Operation Mercury

by John Sadler

  If a stand was to be made then the range of low hills around Galatas was an excellent choice as the topography favoured the defender; the sweeping bracket of hills before the town begins in the north where Red Hill rises beyond the ribbon of the coast road. The ridge that bends east encompassed Wheat Hill, Pink Hill and, at the eastern extremity, the lump of Cemetery Hill that pushed forward into the dead zone of no man’s land. The arc of this high ground was bisected by Ruin Ridge, with the crest of Ruin Hill rising to the west.

  On paper Puttick’s forces were more than adequate but he had withdrawn most of the fighting formations to the rear – the whole of 5 Brigade. No use of potential reinforcement from Chania/Souda had been proposed, so the actual defenders comprised the various ad hoc formations which had, with considerable gallantry, secured the line till now. These were, on Pink Hill, the remnant of the Petrol Company, with Major Russell’s improvised detachment of largely support personnel. Further north lay the Composite Battalion holding the ground from Wheat Hill to the shore.

  It may be surmised that Puttick intended the fight for Galatas to be no more than a holding action while a further withdrawal was in hand. He had positioned two fresh, first class battalions, both Australian, 2/7th and 2/8th, as the ‘hinge’ on which such a further retreat would turn.

  The weary defenders could clearly discern the steady reinforcement of Heidrich’s survivors as the 23rd wore on. The paratroops would not, in fact, be expected to play a significant role in the attack. They were regarded by their replacements from the Mountain Division as being played out, not that the Alpinists had any sympathy for the cream of the Luftwaffe.

  If the New Zealanders possessed one vital asset it was Howard Kippenberger. It was he who, during the night of 23/24 May, persuaded Puttick to release 18th Battalion to shore up the right flank and to place the defence under Inglis’ command, making the battle very much a 4 Brigade affair. With the Brigadier keeping his HQ back toward the coast road and Kippenberger ranging along the line, there was little more that could be done.

  With the Composite Battalion being withdrawn to the line of Ruin Ridge, Gray’s 18th took up positions on Red and Wheat Hills but left out Ruin Hill. Grey simply did not have sufficient troops to hold his extended line, which reached from the coast in the north-west to the ground held by Russell Force to the east. The opportunity was not wasted and, during the 24th, three German companies from the 1st Battalion of 100 Mountain Regiment dug in on the reverse slopes and positioned their heavy mortars to enfilade Red Hill. If they could clear this then they could repeat the performance and drive the defenders from Wheat Hill in turn.

  Throughout the day the 18th fought with courage and resolution, closing on the flanks of the new salient. So fierce were they that Colonel Utz, bearing in mind Ringel’s maxim ‘sweat saves blood’, decided to leave Galatas well alone until the Stukas could be called in the following day. Despite the stout resistance offered by the New Zealanders, their numbers were still few.

  When Kippenberger walked the line of the Composite Battalion’s new positions next morning he was keenly aware that both officers and men were exhausted. Moving reserves up from east of Galatas during daylight hours was virtually impossible, all that was immediately available were the tired remnants of 20th Battalion. Even the aggressive Kippenberger felt an intimation of impending disaster.

  In contrast to their depleted adversaries, the Germans, since Utz had drawn a halt on the 24th, were building up their strength so as to be able to launch a concerted series of attacks all along the line; exactly the level of pressure Kippenberger feared. In echelon from the north, Ramcke Group would attack with two battalions, then 2nd Battalion of 100 Mountain Regiment, the 1st in close support and finally, the remains of Heidrich’s paratroopers on the southern flank. Utz, leading the Alpine troops, would deliver the main blow, his battalions augmented by the addition of all of the anti-tank and artillery formations – a most powerful spearhead.

  Against this formidable firepower Colonel Gray had only a handful of mortar bombs remaining. Upon request for re-supply he was issued with thirty more – all there was to be had.39 The Germans had conceived a high regard for these stubborn and resilient New Zealanders and were cautious about throwing men into the attack without air support – ‘sweat saves blood’. Ramcke’s brigade had called down Stukas in the morning and Utz spent a frustrating afternoon awaiting his. As there was a marked and understandable reluctance to force the issue on the ground with the risk that the attackers were then caught by their own bombs, the afternoon wore on with only sporadic fighting.

  The twin bastions of Wheat Hill and Pink Hill were crucial objectives of a successful assault and dominated any attempt to infiltrate over the lower ground. In the late afternoon, when the Cretan sun was at its strongest, the pressure of Ramcke’s attack in the north, sustained by overwhelming fire support, began to wear down the defenders in that sector. Inglis sent in his two reserve companies, all the 20th had left to offer, to seal the breach. Even the battle hardened Fallschirmjäger were awed by the ferocity of these New Zealanders who simply refused to give up their positions regardless of the weight of bombardment.

  With his final reserves now battling in the line, Kippenberger faced the full weight of Utz’s attack once the Stukas had again assaulted Galatas; the siren wail of these deadly dive-bombers, competing with the shock of exploding bombs and the incessant crack of the Axis mortars firing from Ruin Hill. Into this inferno Utz committed his elite attack formations. As he was receiving repeated requests from the harassed defenders of Wheat Hill for permission to retreat, Kippenberger went forward to see for himself the effect of the German bombardment:

  [I] went forward a few hundred yards to get a view of Wheat Hill and for a few moments watched, fascinated, the rain of mortar bursts. In a hollow, nearly covered by undergrowth, I came on a party of women and children, huddled together like little birds. They looked at me silently with black, terrified eyes.40

  The pressure was intense, by sheer weight of metal and numbers Utz’s battalions were able to bludgeon their way forward. Every man who fell amongst the defenders was irreplaceable.

  Captain Bassett, attempting to move within the New Zealanders’ shrinking perimeter, found the effort:

  Like a nightmare race, dodging falling branches, and I made for the right company and got myself on their ridge only to find myself in a hive of grey-green figures so beat a hasty retreat sideways until I reached Gray’s headquarters … He greeted me with ‘Thank God Bassett, my right flank’s gone, can you give us a vigorous counter-attack at once?’ … a nest of snipers penetrated into the houses pelted at me and a Stuka keeping a baleful eye on me only (or it so it seemed) cratered the road as I scuttled.41

  By early evening, around 6.30 p.m., Gray himself went forward to try and steady the line but with both flanks ready to fold. He managed, by this valiant example, to stem the rot but, all too soon, the dazed and exhausted men were reeling back in a steady trickle which threatened to turn into a spate. Within half an hour the defenders’ positions on Wheat Hill had been forced and the companies flanking the position driven in. A major breach now gaped.

  Then came Kippenberger:

  Suddenly the trickle of stragglers turned into a stream, many of them on the verge of panic. I walked among them shouting ‘Stand for New Zealand’ and everything else I could think of. The RSM of the 18th, Andrews came up and asked how he could help. With him and Johnny Sullivan, the intelligence officer of the 20th, we quickly got them organised under the nearest officers and NCOs, in most cases the men responding with alacrity.42

  Such was the heroism of a single man at the moment of crisis that others would never forget the image or the inspiration, ‘…in the middle of it all this mighty, mighty man’.43 The Brigadier’s intervention helped to stem what was becoming a rout and the men fell back in as orderly a manner as the weight of German fire would allow. As the relentless pressure seemed only to intensify, the southern companies bent and
then folded back toward Galatas itself.

  German infantry advancing under a heavy barrage of mortar and aerial strafing, completely blanketing our positions, and when the barrage lifted they were right amongst us with machine and Tommy guns, putting up a murderous fire. We got the order to retire and how we got through such a hail of lead I don’t know yet. As we made our way back in small groups the planes got in among us strafing, the bullets clipping the bark and branches from the trees all around us. Our line of retreat to Galatas was being bombed so the obvious thing to do was to bypass the village. Two friends and I stuck together and got back all right to the next line of defence.44

  Lieutenant Dill, he who had earlier sought a bath in the foreknowledge of the weight of the blow that was about to fall, was amongst those mortally wounded, and was dragged back to join the swelling horror around the Regimental Aid Post, now deluged with scores of wounded men. Kippenberger was forming a new defensive line along the crest of the Daratsos Ridge which angled north-eastwards before the village of Karatsos. Colonel Gray, ‘looking twenty years older than three hours before’, was among the last to retire.

  A frantic message to Inglis, borne by the redoubtable Captain Dawson, had produced a motley assortment of last ditch reserves, the 4 Brigade Band, a concert party, a rather random, divisional music outfit ‘half orchestra – half NAAFI’ and a pioneer battalion. The only combat ready formation to appear was a single company from the 23rd – immediately deployed to forge a hinge with the remnants of the 20th clinging to the right flank.

  In the midst of the shooting the gallant Sergeant Andrews was hit in the stomach. Kippenberger records, with regret, how he felt he should never see this stalwart again. In fact, Andrews survived and the pair met up again in Italy in 1944.45 For a brief moment, in the true course of this whirlwind battle, a sort of calm appeared to descend and hopes were raised that the Germans had, at least for this day, shot their bolt; far from it.

  The truncated line was a rough wedge shape; on the long southern side, the 19th and Russell Force were hanging on and the superlative Petrol Company still clung grimly to the summit of Pink Hill, the last such bastion still in Allied hands. To the north the 18th paused and drew breath whilst Galatas itself pushed like an unsteady salient into no man’s land at the apex.

  Utz had decided to commit the 1st Battalion, which had escaped relatively unscathed, unlike his other units which had sustained heavy losses. Like the New Zealanders the Germans were feeling the pressure but these were, effectively, fresh troops and Utz was aware that if he offered the defenders a night’s respite, much of his hard won gains might be jeopardised.

  Schrank, in command of the 1st, was supported by a detachment of engineers from 3rd Battalion. He was to attack Russell Force from the south whilst the survivors of 2nd Battalion fought through the narrow streets of Galatas. Both sides had now committed all the forces available; it was do or die.

  After a savage fight lasting half an hour the few remnants of the Petrol Company had been driven off Pink Hill, and Russell Force, as they fell back toward Galatas, discovered there were no friendly troops on their right, the whole position was imperilled. The line could no longer be held, the battle appeared lost but Inglis, after he’d heard of the fall of Wheat Hill, had cast around for any further reserves he could lay his hands on. What came to hand was Lieutenant Roy Farran and his two light tanks which had survived the earlier, unsuccessful attempt on Pirgos.

  Farran, joined by a further two companies from the 23rd, was sent up to Kippenberger who flung the tanks into a charge through the streets of Galatas, now swarming with Germans. This bought some precious time; time to order the newcomers to prepare to retake the town at the point of the bayonet; no time for subtlety of approach, a straight dash forward behind the tanks and into the maelstrom.

  When Roy Farran returned from his reconnaissance foray he reported the town ‘stiff with Jerries’. In true Hussar spirit he was prepared to go again but already had two wounded crew. Volunteer replacements came forward from a group of detached engineers and these received a ten minutes crash course in armoured warfare before the attack was put in.

  The orders for the assault were brutally concise:

  D Company will be attacking on the left of the road, and we have two tanks in support but the whole show is stiff with Huns. It’s going to be a bloody show but we’ve just got to succeed. Sandy, you will be on the right, Tex on the left. Now for Christ’s sake get cracking.46

  As the infantry slogged from the start line behind the rumble and clatter of the tanks, picking up momentum, now jogging towards the town, all sorts of individuals, carried away by the urgency of the moment fell in with them. Inevitably Captain Forrester of the Buffs, still without a helmet, was amongst these, at least one survivor from the valiant Petrol Company, happy for a chance to even the score, and a steady swell of men from the 18th and 20th, battered, bruised, bloodied but still undefeated.

  Colonel Gray, still full of fight, had gathered a contingent from his battalion and would later recall how he would never forget the wild battle cries of the New Zealanders as they surged into the narrow streets, Farran’s light tanks blazing away at their head.

  In Galatas the Germans had thought that it was all over, at least for that night, and that they would continue to mop up in the morning. The storm that suddenly broke around them, terrifying in its suddenness, came as a very rude awakening. Before they realised it, the attackers were amongst them and a savage mêlée raged through streets and houses, the tanks hosing fire like demented metal monsters.

  For a crazed interval, Roy Farran revved around the main square, firing at anything and everything whilst the infantry, winkling defenders from the warren of cellars, briefly lagged behind. The tank was drenched in fire, rounds smacking from the armour plating, tracer dancing like lethal fireflies. As the startled Axis called down a mortar strike, the percussion of bursting rounds swelled the concert of battle and a hit to the rear of the turret nearly propelled Farran clear of the vehicle.

  The 23rd had been detailed to penetrate no further than the square but, finding themselves under fire, with the prospect of a clear cut victory and their blood white hot, they could not be held back. Again they charged:

  The consternation at the far side [of the square] was immediately apparent. Screams and shouts showed desperate panic in front of us and I suddenly knew that we had caught them ill prepared and in the act of forming up. Had our charge been delayed even minutes the position could easily have been reversed. By now we were stepping over groaning forms, and those which rose against us fell to our bayonets with their eighteen inches of steel entering throats and chests with the same hesitant ease as when we had used them on the straw packed dummies in Burnham. One of the boys behind me lurched heavily against me and fell at my feet, clutching his stomach. His restraint burbled in his throat for half a second as he fought against it, but stomach wounds are painful beyond human power of control and his screams soon rose above all the others. The Hun seemed in full flight. From doors, windows and roofs they swarmed wildly, falling over one another – there was little fire against us now.47

  Throughout the battle for the streets of Galatas the fighting was savage, intense and, generally without quarter – Private D. Seaton took on a German machine gun, advancing steadily across open ground, using his Bren like a Tommy gun and firing from the hip. This cost him his life but comrades had worked around the gunner’s flanks, secured by his covering fire and destroyed the nest with grenades.

  Against seemingly insuperable odds the line had been restored. This epic charge and the wild, bloody mêlée in the lanes and dense packed houses, from the dark maze of ancient cellars to the fire swept killing ground of the square Galatas was, once again, in Allied hands. The fury of the counter stroke, tellingly supported by tanks, severely dented German morale. Utz’s exhausted and demoralised troops were convinced this was not a purely local incident but the start of a general Allied offensive, the prospect of which h
ad haunted them since the first cull of paratroops on 20 May.

  Our life style and instincts instruct us

  More cogently than any military precepts.

  Forward for New Zealand!

  Chapter 8

  One Large Stench

  One final word about the reasons for the defeat. By common consent they were in feriority of land equipment and the enemy’s practically undisputed mastery of the air. As for in feriority of land equipment, we might indeed have had more guns and more tanks in Crete if, like the enemy, we had been preparing for war for eight years; but only if we had had enough to be strong everywhere could we have been strong enough in Crete. But even if every aeroplane we had produced had been in the Middle East, we could not have got any greater fighter strength over the battlefield, and we could not have smashed the air-borne invasion in the air. Even with this colossal handicap, the issue of the battle hung in the balance for five or six days; and the course of the battle showed the enemy’s best troops were no better than ours.1

  Galatas had been a superbly fought action, driving the Germans from their gains in what appeared to be a moment of consolidation. Every Allied soldier who took part would know he had fought in an epic. It was, however, in strategic terms, no more than a delaying action. The place could not be held and Kippenberger recalled the bloodied and weary victors as, once again, a rain of German mortars began to pound the reeking streets and smashed houses.