Operation Mercury (25 page)

By early evening, around 6.30 p.m., Gray himself went forward to try and steady the line but with both flanks ready to fold. He managed, by this valiant example, to stem the rot but, all too soon, the dazed and exhausted men were reeling back in a steady trickle which threatened to turn into a spate. Within half an hour the defenders' positions on Wheat Hill had been forced and the companies flanking the position driven in. A major breach now gaped.

Then came Kippenberger:

Such was the heroism of a single man at the moment of crisis that others would never forget the image or the inspiration, ‘…in the middle of it all this mighty, mighty man'.
⁴³
The Brigadier's intervention helped to stem what was becoming a rout and the men fell back in as orderly a manner as the weight of German fire would allow. As the relentless pressure seemed only to intensify, the southern companies bent and then folded back toward Galatas itself.

Lieutenant Dill, he who had earlier sought a bath in the foreknowledge of the weight of the blow that was about to fall, was amongst those mortally wounded, and was dragged back to join the swelling horror around the Regimental Aid Post, now deluged with scores of wounded men. Kippenberger was forming a new defensive line along the crest of the Daratsos Ridge which angled north-eastwards before the village of Karatsos. Colonel Gray, ‘looking twenty years older than three hours before', was among the last to retire.

A frantic message to Inglis, borne by the redoubtable Captain Dawson, had produced a motley assortment of last ditch reserves, the 4 Brigade Band, a concert party, a rather random, divisional music outfit ‘half orchestra – half NAAFI' and a pioneer battalion. The only combat ready formation to appear was a single company from the 23rd – immediately deployed to forge a hinge with the remnants of the 20th clinging to the right flank.

In the midst of the shooting the gallant Sergeant Andrews was hit in the stomach. Kippenberger records, with regret, how he felt he should never see this stalwart again. In fact, Andrews survived and the pair met up again in Italy in 1944.
⁴⁵
For a brief moment, in the true course of this whirlwind battle, a sort of calm appeared to descend and hopes were raised that the Germans had, at least for this day, shot their bolt; far from it.

The truncated line was a rough wedge shape; on the long southern side, the 19th and Russell Force were hanging on and the superlative Petrol Company still clung grimly to the summit of Pink Hill, the last such bastion still in Allied hands. To the north the 18th paused and drew breath whilst Galatas itself pushed like an unsteady salient into no man's land at the apex.

Utz had decided to commit the 1st Battalion, which had escaped relatively unscathed, unlike his other units which had sustained heavy losses. Like the New Zealanders the Germans were feeling the pressure but these were, effectively, fresh troops and Utz was aware that if he offered the defenders a night's respite, much of his hard won gains might be jeopardised.

Schrank, in command of the 1st, was supported by a detachment of engineers from 3rd Battalion. He was to attack Russell Force from the south whilst the survivors of 2nd Battalion fought through the narrow streets of Galatas. Both sides had now committed all the forces available; it was do or die.

After a savage fight lasting half an hour the few remnants of the Petrol Company had been driven off Pink Hill, and Russell Force, as they fell back toward Galatas, discovered there were no friendly troops on their right, the whole position was imperilled. The line could no longer be held, the battle appeared lost but Inglis, after he'd heard of the fall of Wheat Hill, had cast around for any further reserves he could lay his hands on. What came to hand was Lieutenant Roy Farran and his two light tanks which had survived the earlier, unsuccessful attempt on Pirgos.

Farran, joined by a further two companies from the 23rd, was sent up to Kippenberger who flung the tanks into a charge through the streets of Galatas, now swarming with Germans. This bought some precious time; time to order the newcomers to prepare to retake the town at the point of the bayonet; no time for subtlety of approach, a straight dash forward behind the tanks and into the maelstrom.

When Roy Farran returned from his reconnaissance foray he reported the town ‘stiff with Jerries'. In true Hussar spirit he was prepared to go again but already had two wounded crew. Volunteer replacements came forward from a group of detached engineers and these received a ten minutes crash course in armoured warfare before the attack was put in.

The orders for the assault were brutally concise:

As the infantry slogged from the start line behind the rumble and clatter of the tanks, picking up momentum, now jogging towards the town, all sorts of individuals, carried away by the urgency of the moment fell in with them. Inevitably Captain Forrester of the Buffs, still without a helmet, was amongst these, at least one survivor from the valiant Petrol Company, happy for a chance to even the score, and a steady swell of men from the 18th and 20th, battered, bruised, bloodied but still undefeated.

Colonel Gray, still full of fight, had gathered a contingent from his battalion and would later recall how he would never forget the wild battle cries of the New Zealanders as they surged into the narrow streets, Farran's light tanks blazing away at their head.

In Galatas the Germans had thought that it was all over, at least for that night, and that they would continue to mop up in the morning. The storm that suddenly broke around them, terrifying in its suddenness, came as a very rude awakening. Before they realised it, the attackers were amongst them and a savage mêlée raged through streets and houses, the tanks hosing fire like demented metal monsters.

For a crazed interval, Roy Farran revved around the main square, firing at anything and everything whilst the infantry, winkling defenders from the warren of cellars, briefly lagged behind. The tank was drenched in fire, rounds smacking from the armour plating, tracer dancing like lethal fireflies. As the startled Axis called down a mortar strike, the percussion of bursting rounds swelled the concert of battle and a hit to the rear of the turret nearly propelled Farran clear of the vehicle.

The 23rd had been detailed to penetrate no further than the square but, finding themselves under fire, with the prospect of a clear cut victory and their blood white hot, they could not be held back. Again they charged:

Throughout the battle for the streets of Galatas the fighting was savage, intense and, generally without quarter – Private D. Seaton took on a German machine gun, advancing steadily across open ground, using his Bren like a Tommy gun and firing from the hip. This cost him his life but comrades had worked around the gunner's flanks, secured by his covering fire and destroyed the nest with grenades.

Against seemingly insuperable odds the line had been restored. This epic charge and the wild, bloody mêlée in the lanes and dense packed houses, from the dark maze of ancient cellars to the fire swept killing ground of the square Galatas was, once again, in Allied hands. The fury of the counter stroke, tellingly supported by tanks, severely dented German morale. Utz's exhausted and demoralised troops were convinced this was not a purely local incident but the start of a general Allied offensive, the prospect of which had haunted them since the first cull of paratroops on 20 May.

Galatas had been a superbly fought action, driving the Germans from their gains in what appeared to be a moment of consolidation. Every Allied soldier who took part would know he had fought in an epic. It was, however, in strategic terms, no more than a delaying action. The place could not be held and Kippenberger recalled the bloodied and weary victors as, once again, a rain of German mortars began to pound the reeking streets and smashed houses.

Roy Farran was amongst the more seriously wounded who had to be left behind; for him the charge of the 3rd Hussars would end in captivity.
²
Despite the renewed ferocity of the bombardment the women and even children of the town sallied out into the shell-racked streets to aid the Allied casualties.

The survivors reeled back to take up positions along the Daratsos line, including the remnants of Russell Force and the gallant Petrol Company. Utterly exhausted, Kippenberger at last found his way to Inglis' makeshift HQ where his fellow officers were mostly gathered. It was a sombre meeting, doubly galling in the aftermath of such sustained heroism. Inglis mooted further counter-attacks; Dittmer, arriving late, volunteered his superb Maoris but the die was already cast.

Inglis knew that whilst an opportunity existed, created by the reverse the enemy had just suffered, only an attack in force could exert the necessary pressure to fracture his line. Puttick had not attended the conference but sent Lieutenant Colonel Gentry who had no fresh battalions to offer. He vetoed the Maoris going it alone.

Kippenberger described the course of this highly charged meeting:

The bitter truth was that only further withdrawal remained as an option, swinging back to form a line with Vasey's Australians presently sealing off the eastern flank of Prison Valley. In terms of final defeat it was now a matter of when, rather than if.

Even now Wavell in Cairo was not fully aware that Freyberg had, to all intents and purposes, decided to throw in the towel and concentrate on getting as many away as possible. In some measure this was because the General himself had, until 26 May, continued to paint a less depressing picture, suggesting that fighting for Maleme was still raging and that the issue of possession remained in the balance. Even as Farran's tanks roared into the streets of Galatas, Freyberg had been cabling his superior to the effect that:

However, before this could be sent an urgent dispatch arrived from Puttick advising that the enemy had broken through at Galatas and the line was no longer tenable. In consequence the General re-drafted the final sentence of his own report to now read: ‘I have now heard from Puttick that the line has gone and that we are trying to stabilise. I don't know if they will be able to, I am apprehensive. I will send messages as I can later.' He then replied to Puttick advising that whilst he understood how thinly spread the New Zealanders were the new and shorter (Daratsos) line should be easier to hold and must in fact be held.

On the 25th GHQ had scraped together enough Allied bombers to mount a raid on Maleme. The sight of the RAF, commonly referred to as ‘Rare As Fairies' and even less complimentary translations, gave a boost to sagging morale but, as the effort was so short lived, the effect very quickly dissipated beneath the habitual weight of relentless pressure from the omnipresent Stukas.

Even the might of the Luftwaffe proved fallible and the Allied troops, hastily dug in to their new line, received a respite on 26 May when a battalion from 85 Mountain Regiment, feeling their way towards Perivolia, was repeatedly strafed by their own side. As a result the Allied positions were not seriously troubled though Freyberg was led to believe the 2 Greek Regiment, deployed around Perivolia, was in difficulties. The Greeks stood south of 2/8th and 2/7th Australians whilst the shrunken New Zealand Brigade held the line from Daratsos (Dittmer) to the coast.

As long as this present front could be maintained Souda Bay and the hinterland of depots, stores, workshops, transport and logistics could continue to function. This infrastructure required a near division sized sprawl of non combat personnel who, although not directly engaged, had been obliged to withstand the pernicious effect of the endless air raids. No further ships were expected, the gauntlet of the Kaso Straits was impassable, Cunningham would only permit limited nocturnal re-supply by fast destroyers which could complete a full turnaround under the shroud of darkness.

An attempt to land commandos at Paleokhora had been aborted but two companies were landed at Souda during the night of the 24th and the remainder of two weak battalions disembarked from destroyers
Hero, Nizam
and
Abdiel
. Layforce, as these 500 reinforcements came to be named, was under the command of Colonel Robert Laycock; ‘A' Battalion was led by Lieutenant Colonel F. B. Colvin and ‘D' Battalion commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Young. Laycock's intelligence officer was Evelyn Waugh, then a captain.
⁵

It was not entirely accurate to say that there were no reinforcements available. 4 and 5 Brigades were indeed depleted but three crack battalions, 1st Welch, Northumberland Hussars and 1st Rangers, remained as Force Reserve on the Akrotiri Peninsula, largely uninvolved in the fighting since the first day. The difficulty was that these formations, whose presence in the battle for Galatas could have easily tipped the scales, came under Weston's rather than Puttick's command. When Inglis approached the General however, he got short shrift and Weston gave the impression that Force Reserve was to be kept under his own hand.

On the morning of the 26th Freyberg at last decided to divest Weston and place these men under Inglis to relieve the battered 5th. In the meantime Puttick had already reached the conclusion that the Daratsos line was untenable and a further withdrawal was necessary. When the divisional commander appeared at Creforce HQ to explain his reasoning he found the commander-in-chief had other ideas. Puttick was effectively superseded and all local forces in the Souda area would be placed under Weston.

Confusion ensued; when Weston failed to issue any direct orders for the night of 26/27 May Puttick approached him personally and found the General already abed and disinclined to cooperate. Puttick was told that as he appeared to have already decided on a further withdrawal there were no meaningful orders he, Weston, could issue. As a result a tragic development ensued – as the New Zealanders fell back, Force Reserve moved forward, confident in the belief it would have support on both flanks.

In consequence these three fine fighting units were left exposed to the full weight of the German advance, having driven what amounted to an untenable salient into what had, due to the New Zealanders' withdrawal, become enemy territory. This new defensive line lay along a sunken track that ran southwards from the western extremity of Souda Bay, and known as 42nd Street; so named because it had previously been home to 42nd Field Squadron Royal Engineers.

When Weston was finally made aware of the disaster about to enfold Force Reserve, he sent dispatch riders out to find 1st Welch and turn them around. It was too late. ‘Custer's Last Stand', as a Welsh comedian had already dubbed the mission, was about to become something very similar.

The brigade passed through the ravaged and deserted streets of the capital encountering only a few exhausted stragglers. It was eerily quiet. They pushed on, confident they did have support somewhere on both flanks. By dawn it was obvious matters were deteriorating rapidly.

With patrols missing, the Welch and Rangers (the Hussars were forming the rearguard) were about to advance to contact with Ramcke's group moving eastwards along the coast and the 100 Mountain Regiment spilling down over the, now vacated, Daratsos Ridge. Worse, Heidrich's survivors, at last escaping from their own purgatory in Prison Valley, were about to cut off their retreat. Apart from numbers the Germans had an overwhelming superiority in terms of guns and mortars.

The result was never in doubt. The Welshmen fought hard but the odds were impossible. Force Reserve, by early afternoon, had ceased to exist as a fighting force. Of the 1,200 engaged, less than a quarter (mostly the Hussars) escaped. The final fighting formation available had now been used up, thrown away, in a dreadful muddle of command failure. The resulting, unseemly squabble amongst the senior officers involved, as to which of them was culpable, was nastily reminiscent of the wrangling at Balaclava in the Crimean War as to who had lost the Light Brigade. It was, of course, the waste, rather than the blame, which mattered.

Sir Lawrence Pumphrey, with the Noodles, was involved in the action which, for the Hussars who survived, heralded the commencement of yet another grim retreat. He was brought, by one of his troopers, a diary found on the body of one of the fallen
Fallschirmjäger
, as he was able to translate the German. He was touched by the dead man's account of his time in Athens, how closely this unknown enemy's excitement at seeing the Parthenon, matched his own.

Von der Heydte led his filthy and exhausted paratroops in their final advance toward Chania. The city fell without a shot, the scarecrow parachutists filing through the desecrated streets, fires smouldering in the charnel house air, the once elegant Venetian town reduced to a shattered ghost. Von der Heydte likened his scruffy troops to a band of medieval mercenaries. The Mayor, hastening to offer the city's surrender and spare his citizens further slaughter, at first refused to believe the tattered figure in front of him was indeed a senior German officer.

The pursuit of the Allies was left to Ringel's mountain battalions. The General assumed, not unnaturally, that Freyberg would continue to fall back eastwards and pick up the strong contingents still holding Rethymnon and Heraklion. As a result of this thinking, entirely logical, Ringel did not consider that the Allied survivors might rather seek a direct route to the south coast, there to await succour from the Navy. The option did seem unlikely, the road to the south was narrow, ill defined and vulnerable to attack from the air. The coast itself was known to be largely uninhabited with only a few and very small harbours.

Whilst the destruction of Force Reserve was in full play, Layforce was seeking orders. Both Laycock himself, with Waugh as IO, saw Colvin, who led the vanguard, then Freyburg and finally Weston, whose distraught appearance did not engender any degree of confidence. The commandos had arrived under a serious misapprehension, having been earlier led to believe the situation on the island was a good deal rosier than they now found. They had thought their mission, as befitted their swashbuckling image, would be to launch a series of spoiling raids against German lodgements in the west. Major F.C.C. Graham, writing only a few years after the end of the war, left a graphic record of their rude awakening on arrival: