SBS, page 28
‘It’s anyone’s guess. If I was the captain of our boat. Well, what was our boat, I’d have sent a signal to Cairo by now asking for a sub or a launch. Just in case we had made it out alive. But I’m not Captain Gorringe and I really don’t know what he’d do.’
‘I wanted to say thank you.’
‘You already have.’
‘No, I really wanted to say thank you for saving me. I don’t know what I would have done.’
Stubbing out her cigarette, she quickly reached around Hunter’s neck and, pulling him towards her, kissed him hard on the lips. Taken completely by surprise, he didn’t respond, but pulled back. ‘What was that?’
‘Thank you. I want to say thank you.’
She unbuttoned her coat and took it off then started on the buttons of her shirt. Hunter put his hand over hers. ‘Eleni. This is a lovely idea, but not here, and not now.’
‘But I owe it to you. You saved my life.’
Hunter cursed himself. He had almost been taken in. But he realised that this for her was payment. She was giving herself to him to thank him for her life. That was all. A transaction. This was nothing to do with the expression he thought he had seen on her face in the village. If there was really anything more to that look, then the last thing he wanted was the girl here to sleep with him as a form of payment. He whispered to her, ‘I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s the right moment.’
She was already buttoning her shirt. ‘You know the real reason why I fell back on the march, two days ago. Behind the others?’
‘Tell me.’
‘I wanted to be able to see that bastard.’
‘Colonel Hilmann?’
‘Hilmann. I wanted to work out just how I would be able to kill him while we were walking. To see if I could possibly push him off the mountain, or if I would need to stab him first.’
‘You have a knife?’
‘I have a knife.’
She drew from her coat pocket a knife with a blade around twelve inches long. It had a black-lacquered handle and a distinctive nickel pommel and as she drew it from its scabbard, it glinted in the moonlight and Hunter was able to make out the motto – ‘Meine Ehre heißt Treue’ – that ran along the axis of the blade.
Hunter looked at it. ‘That’s an SS dagger. Where did you get it?’
‘I took it from one of the bodies at the ambush. I wanted that pig to feel what it was like to be killed by one of his own knives.’
Hunter shook his head. ‘Killing him isn’t the answer, Eleni. Getting him back to Cairo is. He’ll be useful to us there; he might even save lives.’
She shook her head. ‘He deserves to die. Slowly and painfully. In return for all the pain he has caused to so many.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right.’
‘I know that I’m right. That man is a monster.’
She raised the front of her shirt and showed him a long scar on her right breast, which almost reached the nipple. ‘There. There is an example of his sort of lovemaking. Nice, eh?’
Twisting round she pulled up her shirt at her back. Hunter was horrified to see more scars. Evidence that she had been flogged.
‘He likes to play games that one. Nasty little games.’
‘How revolting.’
‘Now you see why he must die.’
‘If you give that sort of evidence, in Cairo, he probably will be shot. But not before he has told our chaps there everything they need to know.’
‘I couldn’t care less about what they need to know. I need to know that he is dead.’
‘Believe me, Eleni. What he knows could save hundreds, thousands of lives.’
She had put her coat back on now, but he noticed she was still shivering.
‘You’re cold?’
‘Yes.’
He touched her shoulder and pulled her towards him and then they slept. And when they woke the new day dawned and they watched the sun rise in the east, further round the coast, and Hunter wondered what new horrors or new miracles it might bring.
*
They sat in the cove. And they waited. Every moment was filled with apprehension. What, Hunter wondered, would come first? The sound of German troops as they swarmed down the gullies leading to the beach? The noise of an enemy torpedo boat as it moved slowly along the coastline, its searchlight seeking out their hiding place, which would then be raked with fire from machine guns and ack-ack guns? He realised that, having done his best to remain so positive for so long, having led his men into the very heart of the enemy and through unimagined adversity, here at last, on this beach, he was starting to lose any hope that they would be rescued.
He was still musing on this when there was a commotion in the gully and Russell came running down from the dunes and into the cove. ‘Jerries, sir. Dozens of them.’
Hunter ran over to him. ‘Where? How close?’
‘They’re not close. Not yet. But they’re coming. That’s for sure.’
Hunter followed Russell back to the gulley and, joined by Woods, they reached the top. Then, without showing himself, he put his field glasses to his eyes. It was as he had feared. Russell was right. Off in the distance, on the road that led to the fields beyond the beach, he could pick out three half-tracks. They would be packed with enemy troops. And he had no doubt they were heading for the cove.
He passed the binoculars to Woods. ‘How long do we have, do you think?’
‘How far away are they? Five, six miles?’
‘About that. I reckon it might take them about twenty minutes to get here.’
‘Yes, you’re probably right.’
Together they dropped back down through the gulley, leaving Russell to man the post. Woods called the men together. ‘We’ve got company. There’s a platoon, perhaps a company of Jerries in half-tracks heading this way. They’ll be here in twenty minutes. That’s what we’ve got. Fletcher, White, find that case of grenades. What else do we have?’
Knox answered, ‘Two Brens, the 34, ten Sten guns and two Schmeissers, but there’s not much ammo for them.’
Hunter spoke: ‘Right, we’re going to forget the sea for now. I want all eyes on those half-tracks. Our best bet is to wait until they’re almost on us and then use the grenades. If we can get them when they’re still in the vehicles we’ve got a chance. If they dismount further out and walk in, well then we’ll just have to use the machine guns.’
Following the others as they made their way up through the gulley to the higher ground, White and Fletcher carried the box of grenades that they had brought from the cave. They could see the enemy in the distance. Three vehicles moving across the flat plain below the mountains. Fifteen minutes or so, thought Hunter. They might just have a chance.
Russell, who had been down on the beach bringing up ammunition for the Bren was the first to hear the new noise. He came running up the gulley to where Hunter and Woods were lying. ‘Listen, sir, can you hear it? That noise?’
Both men were silent. Listening.
Russell was right. There was a noise. Distant but distinct. A sort of chugging. Knox appeared. ‘What’s that?’
They could all hear the engines now. Some sort of boat was coming towards them, hugging the coast as it came. But there was no way of their knowing what it might be, or whether it was friend or foe. Hunter yelled to the men, ‘That’s a boat. Enemy boat. All of you, get back down to the beach. And take some grenades with you.’
There was a frantic scramble as they switched the focus of their defence from land to sea. Hunter did his best to post the men. ‘Fletcher, White, both of you get behind those rocks, take a Bren. Sarn’t Knox, climb up there with the ’34 and see if you can get a clear line of sight. Miller, you watch the colonel. Gag him and keep him covered. Then try to find some cover and keep him down. Phelps, you stay with Eleni in the cave. Take your Sten. Russell, stay with me and Captain Woods. We’re the mobile reserve.’
The engines were creeping closer now, as the boat neared the edge of the cliff that masked it from their sight and also hid them from its crew. Hunter whispered to Russell, ‘Hold your fire. Wait for my signal, pass it on.’
And in seconds the order had filtered through to all of them. They waited, poised, every finger on a trigger guard. Every eye on the edge of the cliff.
Then, with a burst of her throttle, the prow of the boat broke round the cliff and it came into sight. Not a man fired and Hunter waited to give the command, until he was absolutely sure. It was a motor torpedo boat by the look of it, but whose? In an instant the wheelhouse came into sight and instantly, Hunter knew.
‘Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Don’t shoot.’
As the words left his mouth, the main deck came into view, along with the white ensign, fluttering proudly on the mast of His Majesty’s Motor Torpedo Boat 309.
16
Hunter was not entirely sure how long it would take him to readjust to what passed for normal life or to reassemble his frayed nerves and raw emotions.
But he did know that after two days he had not yet begun to come anywhere near to it. He looked at the faces of the men and women, civilian and military, on the crowded Cairo streets and wondered if they noticed anything strange or remarkable about the man in khaki who was walking past them. Hunter felt that he must somehow look different.
He knew, too, he had left a part of him behind somewhere on a hillside in Crete. He felt empty, emotionless. With every corner he turned in the dusty street he expected to meet a patrol of German soldiers or SS. Of course after every mission you were relieved and also deflated, as the thrill of ever-present danger evaporated. But this was unlike any homecoming Hunter had experienced before.
After so long sleeping rough and living in the field, and being among so much violence, suffering and death, what he had seen before as the filthy streets of the bustling city seemed now remarkably clean and fresh. What troubled him were the sheer numbers of people who pushed and jostled around him and increased the sense of claustrophobia that came with the way in which the tall buildings left just a small patch of blue sky above your head. It was about as different a view of the world as you imagine from the broad expanse of the heavens that soared above the Cretan hills.
It was nearing eleven in the morning and, summoned to a long-expected debrief, Hunter had left his temporary quarter in the officers’ mess at Citadel barracks up on the hill overlooking the city deliberately early and walked into the centre of Cairo. He desperately needed more time. Time to think. Time to rehearse his report on all that had happened in the week since he had been away. But he knew it was too late for all that.
He had headed down the boulevard Muhammad Ali, to the Opera House and as he passed Groppi’s he thought for a moment of Lara and wondered what she might be doing at that moment. And then he thought of Eleni and he was back in the cave on Crete, staring at her scars and holding her sleeping form close to his as he watched for the dawn and waited.
He turned on to Suliman Pasha street and knew that in less than five minutes he would arrive at his destination at Rustum Buildings. Faces flashed into his mind. Eleni’s smile, Hilmann’s scowl, Yanni’s huge, generous grin and the faces of the other andartes, Phelps’s hollow eyes and then Duffy’s dying stare. Feeling suddenly drained, he slowed his pace and wondered if perhaps he could delay this moment. It was all too fresh, too raw. But then it really was too late.
In the distance Hunter caught sight of a familiar figure. Woods was waiting for him outside SOE Headquarters in Rustum Buildings. As Hunter drew closer he smiled and held out his hand. Hunter took it: ‘Peter, how are you?’
‘I’m not sure yet. You?’
‘Oh, about the same. Just feel a bit, displaced.’
‘Yes. Good word. Shall we?’
They walked in to the building, returning the smart salute from the two redcaps as they went. Inside nothing seemed any different from their last visit. Together they climbed the iron staircase to the first floor and walked along the corridor to flat 7. Woods knocked and the door was opened by the same pretty young WRN.
‘Oh, hello again.’ She looked at the clock on the wall. ‘You’re dead on time. That’s lucky. He’ll be pleased.’
She walked across the office, followed by the two of them, and knocked on the inner door. There was a grunt from within and she opened the door.
Both men were somewhat surprised to be met, not by Vickery, but by Commander Fleming. He held a half-smoked Sullivan Powell oval Turkish cigarette in his hand and was seated in the leather chair, behind the same antique desk. He was alone.
‘Welcome back gentlemen. Cigarette?’
He held out the silver box and opened the lid. Both men took a cigarette and Hunter flicked open a Zippo and lit them.
Fleming spoke again: ‘Well, what can I say? I’m pleased. And so, I hear, is Winston. In his opinion the operation was ninety-five per cent successful. He’s really very pleased indeed.’
Woods stared at Fleming. ‘Churchill’s pleased? It went that high?’
Fleming smiled and nodded. ‘Of course. It was your first outing. Naturally, Winnie was in on it. He sanctioned your existence.’
Hunter shook his head and looked at the commander. ‘Sorry, sir. We lost one man and have another who’s lost his mind. Captain Wilson lost two-thirds of his command and a caique. Two of us were very nearly executed and we just managed to make it off the island by the skin of our teeth. And you tell us that Churchill’s pleased?’
‘Yes indeed. Very pleased. Normally of course you’d both get a gong. But you know how it is with us. It’s all hush-hush. And I’m sorry too about your man who was shot. Duffy, wasn’t it? And the other fellow, Phelps. Our chaps are with him now, seeing what they can do to help.’
Hunter spoke again: ‘If you ask me, he’s beyond help, sir. And I’d just like to say that we need to make sure that sort of thing never happens again. The training needs to be able to sort out those sort of problems before it’s too late.’
‘Yes, believe me Hunter, we are looking into that as well. Won’t happen again.’
Woods spoke up. ‘What about Wilson, sir? Has he been debriefed yet?’
‘Yes, we’ve spoken to him. He’s pretty shaken. Losing so many of his men like that. Not an easy thing for anyone to take.’
He paused before continuing. ‘He was a bit miffed that you apparently compromised his mission at Heraklion. In fact he was very angry.’
Hunter shook his head. ‘If you want the truth, sir, he over-reacted. There was nothing we could do – Phelps just broke and that was that. We just had to get out of there. After that there was never going to be any hope that his boys would get in there and do their bit. I will say that Captain Wilson didn’t really seem to understand the importance of our mission compared to his.’
Fleming nodded and lit another cigarette. ‘Yes, well I’m afraid that’s how it’s always going to be for us. The demolition boys just don’t get the more sensitive side of our work.’
He paused again. ‘Captain Wilson even went so far as to suggest that in the grand design of the operation, his own mission might have been merely a diversion and that you had been given the priority. You wouldn’t agree with that would you, Lieutenant?’
He smiled. ‘Not my place to agree or disagree, sir.’
‘That was exactly the answer I wanted, Hunter. Thank you. Anyway, I’ve had a quiet word with Wilson’s CO. I’m sure it will all be smoothed over.’
‘I’m not sure that I agree with that, sir. Wilson will always hold a grudge against us, won’t he?’
‘I very much doubt it now. He’s been warned off, you see. And in no uncertain manner. Certain things, Hunter, are just more important than others in this business and I think Captain Wilson might have had his eyes opened. The good thing was that he managed to get Martin off the island.’
Woods spoke: ‘And Wilson managed to save himself and his men at the same time.’
‘That sounds like resentment, Captain. Is it?’
‘No, sir. No resentment at all. I’m just suggesting that Captain Wilson seemed to me to be more concerned with getting off the island than he was with either getting Martin and the intelligence out or saving the lives of my men.’
Fleming nodded. ‘Point taken, Captain. Let’s leave it there, shall we?’
Hunter cut in, ‘What about Colonel Hilmann, sir?’
‘Ah yes, the good colonel. Well that really was an extra bonus. Well done both of you. An inspired move. Just the sort of initiative that we were hoping for when we invited you to join our merry band of brothers.’
‘Can I ask, sir, what you intend to do about him?’
‘Yes, of course. Well we’ve actually started already. He’s really being most co-operative and we’ve managed to come to an agreement.’
Hunter stared at him, ‘An agreement, sir? With that monster? Surely not.’
‘Yes. An agreement. Hilmann has agreed to tell us whatever he knows about the Nazis’ plans, secrets, positions, whatever we want really.’
Woods spoke: ‘But will he? Can he? He’s a Nazi, through and through. Committed to his Führer. He’s an idealist, isn’t he?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, Woods. It’s really just a lot of pompous posturing. He’s like all the rest of his kind. Just in it for his own ends. Out for whatever he can get and for sale to the highest bidder. Gangsters in uniforms. That’s all they are.’
Hunter smiled. ‘And that’s what they call us, sir, isn’t it. The regulars. Our own side. Gangsters. Criminals.’
Fleming ignored the comment and continued, ‘So, as I said, he’s proving to be very helpful. And in return we’ve agreed… not to kill him.’
‘You’re not going to kill him?’
‘No. Not for the present at least. He’s far too useful to us alive. Wasn’t that, after all, why you brought him out of Crete?’
‘Sir, at this very moment on Crete there are men, women and children being lined up against walls and shot. Burned to death in their own homes, thrown down wells, hung from olive trees. You name it, sir, and the Jerries are killing them in any number of barbaric ways. And do you know why? Because of that man. Because of Hilmann. Reprisals, sir. That’s what’s happening.’
