SBS, page 8
He stood up and moved over to the map and, picking up a stick, used it as a pointer. ‘Tymbaki here, in the south, Heraklion, here on the north coast and Kastelli Kissamou, over here in the west of the island. That is the task of 8 Commando. They’ll hide up for a few days before they go in and do their damnedest to blow all three to blazes. Which will give you the time you need.’
‘Time, sir?’
‘Time, Woods. Your own task is rather different. You will RV with one of our SOE agents in the hills and with him as your guide, head for Heraklion airstrip. Once there you will infiltrate the base and retrieve a vital piece of British military intelligence, which was left on the island when we lost it to the Germans in May ’41. Our SOE man on Crete tells us that his intelligence sources suggest that the Germans have not yet discovered it. Which is a bit of luck isn’t it? Apparently it was missed by their intelligence officer Obersturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny when he cleared the bases with his “intelligence commandos” last May. Which is somewhat ironic, as the boss got his own idea of putting you lot together when he found out about Skorzeny’s mob. Funny eh?’
Woods smiled. ‘Very funny, sir.’
Hunter shook his head. ‘Hilarious.’
Vickery ignored the comment. ‘Of course, we’ve asked the SOE chappie to get hold of it himself but he’s asked for assistance. Says he’s there for the long haul and if he gets caught his number’s up. Which is utterly understandable. So his refusal makes it the ideal first mission for you lot.’
Hunter muttered, ‘Because we’re expendable.’
Woods looked at him and shook his head.
Vickery continued, ‘Also, there is something else that makes your job more than vital.’
‘Sir?’
‘I don’t know how much you’ve heard about what we intend to do. I mean how we intend to win the war.’
Woods nodded his head. ‘A fair bit, sir.’
‘Which is?’
‘Well of course all the chat at present is about what’s going to happen in the desert. I mean everyone knows there’s going to be an offensive. It’s just about when it happens, sir, isn’t it?’
Vickery nodded. ‘Yes, of course, it’s common knowledge, apart from the timing of Monty’s big push. But what do you know of the bigger picture?’
‘Well, there’s been quite a lot of talk about the bigger plan being the invasion of Italy. The chat is that we’re going to go up through Sicily. Most people reckon that if Rome falls then Berlin will follow. Of course, sir, I presume that either that might be the real plan or it might all be a grand deception. I mean that’s the sort of thing we do, isn’t it?’
Vickery nodded. ‘True. That’s just the sort of thing we do.’
He strolled back to his desk and sat down, taking another cigarette from the silver box and lighting it, before continuing, ‘Well, Woods. You’re right and then you’re wrong. It’s no secret that Monty’s going to push Rommel out of the desert. We outnumber him and it’s all been planned to the last detail and I have no doubt he’ll do it. Which as you say leaves us with the next move. That’s where you come in. The documents on Crete contain details of ideas that came out of a conference a while ago.’
‘Sir?’
‘Early in ’41 there were talks in Washington.’
‘Before the USA entered the war? Before Pearl Harbor?’
‘Exactly. Long before. March last year. It was clear even back then that the US would eventually be sucked into this bloody war and it was obvious that we needed to make contingency plans. That was the first Allied agreement – ABC-1. The actual plan was given the overall name “Rainbow”.’
‘Christ! I mean, sir, I wouldn’t have guessed at anything like that.’
‘I wouldn’t have expected you to. Neither would I, to be honest. It was agreed that out of all the Axis powers, Germany was the strongest and needed to be attacked first. It was to be called Operation Gymnast and was ultra-top secret. You’re the most junior officers ever to have heard about it.’
Hunter and Woods exchanged glances.
‘The Yanks want us to go all out for an attack on France and I dare say that’s what will happen. But not before we’ve had a go at the underbelly. We need to go in from the south. The details were put together back in April last year, as it became very clear that Greece would fall. We knew that we had to come back and attack the Third Reich and one way of doing that was through the Med. It’s Churchill’s baby. First we take North Africa in a combined assault with the Yanks and then we move up through Sicily and Italy. Those papers contain details of the initial high-level discussions of our method, timing and potential numbers involved. Ordnance, hardware. The lot.’
Hunter whistled. ‘Good grief.’
‘Yes, as you say. Good grief. But there’s something else. The papers we need you to get out don’t just give the breakdown of our plans. They make it crystal clear that when we do fight back Italy will take precedence over Greece. Italy will be the focus of our first and most decisive attack, via Sicily, rather than Greece and the Balkans.
‘If the Germans find out it will jeopardise our entire strategy. More than that. Their intelligence chaps are no fools. They’re sure to realise that if they tell the Greeks what they’ve found it will destroy our position in Central Europe. It’s absolutely vital that the Greeks believe that we’re going in through the Balkans.’
‘Why so, sir? If I may ask.’
Vickery pointed to the army officer, who for a while had said nothing at all.
‘This is Major Wallace. He’s the political assistant to the British Liaison Officer, Greece, the BLO. He’s been dealing with the Greek resistance. All three parts of it. Although perhaps I’d be better to allow him tell you about it himself. David?’
The army officer leaned forward in his chair, extinguished his cigarette and looked at Woods and Hunter.
‘Good morning, gentlemen. I don’t know how much you chaps know about our Greek friends, but basically here’s the gen. You see their resistance is made up of three quite different groups and they’re all plotting and planning who is going to rule Greece when we’ve won this bloody war. They call themselves the ELAS, EDES and EKKA. I must say, they’ve been doing a pretty good job together with us thus far, but the differences between them are starting to get a bit out of hand.’
‘Differences, sir?’
‘Basically the EDES are Nationalist and Republican. They’re led by an eccentric and highly dangerous ex-army officer called Napoleon Zervas. The ELAS, the military wing of EAM are Communists, the largest of the groups controlled by the KKE, the Greek Communist party. The EKKA are actually National Socialists.
‘ELAS think that EKKA are in our pockets, that they’re bourgeois Anglophiles, and they despise them for it. They’ve all been persuaded to collaborate up to now because they think that their unholy alliance is only for a limited time. They truly believe that it won’t be long before we come across the Aegean and sweep up through the Peloponnese to liberate Greece.
‘It is my belief, based on everything I’ve seen and heard in the last few months, that if the Greeks learn that we don’t intend to do any such thing, but instead are going to head for Rome, it will result very quickly in no less than a civil war. And a very bloody one at that. The Jerries would love it. It’s just the sort of thing their own spooks do all too bloody well: getting one faction of the enemy to take out another. In fact it looks very much as if when the war does end the Communists will prevail and then the country will erupt in civil war. But we can’t allow that to happen until we have beaten the Jerries. Is that clear so far?’
Woods and Hunter nodded and Woods spoke: ‘Yes, sir, I think so. I get the whole thing about the different groups and the fact that we need to unite them and that to do that they can’t possibly know that we’re actually going to be invading Europe up through Italy, not Greece.’
‘Yes. That’s it. Very good.’
‘So what do we do, sir? To make sure they don’t find out?’
‘What we have to do is stall for time. We need the Greeks – all of them – to believe that the Balkans is still our goal. I’m here in Cairo with my own boss – the British Liaison Officer – and members from each of the three main Greek resistance groups. In fact the moment I leave you I’m off to sit round a table with them and try, if we can, to encourage them to keep working together. But we know that just a lot of talk won’t be enough. The Greeks like to see things happening. They like proof. They need proof that we won’t let them down.’
He paused. ‘So, to do that, to give them proof of our commitment, we’re sending missions by SBS commandos into Crete and Rhodes. These will have a double purpose. Firstly, in real terms, they will consolidate our hold on the Aegean islands, in preparation for the invasion of Sicily. Secondly though they will persuade the Greeks that we really are in earnest. That we really are going to liberate their country first and ensure the stability of the regime.’
Hunter spoke: ‘So, we’re using the Greeks, sir. And we’re duping them.’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what we’re doing. There’s no room for moral sentiment in modern warfare, Lieutenant. You should know that.’
Hunter shook his head. ‘I know that, sir, as well as anyone. It just seems a pity that we can’t be honest with them. Seems to me that when we do push up through Italy and abandon the Greeks, the Jerries will have a field day.’
‘We are not “abandoning the Greeks” as you put it. We’re merely reapportioning our strengths.’
‘Whatever you want to call it, sir.’
Woods glanced at Hunter and nodded. ‘It’s very clever, sir. Still not entirely clear where we fit in.’
‘It’s simple. Just make sure that we get that missing intelligence off Crete. It details in no small way that our initial plans are to move into Italy, rather than Greece. If the Germans work out how important it is and leak it to the Greeks then all hell will break loose. If we lose it, the war will almost certainly go on for many more years and many, many thousands more will die.’
Vickery spoke: ‘So, Woods, you see the importance of your task?’
‘Yes, sir. Quite.’
‘And the fact that absolute secrecy must be maintained.’
‘Absolutely, sir.’
‘Don’t be flippant, Lieutenant Hunter. There is one more thing. The Foreign Office, our Foreign Office, have no idea that we have been working with the Communists. They simply want us, the Brits that is, to back the King of Greece in taking back his throne. They don’t realise how unpopular he is. But if they find out that we’re tied up with the Communists then you can bet that they’ll try to persuade Winnie himself to shut down the entire operation. Even though he’s the one who ordered us to ignore the Greek resistance politics in the first place.’
Hunter shook his head. ‘Christ. I had no idea.’
‘No one does. So be bloody careful who you talk to and what you say. Best of luck to you both. Just be sure to remember how important your mission is.’
Vickery pushed a hand bell on his desk and the pretty WRN opened the door. Clearly, they were now meant to leave. They stood up and were about to do so when Vickery spoke again: ‘Oh yes, I almost forgot. You go in three days’ time.’ He reached into the drawer of his desk and produced a brown envelope, which he handed to Woods. ‘There you are. Everything you need to know is in there. Once you’ve read it and memorised it, burn it. And make sure that you do that, will you? Well, that’s it, gentlemen. Goodbye.’
*
They left the building and, once they were out of earshot of the redcap sentries, Hunter gave a whistle. ‘Christ all bloody mighty. What the hell was that all about?’
Woods smiled at him. ‘That, my dear boy, was what the Secret Service do. That’s what that was all about. That is why you and I are sleeping in caves and fighting in the hills and why chaps like Lieutenant Commander fucking Vickery are ordering cases of posh fags from St James’s and sleeping in silk sheets.’
‘Poor bloody Greeks.’
‘No point in thinking that. We’ve just got to get on with the bloody job. Three days? Christ. Better make the most of them.’
‘Yes, we’d better. What do you suggest we do?’
‘Well, I’m meant to be meeting that old flame of yours, Lara Heatherly. We had a rather jolly time the other night. I really think she’s fallen for me. Lovely girl. Well, you would know, of course.’
Hunter paused for a moment. ‘Did you? Yes, she is… Lovely, that is.’
Woods looked at him. He was grinning.
‘Good Lord. You’re still smitten, aren’t you? Well I never.’
Hunter said nothing. He had not thought about Lara before bumping into her at Groppi’s. But now he realised, to his surprise, that Woods was right. He did still feel something.
Woods was still smiling. He spoke again: ‘Well, if I’d known, old man, perhaps I wouldn’t have become involved.’
Hunter looked at him. ‘Are you? Involved?’
‘Depends what you mean by involved I suppose. As I said, we had rather a jolly time the other night. If you know what I mean.’
He smiled. Hunter stared at him.
Woods spoke again: ‘I say, old man. You’re jealous!’
‘Perhaps I am. After all, she was my girl before she ever met you.’
‘Well, now she’s my girl, old man.’
Hunter shook his head and smiled. ‘Oh, I don’t think so, old man. She’ll never be your girl.’
‘Well, we’ll just have to see about that shan’t we. Let’s allow her to decide.’
‘My mind’s made up, Woods. Like it or not.’
‘Actually, Hunter, I don’t much like it. But let’s not let that ruin a perfectly good evening. God knows we may not see another for a long time.’
Both men fell silent, lost in their thoughts. Woods spoke first: ‘I say. How very stupid of me. I totally forgot to tell you. We’ve been invited to a party.’
Hunter looked up, not entirely interested in the news. ‘No, you didn’t tell me. Whose party? Where is it?’
‘Need you ask? There is only one real place for parties in Cairo, isn’t there? We’re off to Tara, old man.’
*
That the party was in full swing by the time they got there was instantly evident from the moment they crossed Gezira island and entered Sharia Abou El Feda. The shrill staccato bleat of clarinets hit them first, wailing out Gershwin into the warm Cairo evening.
Tara was a sea of light, with every lamp in every room blazing and every shutter thrown open to the night. Above their heads it seemed that dozens of men and women, most of them in uniform, were hanging out of the windows, perched on the windowsills, their brimming glasses spilling their contents into the street below. Hunter and Woods walked into the marble entrance hall of the villa and up the wide steps, which led to the piano nobile. Couples of all permutations were draped everywhere, chatting, kissing, mostly drinking. Woods turned to Hunter. ‘Here we go. Good luck. Remember, Hunter, I’m on the lookout for Lara. Let me know if you see her. If I’m not back in three days send out a search party.’
And with that he was gone.
Hunter grabbed a cocktail from a passing waiter and plunged into the throng.
In a far corner of the library, by an open window, he caught sight of Xan Fielding. The young officer was locked in conversation with another British officer whom he thought he recognised from Athilt as SBS or SAS, expounding his theories about how the Greeks would end up after the war and what they should be doing about it now. Before it was all too late.
Hunter drew close and listened.
‘You see the problem is, you just don’t know the Greeks. You may be as good as you like at all the sabotage stuff. But if you don’t know how the Greeks think, then you’re lost. We need the Greeks. They’re the one weapon we have that the Germans never will have. The problem is knowing which bloody lot of them to trust. That’s where we can help you.’
Hunter walked away.
In the ballroom, at a baby grand piano being played by an Armenian in a dinner jacket and a fez, the ever-exuberant Paddy Leigh Fermor was holding court, performing his celebrated party piece of singing ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’ in French. As Hunter joined the crowd around the piano, a small man beside him in Australian RAF uniform tapped him on the arm. ‘You just wait, mate. When they ask for an encore he’ll do it in Arabic. I’ve seen him do it before. Bloody nuts.’
Hunter was surprised. He had presumed that Leigh Fermor would already be on Crete, awaiting their arrival. To see him at a party at Tara was a shock. A girl standing beside them, with a Rita Hayworth hairstyle and a figure to match, turned to the Aussie. ‘Oh give him a break, love. The poor darling’s making the most of his last night. They’re dropping him back into Crete tomorrow.’
So here was their SOE liaison officer. This half-cut, multi-lingual boulevardier.
And so much, thought Hunter, for all their blessed secrecy. If the walls had ears, as the posters said, then all Cairo must by now know Leigh Fermor’s clandestine movements.
Hunter downed the cocktail in one. Much to his regret, it turned out to be a white lady, which he loathed, and he decided to try to find a beer. But before he could do so a waiter handed him a glass of champagne. He was attempting to hand it back when, from out of nowhere, Lara appeared in front of him, shimmering in a long pink evening dress, and draped herself across his body, winding one of her legs around his.
‘Darling, Jimmy. Didn’t think I’d see you again.’
Her sparkling eyes pierced his thoughts. He knew what was coming.
‘You stood me up, you rotten bugger. Where on earth did you go?’
‘Look, Lara. I can explain.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Well then, go on. Explain.’
Hunter shrugged. ‘Well, actually, it’s not that simple. You see, I’m afraid I… can’t really say. But I’m really, really sorry. I just couldn’t do anything about it, Lara, darling. You understand. Orders.’
