Jackals’ Revenge. Iain Gale

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СКАЧАТЬ Royal Navy vessels, caiques and smaller boats, funnels and masts protruding from the water and debris. He stared down as they passed by one of the hulks and saw that what he had presumed to be driftwood was in fact a dead body, bloated and floating face down. He realised that the sea was full of them and that there was nothing that could be done to clear them. As they drew closer the smell which had begun to permeate the air of burnt metal and wood, cordite and oil grew stronger and he felt at first just nauseous, then suddenly cold and filled with a sense of foreboding. Prompted by Eadie, his schoolboy Greek mythology came back to him again and for an instant he thought of Charon, ferrying the dead in his boat across the river Styx to Hades.

      He turned to Eadie. ‘I say, Charles, you haven’t got one of those fags to hand, have you?’

      The lieutenant clicked open his silver cigarette case and offered it to Lamb, who drew out a thin white cigarette from behind the elastic strip.

      ‘Turkish?’

      ‘Egyptian, actually,’ said Eadie. ‘Got them from an old Jew in Cairo. Damned good smoke, sir. Hard to find.’

      Lamb lit up and puffed away, his nerves calmed by the sweet smoke. Within minutes they were through the ghastly debris. Lamb let his gaze drift to the quay, which appeared to be littered with military equipment and stores of every kind, from lorries and miscellaneous crates to ammunition boxes, stacks of artillery shells and even a single light tank around which a crowd of local boys had gathered. Beyond the town he could see quite clearly now rolling farmland rising away to the south towards the snow-crested White Mountains.

      Many ships clustered in the bay, some afloat, others resting on the shallow bottom – further evidence of enemy air activity. He couldn’t help but allow himself a feeling of relief at having eluded the enemy on the mainland, and in the fresh morning sunshine he knew that his troops, though very weary, were in the same good spirits. They were almost at the quay now and he could see that it was thronged with locals and men in khaki of all descriptions going about their duties with ant-like precision and purpose.

      Valentine had joined them close to the rail and stood staring at the closing coastline, and then without warning burst into verse.

      ‘The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!

      Where burning Sappho loved and sung.

      Where grew the arts of war and peace,

      Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!

      Eternal summer gilds them yet,

      But all, except their sun, is set.’

      He finished and waited for a comment, but none came. ‘That’s Byron, sir.’

      ‘Indeed.’

      ‘I just thought it somehow appropriate for our situation, sir.’

      ‘Which is?’

      ‘Well, as I see it, sir, the sun is going down on this little part of civilisation. The cradle of civilisation if you like, sir.’

      ‘You think too much, Valentine.’

      ‘Yes, sir. Terribly sorry, sir.’

      A tug drew alongside them and a naval officer yelled at them through a megaphone. ‘Ahoy. See that caique, tied up to the quay? Moor alongside her and disembark across her. Is that clear?’

      Hallam called back. ‘Quite clear, thank you.’

      Their boat drew up alongside the caique and, once the crew had fastened the two together with ropes, they began to move across. Lamb turned to the men on deck. ‘Sarnt Mays, take your section off first and form a guard. Civilians off next, and then the rest of you, by section.’

      Mays led his men off and over the floating dock. Once ashore, they fanned out either side of the gangway. Lamb watched Miranda Hartley and the others step gingerly from their boat on to the caique and walk across its rocking deck before going down the gangway. They stepped ashore as if they were leaving a P&O cruise liner. He half expected to see her turn to Hallam and shake his hand to thank him as she might the liner’s captain. Then, in as orderly a manner as possible, the rest of them followed.

      There was a sudden wailing. Air-raid sirens. Lamb craned his neck and scanned the skies but saw nothing. Nevertheless the ack-ack guns on shore in their little sandbagged half-moons opened fire. Mays’ section ducked instinctively and the civilians looked up to see the danger but to his surprise none of the crowd on shore seemed very concerned and the khaki figures carried on about their business. The sirens stopped as abruptly as they had begun and the guns ceased a few seconds later. More wasted ammunition, thought Lamb. And why? Because, he guessed, some jittery young artillery spotter in a slit-trench on a hill outside the town had thought he had seen a Jerry plane. It had probably been a seagull.

      Lamb found Hallam by the mooring. ‘Thank you. You got us all here safely.’

      ‘No thanks to me. I lost the convoy, didn’t I?’

      ‘Probably sailed straight on to Alexandria. But it was your work that got us here.’

      ‘Perhaps, but it was thanks to your sergeant that we weren’t shot to pieces. He’s an extraordinary man, isn’t he?’

      ‘Yes, he is. That’s one word for it. But anyway, thank you. What will you do now?’

      ‘Try to find a tank if I can. I reckon a few of our mob will be here already. I’m sure to find them. They’re not very good at keeping out of mischief, especially in a place like this.’

      Lamb walked down the gangway and no sooner had his feet touched the stone of the quayside than he heard a voice shouting. He looked around.

      A neatly turned out British staff officer in a peaked cap liberally adorned with brass was addressing Mays’ section. ‘Pile any heavy weapons over there, you men. Everything but rifles and side arms. Over there. We’re going to pool all the heavy weapons. Orders from the GOC.’

      Bennett looked at Lamb and raised an eyebrow before taking him aside and speaking to him quietly.

      ‘Things must be bad, sir. But I’ll be damned if I’m giving up the Lewis guns. I thought this might happen, sir. Took the precaution of having them dismantled. We’ve got a piece each, all us NCOs. We took the ones from the boat too, sir. Course we’ll have to leave the mortars. Can’t do much with them.’

      ‘Well done, Sarnt-Major. Quite right. Important to keep something with us. Hand them in now and we’ll never see them again. Whose brilliant idea was this, I wonder? No one will notice. Stubbs will be furious about his precious mortars, though.’

      The last men off were unloading what few pieces of everyday kit they had managed to bring away from the mainland, which consisted mainly of blankets and rations, and a box of company documents including maps and a copy of King’s Regulations, along with the civilians’ travelling cases.

      The crowd of Cretans that had gathered on the quayside moved towards them now and Lamb saw they were holding objects in their hands. One of the women, an elderly matron in a black dress and shirt, caught his arm and, saying something in a guttural Greek dialect he had never before encountered, smiled at him toothlessly as she pressed something into his palm. Lamb looked down and saw it was an orange. He saw other girls and women giving his men and others newly arrived СКАЧАТЬ