Inferno - Max Hastings [80]
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Citizens in uniform, until with time they grow the skins of soldiers, are shocked by the waste created by war. Among many Anzacs’ most vivid memories of the retreat from Greece was the colossal detritus of wrecked and abandoned vehicles, guns, stores, wirelesses, range-finders—millions of pounds’ worth of scarcely used equipment, ditched by the roadsides of the Peloponnese. Men boarding the Royal Navy’s ships were ordered to discard weapons, especially machine guns and mortars, which they had stubbornly retained through the retreat. This policy had serious consequences for the defence of Crete a few weeks later. Most fugitives suffered a sense of shame about abandoning the local people, who embraced them even in defeat.
By April’s end, the Germans held Greece. Some 43,000 of Wavell’s troops had been evacuated, leaving behind a further 11,000 who became prisoners, together with all their transport and heavy equipment; Prime Minister Alexandros Koryzis committed suicide. Greek soldiers trickled down from the hills, many having abandoned their arms. “At one moment,” wrote an eyewitness, “I saw a captain mount a hillock and address thousands of men who were gathered around it. He shouted: ‘Men, alas our country has lost the war!’ The audience responded with an eerie, nightmarish, perverse cry of ‘Zeto!’—‘Hurrah!’ ‘Zeto!’ meant ‘We are alive!’ ”
Such deliverance provided only brief consolation to a nation which thereafter suffered appallingly under Nazi occupation. A Greek general told an air force officer, George Tzannetakis: “George, a black night descends on our country.” In the capital on 27 April, a German officer, Georg von Stumme, addressed Greek archbishop Ieronymos: “He began by saying that he had always wanted to visit Athens, of which he had learnt so much at school and Military Academy. At this point the Archbishop interrupted him and said: ‘Indeed, before the war Germany had many friends in Greece, among whom I was one.’ ” Now, all that was over. A Greek wrote: “Von Stumme learnt that in Greece he might meet a few Quislings, but he would not find any friends.”
Three weeks later, on 20 May, the Germans launched a paratroop assault on Crete. British and New Zealand defenders along the island’s north coast fought staunchly on the first day, inflicting savage losses on the airborne invaders. But on 21 May the Germans secured Máleme airfield, opening the way for follow-up forces. British counterattacks were frustrated, and in the succeeding six days the paratroopers progressively rolled up the defences, relieving their units isolated at Retimo and Heraklion. The British fell back. “Everyone was exhausted … and by this time morale was pretty low,” said Ian Stewart, a battalion medical officer. “It cannot be said to have been a particularly restful trip … up the very high mountains, going mostly at night in a very slow tread and just the jingling of waterbottles and occasionally stumbling over people who had fallen out. Perhaps the most evocative thing was the dew on the flowers … the very aromatic scents of Crete are unforgettable.” Another officer observed, “It was a journey that showed human nature at its Christian best but also at its ugly, selfish worst.” Gen. Bernard Freyberg, the New Zealander commanding the defence, decided that evacuation was the only option. By the night of 30 May, when the Royal Navy was obliged to abandon its costly rescue efforts, 15,000 troops had been taken off; a further 11,370 became prisoners and 1,742 had been killed. A New Zealander heard the order given to those left behind to surrender. “Everything was dead quiet. You could have heard a pin drop. Every man was left to his own thoughts, that is if they could think. Now and again you would