大象传媒

The route taken was to Sparta and then to Kalamata. At Sparta we talked to some Greeks who seemed to know everything. We were warned to be careful, the fifth column was everywhere. We were told that there was nothing at Kalamata, the last ship had gone. I don鈥檛 know who assumed command of the party of men I was traveling with, but I learnt later that he was the F/LT Adjutant of 112 Sqdn.
We moved to an olive grove with a brackish stream of undrinkable water running through it.Our whereabouts was soon known. As soon as we settled to rest for the evening and night a German flight of I lOs came looking. If they had seen us they would have raked the olive grove with cannon fire. They didn鈥檛 see us.
It had been learnt that Gytheon was the place to make for. Some other British airmen had gone that way because it was too late to go to Kalamata 鈥� so we were told.
Darkness fell before we arrived at Gytheon. A crowd of airmen was lying about on the quay of this small fishing port. The
Adjutant of 112 Sqdn. had procured a boat to sail to Crete but it had first to be cleared of petrol tins. I volunteered to assist when W/O Casey of 80 Sqdn. asked for help in this task. I had already met W/O Casey of 80 Sqdn. at Argos. We were all very tired by that time.
With a small dinghy we rowed loads of four-gallon petrol tins to a beach and stacked the tins in a small church. The tins could not be flung on the sea, as they would betray our presence.
Inside the church was a cockney airman who swore at me for handing the tins in through the door too quickly. It was dark so I did not see the chap at all that night. About a year or more later, in Cairo, I met a man named Gibbons. He had been my friend in the same squad in a block at Uxbridge as recruits. He was not sober, but later on as we talked we discovered that he was the man inside the church door swearing at me.
We were great friends at Uxbridge and at Manston in nineteen thirty-eight. I have never seen him since that day in Cairo in 1942. At that time he was on leave from 112 Sqdn. in the Western Desert; I was also on leave from 54 R.S.U. in the Western Desert.
I must return to Gytheon to continue my story.
Whilst helping to prepare the small sailing craft, about 60 feet bow to stern. I had talked to W/O Casey and I told him of my plight and asked if I could travel with them. He asked the Flight Lieutenant Adjutant of 112 Sqdn. if it would be OK. I was accepted and very pleased.
We were most uncomfortable on the boat although it was large for a fishing boat. It chugged around the coast and I heard that the Adjutant had used the P.S.I. money that he was carrying to buy the passage to Crete.
In order not to be at sea in daylight, the ships owner sailed into a small sheltered bay south of Gytheon to lay up through the daylight hours. We went ashore and slept as best we could. By now we were a very scruffy looking lot but I managed to get a shave. I had managed to get hold of some food at Argos. Food was a problem; most chaps had had enough sense to get a private store of bully or beans. I had about three tins of beans and some tins of meat but they were heavy. We had discarded all our kit
excepting what we could carry easily, and helped ourselves from an abandoned ration truck.
The engine of the boat had behaved badly on the trip round the coast during the night it was a calm and starlit night.
Early next morning Mr. Casey said he would like to climb up the high hill by the creek where we had anchored. 鈥淲ould I come with him鈥�, asked he, so he and I started the climb with my overcoat on, all of my few belongings in my pack and, of course, a full water bottle.
The hill was, as I recall, about three or four hundred ft. and quite a difficult climb with all my clothing. We walked on the leveled peak and I saw in the distance a grey flying boat, near enough to recognize but quite two or more miles away. A Sunder-land? It was indeed.
Mr. Casey and I waved and jumped about, I took off my greatcoat to expose the white lining and Mr. Casey found a stainless steel shaving mirror, which we polished up and used to catch the sun. We were seen just as we had given up hope and the flying boat turned towards us.
I later heard that we were suspected of being Greek fifth columnists signaling to a German aircraft. I do remember some shouts from below. I have since read that we were taken to be fifth columnists signaling German aircraft and that we were shot at. The bullets must have traveled wide. From the top of the hill we watched the commotion below as the dinghy was used to take the men out. They were moving fast. We started the difficult climb down but at about half way Mr. Casey and myself sat down and watched as the Sunderland engines opened up for take off. I鈥檝e heard it had about 80 men on board. The sea on that morning was like a mirror and no wind. At one time we thought it would not lift off.
It seemed as if it went miles before it got airborne and with it went our hopes. We had spotted the flying boat, they did see us and came in, but we two did not get near the beach 鈥� let alone get a lift. We were not the only ones to be left behind. I remember somebody saying in consolation 鈥淪upposing they get shot down?鈥� As it turned out they got back to Alexandria safely.
After the flying boat had gone from sight Mr. Casey and I
rejoined those who were left, now about thirty. We were told that the engine of the boat on which we had left Gytheon had failed. A 鈥渄icky鈥� engine was not the ideal engine for making a night journey towards Crete. German aircraft were everywhere, looking for a target to strafe, thank God that the Sunderland had got away. It had been a 鈥渟itting duck鈥� for about thirty minutes.
It so happened that another fishing boat was in this creek and the Adjutant of 112 Sqdn. (whom I now regarded as my C/O) very successfully, quickly negotiated a swap of boats. The second boat was smaller and we would be as much as it could carry. The owner/captain was very dubious about the excessive load. There was hardly a space for another man.
I found a place on the stern and sitting next to me was an airman referred to by his friends as 鈥淧op鈥�. He was a Volunteer Reservist about ten or fifteen years older than most of us. His name was Warburton. I met him after the war at Church Fenton. No 609 Auxiliary Squadron were 鈥渃alled up鈥� for six months in 1951. We talked about our adventure for a short while but we didn鈥檛 exchange addresses.
We sailed that night to Kythira Island to a small harbour on the eastern side of the island. We stayed on shore and slept wherever we could find a bit of shelter 鈥� the weather was now quite warm. There was a small village bistro selling coffee or wine. I believe it to be Aviemonas, at that time a very small village on the east side of Kythira. That day it was discovered that a large party of British, mainly R.A.F., were assembled at the small port of Kythira on the south west side of the island. We all piled into the boat in the afternoon to sail round to join this larger party~
A very stiff wind and tremendous waves tossed our small craft about like a cork. My position on the stern was quite precarious. A very senior Greek army officer and his daughter had reached Kythira Island and had asked that they be allowed to travel with us. Somehow I overheard this being discussed and agreed. The poor girl was very ill and sea sick as well. At first she was sitting near my feet on the keel of the boat; they took her into the small cabin for shelter. We all felt sorry for her.
The sea was so rough that the 鈥渃aptain鈥� decided he could not go on. The process of going about to return to the small harbour
almost capsized the boat. At one time I did prepare to swim. I still had my overcoat and backpack, and I still had some beans and some bully that I did not want to lose.
Food was now getting hard to come by. The people of 112 Sqdn. and those of 80 Sqdn. had some food. They gave me some whenever they had a share out.
Most airmen seemed to have sensed the necessity to start away from their point of departure with a private store. When I had been on my own I had scrounged tins of beans and 鈥渂ully鈥�. At the time I left Athens I had half a loaf of bread, very stale. We did, however, get back to the little harbour and nobody was sorry to get off. I never knew what happened to the Greek Colonel and his daughter. The local Greek people, like all ordinary Greek people, were very, very poor. There was a sort of bistro where they gathered to which we went for coffee, black, in very small cups.
I have often thought of those people who were so friendly but unable to help or offer food or supplies of any sort. Our objective was to get over to the port of Kythira on the west coast. The Adjutant of 112 Sqdn. was desperately hanging on to the Squadron documents, a Lewis gun and some ammunition for the Lewis gun.
That afternoon he must have done a lot of talking, and communication with Kythira was made. We were to gather together and be prepared to climb over the 鈥渕ountain鈥� when darkness came. At dusk an old lady and her husband appeared with two donkeys. To the donkeys backs were tied 112 Squadron documents in a large tin trunk, the Lewis gun and ammunition. Poor little donkeys with that big load, they looked very sad.
We set off with the old lady and the old man leading the donkeys. I took a place very near the donkeys and followed. It all happened so quietly that before we knew where we were we were grappling up a mountain path in the dark. There was no turning back; the path was just wide enough for a man let alone a donkey with a pack. The elderly couple pressed on. They had no doubt climbed this path before.
I remember being so frightened. I was wearing my greatcoat and I was very hot. The cold air and hot sweat didn鈥檛 mix very
well. I can鈥檛 remember how high or how long we climbed but eventually we found ourselves on a level bit of mountain track. We were told to wait.
Before dawn came a very quaint rickety old bus and a car appeared. I鈥檝e no idea who had arranged this but I didn鈥檛 ask questions. The car and bus were loaded; I was one of the first load. Only about eight men could get on the bus. This ancient little bus had wooden seats, wooden sides and the road was indescribable. We looked at one another in the dim light of a starlit early morn. I was glad it was still dark. As the bus rocked and rolled we just sweated it out. The bus arrived at Kythira at dawn. We were glad to get out, both glad and grateful to the Greek driver who also could not have slept that night.
Some of us went into a storehouse on the quayside and slept. Not for long. There was a Squadron Ldr. 鈥淧adre鈥�, name unknown to me. I remember there were two 鈥減adres鈥�, both Sqdn/Ldrs. One of them said, 鈥淲e could clear the straw out of the hold of 鈥渢hat thing鈥� and all clear off to Crete鈥�. 鈥淭hat thing鈥� was a small coaster lying in the bay near the lighthouse. Being my own C/O again and with no one to consult I said I would come and help. Nothing was done. From that morning the 鈥淟uftwaffe鈥� came about every hour. Heinkel, Dornier, Messerschmitt 110 and then Stuka 鈥擩U87鈥檚. One placed a small bomb in the aft superstructure, which started a fire. The crew abandoned the ship and we watched it burn. Because of this raid and the knowledge that we had been seen we all hid in the olive groves on the sloping land that ran up to a cliff. After the Dorniers, 1 lOs and Heinkels, then came the Stukas. The JU87鈥檚 meant that Argos must now be occupied by the German Air Force and they would be here very soon.
Running from the harbour up the hill towards the cliffs was a deep gully. I went with about ten others up to a cave in the cliff face at the end of the gully. High up, we could see all around. It was safer than in the olive groves.
The Luftwaffe pilots all knew that the British hid under the trees. There is nothing like a burst of cannon fire to disturb hiders. The rule was to stay still. Across the cave mouth we built a wall of boulders 鈥� it must be still there 鈥� and I remember during a bombing raid an incident I have never forgotten. Cringing behind a stone was a 鈥淧alestinian鈥� airman watching a raid on the quayside.
I had a good view from the cave but during any air raid to avoid being seen we were forced to stay still. If seen moving the Luftwaffe would give us a 鈥渟quirt鈥� of cannon shells we didn鈥檛 want.
A bomb splinter came up the gully and hit the cliff above the cave. The 鈥淧alestinian鈥� took out his wallet and looked at a picture of the Virgin and Child. He was one of the refugees from Russia or Poland no doubt, and very devout. He appeared comforted and looked at me as if his hope was restored. That few seconds made me think about mankind and his desperate but fruitless search for an 鈥淎nchorage鈥�. That 鈥淧alestinian鈥� was comforted, so be it. I suppose then I was too cynical, arrogant or ignorant to comment or sympathize.
By this time, waiting for or enduring an air raid was almost the general way of life. There was always a sound of some explosion somewhere, or cannon fire not far off. One thing about the Luftwaffe, they did share their 鈥済ifts鈥� out fairly. Nobody wanted their 鈥済ifts鈥� which were usually light bombs, cannon fire or machine gun fire. There had been no R.A.F. air defence at all for over a week. There were no aircraft. It was as simple as that.
The fire on the ship grew out of control so we watched it burn. I can never understand why the Stukas kept coming back to bomb it. It was obviously a 鈥渨rite off鈥� but they kept coming. The next day another ship sailing round by the lighthouse was caught by a Heinkel or a DO 17. I watched the bombs leave the aircraft and enter the ship鈥檚 superstructure. A tremendous explosion followed. All the centre of the ship blew up into the air. The bow came out of the water and then sank. It all happened in about three minutes. After watching this nobody spoke for a while.
I wanted nothing to do with ships if that鈥檚 what could happen. On the third day the coaster gave up the ghost and sank. It had burned and banged for three days. Our hopes of getting away were very low.
There had been a tugboat moored in the harbour. The Luftwaffe had tried to sink it. We counted fifty-four bombs dropped
The ship rounding the headland was hit, and sunk in about 3 minutes, around it, not one hit. The anchor chain had broken and the boat drifted to the rocky beach across the bay.
Food was getting short and we were asked to pool our personal hoards. Some people had nothing, others had hoards of tins. Those who had arrived on Kythira by the now sunken ship had come from Kalamata and wisely carried as much food as possible. I felt very 鈥渉oly鈥� when I handed in my last two tins of beans. Without shame I do confess now that I kept one tin of 鈥渂ully鈥� and a small tin of condensed milk that I had carried since leaving Athens 鈥� a thousand years ago.

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