftwaffe though the Navy had made good its promise to thwart any seaborne reinforcement. The question would now have to be resolved by the troops of both sides so hotly engaged on the ground.
Chapter 7
Bombed from the Earth – the Turning Point
I should have realised that some of my Commanders, men from World War One, were too old … to stand up to the strain of an all-out battle of the nature that eventually developed around Maleme Airfield … I should have replaced that old age group with younger men who … stood up much better to the physical and mental strain of a long and bitter series of battles.1
In the illusory baroque splendour of the Hotel Grand Bretagne, General Kurt Student was a very worried man. He had just cause. Though early reports, during the morning and early afternoon of 20 May, had provided an optimistic picture, more detailed assessments, coming in through the evening, painted an altogether different picture. The operation appeared, at this stage, a total shambles – a much more numerous and better prepared enemy, catastrophic losses and nothing, particularly not a single airstrip, to show for it all.
That evening the General’s staff were joined by both Lohr and Ringel, neither of whom was overly well disposed toward Student. If the affair did turn into a fiasco there need be no question of where the full weight of the blame should land. Casualties had been heaviest amongst the officers; those troops who remained on the ground were scattered and, in many cases, leaderless.
An early hope that the strength of the reception at Maleme implied Rethymnon and Heraklion were only lightly held, had been dashed. Student knew that most of his officer colleagues could be counted as enemies. These would not hesitate to withdraw the battered survivors if the tactical situation did not improve dramatically and soon.
Lohr, like most senior officers in May 1941, was driven by the need to conform to the demands of Barbarossa. Ringel could scarcely be expected to willingly hazard his division in an operation which appeared to have already consumed most of 7th Airborne without establishing a viable bridgehead.
A lesser man than Student might have suffered a loss of nerve but he was prepared to cling to the vestige of hope that the situation at Maleme appeared to offer. At this point the airstrip was not taken but the fact the attackers had even the flimsiest of toeholds, justified the commitment the remaining few companies held in reserve:
At no point [Student observed later] did we succeed completely in occupying an airfield. The greatest degree of progress was achieved on Maleme airfield, where the valuable assault Regiment fought against picked New Zealand troops. The night of May 20th/21st was critical for the German Command. I had to make a momentous decision. I decided to use the mass of the parachute reserves, still at my disposal for the final capture of Maleme airfield.2
Having faced down his opponents, at least for the moment, the General retired. He was under no illusions, nor did he sleep but stayed awake all night to await further news; his pistol on the bedside table. He had no doubt as to the course expected of him should the final failure of the attack have to be conceded; failure in the Third Reich was not permitted.
The General might indeed have been tempted to reach for his Luger had he been aware that the operational order for 3 Parachute Regiment was in Freyberg’s hands. This document, besides the detail on individual unit targets, made it quite clear that the Germans were very considerably at risk from a single, concerted counter-attack.3
Crucially, as this vital intelligence was being digested, 5 Brigade’s battalion commanders had convened a hasty conference at which Colonel Leckie was presiding. No decisions were taken other than to consolidate, despite the fact that they knew the enemy to have suffered serious loss whilst their own had been considerably less. Brigadier Hargest seemed no more aggressively inclined.
When the utterly exhausted Andrew arrived at his HQ, by Bren carrier at 5.00 a.m. on the 21st, Hargest merely advised that the 22nd Battalion must stay in the line but he made no comment on the need for counter-attack. When Andrew, with the Brigade Major, Captain Dawson, returned to his men, their joint orders went no further than ‘discussing’ new defensive arrangements.
The clock that would finally decide the fate of Crete and its garrison was already ticking and it is likely that Freyberg was correct in his retrospective analysis. The men leading 5 Brigade were brave and competent. Their failing was not dereliction of duty but one of comprehension. They did not understand the true nature of the battle that was being fought.
Student possessed one inestimable asset – he was in radio contact with the survivors at Maleme. He had little more than 500 fresh troops in hand. To gain a clearer view of the situation at Maleme he detailed Captain Kleye from his staff to embark on a personal reconnaissance. Kleye was an excellent choice:
… a bold go-getting character on my staff and told him to take a Ju52 and land at Maleme in order to get a personal feeling of how things were going with the Storm Regiment … he managed to land on the airfield and also to get off again although fired at by the enemy. In this way he was able to bring back the important information that the western edge of the airstrip lay in dead ground.4
His aircraft touched down on the airstrip at Maleme around 7.00 a.m. on 21st and, despite intense ground fire, successfully unloaded its much appreciated load of ammunition. At virtually the same time a Lieutenant Koenitz, acting on his own initiative, managed to land another transport on the beach at the mouth of the Tavronitis. He too carried more precious munitions; many of the survivors were down almost to their final rounds.
Amongst the wounded Koenitz was able to evacuate, was Meindl himself, now delirious from his wounds. Thereafter reinforcements from the reserves began to arrive. Kleye returned to report that the day was by no means lost and that an opportunity existed to secure the airstrip. Despite the withdrawal of Andrew’s companies the German assault on Hill 107 was not unopposed, indeed the Germans reported some heavy fighting, indicating they’d run into Cretan partisans and stragglers from 22nd Battalion.
Student’s revised plan was that the remnants of the Assault Regiment, once their grip on Hill 107 was assured, should push along the coast toward Pirgos. Colonel Bernhard Ramcke would lead the fresh drop which would straddle the airfield east and west. The advance was slow and halting, the paratroopers still shaken by their rough reception the day before, calling down the Stukas whenever they caught a whiff of opposition.
By mid afternoon, however, they had success
fully occupied both Maleme and Pirgos. The airstrip, though not yet beyond the range of the defenders’ guns, was in their hands. The tide had begun to flow and, once turned, would be impossible to halt.
The New Zealand officers, other than sniping and some long range firing, did nothing to check this advance; rather they concentrated on consolidating a linear defence with the remnants of 22nd Battalion re-deployed in the gap between the other two. As the German patrols began to probe the line, and air attacks intensified, the defenders braced themselves and, as the Germans then attacked, opened a withering fire which accounted for as many as 200 of the paratroops.
Major Wenning was, once again, back in the air and directing the drop:
As we reach the coast and turn towards the dropping-zone we can see the fighting below. Everywhere in the area we see yesterday’s parachutes like countless points of light below. During the drop my ‘plane suffers two mishaps. One parachutist, just preparing to jump, is badly wounded by a shot from the ground but he jumps anyway. And the last man to go baulks; he does not want to jump. We have already passed over the ground where we have put down his unit but he must jump and now he is ready to do so. So we repeat the manoeuvre while the other planes turn for home. And we fly out to sea, turn towards the coast, dropping to 150 metres off the ground. All the fire of the defence is now concentrated on our plane but despite this we succeed in reaching our position. The man jumps and now we turn and head at full speed toward the open sea. Flak riddles our plane but causes no serious damage.5
Barely had the sound of firing died away than the eastern prong of Ramcke’s assault began its jump. In the mistaken belief that the New Zealand line ran through Pirgos and Maleme, these men, under Lieutenant Nagele, were dropped west of Platanias in an attempt to encircle the Allied survivors. Instead the parachutists experienced a repeat of the previous day’s fighting, falling directly onto the bayonets of the defenders.