Jackals' Revenge

by Iain Gale

  ‘As you wish, sir. May I say it has been an honour to be of service to you, sir. I wish you luck.’

  The King smiled. ‘Thank you, Captain. Good luck to you too.’

  Lamb was attempting to find Anna when Comberwell came across him. ‘I say, is it true? You’re leaving us?’

  ‘’Fraid so, Comberwell. They can make better use of us in the north, or wherever our front line is now. If there still is one.’

  ‘In that case you must allow me to have a rifle. You’ve seen I’m pretty useful with one. What harm can it do? If the Jerries find us we’ll need every man we can get.’

  Lamb stopped and stared at him. ‘I doubt very much that the Jerries will find you. And even if they do I’m sure you’ll acquit yourself well, Comberwell, or whatever your real name is.’

  Comberwell stiffened. ‘What? Sorry, Lamb. Don’t quite get you.’

  ‘Oh, come off it. I’ve known ever since Athens that one of you was an agent. A spy. In the pay of London. It has to be you.’

  Lamb thought he detected a smile on the man’s face. ‘Still got me, I’m afraid. Agent? Spy? Sorry.’

  ‘I give up.’

  ‘About that rifle, old man.’

  ‘Oh, take a bloody rifle if you want one. Old man.’

  Lamb left him and walked away. In a dark corner of the cloister he found Anna, sitting on her own. She frowned at him.

  ‘Bandouvas told me. Why?’

  ‘You know why.’

  ‘Because you are a soldier. Because you want to fight. Well, so do I.’

  ‘Someone has to stay here with the others. A woman.’

  She screamed at him. ‘Yes, that’s it. You leave me because I am a woman. Because I am weak.’

  ‘No. I’m leaving you precisely because you are not weak. You are strong, Anna. Stronger than me, sometimes. If I could do anything to take you with us I would. But I want you to have a chance. And I want you to look after the others.’

  She turned away, but he pulled her to him and kissed her. He held her close for as long as he could and then walked away, without looking back. She did not look up.

  Standing at the foot of the gigantic staircase in the cliff face, Lamb realised he had known from the moment he had taken the decision what was now all too evident. The only way back north would be the same way they had come down. He stood at the foot of the steps and looked up, and then began to climb.

  If coming down the great steps had been difficult, the ascent was doubly gruelling. What had taken an hour to descend took them twice that now, and as he reached the top of the stairs Lamb felt close to collapse. He staggered, and wondered whether the men had noticed. But Bandouvas was at his side. ‘Don’t worry. We all feel the same. Take time. Rest. You’ve done it. To be honest I didn’t think you would. You impress me again, Kapitan Lamb.’

  The rest of the company emerged, one by one, at the top of the steps and flung themselves against the stone wall at the summit. Smart gasped. ‘I never want to see another blinking step again, as long as I live.’

  Mays nodded and let precious water trickle down his chest from his mouth. ‘You’re not joking, Smarty, lad.’

  Bandouvas had told Lamb they would retrace their steps exactly, but of course going downhill now it would be easier. They would also have the advantage of height and potentially surprise when, as no doubt they would, they came upon the Germans who were tailing them.

  ‘How far behind us do you suppose they can be?’ asked Lamb.

  ‘Maybe twenty cigarettes, I would say. They will have had to rest, like us, but we could meet them anywhere from here.’

  But nine miles into their route back down the mountain they had still not seen anything of the Germans, and Lamb was growing concerned.

  They arrived above Theriso shortly after one in the afternoon and saw the smoke from the chimneys. Bandouvas smiled. ‘If we’re lucky we might find a bit of lunch. Stewed goat!’

  They hurried down the hill, but as they grew closer it was plain to see that it had not been from the chimneys that the smoke had come. The village was smouldering, every house a burnt ruin.

  Lamb shuddered. He had seen this before, in France last year, and it brought a hollow feeling to his stomach.

  Bandouvas looked at him. ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not possible. Not here.’

  Lamb pulled him down and they lay in the grass and watched. As far as they could see there were no soldiers left in the place. In fact there was no sign of life whatsoever.

  Suddenly there was movement on the hill to their left. Lamb cocked his Schmeisser and Bandouvas did the same. They waited and watched as a hunched human form moved towards them through the grass. At ten yards Lamb was ready to fire. Bandouvas whispered, ‘No. Wait.’ Then through the grass came a boy. He was perhaps ten years old and his face was a mask of tears. He saw Bandouvas and threw himself at the big man, his arms outstretched. The kapitan gathered him up and enveloped him.

  He turned to Lamb, the sobbing child clutched to his chest. ‘My nephew.’

  Lamb nodded. ‘Ask him what happened.’

  After a few minutes the boy calmed down and began to talk to Bandouvas, who translated for Lamb and the others.

  ‘The Germans came. On foot, in the dawn. Many of them. Perhaps fifty. There are only two Germans left in the village now. They’re going from house to house, to make sure any people who hid are dead. He says his grandparents are still alive. They hid in the cellar.’

  There was a commotion down in the village, and peering over the fold in the ground they saw figures moving about in the street before a little house. Two Germans, one an officer in an alpine troopers’ bergmütze and shorts, the other an NCO, similarly dressed, were shouting at an old woman, presumably the boy’s grandmother. Either she didn’t understand what was evidently a command or she was just being stubborn, but they kept on shouting. They were laughing now and seemed almost to be playing with her. Neither of them seemed to be armed. Suddenly the woman grabbed a plank of wood from where it lay against the wall and hit one of the men on the head. He crumpled to the ground, reeling from the blow. In an instant the other German had unbuttoned his holster and pulled out a pistol, a Luger. Then, taking careful aim, he shot the woman in the head at point-blank range. The back of her skull exploded and spattered over the wall of her house as she fell. The boy shouted and struggled in Bandouvas’ arms, but the men in the village did not hear, for a little dog was barking at them now. At that moment an old man came running round the corner of the house, wielding a sword above his head. As the injured German staggered to his feet the Greek lunged for him, but another shot rang out from the Luger and he too fell dead to the ground. The dog was still barking as the German coolly turned his gun on it and shot it dead too. Then he helped his wounded friend to his feet and, laughing, rubbed at his head as they walked towards a car. Lamb saw that it was a Humber, a captured British staff vehicle, and before the group on the hill could do anything the engine was running and the two men had left the village at speed, heading west.

  He turned to Bandouvas. ‘Where are they going? What does that mean? Where are all the others? The two platoons?’

  Bandouvas looked grave. ‘It’s not good. What it means is they’ve got transport. Probably taken from your army. They’ve taken the road to Meskla and then on to Lakki. It’s a good road. Very good. Very fast.’

  ‘And then where?’

  ‘Down through the mountains across the Omalos plateau up to Xyloskalo.’

  Lamb froze. ‘To the steps.’

  Bandouvas nodded. ‘It’s the way I would have brought you if we had had transport and if we hadn’t been hiding. They must control it now. They must have found out where we were heading.’

  Lamb turned to the boy, who was weeping uncontrollably in the arms of one of Bandouvas’ men. ‘Ask him if they made anyone talk before they killed them.’

  Bandouvas spoke and the little boy spoke and nodded, and hid his head again.

  ‘They tort
ured the women in front of the men. Of course someone spoke.’

  This was not how he had planned it. He could not blame Bandouvas for not explaining about the other road. He should have guessed at it himself. He had been supposing that because they had mountain troops they would come across the mountains. But why make the effort if you had found transport? And God knew there was enough of that lying abandoned about the island.

  How could he have been so stupid? To have left them at the monastery. To have not thought the Germans might take another route.

  ‘How long will it take them? Now that they know?’

  Bandouvas gave it some thought. ‘It’s twenty-five kilometres by road, then a walk of another five down the track to the gorge. For good, fit troops? An hour on the road and then another on foot.’

  ‘I’m going back.’

  ‘What, are you mad? They’ll be almost there by now. We’re too late. What’s the point? The King’s as good as dead. We came here to kill Germans. We can’t go back now.’

  ‘The King may, as you say, be dead already, but I’m still going back. And if we hurry we can still kill Germans before they kill everyone in the monastery. I’ve been a fool. I left the King back there, thinking he was safe. I was wrong. And what’s more I left good men back there, and women. Don’t try to stop me.’

  18

  In accordance with the best military practice, Lieutenant Ryan had posted his men along the walls and in the belltower of the monastery, using it as much as he could as a fortified position. They stood on improvised fire-steps made from furniture, tea chests, anything that came to hand, keeping their heads down but at the same time trying to keep watch on the valley away to their north. And for every man of Ryan’s there was a monk on the walls. All had been armed by Bandouvas with some of the rifles brought to them weeks before from Pendlebury’s stock, and each had a bandolier of ammunition and several magazines. They made an incongruous sight. Ryan was glad of their presence, though it seemed to him unlikely he would need them.

  Anna too was watching. She was standing on the low wall that surrounded the monastery’s well. Part of her, the greater part if she was honest with herself, yearned to see Lamb returning down the pass, regretting his decision, coming back to her, but she knew she would not. He had made up his mind, and she admired him for that quality. She envied him, too, for his chance to kill more Germans, although she realised that she too was playing a role. It was not just to do with the stupid English woman, although she knew that if she had not been there she might have been able to go with Lamb. Bandouvas himself had told her not to come, and the reason for that was reason enough to stay. It was so that someone could keep an eye on what happened to the King. He had said to her before they left that if any opportunity occurred for him to meet with an accident she might somehow encourage it. She knew what was meant. When they left this place they would still have another three kilometres before they came to the gorge itself, and then a further ten at least down to the sea. None of that would be easy. At least they would not have the Germans to worry about. Lamb and Bandouvas would surely see to them. Ryan had spoken of the need to move soon, certainly within the next few hours. There was nothing now to stop them, but Anna hoped they might stay a little longer, just on the slim chance that Lamb and his men would return.

  It was as she was watching, looking up the road towards the steps, that something caught her eye. Behind a large outcrop some way up the cliff face to the left of the track she thought she saw something glittering. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, and it was then that she heard the shot that killed the monk who had been standing to her right, tending the monastery’s herb garden. One of Ryan’s men who had been two feet away from him spun round and fired in the direction of the shot, then he too was felled by the same sniper. Now the whole place was alive with men firing from the walls, bullets flying into the courtyard and ricocheting off the stone. Some of them lodged in the masonry, but others found their home in flesh.

  Anna jumped down and grabbed her rifle as a bullet zinged off the wall of the well. Ryan was with her. ‘Bloody hell. How did they get here? Come on.’

  He ran across to the north wall where one of his men lay slumped over a Bren gun. Pushing the dead man out of the way, he checked the gun and repositioned it on the wall, then, seeing the flash of a rifle, he fired and a stream of bullets shot out. The rocks were alive with rifle and submachine-gun fire now. Anna, who had started to run with Ryan, had stopped herself and gone back to check on the civilians and the King. She found the Hartleys and Comberwell with Tsouderos and the abbot in his chamber. Of the King and Prince Peter there was no sign.

  ‘Where’s the King?’

  Comberwell said, ‘No idea. Hidden by the abbot here at the first shot. Can I borrow your rifle? Meant to get myself one when Lamb left.’

  ‘No, you’ll find one out there if you dare go out.’

  She turned to the abbot. ‘Father, you must tell me where he is.’

  ‘My dear, I’m afraid that would be quite wrong. No one knows but myself, not even the monks, for the very simple reason that if the Nazis take any of you alive His Majesty will still be safe, no matter what they do to you.’

  There was more firing outside now. Anna ran out into the courtyard. Three monks lay dead, and two of Ryan’s men with them. Others had been wounded, one badly by the look of it, his arm shot clean through and almost severed. Comberwell had made no attempt to follow her. Julian Hartley, however, was at her side. He spoke, and she looked round at him.

  ‘Can you find me a rifle? I dare say I can fire it if you show me how. I was in the OTC at school.’

  Anna looked at him and smiled, then she leant down and picked up a rifle that had fallen from the grasp of a dead monk. ‘There you are. You just use the bolt, like this.’ She pointed to the magazines tucked into the bandolier as she unfastened it from the body and handed it to the writer. ‘There are bullets in it. It clips in here. It’s very simple. Just point it at a German and squeeze the trigger.’

  There was a whoosh and a crash of splintering wood as an anti-tank rifle round hit the entrance gate and made a hole in the centre. Another round crashed in and severed one of the massive brass hinges so that the door swung crazily, hanging on the lower hinge only, creating a yawning gap below it. And then it seemed there were Germans everywhere, pushing madly at the gates as the men on the walls and at the rear of the courtyard poured fire into them. She saw three of them go down, but the men behind just stepped over the bodies and advanced into the yard, their machine-pistols firing. Anna ducked behind the well, dragging Hartley down with her, but not before he was hit. He yelled and she saw that a bullet had gone through his calf muscle. He lay on the ground, holding his leg, as she raised herself on to one knee and fired at a German. The man, from the mountain troops, clutched at his stomach and fell. Looking round she saw Ryan, shouted at him, ‘Into the sanctuary.’ He nodded, and together they fell back, Ryan waving his men to follow him and Anna dragging the semi-conscious Hartley with her. A dozen of the monks lay dead in the yard now, along with four of Ryan’s men and at least ten Germans. Seeing Anna, Ryan ran across to her through a hail of bullets, picked up Hartley and hoisted him on to his back. Then together they pushed through the doors into one of the store-rooms which lay to the rear of the monastery.

  As they half fell into the room, there was a strange noise from Ryan. Anna turned to look at him. A bullet had gone through his left eye, and he had died instantly. Hartley was moaning. She tried to lift him, and a heavy boot came down upon her arm. Then she felt the hot metal of a gun barrel pressing against her head. A voice said, in English, ‘Don’t move. Get up, very slowly.’

  Twenty minutes later Anna was standing in the abbot’s apartments. The room was lit by the candles which burned all day in the sconces lining three of the walls. She stood between Comberwell and the abbot. Miranda Hartley knelt beside them, holding Julian in her arms. Tsouderos, his cheek bleeding from a ricochet, and the five remainin
g men from Ryan’s platoon stood in a group alongside.

  Two German officers stood before them. Behind them a dozen of the Gebirgsjäger and four paratroopers held their machine-pistols level, pointing directly at them.

  One of the officers spoke. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am General Wilhelm Sussmann. I have to say, I’m impressed. You fought well. I did not think I would have to lose so many good men to take you. My lieutenant too. But then you lost your officer, didn’t you? What puzzles me, though, is why a lieutenant should have been given such a responsible role. To save the King of Greece.’ He paused. ‘I’m also perplexed as to why there is only one partisan among you all. Very soon the island will be ours, and then those of you who are military personnel will be sent to prison camps in Italy and Germany. You others, I’m not so sure about. You might be partisans too, of course. You might be innocent civilians. I will make my mind up in due course, and then we will decide. Father abbot, I am disappointed in you. A man of the cloth directing holy men to fire on soldiers of the Reich who were only doing their duty? It doesn’t seem a very Christian thing to do. But there again, I suppose your monks are dead too. I must treat you as a franc-tireur as well. But it seems to me that there is someone missing here. Someone rather important. Do any of you know where he might be?’

  They said nothing.

  ‘No? Are you quite sure?’

  He nodded to the men behind him, and two of them stepped forward. Sussmann pointed to Comberwell. ‘Him.’

  They moved forward and Comberwell took a step back. ‘No, don’t touch me. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Take him out. To the cell I showed you.’

  They grabbed Comberwell and pushed him, still protesting, out of the room and down the corridor.

  Sussmann turned to them and walked across to Anna. Standing close enough to her so that she could smell the staleness of his breath, he spoke again. ‘I will leave you all to contemplate the state of your memories. Don’t worry, your friend will be back soon.’