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SNIPER ON CRETE

For any Soldier in any Army to hear 'SNIPER' is like anyone hearing 'GHOST' 'RATTLESNAKE' or 'BLACK WIDOW'.
A bomb or a shell gives warning and people in peril can take cover, so too the crackle of rifle fire can warn the target if the bullets miss their mark.

If the bullets find their mark then they usually are not heard at all.
Thunder and lightning are also a bit like a Sniper in that there is a strike, then depending on how far away the strike originated you can hear the rumble or bang in the distance,-------later.

That on it's own gives the Sniper an edge because when a man falls down no one knows why until they discover he has been shot.
By the time they have wildly looked round not knowing where the shot came from or who is going to be next, the Sniper is long gone.

He will kill any enemy he encounters, but his primary concern is to put out of action groups of the enemy who are being guided by radio or spotter plane, and the first target is the man with the radio pack conspicuous by it's aerial waving in the air.
The next target is the man who is pointing and mouthing off, he is obviously in command of this unit.

Some German Officers or N.C.O.s on Crete dressed much like every other rank except for a small badge of rank that at a distance even with a scope it was difficult to make out the leader.

Having got rid of these two the Sniper can pick the others off at his leisure if he so wishes.
He has to bear in mind that once he is out of ammunition he can become the hunted, so with this in mind he will endeavour to get back to his own lines while still in command of the situation.

Like the person in the super market choosing the best cuts of meat, he takes out people who are in key positions.
Some enemy units' thus disabled and having lost contact can easily mistake their own units and fire on them with disastrous results before they realise their mistake.

When a Regiment goes into battle it can encounter an enemy force and lots of ammunition is wasted as one side tries to knock off the other.
To get a strike force to this point involves Commanders, Map- Readers, Cooks, and so on.
So it is a joint effort and each relies on the other.
Aircraft have crews, Tanks have crews, so do Ships, and they don't see individuals they just see a
target.

Not so the Sniper, he is alone, he does his own map reading, doesn't cook, smoke would give away his position, lives off the land, and he is a loner by nature, also he misses nothing, he can't afford to.
Bearing in mind that a Sniper can be picked off by another Sniper it is hardly suprising that a Sniper can and does somtimes make mistakes when he sees someone pointing a gun in his direction
'Patience is a virtue,' an old proverb, and an invaluable tool.

But sometimes waiting to make sure that the Enemy is indeed the Enemy can cost the Sniper his life so he shoots first and asks question afterwards.
A lot of things in the movies are put there by people who are trying to tell a story the best way they know how, and some do it better than others.
Without the aid of sound in the beginning of the cinema era, the actors had to rely on subtle movements or sometimes-exaggerated body language to get their message across to the audience.
But in real life some things are quite different. And the Sniper does just the opposite as he tries to travel as far as he can as silent and unobtrusive as possible.

If he doesn't get it right the first time he sometimes does not get a second chance.
So the Sniper like a ghost fades into the bushes and although he cannot walk through walls he evades the enemy and continues to be a thorn in their side.

Most of the targets a Sniper engages don't fire back because he is out of range or they just can't see him.
The only thing the Sniper has to fear is his opposite number in the enemy ranks and getting boxed in.
Getting boxed in a good Sniper can avoid, because a lot of the enemy will not take him on owing to the fact he can out shoot most who are foolish enough to attempt it.

But his enemy opposite number is an unknown threat and if Lady Luck is smiling down on on him the Sniper can outwit his opposite number.

I watched a movie one night called 'Sniper,' and found it entertaining, but in real life the bloke would have been dead the moment he stepped from cover, and to take a novice with him to show him the ropes? a definite no no.
No one in his right mind would take someone out to teach him the ropes on a live mission.
Two people would leave a double trail, be twice the target for an enemy Sniper and it would be a waste of a good man, because one of them could be employed more efficiently elsewhere.

This was my opinion then and some ex Soldier readers may not share my views on this, but at the age of 82 while I write this I ponder the reasoning of all the training and instruction I recieved to enable me to survive in this world of "Dog eat dog, and stuff you Jack I'm fireproof"
Some readers may have a different opinion?

I was issued with a Sniper's rifle and thrown in at the deep end and told to get on with it.
I did not volunteer for it, but would surmise that all Service people would be sorted out in due course on joining the Forces and would be selected to do a job that suited them best.

Since I was brought up on a Farm and could hit a rabbit on the run at two hundred yards a gun was second nature to me.
It was also noted on the main shooting range at Aldershot that I could group five rounds into the bull's eye from eight hundred yards and the group could be covered by a silver half crown coin.

At one shoot off the the four holes were so tightly packed that the fifth shot went through with out touching the canvas of the bull.

The bloke in the butts waved a flag to indicate that the fifth round had missed the target.
I protested and the Officer in charge of the butts
ordered me on to the miniture range the next day.
Five miniature targets were wound out to represent the big range targets and I was told to put one round through each of the five targets
with a .22 rifle.

This I did and the targets were collected and the Officer grinned and stuck a pencil through all the holes that were almost identical through each target since they were all held together a person could see straight through all the holes when held to the eye.

"There's no doubt about it laddie, you are a good shot indeed"
But I noticed they didn't bother to upgrade my pay by three pence a day.
Then we moved to Palestine and I missed out on that pay rise for the next twelve years.
But that is a small price to pay when I think of all those who were not as fortunate as me and did not get back home.

H.M.S. GLENROY

I was below decks on the destroyer HMS Glenroy, we had been moved from Sollum in the desert to Alexandria harbour.
There was a lot of speculation amongst our lads.
"Well we bin' up the desert so long they is goin' tae gi' us a trip rand't Med, (Mediterranean sea) sa'ht see'n no da'ht, (sight seeing no doubt) warbled a voice.

"Ah shouldn't wonder" someone else chimed in.
"Na, they wouldn't do that, not in a destroyer they wouldn't, would they"? Queried a third voice.
And "Yu wan' a bet", chirped the first speaker.
So it was bandied back and forth until one of our officers poked his head through a door at the top of the stepladder.

" I say, would you chaps keep the noise down a little, we don't want the world to know there are troops on this ship".
The bloke next to me chortled, " Nice one, when we trooped up the bloody gangway half o' bloody Alexandria knew."
But we simmered down, and a few minutes later two Sailors appeared and began to close the hatches.

We protested, cries of "It's gonna to get bloody hot wi' they thengs closed."
And "'ere yu can't do tha', 'ow the bleed'n' 'ell are we supposed tu breeve?"
But the Matlo said " Sorry lads, but I got orders, there's an air raid on an' there's some enemy planes comin' over an' I got to shut yus in, just in case."

"In case of what?" wavered a voice from the back.
"That's bliddy charmin' " said another voice, " A chuffin' bomb 'its us, an' we goes to the bottom an' we can't ger aht."
But Naval discipline being what it was, cries of "Leave the bloody covers were they are" fell on deaf ears.

The hatch covers were stacked one on top of the other at each end and above the hold.
Since a hatch cover was shaped like a wooden bowed bridge and about four metres long by a metre wide it needed a man at each end to lift it.
The opening to the hatch we were in was about ten metres long by four metres wide.

So there were five of these hatch covers at one end up top, stacked one atop the other, and the same at the other end.
The Sailor cried "Come on then we ain't gor all bleed'n' day"
Two more Sailors appeared, one at each side of the hold, and grabbing hold of the top cover at each end, then imitating two crabs they scuttled sideways, thus transporting the heavy cover over the hold.

When they got to the middle of the opening up top they dropped the cover into position and a fine film of dust began to drift down.
Returning to the stacked up covers, they repeated the operation until half of the opening was covered.

Then they transferred their attention to the other stack of five covers.
More fine dust was drifting down as we watched our view of the star-studded heavens disappear as more covers were fitted.
As the last cover was dropped into place it suddenly became very dark, but as our eyes adjusted to the now dim light we could just make out the bloke next to us.

Then a dim light was switched on up on the bulkhead.
A voice drawled "Fank Gawd fer dat, ah fought fur 'orrible minit' somebudy wus abaht ti do me a mischief".

Elsewhere this attempt at brevity might have brought a laugh, but since this situation we now found ourselves in was entirely new, we didn't yet have a clue of how to deal with it.

For starters we were all close together and the not too clever of us knew that it only needed a small bomb to come through those covers and not necessarily explode because it would go straight through the bottom of the Destroyer.

In that event we would be the first to drown.
We were stood so close together one bloke enlightened us with the amusing information, if a bomb did go off we would not have enough room to fall down.

There was not a lot of room below decks on a destroyer, not for a whole regiment, minus Head Quarters that is, they stayed in Alex.
Lucky back studs

About ten minutes went by and we could hear the aircraft now, and a silence descended on the lads as we wondered what was happening up top and we strained to hear any faint sounds.
I didn't like the situation one bit, how do we get out?

Suddenly every one jumped as above us pom pom guns opened up.
Then they were joined by a Bofa gun just beyond the quayside, WUMP, WUMP, WUMP, WUMP, WUMP.
"Bloody 'ell" cried a voice, "Somebodies coppin' it"

Then there was one hell of a thunderous crash and a matlo shouted, "We must be using our main armaments".
I pictured the big guns on the deck lowering and creeping back their original position after the sudden recoil as the shell left the muzzle.
Lowering to be re-loaded with smoke wreathing from the muzzles, then rising again and another tremendous crash as they fired and kicked back.

Meanwhile dust was every where and each time the big guns fired more dust fell down and the matlo with a shaky grin said, "So that's where those idle back studs have been hidin' all the muck they swept up off the deck all these months".
"Hidin' it under the bleedin' covers."

The floor beneath us was shuddering and blokes had dust in their hair and all over their gear, and we were coughing and wiping our eyes.
Some took out their woollen pullover from their packs and covered their mouths to breathe easier.

For a brief moment there was a lull and we could hear shrapnel coming down, a bit over here, a bit over there, like some one sighing, then there would be a thud as it landed.

Sometimes a pitter patter like hail stones as a group of small shrapnel came down together and hit the deck.
Someone said, "Good job that bloke put the covers on ar'ter all"
Another said, "Yu can say that agin mate"
He did, but half way through his sentence some one yelled "Shurrup yu pillock!---listen"

Then we heard it, a noise like some one playing one very high note on a violin and it got louder and then shrill, almost like a scream.
Every one shrunk down to make as small a target as possible.

Someone who had been holding his breath suddenly bawled, " It's that bloomin' pink elephant you've been seein' Dicko, she in heat, an' she's lookin' fer yer"
Then it hit.

I don't know where the bomb hit.
But there was one hell of an explosion.
A voice released pent up emotion with, "S--T".
Another said, "Funny…. so did I" and a nervous titter ran round the group, but silenced as suddenly as it started as the ship seemed to shudder as more dust fell on us from somewhere up above us where the covers had been put on by our friendly Sailor mates.

Then more whistling and more bombs.
But they were moving further away now, and more dust and we could hear yelling and pandemonium up top.

The droning of the planes had gone and the guns had stopped firing, but there was still a lot of bustle up top.

I glanced round and there were lots of anxious faces, some one forced a sickly grin and said,
"Don't worry lads if yu can hear it it's not for you."
Someone else chimed in with, "That's 'cos yu' f---n' dead a'ready"

A voice very controlled and calm said, " Why have I got sea water climbing up my legs?"
There was a tense silence as every one looked down, expecting to see water rising, my first thought was, "shit , we must be sinking"
"Good bye mum" and my next thought was well swim as long as you can because when the water gets to the covers they will float off as the ship sinks, so grab one and hold on to it.

"Dosey bugger, yu p----d yussel," snarled the bloke next to the speaker, moving away in disgust.
A murmur of relief trickled through the crowd of blokes as they realised the noise had now abated and the boat was indeed still on the surface and not heading for the bottom of the harbour as we thought, and we were indeed safe, albeit for the moment.

Whistles were blowing up top and someone was shouting orders.
Down in the hold the dust and grime was beginning to settle onto its new home, the floor, and us.
Some jauntily, began dusting themselves off as others offered what I thought was good advice, "Leave it aht mate till we git inta the fresh air".

So the culprits desisted, and with a sheepish grin one murmured, " Yea well, come to think of it there is enough dust to go round, ah'll do it when we ger off the ship"
"Good lad" said the advice Offerer, and patted him on the back, then they both coughed as the cloud of dust from the blokes shirt enveloped them both.

Finally the noise of the planes faded and the covers were removed and the fresh air was like champagne.
Some one groaned "Would yu luck at this, I just got this back from the dhobi walla an' luck at it nah" and the speaker brushed off dust from the shoulders of his shirt.

His mate nudged him and nodded upward and I followed his gaze in time to see two Matlos with some one on a stretcher, then sirens were heard and army ambulances were screeching to a halt on the dockside.

"Just be grateful that's not you on that bleed'n stretcher mate" said a voice.
The Sailor held up his hand and cried, "listen"
I could hear a faint throbbing of engines, and the Matlo said with a grin, "Say goodbye to Alex lads, no more Tombola in the Fleet Club for a while, I think we're off on that Mediterranean cruise.

We were told we could come up on deck and get some fresh air.
There was a scramble for the ladder.
We climbed the iron rungs welded to the bulkhead.
Although impatient to get on deck we had to wait till the bloke above us got a little higher, or one could collect a kick in the face from the heel of his boot as he swung it clear of the iron rungs to get onto the deck.

It was great to stand there hanging on to a stanchion while now and again a wave would crash into the bow and spray would be flung high into the air and anyone who did not duck for cover got a salt water shower gratis the Navy.

As I got sprinkled with salt water a sudden regret welled up inside me, why had I not followed my desire and joined the Navy.

Later I was to regret it a lot more. But today I am grateful to be here, so I really do not have a grouse.
I am content being a live pheasant plucker.
I could have ended up at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea.

The Destroyer ploughed through the heavy swell and after a few hours it began to get light and we saw land in the distance. One Matlo said, "Welcome to Crete".

Crete is an isolated island between the coast of Africa and Greece.
The Island seemed to slowly get bigger as we got ever closer.

Suddenly a Tannoy speaker crackled and a voice said "Attention the Argylls, anyone leaving the ship via the T.L.C, will make sure there is not a round up the spout of his rifle, this is a safety precaution, you can reload once you are on the T.L.C., over"
I was standing by the rail and watched the foam caused by the Destroyers bow wave race away down the side of the ship.

It seemed to disappear round the stern where it joined once again with the foam from the other side and the foam from the props of the ship and the whole ribbon of frothy white seemed to be a creaming toward the horizon to our rear.

Our Sgt came lurching across the deck and he had to shout because of the noise, there was a stiff breeze blowing and the ships blowers were flat out. "Report to the armourer Sgt and take your rifle and bayonet with you, now."

Having asked a Matlo where the armoury was he grinned and said, "Ah can tek yer quicker than tell yer" and I followed him down a ladder, along an alleyway, left turn, right turn, "Mind yer 'ed mate"
"That door there mate" and he pointed, turned and trotted back the way we had come.
When I got to the ships armoury I reported to the Armourer Sgt and said " I'm 2252 Barker I was told to report here.

I gathered he was Welsh when he looked up and said "That's very nice of you bo-yo"
"Just leave yo ri-fle an' bay-onet by there now", indicating a bench.
There was no way was I going to be parted from my rifle, and the Armourer grinned as he saw I was not about to take it off my shoulder where is was slung.
"Tell yu what bo-yo, you put yours by there an' I will gi-ve you a bet-ter, one alright?"
So I leaned my rifle by there.
"Bay-onet too" grinned the Armourer Sgt.
I removed my bayonet and scabbard from the webbing frog and fixed the bayonet in its scabbard on to the rifle.

I thought about the number on my rifle's bayonet boss, 78354, and the number on the brass butt disk that matched the number stamped on my bayonet, 211.
The Armourer Sgt thrust another rifle into my hand, it looked the same as the one I had just put down except it had about three inches of barrel sticking out at the muzzle, it also had a scope on it.

But it did not have a butt disk or a number on the bayonet boss, nor did the bayonet have a number.
The bayonet fitted the rifle so nothing else mattered.
I opened the bolt and put my fingertip over the firing pin hole and pulled back on the firing pin lug and let go.

I got a stinging tap on my finger end as the pin snapped through the hole and hit my finger.
"Oh it works bo-yo," said the Sgt.
It had nice balance, a silky smooth action, and my reverie was interrupted by the Sgt "See what yu can do with that bo-yo, don't wo-rry, it's been zeroed an' it's spot on, so do-n't shoot y'sel' in the foot, alright?"
Then with a wry grin he asked, "And how many times can you hit the bull at a thou-sand yards then".

I replied, with a straight face, " Every time?"
"Cocky too eh?" he grinned.
I said, "Who's idea was this, I am used to my own rifle, I don't know what this one can do, and I don't want to be in a situation where I have to rely on a faulty rifle."

"Don't wo-rry boyo, it won't let yu down, you will get a pleas-ant surp-rise when you see how much fur-ther you can see with that on it", and he pointed to the scope sitting atop the rifle.
Then he pointed out how much was wasted when one bomber dropped a ton of bombs he was lucky if one hit the target.

And when they put down a creeping barrage using thousands of shells they might hit a tank or kill a rabbit, and all the blokes and equipment that was used to such a meagre end.

"But you son-ny Jim are on your own, you make the decis-ions and if they is wrong it's your
fu-neral, alright?"
And he ended the lesson with, "One target one shot."

Having watched cowboy films on a Saturday afternoon as a kid I was always impressed by the hero.
All the kids expressed their hatred of the baddie who lay in wait for our hero and intended to do him a mischief as he went by singing and playing on his guitar.

As if he didn't have enough to do looking after all the cattle, and breaking in the wild horses, while fending off all the marauding Indians?
Then rescue the damsel in distress, or no dress! those Red Indians were a bad lot.

And finishing off the day by cooking his baked beans, then washing up, then if he was bored he could stick an iron in the fire and brand a few cows.
I forgot to mention cattle rustlers and coyotes, and the odd sidewinder snake, never mind, I think you have got the drift.
I relayed my sentiments on shooting from ambush to the Armourer.

He quietly said "What about the la-st war when the Ger-mans came over in sil-ent zeps and dropped bombs on slee-ping women and kids, and they are do-ing it again now boyo."
"You is not a kid at the pic-tures any more, we are at war, time tu grow up".
He was right.

I was about to leave when I missed the tap of the scabbard against my leg so I turned back and picked up the bayonet in its scabbard that fitted the new rifle.
As I put it in the webbing frog of my equipment the Armourer shouted with a grin, "Yea, you might need that."
When I got back to the other blokes I got a mixed reception.

"Yu' must be a good shot Doggy fur them tu gi' yu' a special rifle", and a chilling remark, "Hey that's a sniper's rifle, if'n yu get caught with that they's gonna shoot yu, no bugger likes snipers."
The Destroyer ploughed on through the sea which had a bit of a swell causing everyone to lean this way then that and sometimes a little waltz step or tap dance was needed just to keep balanced.

We raced towards Crete and I had mixed feelings as we saw land coming up ahead. I also noticed all the big guns on the Destroyer were aimed at the land.

No matter how the Destroyer moved in the water the guns would move to keep pointing at the land.
I heard two sailors discussing the situation.
One said "I think the boss must be in a hurry, cos we usually zig zag.

His mate replied, "Yea, that's ok if you just want to avoid U boars, but I think he wants to get in and out again before the Stukas spot us.
The Destroyer was doing a little turn but the guns kept moving and continued to aim at the beach.

Then there was a change in the engine noise, it was less urgent it seemed, and we began to slow down
Sailors began moving things and seemed to be getting ready, but for what?

A voice said "We'll never make it to land from 'ere with all our gear on in this sea"
And "We aint goin' ter swim from 'ere are we?'
"Och dinnae be sae daft man" and "Ah dinnae wan' tae get mah hair wet, ah jist washed it ye ken"
Another quavered " Ah can't even bleed'n swim, ahl go straight dahn tu the bleed'n bottom, even wiv aht me bleed'n gear on"

An educated voice joined in with, "Use your common sense man, and don't jump over the side until the ship stops"

"Tac's me aw mah time tae walk wi awe thes gear on, let alone jump ony where" said one Jock.
"Fat lot o' good that'll do 'im" said another pointing at the bloke, who now pale faced was adament he was definitely not related to Neptune, or any of the Mermaids for that matter.

The engines slowed some more and finally stopped, the ship hove to and hoists on the Destroyer put two Tank Landing Craft over the side.
On seeing this the faces of the blokes suddenly lost that hunted look, and most looked a lot more confident now.
Some even brightened enough to crack crude jokes, but they drew no laughter.

No one knew what awaited us on that beach.
Sailors from the Destroyer manned these landing craft, and if I remember correctly there were two sailors to each T.L.C
The T.L.C. were bouncing up and down on the waves like the horses one sees at the fair ground on the roundabouts.

We assembled on deck and forming a queue we inched to the stepping off point.
Word was passed back from the front of the queue.
We were supposed to step off the deck of the destroyer and on to the T.L.C.

When told this there was another heated debate.
"I was trained to be a sodjer not a f-n' acrobat, an' if ah had known this was about tu happen ah would 'ave joined a f-n' circus, the pay would be better as weel".

" Yea well, yu wud 'ave made a good clown Yorkie, that's for sure" quipped his mate.
One bright lad said, " This beats the circus mate, yer cudnae get aw this watter inty a circus tent fu starters?'
I knew how to walk, jump and run so this was going to be a new experience for me.
Pondering as we inched along, since we did not have wings how were we going to get into these two metal boxes which were bouncing up and down like the pistons of a two stroke lawn mower.
I did a bit of mental arithmetic.

I thought that since my legs had been designed to carry my body weight even allowing for jumping great heights, what was going to happen when I descended onto the floor of that T.L.C. with all my equipment on, plus my rifle.

I thought about the day when I was a kid as I watched the Gentlemen farmers shooting at birds that had been scared into the air by paid beaters on the farm.

The beaters would walk forward in a line beating at bushes with sticks, and the birds would take fright and soar into the air only to be hit by lead pellets from shotguns the Farmers would be aiming at them.
One bird I remember well had risen from a bush and looked like it was going to make it, but at about 100 ft it suddenly appeared to jerk then with it's wings tight to it's body it dived to earth and landed with a thud and lay still.
I had vision of that happening to me as I descended into the T.L.C

The Destroyer was heaving up and down and some times rolling sideways on the heaving sea.
As I looked at the T.L.C. I was getting close to it was just on it's way down the ships side like an elevator with its winch wires cut.

Suddenly it changed its mind as a huge wave came heaving across the surface of the sea and the T.L.C. came charging back up again as the wave swept under it and lifted it as though to throw it over the ship like an empty shoe box.

The matlo next to me gripped my arm and shouted above the wind "Wait till it's at the top of its climb then step into it."
And I tittered mentally and thought, the Navy must be scraping the bottom of the barrel if this nutter is an example, does he seriously think I'm going to step on to that bloody yoyo, not on yer nellie mate.

However the matlo had other ideas
I had on my pack, and in one hand I was clutching my rifle with the scope on it.
And I remembered the armourer Sgt's parting shot "Don't drop yu rifle or bang it against anything."
"Treat it like it is a baby or a valuable camera, because any heavy shock could put the telescopic sight out of alignment.

Stuff the rifle I thought as I watched as though hypnotised the T.L.C. as it came charging up the side of the ship, then it began to slow down.
But it was too far away, it was an impossible distance to jump and I watched as it descended into the next trough and then it began to inch nearer to the side of the ship and climb again.

My reverie was shattered suddenly as the Matlo screamed "Now" and I did not have much choice because he loosened his grip and pushed on my pack and to keep my balance I sprang outward towards the T.L.C.

I must admire that Matlo's timing because as I descended the T.L.C. had just reach top dead center and as it went down again I went with it, and it was like being on the big dipper on the fair ground as with a woosh it plummeted down.
Only trouble was as I saw it, to be married means to be as one, but the T.L.C. and I did not tie the knot so to speak until we reached the bottom.

I don't think I had actually landed because as the toes of my boots were frantically feeling downwards for the floor it disappeared in a downward direction.

My legs not being made of rubber refused to go any further down and try as I may I remained airborne but hurtling downwards.
So the T.L.C. was racing down and I was racing down after it, but there was a gap of about two inches between the toes of my boots and the bottom of the T.L.C.

Then the T.L.C. began to slow down and my feet gratefully planted themselves on the bottom of it.
It passed through my mind, "Wouldn't it be good to have magnetic boots or hooks even".
I thought, thank God for that, but I had thought too soon.

As the T.L.C. got to the bottom of the wave another one came and started it's next climb.
It suddenly felt like some one had put a load of rocks in my pack, it felt so heavy and my legs buckled and I plonked onto my butt on the bottom of the T.L.C.

I scrambled to my feet with a lot of effort and got the feel of the deck, and just managed to get out of the way as the next bloke crashed onto the deck beside me.

This went on until we had about fifteen blokes on the T.L.C.
The next bloke didn't make it, the matlo pushed but he did not jump at the same time and missed his footing and with a yell fell into the sea.
He had all his equipment on and was carrying his rifle, he must have let his rifle go and wriggled out of his pack because he surfaced and someone had already thrown down a line to him.

We could see him under the surface desperately trying to unbuckle his equipment, then suddenly he surfaced gasping for air minus his equipment.
He grabbed the line but before they could pull him in the T.L.C. went whooshing down and closed with the ship.

As the T.L.C. continued its decent there was suddenly a red patch down the ships side following the T.L.C. down as if some one had thrown a bucket of red paint and it was running down the side of the ship.

Then a wave came and the long red smear was gone, and so was the bloke.
Someone murmured "Now you see him now you don't."
Another said, "What a waste, what a way to go, well at least it were quick." Suddenly a lot of the humour and banter that had been there before was gone.

Suddenly there was a bitter taste and it spoilt the day for those who had seen the incident.
The Matlo who had thrown the rope was still searching the water with his eyes when a bloke told him to coil up the rope and stow it.

Finally we had the full compliment of men on the T.L.C and it was freed from the ship.
The Matlo got the motor going and we cleared the Destroyer and since we were facing away from the Island we had to do a turn to starb'd and do a huge semicircle and this brought the front of the T.L.C. round so it was now pointing at the Island.
I looked round and saw the other T.L.C. making for the island and as I watched a wave collided with the front of it and it seemed to stand still for a while, then it got going again.

I wished they were speed boats, I was imagining the Germans having now being alerted were feverishly loading and sighting theirs guns, any minute now and the whistle of shells would be heard.

But nothing happened.
We kept plodding on.

And each time a big wave hit the front and slowed the T.L.C. down, I thought this is it, any minute now, we are a sitting duck.
There were lots of steel plates on hinges attached to the rim of the opening to the deck of the T.L.C and these were clipped back and common sense told me these were there to be swung into place should we suddenly be strafed from the air.

Since there were no German Stukas around to dive bomb or strafe us they had been left clpped and secure.
I was going to ask someone but on looking round all I saw were anxious stares and one bloke who's mouth was working as if he was saying prayers to himself.

Another bloke had the bolt out of his rifle and was cleaning it with a bit of rag.
I watched him as he painstakingly screwed the end off the bolt and wiped the firing pin, then re-assembling the whole thing, he pushed a clip of five into the magazine.

Then he looked at me and grinned and patted the rifle that was now over his shoulder on its strap. Another bloke had a rosary in one hand and was counting off the beads.

Suddenly everyone lurched forward as a big wave crashed into the front of our T.L.C.
Because a T.L.C. has a flat front door that can be lowered the big waves were crashing into it.
All the feet pounded as the owners tried to keep upright, then the T.L.C. would get up speed only to have another wave smash into the front and it and it was like running into a brick wall.

But as we neared the beach the waves became smaller and we began to move a little faster and I became aware of my dry mouth and heart thudding as we expected to be met by enemy fire.
But all was still quiet and the other T.L.C also landed without mishap.

Wait for it I thought, the mire will hit the fan the moment those big doors hit the sand.
There will be Krauts in every bush and behind every rock.
We nudged up on to the beach and the huge door at the front fell to the sand with a thud.
Nothing else happened.

It was so quiet except for the sound of small waves splashing against the rear of the T.L.C and on to the beach where they wet the sand then changed their minds and wandered back the way they had come, like disappointed ducks departing from a dry stream bed.

I stepped on to the sand in about half an inch of water.
We maybe got our boots wet but that was about all, which is how close to the beach we got before disembarking.

Then one of the sailers with us shouted "That b----ds leaving us on the beach, and sure enough the Destroyer was indeed getting under way, it got up speed and curved away to the horizon leaving a long curved creamy wake in the shimmering sea.
The Sailors who had been left were understandably upset and one threatened what he was going to do to that back stud when he next saw him, some thing about gutless or nutless?

I gathered all the Sailors were a bit upset.
We know what he did was right.

There is nothing more tempting to a Stuka pilot than a ship not moving, a ship on the move has steerage and the skipper can anticipate and dodge the bombs from an enemy aircraft, if he's lucky that is, but a ship not moving is a sitting duck.

So to save his ship and all the men on it, four sailors and two T.L.C.s was a cheap price to pay.
Depends on your point of view though, if you are one of the Sailors left on the beach you could be forgiven for not agreeing with this.

However back to the beach, we moved inland with tongue in cheek but there was no opposition and finding some open ground we got settled down.
Some blokes were sent to scout out the land and report back.
Over there two Officers were having an argument as to who had seniority.

The Sgt came over to me and said, "You know what to do with that" nodding at the rifle hanging on the sling over my shoulder.
He continued with " Get grub where yu can and watch yer sel."

We carried on as if we had come here to sight see.
And were greeted by the locals as long lost friends.
They were very nice people and to my delight two of us were invited to have a meal in a small house. Some of the other lads were invited to other local houses.

As I watched the Lady prepare the meal I saw how they cooked eggs, instead of frying them as we do she just broke the shell and dropped the eggs into a pot of hot olive oil.
The man of the house got some wine glasses and producing a bottle of red wine proceeded to carefully fill the wine glasses to half full but the lady said something to him and he shrugged and filled them to the top.

Then every one took a glass and we said good health, while they said something in Greek, and we all smiled at each other.
The lady then put what looked like brown oblong rocks, (slightly bigger than a Mars Bar of chocolate) on the table and said, "Psomi".

Because we looked puzzled, she got one of these rocks and dipped it into the wineglass, so we copied her and found that it was indeed bread that was dried so it would keep to be used later.
Dipping it for a short time in wine made it edible again.

We reciprocated by giving a bar of chocolate to the lady and she and her husband were delighted.
I think luxuries here were a bit thin here abouts.
We gathered from the local fare that these people lived a very frugal life.

The socialising suddenly came to an abrupt standstill when someone outside screamed "Aircraft" and another joined in with "Paratroops".
Everyone leapt to their feet, but it was a false alarm, an aircraft had indeed flown over because we could hear the drone of it fading away.
A few minutes' later sheets of paper began to float down everywhere.

I can't remember the exact wording but the jist of the message was "Lay down your arms and
we will treat you well, resist us and we will bomb your villages and towns to ashes, and if a German soldier is killed we will kill ten of you as a reprisal".
Charming, I thought.

Needless to say a lot of fingers jerked skyward
The next day I was sitting in the back of a Morris truck with two other bods, we had been moving gear to a new position.

We were just cruising along when some one shouted, "AIRCRAFT" we all looked up and now above the noise of our engine I could hear the Stuka as it came screaming straight down on us.

The screaming noise it made grew louder and louder and everything seemed to shrink except the Stuka as it got bigger and bigger and the shrieking siren sounded like all hell let loose
I saw the bomb detach from the aircraft and as the gap between the two gradually widened the driver yanked the hand brake on and dived for cover.

With its back wheels skidding the truck was slowing down and veering to the left as we leapt for our lives and run to a gully at the side of the road and jumped straight into a bunch of thorns.
I watched fascinated as the bomb hit the ground.
The Stuka hauled itself out of the dive.
At first I thought he's left it too late and waited for the crash.
But he swooped away.
And I ducked.

Then there was a crash like I had never heard before as the bomb hit the truck and shards of metal and debris was flying all over the place.
Suddenly there was a blast of hot air and pressure that seemed to leave a vacuum which suddenly reversed and it made me gasp.

It was as if someone had suddenly wrapped a bandage round the ribs too tight for me to breathe then suddenly cut it off.
Then it was gone and I felt a tingling of the skin as if lots of ants were biting.

Every thing I looked at was dancing side ways but this gradually stopped and now my ears were ringing.

The truck was twisted and on fire and dust was swirling everywhere.
One of its front wheels was still wobbling as it rolled about a hundred yards away from the truck trailing bits of the track rod with it.
One of our blokes put his mouth to my ear and yelled "Therrre goes ma no claims bonus" and I noticed he had a lot of blood on his leg, and when I enquired he said " Och dinna wurry aboot et, they ruddy thorrrns en the ditch ye ken"

One of the other lads had a bit of twig stuck through the side of his face.
He was dazed and unsteady on his feet, he grinned but his eyes were a bit vacant, and he kept falling down so we sat him down and after half an hour he was almost back to normal.

The next day the Stuka came back and we had a Bren gun mounted on a tripod for anti aircraft.
We were sitting under an olive tree enjoying the shade, the Officer and another bloke were poring over a map, and there was a signaller under another tree with his headphones on and a pencil stuck behind one ear.

Now and again he would reach out and give the Morse key a couple of clicks, then he would pull out the head phones jack and wander over to the Officer and hand him a slip of paper with a message on it.

Then returning to his seat he would put the headphones jack back into to the radio transmitter and pick up a book to read while waiting for any messages.

One of our blokes had climbed up a tree and thrown down what looked like small flat brown bananas.
Someone said "Oh yea, them is locus beans, that's what they is".

Another bod remarked, " I didn't know yu was an authority on tropical fruits, Dicko?".
The Sgt said, "Ee' aint exactly an authority on the English language eiver"
Then we heard the Stuka a long time before it got to us.

We stayed put under the tree, one bloke had got stretched out and I thought he was trying to copy a stick insect, but I suppose from the air it would be difficult to see him if he kept still.
A Stuka has bombs and multiple machine guns so it is madness to challenge a fully armed Stuka from the ground with only a rifle or a single Bren gun.
The target on the ground from a Stuka point of view is stationary, therefore an easy target.
A Stuka in the air is moving all the time and is a difficult target to hit.

But one of our blokes decided to take on this Stuka.
The Stuka was cruising along at a hight were we could plainly make out the black crosses on the wings and seemed obvious to me he was looking for a target.

Somebody said, "Just keep still lads, he'll bugger off in a minute"
We had been advised " If you hear any aircraft, get into the shade of a tree and keep absolutely still until he has gone".

One of our blokes suddenly moved away from the tight group under the tree and snarled
"What the f-k are we hiding for, I'll take that b----d on any time"
He dashed out to where the Bren was mounted and was shouting "Come on you b----d have a taste of this".

Pulling back on the cocking handle he swivelled round to get a bead on the Stuka.
He fired a long burst and because every fifth round was tracer I could see every now and again what looked like a red hot cinder spit out from the Bren gun and lazily curl up into the sky reaching for the Stuka but missing it.

The Stuka Pilot must have seen the movement on the ground because he suddenly veered and did a part climb then turned and came screaming down.
Suddenly what looked like kids sparklers began to twinkle on the front edge of the wings of the Stuka.

We got round the other side of the tree while screaming to the bloke to leave it and take cover.
Bits of twigs were suddenly being chipped off trees nearby and pale patches appeared on the trunks of trees as the bark was ripped off by bullets from the Stuka.

The bloke was so obsessed with the Stuka he was in a world of his own.
He ripped off the used magazine, and suddenly spurts of dust began to creep along the ground toward the Bren gunner.

.The Stuka zoomed up and away as the bloke followed him with the chattering Bren gun.
As the Stuka gained hight he swept round to come back at the Bren gunner.
Two of our blokes pleaded with the gunner to leave it and get under cover, but the bloke was adamant,

"F-k off, ah'm about tu get me a Kraut, and as the Stuka came in for his second attack the Bren gunner opened up, and the Stuka's wings sparkled and the bullets kicked the dust up as they crept up to the Bren gunner again.
Knocking the now empty magazine off and grabbing a full one, he was about to fit it when an invisible force grabbed him and slammed him to the ground.

There was a thud, thud, thudding noise at the same time leaves and bits of bark were ripped from the tree behind him.
The noise of the siren along with the snarling engine of the Stuka was like an orchestra backing the noise of the bullets as like hailstones they hit the ground and odd ones would zing and buzz angrily as they ricocheted and sang off rocks.
Our blokes fell to the ground to make a less target for those whizzing wasp like bits of metal.
The Bren gunner lay there, not moving, but dark patches were appearing on his clothing and near his body the dry ground was darkening as it soaked up the liquid from the still body.

The Stuka zoomed up and away and we listened to its engine fade in the distance.
I didn't know his name, I wished I did, but I think that bloke should have got the highest award.

Someone did get his dog tags and I heard him say," You will always be remembered old mate, no question, and ah'l see to it yu gits a medal"
I heard some one mutter "Fat lot o' good a meddle will do 'im nah"
I thought what a mad, rash act, but I admired what he had done.

Later I heard one company was moving out, " We're off to Heraklion mate " I heard, so I decided I would tag along and cover for them.
As they moved out I got on higher ground so I could see better and kept more or less in sight of them.

But I got on higher ground and soon got left behind because I had to negotiate rough country while they were on the track.
It was a nice quiet walk, the sun was shining and I looked at the tree shadows to get my bearing.
I was as happy as Larry, I was on my own, it was a nice day, and there was no one screaming do this do that.

Now and again I got my compass out and had a look at the hill in front.
I was on the lookout for the slightest movement up ahead, so I would take cover and survey the terrain then move quickly to another location.
The drill here was get into a clump of bushes and have a good look round through my scope and having made sure there was no one around, I could then head for the next cover.
There was someone a long way off moving but the heat haze made it difficult to tell what he or she was wearing.
An aircraft flew over but he was too high but caution made me wait till he had gone.
I also retained the habit of looking as well as listening because I knew the Germans would also use the 'switch off the engine and glide silently' trick.

Having had a last look round I moved to keep as much cover between the unknown target and me.
I thought the person I had seen would have to be a local, because out here a German alone would be a good target for the locals, a lot of whom had guns.

After about an hour of bush hopping I was behind a big tree and having made sure there was no one around I pulled some flat dry brown bean like fruit from the tree, some were sweet tasting.
I was now on the lookout for the target I had seen earlier so now I was being more wary and I made sure I didn't tread on any dry twigs.
It was possible he/she could think I was a German and shoot me.
I got the warning via my nose, so I followed it very quietly.

Then I could see the silhouette of something moving behind the bush to my right at about thirty yards.
I got a rock and hurled it at the bush.

A man rose pulling up his breeks and when he saw the gun pointing at him he gabbled away in Greek
and his hands shot in the air and his breeks fell down.

I knew he was no German so I lowered the rifle but I held it still in his direction, and he again pulled up his dacks and tied them with string round the waist.
I also took note of the curved knife in it's fancy sheath he tucked into his string belt.
He stood grinning not knowing what to do, so I did the walking bit with my fingers and pointed to the distant village and he grasped it straight away and with a hesitant wave he scurried away.
I watched till I was sure he was gone then I moved to a group of bushes that had a view of where I had just been and waited for about an hour, he did not come back to trail me.

So satisfied no one knew I was here I felt more comfortable.
Later in the afternoon I heard firing in the distance.

There was also a machine gun chattering and the sharp crack of other rifles and suddenly I got just the merest scent coming down wind and I crouched under cover.

It was hot and I had my mouth open.
I found that if one keeps one mouth closed one hears oneself breathing and it blocks any faint sound that might spell a message.
Keeping still and quiet I waited and waited as the sweat trickled down my back.
I could hear a faint metalic tic, tinc, was it some one wearing equipment, how many would there be.

Could they be ours?
I could hear a thud thud thudding and realised suddenly I was so up tight and my mouth was so dry, but I dare not move in case I would be spotted.
And after about ten minutes I saw a pair of horns start to bob up and down at the crest of the hill and now and then a faint metalic tinc, tinc.
Bloody goats, I thought, and relaxed as a goat came into full view.

Nibbling this bit then move a bit further and a nibble at that bit, and I moved.
It caught the movement immediately.
And stood for a moment staring at me, then with a thin bleat it whirled and was gone the way it came, the bell round it's neck jangling and jingling, it was a noise and would draw attention.

I stayed put a long time under that bush because I knew if some one with binocs had seen that goats behaviour he would be scanning hoping to get a glimpse of movement.

I began to doze when a breath of wind caught the leaves and they rustled as if to say it's time you were gone so I took the hint, but not before I had a good look round with my scope.
Everything would speed past in a blur then I would stop and go back a little, only a goat, so I would sweep again to the right, then sweep back a little lower and it could get tedious.

I thought dead is a lot more tedious, you can't even get to the cinema, so I continued scanning the terrain. I could see no movement so I moved out.
I could still hear sporadic firing and working ever closer I discovered on looking over the top of some rocks some of our blokes were engaged by a company of Germans.

I was about eight hundred yards away up the hill and the bloke who caught my eye was using heavy machine gun.

Aiming at his head as he was firing a burst, I snapped his picture, he sort of keeled over still holding the gun to his shoulder and the gun was still firing as he went down.
The other Germans scattered, afraid of being hit by their own gun.
Some were now looking wildly round not knowing where the shot had come from since having seen the wound in the gunners head was not from the front they though some of our blokes were behind them.

It never occurred to them the shot had come from half a mile away up on the hill.
I had a new position next to a tree with a thick bush at the bottom of it.
I was now peering through this bush at the antics of the Jerries and one had braid on his lapels indicating he was a Feldwabel (Sgt) and he was screaming orders when he suddenly clutched his neck and fell to remain still.

I suddenly realised I dare not shoot at the others because they had moved and if any of my shots ricocheted I could now hit my own men but the Jerry had had enough and melted into the trees.
Through my scope I could see one of our blokes looking my way with his binocs but judging by the way he was sweeping with them I guessed he could not see me.

I potted at different groups on other occasions.
The ones I upset the most were groups having a rest in the shade and they would have the helmet over the eyes and maybe one would be reading a book, and I would remember him as 'The one with a book'.

The one reading the book had an electric emblem on his sleeve so he could have been a sigs man.
Knock him off and they were isolated from their main unit.
The others would look round at the hills when in the distance they heard a shot and shrug, but it was not until some one spoke to the reader and realised he was never going to finish the story or send or receive any more signals.

I had to work my way back to get more ammo and a change of diet. I had been living on locust beans and was getting sick of them.
Also I wanted a good swim in the sea, I was getting heat or sweat rash, and I had to be just as cautious disengaging from the enemy because a sniper could get behind me.

I got back ok and scrounged some food, had a swim and collected some ammo.
I didn't like going to Greek houses because I realised these people would give food even though they were short of it themselves, so I had to content myself with bully and biscuits or locust beans off the trees.

I also learned the Stuka had come back and demolished some houses where we had been, and some of the people had been killed.
It was heart breaking to see some of these families, who had been isolated for so long, suddenly torn apart by a modern war.

Somebody told me that the Germans in one village had made all the village people walk in front of them as they advanced.
One of our Officers sent a captured German to this force and made it clear that any Germans involved in this practice negated the Geneva code and could expect no quarter to be given if captured.

The practice ceased.
The next day it was a different bloke at the ammo table so I asked for more ammo and I had about three hundred and fifty rounds.
I had two pale brown cloth bandoliers round my waist, one over each shoulder, and one in each Bren gun pouch plus some loose rounds, so the ones over my shoulders I hid further out so I did not have to come all the way back.

350 rounds are heavy when one has to move quietly and quickly.
By the way a cloth bandolier holds 50 rounds.
I did a bit more foraging about half way to and in the general direction of Heraklion and thinned out a few more baddies so to speak, and I would keep coming back to base.

One day I went to the top of a hill and looked over and the views were magnificent.
Because there was a track or rough road into the distance I thought if any one were to come this way they would come along that road.
I made it a regular place to lay and observe the landscape, and on one afternoon I saw dust in the distance and then it went behind a shoulder of a hill.

The haze shimmering in the distance made it difficult to see whatever it was that was moving.
So as always I was patient and waited.
Then a bit later as I watched it appeared again but this time it was round the next hill nearer to me.

Again it disappeared behind a hill, then as I watched the next bit where the road came from behind a hill a bit nearer I saw this motor cycle and side car gradually taking shape as it rounded the base of the hill.
I looked through my scope and could make out a bloke sitting in the sidecar behind a mounted machine gun, he and the driver both had goggles on the driver had a rifle slung over his back.
They were just cruising along as if they own the place, and I thought, "Not yet you don't."

I saw there were a few trees and bushes where they were so I waited because as they drew nearer and clearer they were soon going to be where there was no cover.

I did a quick check round and I was alone under the cover of my favourite bush, so all I had to do was wait.
There was a light air plane somewhere but he was way up high.

Since I was under this bush there was no way he could see me, and now I could faintly hear the engine of the motor bike and it was echoing from the hills so it sounded like a whole mob of motor bikes were coming.
Then I thought, "That's as far as you go Fritz", The picture now filled my rifle scope.
I shot.

The driver of the motor cycle sort of curled up and fell and rolled over and over making a cloud of dust rise up as the motor cycle continued on its way with the bloke in the side car now trying to reach the handle bars to regain control of the bike.

The bloke in the side car stood up and tried to grab the handle bar to keep the motor cycle on the road and it flashed through my mind when the photographer takes a picture he says "Smile please" and as everyone smiles he snaps the pic.

He stood up I snapped his picture and he collapsed in a heap.
Then sagged and fell out onto the road and because the bottom half of his legs were hooked over the side of the side car he was dragged for about 50 yards.
Then his legs became free and he slid to a halt and was still, while the motor bike careened on
The motor bike kept on going until it veered and left the road. That is how I recall the last of the motor cycle.

Well I think it did, but I'm not sure, because suddenly I got a bang on my tin hat and I saw lots of pretty stars.

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