UNOFFICIAL REPORT ON

THE 2006 PILGRIMAGE TO CRETE

“We Came As Strangers and Left As Friends”

Prepared by: Paul R. London

 

               Table of Contents
      (Click on any item to go to that section)

 

Background to Pilgrimage

 

             The Pilgrimage - 13th to 31st May 2006

 

Day 1: Saturday 13th - Auckland to Singapore

Day 2: Sunday 14th - Singapore to Athens

Day 3 Monday 15th - Athens

Day 4 Tuesday 16th - Athens

Day 5 Wednesday 17th - Athens

Day 6 Thursday 18th - Athens to Crete

Day 7 Friday 19th - Arrived Crete

Day 8 Saturday 20th - Hania & Service at Suda Bay

Day 9: Sunday 21st - Visit to Battlefields

Day 10: Monday 22nd - Visit to Hora Sfakia & Xalapa French-Catholic School

Day 11: Tuesday 23rd - Visit to Hania’s Archaeological Museum

Day 12: Wednesday 24th - Visit to Therriso & Knossos

Day 13: Thursday 25th - Official Rest Day (anything but!)

Day 14: Friday 26th - Hania to Paleochora

Day 15: Saturday 27th - Samaria Gorge Walk

Day 16 Sunday 28th - Visit to Sklavopoula

Day 17 Monday 29th - Official Rest Day at Paleochora

Day 18 Tuesday 30th - Return to Hania from Paleochora

Day 19 Wednesday 31st - Returning home, Hania to Athens

Conclusion

 

                Addendum - Miscellaneous Newspaper Reports

 

Forgotten Kiwi War Hero Honoured

Veteran to Retrace His Road To Survival

World War II Vets to Honour Crete Village

Return to Crete - Jack Grennell

Crete Veterans Revive Memories

Greek Foreign Minister’s Address

HMS Nottingham Centre Stage For WWII Commemoration

War Hero Honoured By Island - Doug West

Mystery Crete Vet Found

Relatives, Historians Reveal More About Mystery Crete Vet

Message From New Zealand Prime Minister

The Pilgrims

Bibliography

 

  

 

 

DISCLAIMER

The views and opinions expressed in this document are those observations made solely by the author and are not intended as reflections of statement or fact by any member of the Pilgrimage or indeed of the hard working members of the steering Committee.   This report has been reconstructed to the best of the author’s ability from video and audio tape recordings and diary notes made by him during the period of 13th to 31st May 2006.   It also contains a collection of news reports from various newspapers and other related items of interest from Internet webpages.

 

First published and printed by Paul R London October 2006

Revised November 2006

92 Majoribanks Street, Mount Victoria

Wellington - New Zealand

E-mail: paullondon@actrix.co.nz

 

 

BACKGROUND TO THE PILGRIMAGE

 

The evolution of this Pilgrimage was the “brain child” of Mr Robin Lloyd, a retired Wellington police officer and former member of the New Zealand police contingent who served with the United Nations peacekeeping force on the Mediterranean Island of Cyprus during the 1960’s.   Today, Robin is the founding father of the loosely formed “Dudley Perkins Memorial Association”; a group of like minded people including Dudley’s brother, Neville Perkins, whose aim is the advancement and establishment of a permanent memorial and collection of material associated with one of New Zealand’s famous war heroes of Crete.   (See page 35).

 

In late September 2005, Robin was of the opinion, that given in 2004 the New Zealand Government officially sponsored a memorial trip, and returned a number of World War II veterans and their caregivers to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the Battle of Cassino.   He thought, as May 2006 not only marked the 65th anniversary of the Battle of Crete, but also that year (2006) was designated as “The Year of the Veteran,” perhaps the New Zealand Government may again like to officially participate by sending veterans of that engagement to the Island of Crete.   Government declined his proposal as it had committed itself to sending a party of War Veterans to the dedication of the New Zealand memorial, “The Southern Stand” in Hyde Park, London on Armistice Day 2006.[1]   His idea was then circulated amongst members of the Wellington based Cretan and Hellenic Community, suggesting if sufficient interest was shown, perhaps a privately organised trip to Crete might be arranged for May 2006.

 

Arising from Robin’s initiative, a steering committee was formed under the leadership of Wellington born Cretan lawyer, John Petris with Harima Fraser as secretary, Angelo Papageorgiou and Robin Lloyd as members.   The first task facing this group was to gauge the interest from members of various Veterans organisations, professional and amateur historians and members of the public in general.   Suffice to say, with the passage of time and many months of tremendously hard work on the part of the committee, the concept of the “Pilgrimage” was fully endorsed during its official launching in the office of the Mayor of Wellington by Her Worship, Kerry Prendergast on the 19th October 2005.   As an aside, Wellington City enjoys a sister city relationship with Crete’s former capital Hania, where several years earlier during a visit to New Zealand, the Mayor of Hania, Mr Kiriakos Virvidakis had extended an invitation to Mayor Prendergast to visit his Island.   Mr Virvidakis’s invitation was fulfilled when Mayor Prendergast indicated her willingness to join with members of this pilgrimage,

 

The committee next engaged the services of a professional travel consultant; Ms Linda Playle of Maher United Travel in Wellington to arrange the Pilgrimage’s planned itinerary and promote its awareness amongst the general public.   Over the next few months, the steering committee embarked on a campaign of mailing out e-mail news bulletins to various Returned Service Associations, advertising in local newspapers, arranging television and newspaper interviews with former veterans to publicise and fund raise on their behalf.   Public interest in this pilgrimage had grown to such an extent that Government made good on their acknowledgment of the “Year of the Veteran” and pledged to subsidise the travel for any veteran (and their caregivers) to the tune of $2,000 each.

 

By early January 2006, Linda reported back to the committee that she had been inundated with over 100 expressions of interest to participate in the pilgrimage, a situation she just hadn’t imagine or indeed planned for.   Her dilemma being, how to accommodate and transport such a large number of people to and from the various venues.   Rather fortuitously through natural attrition these numbers reduced to a more manageable figure of 54.   Even with this reduced number, Linda’s greatest challenge in assisting our Wellington Cretan tour leader Jim Christie, was the placement of all the participants in one hotel.   Typically, in Hania, while the city is geared up for tourism the hotels are not big enough to accommodate a party of our size (including their other guests), where our overflow not billeted in the historical Doma Hotel were conveniently accommodated in an adjacent Areda establishment.

 

May I extend on behalf of all the “Pilgrims” our congratulations to Linda for her stirling effort in making this pilgrimage such a memorable occasion, for without her interminable dedication to even the smallest detail we would not have enjoyed the many pleasures and experiences we so frequently took for granted.

 

Over the next few months until late April 2006 and working in consultation with Linda the Committee was engaged in the fine-tuning of the pilgrimage’s program, organising meetings with various dignitaries in both Athens and on Crete, which combinated in an official farewell function hosted by the Greek Ambassador in Wellington on the 3rd May 2006, (see page 36).   The Committee’s assignment was further challenged, ensuring in particular that our program dovetailed with the official celebrations as organised by the office of the Prefect of Hania, Mr Giorgos Katsanevakis and those of the Mayor’s office in Hania.   Interestingly, the Prefectural Authority of Hania’s official program started on Sunday May 14th some 5 days before our arrival and ran through that week until Sunday May 21st.   As an illustration of just how important the commemoration of the Battle of Crete is to the Island people, the Prefect of Hania order all stores, public services, local authorities, legal person governed by either private or public law, banks as well as ships anchored in the harbour of Suda Bay to be decorated with flags during the week long celebrations.

 

With the official program under control, John Petris could now see his way clear to extend our pilgrimage to include a memorial service to be held at his “home” village of Sklavopoula nestled high in the mountains of South Western Crete, which overlooks the picturesque area towards the seaside township of Paleochora.   It was here John and his brother Alec from England in association with their extended family, Ersi and Arthur Paxie, Arthur’s sister Helen George, and along with his two cousins Evan and Manos Nathan, including their father’s cousins, Michael and Kerryanne Angell, organised the laying of memorial plaque in memory of those New Zealand soldiers and villagers who hid them in their community during the war years.   One of the principal architects of this Resistance was John Petris’ grandfather; the village priest named Alexandrous Torakis who sadly lost his life in the closing stages of the war. (See page 37 for The Dominion-Post news item.)

 

The basic Pilgrimage was planned to cover a three-week period from Saturday 13th May to Saturday 3rd June 2006, although Robyn Gardner of Otaki and I were to continue to England after leaving the main body at Athens on Wednesday 31st May.   I stayed in London with my son Richard, his wife Athena and our two small grandsons until Saturday 10th June.


THE PILGRIMAGE

 

Like moths attracted by a candle’s flame, the Pilgrims were drawn

to Crete by the invisible thread of Germany’s Pyrrhic victory.

(Paul London - July 2006)

 

Saturday 13th May 2006:

With preparations now in hand, members of our South Island contingent assembled in Christchurch for their direct flight to Singapore.   Us Wellington based members; (John Petris, Angelo Papageorgiou, Robin Lloyd, Harima Fraser and myself) were flown out of the Capital’s airport to rendezvous with the northern area pilgrimage members before boarding our 3.15pm flight from Auckland for Singapore.

 

It was during our meeting we discovered (and met) one of the veterans, Bill Bristow of Auckland[2], who advised us for reasons of health he was precluded from participating in the pilgrimage.   Interestingly, those readers of Greek wartime history, Bill Bristow and a party of 17 others successfully escaped from Crete via mainland Greece in an operation organised by (then) sergeant and later former SOE agent, the Christchurch born John Redpath.   Australian escaper Charles Jager has wonderfully retold of their escape adventure in his book Escape From Crete.   Rather fortuitously, Bill’s two sons, Garry (from Perth in Western Australian) and his brother Ross of Pukekohe did accompany us, where a couple of weeks later both brothers and myself tackled the Samaria Gorge walk.

 

Also at Auckland airport to met and film us was cameraman John Irwin, the maker of the post war documentary In Rich Regard, a film made about ten years ago in which he takes four veterans back to Crete and records their meeting with the Cretans that assisted them to escape.   About a week later John flew up independently to Crete by Emirates Airways where he joined our party and accompanied us to the various venues taking additional film footage to add to his original movie.

 

On boarding our Singapore Airways flight I was pleasantly surprised to find that while I had an aisle seat the adjacent two were unoccupied, which over the next ten hours gave me the extra leg room and space that is so essential on a long distance flight flying economy class.   Our charming airhostesses were the epitome of service expected by Singapore Airways and were forever hovering in anticipation of someone needing assistance.   The first of two memorable sights I recall seeing from the aircraft was drawn to our attention by the pilot saying we were about to fly over Ayer’s Rock.   A truly magnificent sight even when viewed from 13,000 meters, (13 kilometres) up.

 

The second unusual sighting I observed was in the early evening, when we were about an hour out of Singapore and were flying over part of Indonesia.   While most of the Archipelago was covered in cloud, I could see protruding through some of the thinner layers of cloud the top of a smoking volcano.   I mentioned this to a gentleman seated behind me, for he too, like myself was quite astounded to see a mountain in eruption.   Given that Indonesia is a little like New Zealand and is full of volcanic mountains I didn’t take too much notice of the phenomena, apart from the fact that I was rather glad we were flying at some altitude and some distance away from the discharging ash cloud. This display reminded me of a documentary I saw some years ago title The Mile High Gliding Club, when a late evening British Airways flight on route to Australia inadvertently passed through an ash cloud of an erupting Indonesian volcano causing all four engines to fail!   It wasn’t until we arrived at our hotel in Singapore and turning on the CNN news that the full extent of this volcano’s fury was realised. [3]

 

Our early evening arrival in the island City of Singapore was duly processed with typical Singaporean efficiency allowing plenty of time for our tour manager, Jim Christie to load us onto the waiting buses to take us to the York Hotel at Mount Elizabeth.   A location just off the top end of Orchard Road which forms part of Singapore’s busy central business district.   During the ride into town I quickly adjusted to the sights, sounds, smells and language so characteristic of a city I’d come to know so well over forty years ago while “visiting” the country during the tail-end of the “Malayan Emergency” and again while stationed there with my family as part of the ANZUK Force in the early 1970’s.   Here, at the York Hotel we met and introduced ourselves to the recently arrived Christchurch contingent.   During this time I was able to renew my association with the co-author of the recently published book On The Run, the recently retired Dunedin domiciled Otago University lecturer of anthropology, Doctor Ian Frazer and his wife Lala.   After being allocated our respective rooms, my room “buddy” Angelo Papageorgiou, on finding just how small our twin room was after installing our entire luggage, unselfishly decided to arrange a separate room for himself.   A most generous practice Angelo continued to engage in throughout the tour, thus leaving us each with plenty of space in our respective hotels.

 

Sunday 14th May:

As a late check out had been arranged for our party this day, many of the members availed themselves of the opportunity to do a little sightseeing of the Island city and its environs.   Several of us walked into Orchard Road where its array of shops and eating-houses would satisfy the most discerning tourist.   I checked out the Sim Lim Towers and its “sister” complex Sim Lim Square for bargain priced software, PC games and DVD’s.   The outside air temperature and humidity of Singapore was at its normal high for that time of the year sending the mercury to about 28 to 30˚.   A prelude of things to come!

 

On returning to the hotel that afternoon, I had the “misfortune” to run into Helen George and Rene Earnshaw who were in the middle of an animated discussion with one of the Singaporean tour operators who thought she had arranged for the two ladies to be picked up for a couple of hours of sightseeing.   This arrangement appears to have been overlooked by the tour agent who by now was on the receiving end of a very loud and long tongue-lashing.   Helen asked for my intervention.   But what could I do?   Apart from suggesting they receive a refund of their money and use it towards negotiating a suitable fare with a taxis driver to take them around the sights.   I do believe an amicable solution was found by the tour operator, for the ladies as I later learned had seen a little of Singapore.

 

Towards late afternoon our team assembled in the lobby of the hotel settling outstanding accounts and awaiting collection to be driven to Changi International Airport for the early morning departure to Athens.   Historically this international airport has been built on the site of the old RAF Changi Creek airfield and was under development during my time with the RAF prior to the British military withdrawal from the Island in 1975.

 

Of all the international departure lounges I’ve transited through, Changi must rate as one of the finest, for their amenities are designed with the most fatigued traveller in mind.   Simple features such as free Internet use is in constant demand.   Once passengers have passed through customs and have been processed by their immigration service, an Aladdin’s treasure trove of duty free stores, coffee shops, a movie theatre, wide screen television lounges, a hotel for the transit passenger and numerous “time-out” entertainments await their pleasure to while away their time.

 

Monday 15th May:

After boarding our Singapore Airways aircraft, the 1.00am departure of this flight for Athens was to be completed in 11½ hours of perpetual darkness.   Our airhostesses once again on being made aware of our party and its objective were at the forefront of service.   I recall intervening in an incident with a fellow passenger, (not a member of our party) who became highly agitated when he was informed there were no further choices of meals.   It appeared this gentleman had been travelling for some considerable time and was most annoyed to find he had to eat something not to his liking.   The individual declined my offer of my just arrived alternative meal and started to malign the hostess as if it were her fault for running out of meals.   It appears my “diplomatic solution” in secretly returning my meal to the galley and then having it presented to the individual as a “found” dinner worked.   We had no further trouble from him.   Needless to say for the rest of the journey I wanted for nothing with our eternally grateful hostesses making us most welcome to help ourselves to any of the snacks and drinks we could find in their galley.   The young ladies were quite overcome with emotion when both Angelo and I presented them with New Zealand flags and fern leave pins as an acknowledgment of their hospitality.   Also during this flight I had the privilege of meeting and introducing myself to Marina Bennett’s 87-year-old friend, Jack Grennell, a former New Zealand soldier now living in Queensland whose wartime story she had published in the NZRSA Review of December 2005.   (See pages 38 and 39.)

 

The early morning departure of our bus from Athens airport was delayed when a member’s worst nightmare was realised.   For it was discovered by Deirdre Hauschild her red bag had been taken off the baggage carousel in a “case” of mistaken identity leaving her, and Singapore Airlines with a similarly coloured, but wrong bag.   Fortuitously, with Jim Christie’s timely intervention, the ground staff of the Airline after a couple of traumatic days of waiting and searching for the errant owner of the wrong bag reunited Deirdre with her own.   We discovered the weather in Athens for this time of the year was manageably hot with a hint of a gentle afternoon breeze and almost nonexistent humidity.   Daytime temperatures would have perhaps been in the mid to high 20’s and fell slightly during the evening.   A very dry landscape around the airport was most prevalent due to the City’s lack of rain for almost a month.

 

After an hours drive into the City via the newly completed motorway that served the previous year’s Olympic Games; we arrived at the Hotel Stanley.   As this hotel is one of the tallest buildings located almost in the heart of Athens, guests on stepping out of the lift at the rooftop Garden Bar and restaurant are pleasantly surprised to find they are confronted with a most commanding and unobstructed view right across the city.   From this elevation, one can almost be excuse in thinking they could reach out and touch the Acropolis.   This spacious facility was to be the venue of several hospitality parties given in our honour.   The open-air enclave was also the scene of numerous media interviews with our veterans, including that by Ann Elder; an Auckland based free lance journalist working for the English language Athens Times newspaper.   (See pages 40, 41 and 42)

 

The first function was hosted that evening by members of the “New Zealand Hellenic Association.”   A loosely formed fraternity of New Zealand born Greeks who have chosen to returned to Athens and now jokingly refer to themselves as “Griwis.”

 

The remainder of the day was dedicated to leisure and relaxation.   Although, at around lunchtime both Robin Lloyd and I “adventurously” accompanied John Petris and his well-meaning city guide Angelo on a trip of a lifetime.   For after a very heated “discussion” with an incorporative Greek taxi driver our guides now attempted to master the intricacies of the Athens Metro.   To assist first time travellers the railway signage is thoughtfully written in Greek and Greek, the first in Romanised characters and the second in Cyrillic script, all too confusing for Robin and I, and most challenging for our escorts!   John, in having an early afternoon appointment just off Constitution Square suggested we might like to accompany him to his well known eating establishment, to which Robin and my dismay we learned was forever, to quote John, “around the next corner.”   Believe me, there are lots of corners in Athens.   I do believe the Lone Ranger and his ever-faithful companion Tonto would have had a better chance of finding a café in the middle of a desert!

 

Having found the café in question our next amusing experience was about to materialise.   Both John and Angelo took the lead in reviewing the menu and acting on their recommendations we all decided on something of a simple nature.   Our young and most friendly waitress arrived at our table, pen and pad at the ready while John and Angelo dictated in Greek, our respective orders.   To my amusement, the young lady replied to them in English, while our two leaders without thinking continued their side of the conversation in Greek, and our waitress continued her replies in English.   In drawing Robin’s attention to the pantomime unfolding in front of us, he asked John, “Why are you speaking Greek, when she is speaking English?”   The penny dropped, when the astutely aware Angelo asked her in Greek, “Why was she speaking English?”   John then turned to Angelo, “You don’t have to speak Greek, she speaks English.”   “Yes,” said Robin laughing as he turned towards me, “So do we!”   By this time we four were quickly becoming the centre attraction for the midday crowd.   John slightly embarrassed now turned to the young lady asking, “Well, why are you speaking English instead of Greek?”   She replied, “I’m learning English and as you are English I wanted to practice my language skills”   “But we’re not English,” insisted Anglo, “We’re Greeks.”   “No you’re not, said Robin, “We’re Kiwis!”   With that last remark the poor lass lost the plot completely and as she walked away with our order I heard her muttering something about smart Alec Greeks masquerading as English tourists.

 

The “Griwis” “meet and greet” evening party was a roaring success where the dialogue could have come straight from the film script of “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” much ouzo flowed and many questions of “do you know so and so, or this person’s my cousin” was repeated time and time again.   I know I woke up at about 3 in the morning with a blooming great headache, for the half glass of ouzo I’d been sipping on all evening with a promised to myself not to refill it just didn’t seem to diminish!

 

Tuesday 16th May:

After a most superb breakfast, for it was without a doubt the best we were to experience during the whole tour, the rest of the day was ours again.   Many of the party chose to do a day’s sightseeing including a visit to the Acropolis.   In keeping with my historical research I visited Roy Natusch’s old wartime escape companion George Paspati.   Having met George for the first time some 10 months earlier in July 2005, I had written in February advising him of my intended arrival in Athens.   After a half-hours taxis ride, which seemed to include an impromptu tour of the city and 18 Euros later I was once again welcomed by George.   And what a welcome, for on the way up to his apartment he introduced my to his elderly sister, who only naturally wanted to know who this stranger she had heard so much about was doing visiting her brother?

 

Just to recap for fellow readers, Roy (who now lives in Havelock North) and George are the sole survivors from a party of about 12 escapers whose attempted to sail for Turkey under the leadership of the late Frank Macaskie.   This group begin their voyage in the evening of New Year’s Eve, the 31st December 1941 from a small inlet on the northeastern coast of the Peloponnese.   Unfortunately their vessel’s engine broke down almost within the sight of the Turkish coast and after many hours of drifting in the Aegean ended up on an island only to be arrested by soldiers of the Italian garrison.   Roy (a corporal,) was later imprisoned in Italy and after tunnelling out of this camp was caught several weeks later and sent to Germany.   Again he escaped, making his way successfully this time into Hungary with British Army Sergeant Dai Davies where he passed himself off as a Captain to the Hungarians.   This pair’s story has been recorded in the book, The Double Dutchman.   George however, after being transferred by the Italians to a civil prison on the island of Samos escaped with two others and landed safely in Turkey.   There he meet with the original representative of the British Special Operations Executive (SOE), Commander Noel Rees, who in turn passed him down the “line” to Alexandria.   Through this chance encounter with Noel, George has for many years been a very good friend and Noel’s sister who is now living in England.   A number of books have also been published about this incident, including Bill Jones Escape To Nowhere and his unpublished sequel, On The Edge Of Fortune.   Roy has also reconstructed these escape attempts in his autobiography, 1939-1945 War Dairies.

 

Sadly today, George has lost his gift of natural speech, when over 40 years earlier he under went a life saving tracheotomy operation for the removal of throat cancer and now speaks with the aid of a vocaliser[4].   My last year’s meeting with George came by way of a fortuitous request from Roy asking me to trace another member of their ill-fate escape attempt, the courageous Alexis Ladas, MBE.   Several months after posting this request on a genealogical website I was pleasantly surprised to receive an e-mail from Alexis’ youngest son Petros living in Athens.   Sadly, Roy’s request came a little too late for Petros advised us of his father’s passing a few years earlier.   Although he hasten to say his father’s childhood friend George Paspati was very much alive and was also living Athens.[5]   Through this chance encounter I was able to put both men in touch with each other, although Roy’s health now precludes long letter writing and after several strokes his speech is also a little impaired.   By default, I now act as correspondent for each of them, serving as spokesperson for one and writer for the other.   A position I am most humbled and honoured to hold.

 

Over many cups of coffee George expanded on his time after arriving in Alexandria.   He was commissioned into the Greek Army and became a skipper in the Anglo Hellenic Schooner Force, a naval unit under the control of the Royal Navy engaged in clandestine operations on behalf of the SOE and MI9.   George was given command of the 12-ton caique, Mirano, known by its military nomenclature as AHS27.   While based in Egypt, his vessel operated from the Mahrousa Jetty near the Ras-El-Tin Palace in Alexandria.   From this port he would sail along the Turkish coast and into the Gulf of Kos, landing near Deremen where he established a supply base, repair facilities and a transit pick up point for agents and evaders from around the Aegean.   It was during his early days in 1942 when based in Cairo that George first met (Sir) Patrick Leigh-Fermor (PLF).   Since their first meeting, this pair have remained the best of friends for the passed 64 years and are frequently seen together at the annual Battle of Crete celebrations.   Although, sadly this year for reasons of health neither of these gentlemen were there.   Interestingly, George showed me a Easter postcard he’d recently received from Sir Patrick, a photograph of one of great gentleman’s cats.   I guess there’s a little humour in that story, for George is a dog lover and owner of some 12 Alsatians!   No!   They’re not in his city apartment but are kept on his coastal property in the eastern Peloponnese.

 

Given that Sir Patrick lives at Kardamili, a small coastal town in the southern part of the Peloponnese, a distance from Athens in what George describes as a short 3-hour drive away, he was most keen to drive me down to meet the distinguished PLF himself!   Unfortunately, time was against me, although I hasten to say my fellow historians were most annoyed with me at not accepting his generous offer.   Perhaps an unexpected windfall in our Lotto may one day fulfil his open invitation.

 

During our discussions, I had an opportunity to raise with George a question of assistance sent to me just prior to my departure from New Zealand by the Sydney based Australian couple, Neil and Colleen Donohue.   The situation this couple found themselves in arises from their quest to compile a definitive history of Colleen’s father (the late Charlie Hunter) and his time spent on Crete as an evader and later as an aide to several SOE agents.   During the course of their investigative research they came across letters written in 1965/66 by Charlie answering a questionnaire sent to him by the then Athens based American journalist and former CIA agent, Bayard Stockton.   Bayard at that time was attempting to collect the personal accounts of the various allied servicemen who had escaped from the Island with the aim of compiling a book based on their stories.   However, with the passage of time Bayard found himself leaving Greece and was now faced with the problem of what to do with the material he’d amassed.   Ultimately, he found an archive in Athens who reluctantly accepted the collection and to this day continue to deny all knowledge of ever having received his papers.

 

Over time Neil traced Bayard to his Californian residence and posed the question of Colleen’s father’s questionnaire.   Acting on Bayard’s reply, Neil now finds himself in one horrendous row between the archivist and himself.   Although I do believe some progress in this impasse is being made.

 

Later, arising from the Donohue’s approach to my Victorian colleague Bill Rudd, the “trail” lead them to me, and on cross checking my reference library I found reference to Charlie Hunter’s name in Jim McDevitt’s authoritative account of his time on the island and published in his book My Escape From Crete.   During their visit to New Zealand a month or so ago I was able to place the Donohues in contact with Jim’s widow, Jean, living in Papatoetoe, Auckland.   A couple of nights ago I had occasion to speak with Jean bringing her up to date with our Crete visit, where during our conversation she mentioned having spent a most enjoyable evening with Neil and Colleen.   Through our exchange of e-mails Neil learnt of my pending visit to Crete via Athens and sought my assistance in extracting the material in question.

 

In returning to my discussions with George and in explaining to him Neil’s dilemma, I asked what would be the best approach to address this issue.   Rather fortuitously, George knew both the archivist and the authors who appear to have used Bayard’s material and promised to pursue the matter after I’d left for Crete.   But wait there’s more![6]   The most exciting reaction to come out of this assignment was the look of shear delight on George’s face when he heard the name Bayard Stockton!   “Gee, I haven’t heard from ‘Bay’ in years!”   “You know Paul, we always called him ‘Bay’ where is he?”   Where upon I immediately gave George, Bayard’s address and phone number.

 

Needless to say in his e-mail to me Bayard was just as surprise to learn of George’s existence, saying, “I just about jumped out of my skin when I saw George’s name!”   I do hope both gentlemen managed to renew their friendship for even after an absence of almost 40 years George started to reminisce on the great times he shared with Bayard, obviously those occasions have never been forgotten and have left a lasting impression on a now aging gentleman.[7]

Thank you Neil and Colleen for the timely arrival of your request for assistance, for without it two very old friends would never have met!

 

For lunch, George took me once again to his favourite restaurant, an “old worldly” establishment once owned by himself.   Here we dined in a setting straight from the pages of a Somerset Maugham novel.   There he talked of his family and the time his father was out in India working for the British Military.   In recognition of his outstanding services, his father was awarded an OBE (Military Div).   Although when questioning George, he reluctantly confirmed he too was the recipient of a British award, both the Military Cross and m.i.d.   “I’m sure he didn’t get them for winning line honours in any schooner regatta?”   Yes, a very noble and humble man, a truly remarkable father for his children to model themselves on.

 

After a wonderful lunch and on returning to his flat we addressed a couple of ongoing topics.  

The first, for his assistance in helping the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) to positively identify a British Intelligence agent who died of gun shot wounds on 14th October 1941.   The information held by the CWGC suggests this 30-year-old officer, a Captain named Jacob Preste was executed that day, but unfortunately because of any substantiated detail he is currently buried as an “unknown.”   We moved on to the second of our afternoon’s subjects, that being the delicate question of Ms Joan Stephens and her work as a Greek SOE agent.   Joan and her husband Tom now live in a retirement village in Wellington.   In order to answer both questions, George was of the opinion that he should seek assistance from PLF, as he expecting a visit from PLF during his time in Athens to present a cheque to the family of the late George Psychoundakis, the author of The Cretan Runner.

 

Amongst George’s collection of wartime photographs, one very historical item he was most proud to display was of himself, PLF and Crete’s “Pimpernel”, the late Xan Fielding.   It appears these latter two gentlemen were frequent houseguests of his whenever they visited Athens!

 

I concluded my day’s visit to George with his acceptance of my invitation to accompany our Pilgrimage to Wednesday’s wreath laying service at the tomb of Greece’s Unknown Warrior. As I walked back to my hotel a feeling came over me like an early Christian’s meeting with Christ.    Even now I can hear the words; “I have walked with him and talked with him!”   What a privilege to have spent a day seated at the “feet of yet another Master!”

The magnificent setting of the hotel’s rooftop Garden Bar was again the venue of our second of two social engagements.   That evening’s function was hosted by our (New Zealand’s) Honorary Consulate General in Athens, my daughter-in-law Athena’s uncle, Costa Cotsilinis on behalf of New Zealand’s Italian based and accredited Ambassador to Greece, Ms Julie Mackenzie.   Also included in the party of dignitaries was Australia’s Ambassador to Greece, Mr Paul Tighe and his wife, and Paul’s assistant Ambassador.   Later in the evening as our guests mingled I had the pleasure to introduce one of our veterans, Mr Anthony Madden to “Uncle Costa”.   In 1961 Anthony was instrumental in arranging sponsorship through the Waipukurau Rotary Club to bring to New Zealand a young Cretan boy, Nicos Kindyannaki.   During those days the Cotsilinis family was also living in southern Hawke’s Bay and assisted Anthony with Nicos’ arrival and simulation into New Zealand culture.

 

Wednesday 17th May:

During this morning’s breakfast I had the pleasure of meeting for the first time our fellow ANZAC’s from across the Tasman.   Unfortunately, this year’s Australian Crete contingent under the leadership of the Victorian editor of the their RSL journal, Lachlan “Lockie” McPherson had only mustered a total of 10, of which 6 were non-vets.   Amongst their party was Mark from Queensland, Jack from Sydney and the very tall Ted, a former commando.   I do believe they were quite envious of our program and complimented our organisers on the effort and thoughts that had gone into it.   Their only official engagement in Athens was a visit to their Ambassador.

 

Fortuitously that morning, Singapore Airways returned the missing bag to an ever-grateful Deirdre who by now was frantically running out of new clothes to wear.    Early afternoon we boarded our motor coach for a short drive into the centre of Athens for our meeting with the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs, the 52-year-old Ms Dora Bakoyannis.   After passing through the front gate security checkpoint manned by armed guards we were escorted upstairs and into her outer office.   There our veterans faced a barrage of news media reporters and television cameras.   About 10 minutes later Ms Bakoyannis emerged from her office accompanied by an entourage of secretaries and her personal translator.   Sadly, an assassin’s bullet felled this gracious lady’s first husband (Pavlos Bakoyannis) a few years ago during his time as parliamentary leader in the Hellenic Parliament[8].   She has since remarried and relinquished her post as Mayor of Athens in favour of her current government position.   After her speech of welcome and as a reminder of our visit, she then presented each veteran with a small gold dish and to us others, a small marble paperweight with her signature engraved on a gold plaque.   As drinks were being served she introduced her 88-year-old father Constantine Mitsotakis a former Prime Minister of Greece, saying we’ll be seeing him again at the memorial service to be held in the village of Galatas.   (See Ms Bakoyannis’ welcome address on page 43.)

 

The afternoon’s function was drawn to a close with our Maori members singing a song of welcome and praise much to the delight of the Foreign Minister and those assembled.   From her chambers our party now across the busy main road to Constitution Square where we were joined by George and his charming daughter Catherine Roufos for our official wreath laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior.   Its central location and historical importance is a Mecca for tourists.   Our arrival was announced by whistle blowing police officers clearing a way through the quickly assembling throng of onlookers.   With the front of the tomb now devoid of tourists, our party formed up waiting for the Greek ceremonial honour guards (Evzones) to reposition themselves at each corner.   Four of our veterans placed the wreath at the gravesite; over which the monument’s inscription on the back wall roughly translates, “For men of Honour, any land can be a grave”.   By this time the natural curiosity of the fast swelling crowd had been aroused and us being the centre of attraction soon had their cameras clicking.   We later took great delight in answering their questions of who are you? What are you doing?   After the official service I was privileged to introduce George to our members, who was absolutely thrilled to meet Roy’s old comrade from Napier, Harry Spencer.   For the next few minutes the two old soldiers swapped tales of Roy’s escapades, with George asking Harry how he found Ms Bakoyannis.   For 20 minutes earlier George had bumped into her father as he entered the Foreign Ministry, both gentlemen took the opportunity of catching up with their respective activities over the past few months.   Yes, even a former Prime Minister is among George’s circle of friends.

 

Our next courtesy call a few hours later was to City Hall where in the Council Chambers of the office of the Mayor of Athens, Wellington’s Mayor Prendergast assisted by translations through John Petris thanked Mr Theodoras Behrakis for his kind words of welcome.   Various photos were taken and again we were deluged with gifts of yet another fine paperweight.   These ones were even larger and heavier than the Ms Bakoyannis’s items and were made from coloured glass.   The old adage of “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts” takes on a new meaning for travellers whose bags are already on the allowable weight limit!   Our Maori members were again thrust into centre stage with more songs of welcome, which this time attracted the attention of Council staff and brought many out of their offices.

 

Thursday 18th May:

With the morning free of official engagements I phoned Lina Lalandi-Emery’s[9] elderly music teacher, Mrs Pothoula Kapsambelis, who after my last United Kingdom visit to Lina had posted to me a copy of her wartime memoirs entitled, From a Balcony in Athens 1940 - 1944.   After a lengthy and most informative discussion Pothoula hesitantly point out that owning to her current state of health she regrettably was unable to see me in person, although she looked forward to our continued correspondence and was most willing to assist in anyway with my Greek wartime research.   As an aside, historians may been interested to learn, Pothoula although now in her early nineties was the wife of one of Greece’s foremost ambassadors who during their time with the diplomatic service served in South America and many European countries.   Pothoula’s book records a little of Lina’s wartime activities, events from her past that Lina now choses to discuss amongst a very selective group of friends, including the late Queen Mother.   While in London last year Lina granted me the privilege of an “audience”, inviting me to talk with her on some of those stories.   Just to recap, Lina and her mother sheltered the New Zealand escaper Roy Nielsen from 1941 to 1943.   After Nielsen’s successful return to Turkey mother and daughter continued their association with the SOE harbouring such agents as the New Zealander (then Captain) Don Stott during his negotiations with the Germans.   Readers of Greek wartime history may recall Stott having been approached by the Mayor of Athens[10] who in November 1943 arranged a meeting for him to hear a German peace proposal being advanced by Colonel Loss, the Chief of the Gestapo in the Balkans and his side kick, a diplomat called Wellen who also acted as confidential secretary to Neubacher.[11]   Later, other SOE agents to pass through their home included the celebrated duo, Lieutenant Colonel Frank Macaskie and Lieutenant Colonel, the Right Honourable Chris Woodhouse.

 

With bags now packed in anticipation of our evening sea voyage to Crete, I met George at our hotel where he again accompanied us on our final coach journey around the southeastern coast of Athens towards Cape Sounio.   Historically this area of the sea just out from the Cape was the site of a World War Two Axis minefield that is thought to have claimed the British submarine HMS/s Triumph.   The submarine whose last mission was never completed, was to uplift a party of evaders who had been assembled on the Island of Antiparos by the New Zealand MI9 agents, Sergeant John Redpath and Lieutenant Jim Craig.

 

On finding a suitable taverna our driver stopped the bus where Helen George joined George and I for a most pleasant lunch.   By now it was mid afternoon and with the air temperature rising towards the high 20’s we returned along the coast road to the Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery at Phaleron for our private wreath laying and memorial service.

 

It was at this venue we experienced the first of our most extraordinary phenomenas that were to occur throughout the pilgrimage[12].   For as we alighted from the bus and were walking through the gates into the cemetery we were all “sprinkled” by a very light shower of rain.   George was one of the first to remark on its occurrence saying, “but Athens has not had rain for over 6 weeks and the likelihood of any today or indeed in the near future is just not forecast, and how strange, it’s only raining here!”   John Petris was heard to remark, “even Hollywood couldn’t do that.”   Our Maori members and those spiritual aware members of the party saw this precipitation as part of a blessing confirming our memorial service to our fallen countrymen now lying buried at Phaleron.   I found the visitation highly emotional, particularly when speaking about the work undertaken and the circumstances of the death of those whose graves we viewed.    Including my cousin Jack Stuart; his intelligence agent, Anthony Handkinson; John Redpath and Jim Craig’s British colleague, Captain John Atkinson; and New Zealand’s other SOE agent, Major Allen Empson.

 

From Phaleron we continued our water front drive via the multi-millionaires yacht harbour of Piraeus with George pointing out the location he used during his sailing days.   The extremely busy port of Piraeus is just full of vessels of every kind, a regular jumping off place for cruise liners and the main terminus for inter-island ferries serving the Aegean Islands.   Sadly it was here we said goodbye to George, a man, even in his short time with us, many had grown to love and respect.   His highly emotional words on parting were, “through Roy Natusch, one of your most courageous countrymen who I had the pleasure to meet all those years ago, your actions of today have reinforced my greatest admiration and affection for the Kiwis, I hope to see you all some day in New Zealand.”

 

With George’s words of encouragement ringing in our ears we now faced the challenge of boarding our ferry as passengers, heavy lorries and cars enter the same portal of this roll-on roll-off vessel.   After negotiated ones way over the miscellaneous debris laying around the ship’s vehicle deck and dragging a heavy suitcase, one is pleasantly surprise to find themselves at the foot of an escalator, which deposits you into the very orderly world of a mini cruise liner.   The amenities found of this ship are just out of all proportion one would expect to find for the 9-hour overnight voyage.   On the top deck a swimming pool complete with open-air bar for the late night partygoers.   The next deck down has a huge restaurant adjacent to an equally as large social bar and a little way towards the stern a spacious Disco caters for the younger at heart.

 

The cabins, while small resemble a mini motel room and are fitted out with television, writing desk, 2 single bunks, (although in the morning when the rooms were being cleaned I did view some with double beds,) a wardrobe and an ensuite bathroom.   Now this was the first occasion since last years visit to Crete that I saw a warning sign cautioning passengers not to dispose of the toilet paper down the bogger.   Given the restricted waste disposal on Crete, this was the only instance we were requested to use the “receptacle provided”.

 

While waiting our 9 o’clock departure many of us walked around the various decks observing the busy port life and trying to imagine what the place would have looked like after suffering constant aerial bombardment over 65-years ago.   Today, in my opinion, Piraeus has to be one of the cleanest ports I’ve ever seen.   I even noticed a conveniently position railway station just over the wharf from our berth.   A further phenomenon not known in our part of the world, is the absence of any discernible tidal movement, which makes the creation of landing facilities so simple.   Just protrude a low concrete wall into reasonable deep water and there you have a platform for a gangway or ramp to load passengers and vehicles.

 

I arrived back at my cabin to find the stewards had deposited a selection of food, including fruit, bread, cheese, water and the inevitable bottle of ouzo!   The remainder of the voyage was taken up socialising, where again we all bumped into Uncle Costa who was taking his car across to the Island for use by the Ambassador and the New Zealand Government’s official representative Annette King, MP for Island Bay and Minister of Police.

 

Being a poor sailor, one who only has to buy a ticket for our inter-island ferry to be sick, I was extremely pleased by the calm nature of the sea and was soon lulled off to sleep by the vessel’s gentle movements.

 

Friday 19th May:

This morning I joined a number of early morning risers on deck as we entered Suda Bay just in time to see dawn breaking and watched in awe as we slowly passed such familiar landmarks as Almirida, the seaside settlement that gave my family so much enjoyment 10 months earlier.   Next the villages of Kalives and soon Kalami were passing us.   I’m not sure if Anthony Madden was on deck that morning, but the sight of Kalami would have brought back a flood of war time memories for him, for this is where he was assisted by the Cretans after he was wounded.

 

Passing on the other side of the ferry was the new American naval base, which unbeknown to us, and in a few days time would be the anchorage of the atomic power aircraft carrier USS Enterprise and her two support ships.   Next to come into view was the German NATO naval establishment.   By 6am we had reversed into our berth and from this angle in the dawn’s silver light one could make out the outline of Suda War Cemetery, which in 36-hours time was to be the centre of attention for hundreds of “pilgrims” and our reason for being here.

 

On making our way towards the upper exit deck we were greeted by the Mayor of Hania and his dance troupe dressed in traditional Cretan costumes who welcomed us to Crete and passed out flowers before making the traditional speech of greetings.

 

As we boarded our coach for Hania city my attention was drawn to a large number of World War II military vehicles being discharged from the ferry’s hull.   American Jeeps, Dodge trucks, armoured cars, motor cycles and several German volkswagons.   A few hours later I had an opportunity to introduce myself to the members of the Greek Chapter of the Military Vehicles Association; who are part of a worldwide organisation that promotes the restoration of military vehicles and display them at historical functions.   A few years ago as the owner of a 1942 Willys Jeep, I too was a member of the New Zealand Chapter of this organisation.

 

From the dockside we were driven to our hotel, the historical Doma, where given the size of our party, the overflow were given accommodation in the more modern Areda Hotel.   A quick briefing and announcement advised everyone to be ready to move by 10.00am for our first official engagement, the ceremonial flag raising on the ramparts of the partly restored waterfront Firkas Fort scheduled for 10.30.   This warning caused a mad dash to rooms to unpack, shower and change into more formal attire.

 

Our anticipated early arrival at the old Venetian fort was somewhat delayed due to traffic congestion, which was remedied by the timely intervention of the local police who on sighting our bus allowed the driver to go directly to the restricted waterfront area, something even the dignitaries could not achieve.   By this time, veterans from the United Kingdom, Australia, the Greek military, former veterans of the Greek resistance and members of the public had swamped the area to such an extent there was little room for us.   However, as we walked on we were greatly humbled to hear the crowd’s spontaneous outburst of welcome, “Bravo! Bravo! Nea Zealandos!”   A cry that was to be heard wherever we went; an acknowledgment of the friendship forged in the heat of battle so long ago has never been forgotten by these Island people.   We were treated like royalty.

 

In front of a setting of perhaps 500 people, the flags of the allied coalition who defended Crete in 1941 were raised to the accompaniment of a Greek military band, playing in turn each country’s national anthem.   New Zealand’s ensign was given place of honour and raised first as a mark of respect to General Freyberg, with the New Zealand contingent singing “God Defend New Zealand”, followed by the Australian standard, again, Kiwi voices adding passion to “Advance Australia Fair” in a show of uncommon unity normally reserved for ANZAC Day.   It was also interesting to note that during the hoisting of Britain’s Union Jack, all of us Commonwealth “colonials” joined in the singing of our once common national anthem, “God Save the Queen”, something I’ve not done for over 42-years!   This unexpected outburst of vocal solidarity brought tears to many of the old veterans, rekindling memories of a once proud Empire where the sun never set and they so willingly defended.[13]   In that fleeting moment of humility I came to realise the feeling of an Olympic champion as he gazes on his country’s flag flying proudly over the winner’s dais.   I guess in all fairness to those assembled, the most enthusiastic display of patriotic singing came from the Greeks proclaiming the hoisting of their familiar white cross on a blue field of the Hellenic standard.

 

With the official flag raising now over we mingled with the other veterans and their supporters.    I ran across a number of British RAF veterans.   Given my past association with the RAF during my days in Singapore, as you can imagine there was a lot of “leg pulling” and swapping of tall yarns etc.   Included with their party was Jim Miller who mentioned he was heading out to New Zealand to spend the Christmas-New Year period with his nephew in Opotiki.   Another in their party reminded me of the British comedian Norman Wisdom where his uncanny resemblance to the famous comic was also complemented by his wicked sense of humour.   Unfortunately, five days later the 90-year-old Frank Smith; (his correct name) was rushed to Hania hospital suffering from pneumonia.   I never heard his outcome, although I was going to meet his veteran colleagues time and again over the next few days.

 

Just before leaving the waterfront I took the opportunity to introduce myself to the members of the Greek Military Vehicle’s Club.   Their club captain, Andreas is the owner of an authentically resorted Willys Jeep modelled on the Greek Sacred Battalion’s SAS desert unit.   Unfortunately I had to decline his generous offer to ride with them to the next venue.   After last year’s visit I spent most of my afternoon being reacquainted with the town.   I leisurely strolled around the confines of the old harbour sounding out bookshops and revisiting some of the familiar tourist spots of Hania.   It was during this walk I had the great fortune to reestablish my friendship with Dudley Perkin’s brother, Neville, a man I’d met several years ago at one of the Wellington Crete Veteran’s celebrations.

 

Our first Cretan wreath laying service of the Pilgrimage took place in the early evening at 7.00pm on the hilltop over looking the Sikolia area in a location known as Cemetery Hill.   As with all the ceremonies, praying and chanting Greek Orthodox Priests opened formalities.   From there, with the sun now set we drove the short distance to the more formal memorial service hosted by Mr Nikos Apostolakis, the Mayor of the village of Galatas.   Here the British contingent’s Highland piper, Frank Menzies-Hearn led the assembled veterans into the town’s memorial square.   Again the Greek band played, we sang, they sang and wreaths were laid by just about every conceivable organisation who thought they were or should be associated with the Battle of Crete.

 

With the day’s two memorial services over we moved off for a banquet at the nearby Creta Club.   It was at this venue our Wellington City Mayor experienced an embarrassing moment when ambulance staff were called to clear a foreign object that had lodged in her throat.   In having met the RAF veterans earlier that morning, I not unexpectedly made my way over to their table to continue the banter, and while there another of their veterans (Dai Davies) asked if I was a New Zealander[14].   I replied yes, and he then went on to say that he had a very good friend living in Havelock North.   Now at this point in our discussions no name had been mentioned, when I quite (deliberately) and with all the casualness I could muster, said, “Oh, you’ll be talking about Roy Natusch!”   Well you should have seen the look on Dai’s face!   “You’re reading my mind!” he said.   I then asked him how he knew Roy.   It was then he introduced himself and said that both he and Roy had escaped into Hungary together.   “Oh!” I said, “You’re the other half of the Double Dutchman!”   Again Dai’s face lit up, bursting into cries of raucous laughter! Saying, “This is the second time in 20-years I’ve met someone who knows Roy”.[15]   While our conversation was taking place other members seated at Dai’s table could see something of historical importance was unfolding and all hushed to listen.   During this lull in conversation Dai explained to those around him what had just transpired.   His fellow countrymen as of one voice asked what was the story.   Well, you couldn’t keep Dai quiet for the rest of the evening.   He had us all in fits of laughter as he regaled us with tales of Roy’s escapades and their time together while working for Count Andrassy on his estate at Szigetvar.   One story I recall him telling was the time the two men and other dignitaries dined with the Count, who after dinner passed around cigars.   Now Dai being Welsh is not only narrating the story with his Welsh accent but his inclusion of all the idioms made the tale even more humorous.   He went on to say, in true Hollywood fashion he bit the end off his cigar which left him with a mouth full of very foul and bitter tasting cigar tobacco.   Not knowing what to do next, he spat it out only to have the Count’s dog swallow it and from there on the blasted animal wouldn’t stop barking.   He was caused further discomfort to an already embarrassing situation when the Count’s butler came around the table using a little guillotine to cut the end off each cigar and sceptically asked why his was almost half the size!

 

At about midnight Crete time, (9.00am in New Zealand) I had the pleasure of phoning Roy, telling him of the evening’s encounter.   He was thrilled!

 

The next day I ran across Dai and his wife Beti who told me that since our meeting the previous evening Dai had not sleep a wink.   He just couldn’t get over the fact that someone could travelled so far to attend these celebrations and then to his absolute amazement know his very good friend Roy.   In contrast to the evening’s hilarity I noticed Dai was wearing an OBE (Order of the British Empire) next to his MM (Military Medal!)

 

Saturday 20th May:

The Commander of the German airborne forces, Colonel later, General Kurt Student talking on the Battle of Crete had this to say;   “…Crete was the grave of the German parachutist…the Fuhrer was very upset by the heavy losses by the parachute units.   He often said to me,…’The day of parachute troops is over.’…After Crete he refused to attempt another airborne effort…”[16]

 

 

Photo showing the group who attended the early morning private dawn service held at the Suda Bay Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery: Saturday 20th May 2006.

From L-R, Garry Cousin, Robin Lloyd, Harima Fraser, Michael Angell, Kerryanne Angell, Roye Hammond, Robyn Gardner, Ross Bristow, Pat Ratcliffe, Paul London, Tracy Pilet, Anthony Madden, Jim Christie, Brant Robinson, Kaye Malloch, Angelo Papageorgiou, Arthur Midwood, Margaret Faulkner, Tina Ruwhiu, John Robinson, Beverley Cousins, Deirdre Hauschild and John Petris (holding flag)

Photo published in “The Wellingtonian” newspaper July 20th 2006

 

As this day was our reason for being on Crete a number of us had planned the evening before to hold our own “Dawn Parade”.   While busing the early risers down to the Commonwealth War Grave’s Cemetery I was invited to recount Suda Bay’s history.   For not only did 2006 mark the 65th anniversary of the battle, but that year also represented the 60th anniversary of the formation of the cemetery.   Men from the 21st Australian War Graves Unit and 3 New Zealanders from the 1st New Zealand Searcher Party undertook this work.   Long time Otaki Beach resident, Mr John Martin now has the dubious honour of being the sole survivor of that New Zealand unit and his Australia counterpart John Vigar of Cummins, South Australia, the other.   In the coming of dawn’s light about 30 of us joined with Harima Fraser in the Waiata (Maori singing) as she lead us into the Cemetery.   At its entrance way we paused for several minutes to permit Harima to give the traditional Maori chant of grief.   This truly moving service was directed by Robin Lloyd and filmed by a Television New Zealand camera crew and reporter who had flow especially from England to cover the occasion.   On conclusion of our private service I returned to the hotel with the three new arrivals, Arthur Paxis and the Nathan brothers, Manos and Evan.

 

Before attending the Mayor of Hania’s official 10.00am welcoming reception, I received a text message from fellow British SAS adventurer, Jonathan White, the leader of a team of British climbers who were arriving on the Island in a couple of days time.   Jonathan asked what the snow conditions were like on the tops of the White Mountains as his team was going to do a five-day reconnaissance of the mountains in anticipation of a next year’s full climb by members the British Escape Lines Association.   In a later meeting with his party I was introduced to the former British Consulate General to Spain, a most interesting man who had made the diplomatic service his chosen career.

 

We were met on our arrival at the Mayoralty chambers and escorted by New Zealand’s official party, Annette King, Julie MacKenzie and Costa Cotsilinis to the official function, which again was covered by Greek news media.   There Mayor Prendergast acknowledged the unique association Wellington has with Hania, the second only city to one other in the United Kingdom to enjoy a sister-city relationship.   Our government’s representatives then spoke followed by more singing from Maori members.   In keeping with good Greek tradition, the Mayor of Hania presented us all with a beautiful bound hardcover book called The Earth of Chania.   Another well intended heavy gift for us discerning travellers!   In acknowledging the Mayor’s goodwill gesture, Frank Twigg and his family presented his Worship with two New Zealand Pohutukawa seedlings as a living reminder of the friendship between our two island nations.

 

At 1.00pm we retired to one of the waterfront taverns as guests of Hania’s Mayor to partake of a seafood luncheon.   During our meal we were entertained by dancers in traditional costume and musicians playing Cretan music, much to the delight of the adjoining tourists.   Later eight male singers joined these entertainers, the equivalent of two Barber-Shop quartets singing songs of old Crete and recounting the heroic wartime stands made by members of the Cretan Resistance.

 

Promptly at 5 o’clock we departed for the British Government’s sponsored official memorial service at Suda Bay Cemetery.   Here with the warmth of the setting sun on our backs we walked between an honour guard of sailors from the recently arrived Royal Navy’s warship HMS Nottingham[17].   Members of this ship’s company also provided the firing party.   (See the Nottingham’s Crete story on pages 44 and 45.)

The Greek military band again played each country’s national anthem, with a slight change in protocol, where the flag of South Africa was raised first adding a fifth ensign to the traditional four flying on the sea shore of Suda Bay.   It was pleasing to note this official service bore all the fine hallmarks of centuries of practiced English pageantry.   Wreaths were also laid by HMS Nottingham’s Commonwealth crewmembers on exchange duties from both the Australia and New Zealand navies.   In the closing minutes of the hour-long service the Commander of the American Navy’s Suda Bay base made a cameo appearance as he laid a wreath on behalf of the American people.   Afterwards members of our Pilgrimage gathered with Robin Lloyd and Julie MacKenzie for an impromptu dedication service around the grave of New Zealand’s most famous “Cretan” son, Dudley Perkins.   His brother Neville and Annette King spoke a few words venerating his heroic deeds that led to his untimely death.

 

From Suda Bay our party travelled for an evening meal held at a hillside taverna near the seaside village of Stalos.   We returned to our respective hotels feeling very exhausted and quite emotional drained after a full on day.

 

Sunday 21st May:

After breakfast we exercised our independence from the official program and decided to skip the anticipated all Greek language three-hour Church service in favour of a tour to the eastern area of Hania taking in the sights around the various battlefields.   During this tour another of our historians, ex-New Zealand Army officer Mark Wilson from Christchurch provided a running commentary of what was happening at each site 65-years earlier.   His description was punctuated at convenient intervals with him passing the microphone to various veterans who added their first hand account and voiced what they had seen and done that day.   It was like living in a three-dimension movie, you see the object, you hear its history and you live the moment.   The popularity of Mark’s talk roused members’ interest to make arrangements with him for a more in depth tour a few days later.

 

As a matter of respect and historical interest we called at the German War Cemetery located on the hillside overlooking the old Maleme airfield.   While beautifully kept and in contrast to its Allied counterpart set in lawn, the German War Graves Commission has chosen to plant what appears to be iceplants, which flowering at that time of the year created the illusion of a sea of red.   The German headstones unlike the vertically positioned Suda Bay memorials lay flat in the ground where their black inscriptions contrast against the background of these crimson flowers.   Most of their graves through necessity of space contain multiple bodies.

 

It was here that the 92-year-old Frank Twigg asked to be taken to the top of the hill where after a successful search he believed he’d found the very olive tree and slit trench he viewed the enemy parachute drop of 65 years previously.

 

Our lunch break was taken at the hilltop village of Galatas, where in the light of day we viewed the remains of Roy Farran’s tank that now forms part of a concrete wall.   While seated in one of the tavernas, I was greeted by a group of Norwegians whose curiosity had been aroused with the arrival of such a large group in a place they considered to be off the beaten track.   They were so astounded to learn who we were, where we came from and our reason for being there, one of them said, “I’ve never met a New Zealander before.”[18]   So on shaking his hand, I gave them a couple of our “giveaway” New Zealand flags and silver fern pins as a reminder of the occasion.   In course of our conversation they informed me they came from the city of Bodø, way north of the Artic Circle, which invoked my remark that they must know Father Christmas. “Oh, Saint Nicholas you mean?”   “Yes, we feed his reindeer!” they joked.   As it transpired one of their party had an amateur radio operator friend and promised to pass my New Zealand callsign on to him.

 

From Galatas we returned to our hotel for a 6.30pm departure to Maleme airfield.   Here further wreaths were laid and untranslated Greek speeches made, followed by a flypast of military aircraft.   The anticipated re-enactment of the German parachute landing by the Greek Army was called off in the interests of safety due to the unseasonably high winds coming off the sea.   This wind also brought the film show to a premature close when the screen was blown down.   As members returned to the bus for our next engagement, Ersi Paxi noticed a box full of English transcripts of the official speeches, including the address read out on behalf of (Sir) Patrick Leigh-Fermor.

 

We were welcomed on arrival at the Island’s exclusive Creta Paradise Hotel by our evening’s host, the Prefect of Hania.   In a truly magical setting with lights strung across two large swimming pools and tables laden with food that seem to stretch forever senior dignitaries in their address to both veterans and supporters invited us to assemble again at this time next year.   New Zealand’s Ambassador, Julie MacKenzie read out our Prime Minister’s message acknowledging the Pilgrimage, (see page 50 for her address).   Pauses in the official speeches allowed traditional dancers to again entertain guests with the music being furnished by three now civilian-attired members of the Greek military band.

 

While seated at Dai’s table I was introduced to another of his British colleagues who asked if there were any members from the 28th Maori Battalion with us.   “Yes”, I replied, were got Arthur Midwood and Tamati Paraone just sitting up there behind us.   “Well”, he said, “I’m going over to shake their hands for they’re the reason I’m here today!”   I’m not sure if he made it over to Arthur and Tamati, but he was most sincere in what he said next.   It appears some 20 to 30 hours into the battle he and a mate had been sent from Hania to join a British group being reformed in the area around Galatas.   As they near the assembly point they noticed coming towards them a large number of German paratroopers who within a few moments by chance cut the two unseen Brits off from their mates.   In ducking for cover they were now confronted with what to do next.   He felt any shooting at the enemy would not only have revealed their presence but would have also invoked their return fire, which in all probability may have killed them.   Their next option was how best to surrender without being shot.   A moment later at a distance of about 50 yards away he noticed a group of Maori lads.   At the time he did know what they were doing but now realises they were performing the “haka”.   In amazement he and his cobber lay watching this ritual when all of a sudden the Maori boys picked up their rifles, with bayonets fixed and in a display of extraordinary courage charged straight into the advancing Germans.   “We too joined in the melee and helped scattered the enemy.”   “It was through that spontaneous act by the Maoris that my mate and I joined our unit again, so I’m going off to thank the lads!”   I hope he did.

 

A British newspaper article on one of the British veterans I met that night can be found on pages 46 and 47.

 

We returned to our hotel quite late in the evening where we were met by a very apprehensive but honest Cretan, a former Wellingtonian and resident of Mount Victoria who earlier in the morning had taken Anthony Madden on a wee sightseeing tour.   During their excursion and unbeknown to both gentlemen, Anthony’s medals slipped off his jacket and fell under the car’s passenger seat.   It wasn’t until late afternoon just before our departure for Maleme that Anthony realised his medals were missing.   Our noble Cretan had waited most of the evening to ensure they were returned to a most anxious Anthony.


 

Monday 22nd May:

General Freyberg in a signal to General Wavell said, “…I regret to have to report that in my opinion the limit of endurance has been reached by the troops under my command.   From a military point of view our position is hopeless.   Provided a decision is reached at once a certain proportion of the force might be embarked…”

 

Our official program had this day scheduled for a nostalgic coach journey following in the “footsteps” of the withdrawing Allied soldiers over the southern evacuation beach of Hora Sfakion.   Given that I and my family visited this area of Crete some 10 months earlier, I chose to skip this visit in favour of following a set of instructions given to me by John Martin of Otaki to trace his Unit’s former residence of 1945/46.   During their time on the Island, John and his two companions, Ron Griggs and Collin Smith had been billeted with the 22nd Australian War Graves Unit in the former Xalapa French-Catholic School.   Today this school, while still part of the Greek education system is now a polytechnic for students studying architecture.   After reading John’s instructions I filmed my way through the streets of Hania to his former residence in an area of the city that 60 years ago would have been so familiar to him with its stone houses and stately homes that today has been made almost unrecognisable by high-rise hotels and new apartment blocks.

 

In returning to our Pilgrims, I am most grateful to Deirdre Hauschild of Tauranga for her permission to reprint her commentary on the bus trip, where she writes,   “…We were on our way over the White Mountains to Hora Sfakia, where we were to have another wreath laying ceremony.   The road over was long and steep and the surrounding terrain was sparse and rocky.   Our soldiers had to walk over these mountains, which took several days and nights.   Some without boots, no water or food, and the heat must have been quite unbearable.   We visited small villages in the foothills of the White Mountains and in Vrisses was where we met an old Cretan lady and heard her amazing and brave stories of harbouring allied soldiers[19].   Hora Sfakia, on the opposite side of the island from Hania was the little fishing village where the soldiers were evacuated, and of course, a lot of them were not, and were either captured or hid in amongst the rocks or in the caves.   My father lived like that for 6 weeks before being evacuated to Alexandria and from there to the battle of Tobruk and eventually home in December 1943. …”

 

Tuesday 23rd May:

After breakfast our ever-conscientious bus driver again picked us up and in a display of incredible driving skill negotiated his way through the busy and sometimes narrow streets of Hania to the city’s Archaeological Museum and Art Gallery where we were welcomed as guests of the Deputy Mayor.   Included in our guided tour of the museum was an exclusive examination of the personal collection of artefacts owned by Constantine Mitsotakis.   During our walk to a waterfront taverna for lunch, Helen George’s fertile imagination had her insisting that I film the elaborate security features for a late night break-in.   Where she and I might care to liberate some of the gold bullion and ancient jewellery exhibits as a means of off setting the cost of our trip.   Fortunately this notion was soon lost as we “fought” our way through the sudden influx of American servicemen and women who were fast taking over “our” traditional taverna.   We learnt later the huge nuclear powered American aircraft carrier USS Enterprise with two support vessels had that morning tied up in Suda Bay and was over a five day period to “liberate” some 5,500 crew members for Rest and Recreational shore leave.   While their impromptu vacation provoked the consternation of the free-spirited anti-nuclear lobby, their arrival was utter delight to the city retailer’s cash ringing tills.   While we found our American visitors most courteous and their hilarious antics in trying to keep a very low profile in this tiny community, it was their accents and outrageous choice in “designer” clothing that gave them away every time.   After lunch the rest of the afternoon was declared free allowing many to avail themselves of an opportunity to “discover” the unique retailers in the back streets of Hania.   Pipi and I stumbled across a rather interesting secondhand shop run be a very polite but questionable gentleman of indeterminable ethnic origin who was selling amongst his large range of knifes and metal pots, a selection of allegedly genuine German World War II militaria items.   While Pipi’s interest was aroused, he did express doubts over their authenticity.

 

During the afternoon I received a text message from my British friend Jonathan White confirming he and his party of four had arrived in Hania off a charter flight from the United Kingdom and were now preparing their equipment for the next day’s climb into the White Mountains.  We arranged a 9.30 evening meeting one street back from the waterfront in an attempt to avoid the more popular establishments that were now being overrun by American sailors and their money.   Although I hasten to say as I approached the harbour area I accidentally ran into, and successfully extracted myself from the Suda Bay and Hania Anti-Nuclear Glee Club’s public welcome to their NATO allie.   Their message while in Greek, had a cryptically familiar ring-about-it; “Go Home Americanas!”   As mentioned earlier, Jonathan and his team, Boris Spence, Rob McKenna and Geoff are members of a British organisation known as the “WW2 Escape Lines Memorial Society.”   Their mission in life is to retrace the many Second World War escape and evasion routes as used by allied servicemen in their attempt to avoid capture.

 

Further information on this association can be found on their home pages at:

http://www.escapelines.com/

 

Those fellow readers wishing to follow the exploits of Jonathan’s Cretan reconnaissance activities can find a full report complete with extremely fine photographs at:

http://www.conscript-heroes.com/escapelines/Crete%202006%20Report.html

 

In reading his account, I couldn’t help smiling about the comments regarding their completion of the Samaria Gorge walk.   For unlike the Bristow brothers and myself, who felt the seven-hour gorge hike was enough and caught the ferry to Paleohora, whereas Jon and his team who could have taken the eastern ferry from Agia Roumeli, decided to walk the twenty kilometres to Hora Sfakion along the coast!   So if anyone from our Pilgrimage is thinking of joining Jon’s tramping party for their next year’s wilderness climb you better start training now!

 

Wednesday 24th May:

As on the Monday, I again decided to skip this day’s planned visit to the inland village of Therriso in favour of a private visit to the ancient ruins of Knossos just outside Crete’s capital city of Heraklion (Iraklion).

 

Historically, Therriso is considered the birthplace of early Cretan resistance, predating the German invasion of the Island by nearly fifty years at a time when the Ottoman Empire was flexing its influence in the Eastern Mediterranean.   Former Prime Minister Constantine Mitsotaki’s uncle, Eleftherios Venizelos in 1897 championed the Liberal Party’s cause and led an anti-Ottoman force in an effort to attain union with Greece.   The uprising ended with Crete being granted autonomy under the Ottoman Empire.   In 1941 the village again rose to the challenge in orchestrating the Island’s opposition to its new European invader, the Germans.   Although Therriso is only a 30 minute drive from Hania, its inaccessible location through a very narrow gorge and an almost goat track of a road has been the Achillies’ heel of every occupational army.  Its geographical position makes it a natural sanctuary for refugees and evaders alike.   Today as an acknowledgment of the village’s heroic commitment stands the community’s Museum of National Resistance, which proudly displays many wartime relics and photographs as a permanent reminder of those turbulent years.

 

Included in my 35 Euro fare to Knossos was an early morning courtesy pick-up by the tour operator from the Doma Hotel, who deposited me at the downtown assembly point.   Here our group were joined by our guide for the day, a microbiologist by profession and when not escorting climbing parties into the White Mountains, acts as on board travel narrator for the two hour bus ride down to Heraklion.   Half an hour into our journey the bus turned off the main highway to pick-up a fellow traveller from the seaside resort of Almirida.   Ten months earlier this village had been the site of our weeklong summer vacation on Crete in a rural setting of truly magnificent surroundings and beautiful olive groves.   I was pleased to see Almirida has been spared the aggressive urban development now in progress around Hania.   Hopefully the Cretan’s natural gift of procrastination and their enthusiasm for bureaucracy has proved the community’s saving grace.

 

In nearing our destination the coach driver pulled into a wayside pick-up and boarded our second guide who was to conduct us through the historical ruins.   This middle-aged lady proved to be an amateur archaeologist who over the years is now considered an authority on the history of Knossos.   My visit to the ruins also had an ulterior motive, for about 100 metres from the diggings is the Villa Ariadne.   A house originally built by the British archaeologist Sir Arthur Evans and used during his excavations of the site.   During the German occupation of the Island this Villa became the residence of the German commander of Crete, Major-General Karl Kreipe.   On the night of April 26th 1944 along the road a few kilometres from the General’s quarters, SOE Major (later Sir) Patrick Leigh-Fermor, Captain W. Stanley Moss and a handful of Cretan resistance members[20] in an amazing feat of courage and enterprise ambushed General Kreipe and successfully carry him off to British lines in Egypt.

 

Unfortunately I discovered to my dismay this house is today closed to the general public as it is now considered structurally unsound due to an earlier earthquake.   I did however manage to photograph a little of its surroundings, which after years of neglect the original dwelling is almost hidden to the casual observer by overgrowing trees and high shrubs.

 

Our guide during the two-hour visit highlighted many of Knossos’ historical features, emphasising that it was the site of the most important and better known palace of Minoan civilisation.   According to tradition, it was the seat of the legendary King Minos.   The Palace is also connected with inspiring legends, such as the myth of the Labyrinth with the Minotaur and the story of Daidalos and Icaros.

 

With the exploration of the ruins completed our next stopover was to view the display of fine artefacts recovered from Knossos and are now housed in the impressive Heraklion Archaeological Museum.

 

A two hour lunch break before returning home allows visitors ample time to wander around Heraklion, the capital of Crete and a city about three times the population of Hania’s 40,000 inhabitants.   About halfway into our return journey a “commercial break” was taken to permit sightseers to view at first hand the operations of an olive oil extraction plant and, only naturally to buy some of the factory’s finished products.

 

We arrived in Hania about 6pm to be greeted by the news that earlier in the day a jet fighter from the Greek air force had been involved in a mid air collision with a Turkish aircraft just off the north-eastern end of Crete.   Afterwards we learnt the Greek pilot who was the only one killed in the accident came from Hania where he lived with his wife and two small children.   Word on the street suggested the surviving Turkish pilot was on an aerial reconnaissance mission to “buzz” the Enterprise.   The conflicting stories that appeared in the news media had television saying one thing and the local newspaper reporting another only fuelled and aggravated an already highly volatile situation with locals ready to march on the American base in Suda Bay.   Diplomatic efforts to defuse the situation by Dora Bakoyannis and her Turkish counterpart were “flashed” up on Greek and international television channels with each Foreign Minister claiming their respective pilots were not to blame.   The English language Athens News reported that the downed Turkish pilot was in fact on an antagonistic spy flight flying to Crete to photograph the positions of Greek S-300 and TOR-M1 missile sites on the Island.   A review of the taped communications by the Greek coastguard who were first on the crash scene indicated the Turkish pilot pulled a gun and refused to be rescued by them, preferring instead to wait for his own people.

 

Our last and only remaining reception in Hania was very special evening function jointly hosted by the Mayors of Hania and Wellington in one of the beautifully restored waterfront Venetian warehouses.   However, out of respect to the widow and family of that day’s tragedy the deputy Mayor called off the anticipated evenings entertainment by cancelling the music and dancing that otherwise would have followed the film presentation.   After the invariable speeches and a huge meal along the lines of a New Zealand barbecue, John Irwin brought the evenings formalities to a climax by screening his original Cretan documentary “In Rich Regard”.

 

While walking home several of us couldn’t help noticing just how quiet the streets were, a distinct absence of locals with the few Americans that were around now trying to pass themselves of as “Hispanics”, (i.e. they were now speaking Spanish.)   The local police and government agencies seemed to have successfully kept the “lid” on the air mishap.  I received a text message from Julia saying her aunty had passed away, the second death to be notified on this Pilgrimage, the other was John Petris’ father-law-in a few days earlier.


 

Thursday 25th May:

Although this day was designated as our official rest day with many having previously arranged their private agendas, the unseen hand of fate was soon to intervene, dealing yet another card of intrigue.   Some took the opportunity to accompany Mark Wilson in their hired minibus on his impromptus revisit of the battlefield areas, the Mayor and her husband Rex Nicholls choose to do the day-long Samaria Gorge walk, while the Bristow brothers, Garry and Ross rented a car to return to Hora Sfakion in search of hidden “treasure.”

 

The rest of us relaxed; little realising that this was the quiet before the storm.   For unfolding in New Zealand at that very moment in the Gisborne Herald Bulletin was the newspaper’s article covering the story of a former New Zealand soldier, Colin Ratcliffe who had remained at large on Crete in 1941.   (See pages 48 and 49 for the Gisborne Herald’s news articles).   Ratcliffe’s life as an evader had also been the subject of a television documentary filmed ten years previously by John Irwin, called “In Rich Regard”.   Interestingly, this time John also accompanied our party taking additional footage for inclusion in his original movie.

 

The Cretan sequel to Ratcliffe’s newspaper story had its origins several months earlier in Christchurch when his daughter Lynne McMillan and her husband Doug met one of our members, Pipi Boyd of Blenheim.   The couple on discovering that Pipi was going to Crete mentioned to him they too were returning to the Island in an attempt to find Lynne’s father’s cave as shown in John’s documentary and would also be attending the various memorial services.   Acting on Pipi’s suggestion and unbeknown to the members of our party it was agreed by the trio to meet again at our hotel in Hania on the 25th May, (the very day the first of two Cretan articles were published by the Gisborne Herald Bulletin!)

 

In due course the McMillans arrived in Hania and on settling into their hotel, which was a wee way from the Doma, decided to walk to one of the waterfront tavernas for morning coffee before their intended meeting with Pipi.   As a security measure the McMillans planned to leave their wallet and passports in their hotel room, taking only sufficient funds to pay for their morning drinks.   At about this point in time something distracted their attention, for on leaving the hotel they unwittingly took with them their wallet and passports.

 

Sometime during their morning tea the wallet was unknowingly dropped and its disappearance not realised until returning to their hotel.   In their mind’s eye they had left these items in the safe precincts of their hotel room.   After making a thorough search of the room, the couple came to the unfortunate conclusion that these items had been stolen and reluctantly reported the matter to the hotel management, who in turn called the police.   With all the finesse of Hollywood’s Keystone Cops the local police questioned all and sundry and filled out many forms etc.

 

In the meantime while this inquisition was being conducted our New Plymouth couple, Garry and Beverley Cousins took themselves off along the waterfront for a mid morning stroll and by happenstance called in at the very taverna that the McMillans had vacated some 20 minutes earlier.

 

Shortly after being seated and having placed their orders Garry felt a wee bit of a bulge under his seat and on further investigation discovered it to be a wallet containing a large amount of money in Euros and two passports.   Beverley’s examination of the passports showed they belonged to a New Zealand couple from Christchurch.   “ How strange,” she thought, “ How would a couple of New Zealand passports come to be laying around here?”   Anyway, a little while later both she and Garry returned to the Doma and on joining our group regaled us with their discovery of the wallet and passports.

 

During their animated tale, Pipi on hearing that one of the passports belonged to Doug McMillan said to Garry, “And now if you open the other one you’ll find his wife’s name is Lynne!”   We were all amazed by Pipi’s powers of perception!   “How do you know that Pipi?”   “Well,” he said, “I’m meeting them here in about half an hour’s time!”

 

With our natural curiosity aroused Pipi let us into the secret of his earlier meeting in Christchurch with Doug and Lynne.   Needless to say an hour later the very dejected McMillans arrived for their meeting, explaining to us how their holiday was now in ruins and the problems they faced in replacing their missing money and passports, when all of sudden Pipi tossed over the missing items.   You should have seen the look of amazement and relief on their faces!   “Where in the blue blazes did you find them?” they asked.

 

After a quick post mortem of the morning’s events, both Doug and Lynne, with “cap-in-hand” returned to their hotel apologising most profusely to the management for the mistake and their regret for casting suspicions on the trustworthiness of the staff.   Needless to say they also had to face the “music” from the local constabulary.

 

One consolation prize to come out of this debacle was that neither Garry nor Beverley paid for a drink that afternoon.   The next day the McMillans hired a guide and 4-wheel drive vehicle in an unsuccessful bit to find their father’s cave.

 

In returning to the others, the Bristow brothers had an equally exciting time exploring the southern coastline in the area of Hora Sfakion.   Just before their departure from New Zealand their father, Bill Bristow through reasons of health was unavoidable detained at home, gave his two sons a hand drawn map showing the location of a cave where sixty five years earlier he’d hidden a large sum of money, allegedly the proceeds of a robbery.   Using this map and armed with torches to light their way the brothers searched all day, scouring the windswept cliffs for the entrance of a cave matching their fathers description.   Later, Ross and Garry agreed it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.   In his enthusiasm, their father after 65-years had overlooked informing them that the search area was a myriad of possible locations.   After hours of scrutinising what seemed like hundreds of apertures, climbing up and down steep cliffs and crawling into confined spaces they return not with the money but with an old military helmet.   An examination of this relic suggested it was of British origin and had in all probability been discarded by an evacuated soldier.

 

Later that day while daydreaming my way into downtown Hania I happen to pass one of the towns few remaining undeveloped sites.   An area shut off from the street by a high wall filled with miscellaneous construction junk where over the years various scrubs and trees had taken root and were now growing through the debris.   When all of a sudden and scarring the living daylights out of me with his crashing around in the undergrowth and jumping through the only crack in the wall came Robin Lloyd.   The sudden manifestation and shock of this apparition now standing in front of me gave way to my “What the bloody hell are you doing!”   His sheepish grin said it all; Robin had been caught short and couldn’t quite make it to our hotel.   I guess many a weary traveller in Crete can testify to the Island’s lack of public conveniences and the comfort of finding any port in a storm even if it’s in full view of high rise apartments is a stroke of luck!   On my return I noticed a billboard announcing the site was earmarked for a new homoeopathic medical and health centre, perhaps they’ll give Robin the naming rights to call it “Nature’s Way?”

 

While wandering around the old Venetian port area I ran into Jim Miller and two of his Brit veterans[21] who asked if our contingent were returning to Suda Bay as guests of the American Navy as they were holding a formal memorial service in the cemetery later that afternoon.   This was news to me, although the US Navy’s Public Relations officer had tried unsuccessfully to contact John Petris a few days earlier to perhaps extend an invitation to our veterans.   Jim also mentioned for some unknown reason they had been requested not to wear their medals?   Although he hastened to say after the formal “parade”, which would probably include a brass band and all the trimmings they were going on board Enterprise as guests of the Captain.

 

On returning to the Doma, I was approached by our tour Secretary Harima Fraser asking where she and Arthur Midwood could best view the Enterprise.   On my suggestion we engaged the services of a very cooperative taxi driver explaining to him that we wanted a return journey to the southern side of Suda Bay that overlooked the American base around the Kalami area.   This visit was to prove even more memorable that we had planned, for having first left his camera behind Arthur returned to his room only to get stuck in the Doma’s antiquated lift.   Suggestions by the hotel management to call the local fire service were further aggravated with their punctations of much yelling and hand waving.   Fortunately Arthur managed to extract himself before the call was placed to the emergency service and joined us on our journey to Kalami.   On nearing our destination we noticed a conveniently placed roadside taverna, complete with car park and a commanding view of the aircraft carrier.   Shortly after alighting and with cameras at the ready we started to film.   When all of a sudden the proprietor started into the traditional Greek gesticulation warning us that photography was forbidden!   So much for a free society.   Fortuitously our resourceful cabbie drove us to a more secluded site providing an unobstructed view from where we could discreetly observe the vessel.

 

Just after 11pm Kerry Prendergast and husband Rex returned safely from their exhausting 16-hour ordeal of the Samaria Gorge.

 

Friday 26th May:

After a leisurely breakfast and saying our goodbyes to our hosts of the Doma we boarded the coach once more for phase two of the Pilgrimage to Paleochora.   On turning off the main highway to cross to the south, the road narrows and starts to twist and turn.   Travellers also pass a flurry of activity of road construction being carried out to straighten this now increasingly popular route.   Our journey took us through the White Mountains and over to the real Crete where this mountainous sanctuary became the wartime “home” for many New Zealanders.   About half way between Hania and Paleochora is the now rebuilt historical village of Kandanos.   There we stopped for lunch and on meeting the Mayor, John Petris fulfilled the first of his long standing promises to lay a wreath in acknowledgment to this community’s heroic stand against the Nazi onslaught.   On the 25th May 1941 members of the Resistance from this area held the Germans at bay for over two days inflicting many casualties before finally “melting” away.   This insurrectionist response to the invasion eventually led to the village’s complete destruction where a few weeks later in June 1941 the Germans erected a sign with the inscription saying, “Kandanos was never to be built again.”

 

While waiting for our lunch the ever inquisitive and discerning Pipi, our veteran of three wars[22] took himself off where in the course of his wanderings he came upon an elderly lady who in his mind’s eye fitted the description of a wartime Resistance veteran.   His chance meeting and her introduction to us proved to be absolutely correct.   Pipi returned with this lady, bringing with them a selection of her precious photographs and certificates recognising her role as one of the many young resistance fighters of the day.   It’s hard to imagine without the aid of her photographs that this frail 90-year-old was once an expert in the use of a tommy gun!   A great fuss was made of her, where she enjoyed being the centre of attention as she sat with the town’s Mayor and Priest and other members of the official party.

 

We left Kandanos full of awe and wonderment of seeing her again.   Pipi’s premonition would soon come true in a few days time.   We arrived at Paleochora mid afternoon with the bus having to negotiate its way around the back of the town in order to bypass the settlement’s narrow streets.   Here we were accommodated at the Pal Beach Hotel, a very large and modern establishment conveniently situated across the road from the town’s only sandy beach.   While the hotel itself was adequate for our needs the behaviour of its proprietor leaves something to be desired.   Resembling the character of Basil Faulty straight out of “Fawlty Towers”, who instead of employing the services of an inapt Spaniard has seen fit to engaged the assistance of an incredibly rude and uncooperative Austrian.   Using his Greek name, Vasili Faulty has disappointedly modelled his accommodation along the lines of the infamous World War Two Wolfsberg prisoner of war camp, Stalag 18A.   He even seems to use the same catering company, for his breakfast menu only just meets the minimum standards set by Crete’s Board of Trade.   Our polite and yet simple request to turn on the air conditioning to cool our 30 degree rooms was met with his indifferent rebuff; “It isn’t hot enough yet!”   We also noticed the hotel’s sheets and towels are changed every three days.   Apart from his needing a lesson in diplomacy and hospitality, and using Angelo as our translator we did manage to enjoy the four nights we stayed in Paleochora.

 

An impromptu early evening farewell was held at the hotel to acknowledge the support and encouragement so freely given to the organisers of the Pilgrimage by Kerry Prendergast and husband Rex Nicholls.   Both Mayor and “Mayoress” were leaving the next day for a well-earned break to enjoy the serenity of the Island of Santorini before rejoining the group in Athens for the return journey home.

 

The mountainous area around Paleochora is the tradition home locality of both John Petris and his cousin Eris Paxi, whose twin sister Cleo and husband have recently built a vacation home just around the corner from the Pal Beach hotel.   While talking with Arthur Paxi that evening he told me a little of Eris’s parents and her father’s life as a physician during the war years.   Doctor Evangelos Papantonakis in his early life as a medical student had trained in Vienna where through his studies he was also obliged to learn the German language.   With the Axis occupation of the Island and his command of German to complement his medical skills, both the Cretans and the enemy held the family in high esteem.   Capitalising on this social acceptance by the foe, his wife Iphigena was permitted a little more freedom of movement than most Cretans.   Quite independent of her husband, Iphigena who was affectionately known as “Fifi” engaged in many incredibly brave and courageous acts of Resistance.   Often putting herself at great risk to feed, shelter and clothe many ANZAC evaders who found their way into her home at Sklavopoula.   Many of her bold deeds have been reported on at length in Jim McDevitt’s book My Escape From Crete.   With the fortunes of war turning in favour of the British, the politically divided Resistance now turned its guns on itself with the pro-communist left denouncing the Papantonakis family as fascist sympathisers.   Both Eris’s parents were arrested and taken to the local prison where they remained for several weeks under guard of the ELAS and EAM.[23]   Later the timely intervention of officers of the SOE secured their release.   In the post-war years Doctor Papantonakis became the Island’s Medical Officer of Health and was later appointed the Consulate General to the German Government.   Their stately two-storey residence still stands complete with palm tree in Hania’s Eleftherios Venizelos Street.

 

Saturday 27th May:

With most of the day free until the evening’s official function hosted by the Mayor of Paleochora his Worship George Dermitzakis in celebration of the region’s successful tomato-harvest, I accompanied Garry and Ross Bristow on their tramp through the Samaria Gorge.   In order to catch the 6.15am bus that takes visitors to the head of the Gorge, one has to be up and about, and packed by 5.45am.   The splendid scenery of southern Crete’s wild natural terrain, high mountains and equally deep ravines offsets the bus’s two hour drive via the “overland-cross country” route.   Passengers also transit the historically famous Omalos Plateau the former base of rebels during the two and half centuries of the Turkish occupation and later the wartime home to many Resistance fighters.   Using its central location and natural uniform contours the Germans established a small base and built a landing strip for light reconnaissance aircraft.   On arriving at our destination and after a very simple breakfast we paid our 5 Euro entrance fee and commenced the 1000 metre descend to the valley floor.   As parts of the gorge are so narrow it denies safe helicopter operations where in cases of emergency strategically positioned “rescue donkeys” are called on.   The gorge itself is some 13 kilometres in length, with a further 3 kilometres for walkers to traverse before catching the ferries at Agia Roumeli.   The Gorge’s infrastructure recently introduced by the Cretan Department of Conservation to accommodate the peak holiday foot-traffic which now exceeds 3,000 day hikers includes conveniently spaced rest stops, with fresh running water and the traditional squat type “Asian” toilet.   Not realising that such amenities were available, and airing on the side of caution we took our own water.   Given the tremendous heat that slowly builds up on the valley floor an unseasoned tramper would soon be suffering the symptoms of dehydration.   I drank my five litres of water in the six hours it took to walk the complete 16 kilometre journey.

 

The following URL is just one of the many Internet sites that provides additional information.

http://www.west-crete.com/samaria-gorge.htm

 

On board our returning ferry we met Deirdre Hauschild’s United Kingdom domiciled train driving brother Dennis, who treated us with British Rail horrific stories that have become almost everyday occupational hazards that he’d either experienced or had heard about.   Dennis left us at our first port of call, the tiny seaside resort of Sougia, which also serves as the bus terminus for those wishing to return to Hania.   Historically the settlement of Sougia and its nearby beach was where British Special Operations Executive agents and their MI9 counterparts were landed on the Island.  From here agents faced their long uphill trek to the mountain village of Koustogerako in an area made famous by the exploits of Dudley Perkins.

 

We arrived at Paleochore’s wharf in time for a quick shower and change of clothes before boarding the bus to our next venue at Kodora’s civic centre.   Kodora is a small coastal town about a 15-minute drive west of Paleochora whose flourishing industry is the commercial production of tomatoes.   Its surrounding area is “saturated” in acres upon acres of hothouses, which at this time of the year were almost devoid of the delicious vegetable.   Unlike earlier functions, this evening’s celebrations were to mark the end of yet another prosperous growing season.   A live band with traditional Greek music and Cretan dancers entertained their townsfolk and us.   At this engagement we suffered our first serious accident, when octogenarian Rene Earnshaw of Napier missed a step and fell headlong onto the concrete courtyard.   By chance our Pilgrimage’s practitioner, Doctor “Paddy” Twigg was on hand to tend to Rene’s horrendous cuts and bruising to her face and nose before taking her the next day to the Kandanos medical centre.   In a later examination, and apart from a large amount of bruising and a cut that needed a couple of stitches, Rene fortunately did not break her nose.   Also during that evening one unnamed veteran was later escorted prematurely home suffering the after effects of the freely available Raki.

 

Sunday 28th May:

In the mid-morning we departed for Sklavopoula by motor coach making our way via a road that wound and snaked its way to what seemed like the top of the White Mountains.   This was the day that John Petris in association with his extended family was to realise his ambition to acknowledge the work his late grandfather priest Alexandrous Torakis[24] and the villagers of Sklavopoula were engaged in with the Cretan Resistance.   During the Axis occupation their village became a refuge for many ANZAC servicemen on the run.   John’s enduring reminder of these deeds was in the form of a brass memorial plaque designed by his cousin Manos Nathan and written in the three languages now spoken by the descendants of those villagers, Greek, Maori and English.   Several Greek Orthodox Priests conducted the dedication service with speeches interwoven with the traditional Cretan male singers vocalising the historical feats of the Resistance.

 

On completion of the official ceremony and in keeping with a time-honoured custom, three villagers without warning pulled concealed handguns from waistbands and jacket pockets, firing volley after volley of bullets into the heavens, a celebratory tradition now actively discouraged by officialdom and seldom witnessed by today’s tourists.

 

Having recovered from the shock of the spontaneous display of armed solidarity; we were given a guided tour by Ersi Paxie of her former home.   While this vestige of the past has fallen into disrepair and the walls of main living room having collapsed, on entering the remainder of this stone house and walking in to the surgery, one could be excused in thinking that Doctor Papantonakis had just step out to do a house call.   For there, as though we had stepped through a portal in time was a room complete with examination couch, a little writing table, chair, a wall mounted wooden medicine cupboard for his bottles of pills and potions and propped up in one corner was an old World War II litter (stretcher).   Once becoming accustomed to the poor light we could see the contents of this room had remained untouched for many years as testified by the accumulation of undisturbed dust.   Ersi next turned our attention to the collapsed exterior wall of the living room saying that this was the room where her family hosted the 1941 Christmas party for Jim McDevitt, Dudley Perkins and Ned Nathan.   Even in its ruined state this once proud home brought back many childhood memories for Ersi, just listening to the euphoria in her voice told more than her spoken words conveyed.

 

From the memorial service we walked the short distance to the village “town hall” for a light meal, which to most of us resembled a 4-course banquet.   It was at this gathering I met Peter Krasoudakis’s old Wellington friend, Stelios Galanakis who had sold Peter and his brother his share in their first fish and chip shop out at Paramata.   After the hour-long light meal interspersed with speeches, we visit the nearby church and its associated graveyard to view Doctor Papantonakis’s grave.   A truly magnificent monument layered in marble reflecting the high esteem he was held by the village folk.   Our return journey to Paleochora was punctuated with John Irwin’s camera team leapfrogging the bus along various sections of the road to complement their day’s filming of events.

 

Later that evening I came across a very distressed Judy Lee, Neville Perkin’s cousin from Napier.   Judy who had been travelling in Europe had just arrived from mainland Greece in anticipation of meeting Neville at Paleochora the previous day.   In his message from Sougia, left on Cleo’s home phone, the 80-year-old Neville advised Judy that in the course of his wanderings to retract his brother’s footsteps around the mountainous Koustogerako region he’d become lost and was forced to overnight out in the open thereby delaying his arrival at Paleochora until Sunday.

 

Monday 29th May:

Apart from this day being an optional day it was also the 70th birthdays of the Papantonakis twins, Ersi and Cleo, where in the evening to mark the occasion their ever-growing family gathered in one of the waterfront tavernas.   Included in their party from New Zealand were the twin’s two nieces, Keryn and Stephanie, and their father Peter Rowsell.   What a wonderful occasion and setting for Ersi’s family to gathered in a place of their youth and genesis.

 

During the day, others in our party like Ian and Lala Frazer along with John Irwin taking Anglo as their translator went back into the mountains to interview some of the surviving members and characters from Ian’s book, “On The Run”.   The ever-adventurous Bristow boys and Kenny Ruwhiu hired trail bikes and took themselves off on an all-day trip up into the foothills.  Late that afternoon they returned via the coastal dirt track after calling into Elafonissos, the secluded site of the great sand island where during the occupation several New Zealander’s attempted to sail their repaired but unseaworthy boat to North Africa.   Today this area of the coast is now an open beach for nudists and “sun worshippers”.

 

With the return of Ross and Gary Bristow, the brother’s offered me one of their trail bikes for a ride around the environs of the town.   I must admit I’d not ridden a motorcycle for a number of years, let alone one of those trail bikes, but within a few minutes I’d mastered the intricacies of the gear change enough to concentrate on driving on the right-hand side of road.

Given that our hotel did not provide meals apart from the mandatory breakfast, many of us chose to eat at the adjacent taverna run but a very pleasant Cretan whose sole ambition in life was to retire in Australia to be with his brother.   Frequently we’d eat him out of “house and home”, for by early evening most of his food and drink had been consumed by our party.   No doubt our daily patronage of his establishment assisted greatly towards his air ticket to “down-under”.

 

Again I ran into the anxious Judy Lee who still had not heard from cousin Neville.   By nightfall all sorts of suggestions were being proposed as they had arranged to fly out of Athens together and return to New Zealand on the same aircraft on Tuesday 30th May.   Given her distressed state, I contacted “uncle” Costa explaining to him what had transpired over the past couple of days, and asked what should Judy do in the event Neville did not turn up for his scheduled flight.   In a later text message to me a very much relieved Judy discovered on her arrival at Athens that Costa had managed to trace Neville’s movements to his departing for New Zealand on an earlier flight.

 

On returning to my shared hotel room, I answered a call on Anglo’s cellphone, a call placed by Jim Christie (our former tour manager) saying that his mother had died in New Zealand and would I ask Anglo to phone him back.   Sadly, this death was the third for members of the Pilgrimage, although during my later conversation with Costa, he mentioned there had been a recent death of a New Zealand lady in Hania, and he was now engaged in arranging the return of her body.   I received a fourth message from Julia as I arrived in England saying our dear neighbour from across the road, Mrs Patricia Dawson, a wartime nurse in North Africa and childhood friend of Mick Shand had passed away very suddenly.[25]

 

Tuesday 30th May:

While in conversation with Harry Spencer during our pre-departure breakfast, (for having read his wartime autobiography) I was rather taken by an incident he related about a group of American war correspondents he’d met in his travels just prior to being evacuated from the northern Peloponnese in 1941.   Harry’s story had a familiar ring about it as I’d read it somewhere before?   It wasn’t until I arrived home and after a long search of my reference library I found the book in question, one titled “From The Land of Silent People”, published in 1942 and written by Robert St. John.   The author was one of two journalists, the other being Russell Hill from the New York Herald Tribune who after escaping from Yugoslavia had come to Harry’s first aid post seeking the services of a doctor for their injured mate Leigh White, a neutral commentator working for Colombia Broadcasting.   In their search for a doctor and riding pillion on a bike made for one, St. John describes Harry’s prowess as dispatch rider as a hell-raiser on two wheels.   Although 65 years older and perhaps a little slower, Harry still exhibits those same public-spirited characteristics today, for such a minor incident clearly demonstrates just what a small world we live in!

 

By mid morning and on completion of loading the motor coach with our bags, with the penultimate group photograph taken we said goodbye to Paleochora.   Again the bus climbed and weaved its way around the back of this seaside township on towards our next stop the village of Kandanos.   Here Pipi’s Christchurch premonition was to become a reality, for during his April visit to the southern city he purchased a very ornate and beautifully carved walking stick, using his words, “for someone special”.   Who, at that time he did not know, but felt he’d recognise the circumstances when the right moment came.   Needless to say after stopping to allow Pipi to make his frantic search, he found the “special person” in the form of his elderly lady, the 90-year-old Vasiliki, and presented her with this wonderful walking stick.   Also boarding the bus with us at Kandanos was a younger lady who had come all the way from Hania and had waited for our arrival at the village to give us all flowers and specially prepared bread icons for our veterans.   During the return journey we discovered to our surprise that this lady was one of Vasiliki’s three daughters.   With John Petros acting as interpreter, we learned a little of her elderly mother’s wartime life.[26]

 

As we neared the northern coastal town of Kolimbari John Petris received a phone call from the Director of the Greek Orthodox Academy of Crete issuing an impromptu invitation to lunch at the Academy’s conference centre near the 17th Century Gonia Monastery.   As a refusal would be considered impolite we accepted and on arrival where escorted to a huge auditorium for his welcoming address, which was followed by a German war documentary on the battle of Crete.   Sadly with time against us and with lunch about to be served only part of what was quickly becoming a very interesting movie was viewed.   We arrived at the Doma Hotel at 2.30pm for our last night in Hania.

 

Wednesday 31st May:

Our ever prompt motor coach diver’s arrival at the Doma heralded our departure from Hania, a town at the foot of the White Mountains we’d all come to love and over time started to know our way around.    Its narrow streets, some lined with ancient walls built by stone masons of a bygone era, others as modern as any new city with its thoroughfares of trees, its historical harbour, its warm waters and teaming tavernas, such simple beauty, and yet a city still unknown to many New Zealanders and Greeks alike.

After our one-hour flight from Hania’s military airfield we once again arrived in Athens.   From here Robin Gardner and I turned “left” taking an Olympic Airways flight to London, while the rest of the party turned “right” for a two day stopover in Singapore before arriving in New Zealand on Queen’s Birthday Weekend, June 3rd, 2006.

 

I believe Deirdre Hauschild sums up our feelings when she says,   “…We were blown away by the sincerity, and the friendliness, and welcome we received from everyone everywhere.   Old people with stories to tell, younger ones who stopped and told us about their father or grandfather, or the involvement their family had with New Zealanders during the terrible invasion by the Germans.   We saw a group of young school children at the Navy and War Museum in Hania being taught the history of the Battle of Crete.   Personally, I feel a great indebtedness to the Cretans because it was at great risk and with the loss of so many lives that they looked after and fed my father and many other soldiers in hiding.   The people here are wonderful and I know I will definitely return some day.   Beautiful Island in the sun - it’s hard to imagine that this country would be anything else other than peaceful and idyllic…”

 

Conclusion

 

“…While I’m convinced another successful Pilgrimage is possible,

I don’t believe it would capture the spontaneity

of unexplained circumstances

that materialised during this visit…” 

 (Paul London - July 2006)

 

The battle for Crete lasted 10 days, but on the 11th day the Resistance to the Island’s occupation lasted for a further 4 years.   How privileged we Pilgrims were to have shared in that vision of a free Crete begun over 65 years ago by our fellow countrymen.   For like a Phoenix rising from the smouldering vestiges on this misnamed Isle of Doom, we wanderers became the “mouthpiece” for those who had joined life’s Passing Parade and the “eyes and ears” of those who through reason of finance or health were denied the opportunity to accompany us.

 

Personally I know we all returned home a little richer for the Pilgrimage, with each in their own way bringing a little of Crete back, some with memories of a loved one still on duty defending the Island from Suda Bay, while others gathered souvenirs and took photographs, many shared their time to reminisce with the older Cretans.   As for myself, I brought back two small pebbles taken from the headwaters of the Samaria Gorge.   Knowing that one day these simple artefacts will become the property of my two small grandsons, serving as “memory stones”, reminding them of their Anglo-Hellenic heritage and as symbols that once bold men from their two cultures willingly fought and died for the preservation of their future.

 

I also believe our Pilgrimage has laid to rest many unanswered questions from those amongst us who were so fortunate to have enjoyed an age without war.   For as we gazed upon the silent testimony of headstones in Suda Bay cemetery and listened to the inspiring words read out by an old Australian “digger” - his proclamation brought life and new meaning to the declaration;

 

 

…When you go home, tell them of us, and say - for your tomorrow, we gave our today…”


Addendum

Miscellaneous Newspaper Reports

 

Sunday Star Times

May 18th 2003

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Return to Crete

By Marina Bennett

A campaign to have an English translation included on a World War Two memorial has led Crete veteran Epiha Jack Grennell on a personal mission of extraordinary lengths.

 

At 86 years of age Jack was one of only two New Zealand Veterans who made it to Crete for the 64th Battle commemoration ceremonies, in May of this year.   Jack, originally from the Chatham Islands, was part of the New Zealand troops who heroically defended the island against tremendous odds, in one of World War Two’s epic battles.   He was determined not only to make the journey and attend all of this year’s ceremonies, but insisted, on paying a personal tribute to the Cretans, by walking the route taken by the retreating allies (including himself) back in May 1941.

 

During the course of the battle, Jack, a Lance Corporal with the 19th Battalion, was captured.   Despite having his boots removed and his jaw dislocated by a German who decided he was too “lippy,” he was able to take advantage of a timely attack from the Maori Battalion and make his escape.   He will never forget the kindness of an old Cretan shepherd who led him to a small hut where he and his wife were sheltering.   Jack recalls, “ She made such a fuss of me, I was immediately treated as if I were their own son.” The shepherd found him some boots…“German!”… and the woman made sure he was fed “Snails…I had to swallow them whole.   You mightn’t believe it but I held them down!”   After two days, Jack managed to persuade them that he needed to find his regiment. The old man, pointed him towards the concentration of New Zealand troops and Jack eventually “stumbled upon” his unit.

 

When given the order to retreat he remembers feeling ‘absolutely gutted”.   The exhausting, 40 kilometre retreat over the rugged White Mountains, from Suda Bay in the north to Chora Sfakion on the southern coast, was marked by grim disappointment and a lack of food and water.   Many of the Kiwis, some badly injured, would not have made it to the evacuation vessels, without the help of Cretan men and women who risked their lives acting as guides, guards and providers.   “They knew we were leaving them, their own houses were still burning from the bombings, but they came out to help” The relief of supping sweet, steaming- hot navy cocoa was certainly tempered by fears for those who had assisted them.   Sadly these were justified, for many of them lost their lives.

 

After the war Jack found himself drawn back to the island and it was while attending a memorial service at Chora Sfakion in 2003, that the idea of his ‘mission impossible’ took seed.   He wanted, not only to pay tribute to the Cretans, but to draw attention to the Greek memorial on the outskirts of the town (now a popular tourist destination) which commemorates those Cretans who were later killed in German reprisals.   Jack was concerned that anyone who does not read Greek will be unable to understand its significance.

 

In preparation for his mission Jack trained hard, walking long distances with a heavy pack. It paid off. With his nephew (minder), Tim, from Invercargill and a mate from England, he successfully completed the journey in three days.   The only concessions made for his advancing years were that he took the road rather than the rocks, exchanging the “ bully beef and biscuits,” for a meal and a bed in local tavernas along the way.   He soon discovered that the years have done nothing to diminish neither Cretan hospitality nor the glowing reputation of New Zealanders.   “Once they knew where I was from, there was no holding them back!”

 

News of his accomplishment drew the acclaim of Cretan media and officials. He is currently involved in lobbying representatives from both the New Zealand and Greek governments. As he says, “Thousands of English speaking tourists will pass this way ...these people paid the ultimate price for helping us and it’s important that everyone who visits is aware of their sacrifice.”

 

Marina is the recipient of a 2005 Teacher Fellowship from the Royal Society of New Zealand. She has been researching relationships between the people of Crete and New Zealand soldiers in World War Two.

 

Marina Bennett’s

article from the

New Zealand RSA Review

December 2005

 

A full transcript of Marina’s article can by viewed at URL:

http://www.rsa.org.nz/review/art2005december/article_4.html

 


“Crete veterans revive memories

Like the swallows in spring, foreign veterans return every year to commemorate a crucial defeat

ANN ELDER

 

HANIA, Crete, May 24. Survivors of the 12-day Battle of Crete converged on the old city for emotional 65th-anniversary commemorations held throughout the week.   Reunions over the decades have kept alive memories of the struggle between poorly armed defenders and the massive, well-equipped paratrooper invasion. Old soldiers of British and Commonwealth forces unexpectedly called to defend the last outpost of Europe from Nazis take pride in returning to relive those traumatic days of their youth.   “You are like the swallows,” retired Metropolitan Eirinaios told them. “You come back each spring.”

 

“We don’t talk about the shooting,” says silver-haired New Zealander Frank Twigg gently.   Now aged 91, in a wheelchair because of a current leg injury, he was a sergeant serving as an intelligence officer in the NZ (New Zealand) 22nd battalion headquartered on Hill 101 overlooking strategically vital Maleme airfield. His commanding officer was Colonel Les Andrew, often excoriated for his decision to retreat from defence of the airstrip, leaving it to be overrun by Germans, so securing their hold of the island.

 

At 22, Twigg volunteered to fight for king and country, leaving the green paddocks of his father’s sheep farm in the Bay of Plenty, on the east coast of the North Island. From Egypt, he came to Greece in March 1941.   “Once in Katerini, we dispersed to Mount Olympos and dug in, ready for action.   After a few days, German planes appeared and began bombing.   We heard there were l6 German divisions at the border. We had our field artillery, with 25-pounders, and knocked hell out of the blitzkrieg.   We held them off.   The first of us killed was a Maori from Te Puke (Twigg’s home town).”   German bombers started to come over slow and low. “One pilot threw us a roll of toilet paper, as much as to say, ‘You’ll be needing this!’   We didn’t have planes.   We had no air cover.   By April 20th or 21st we began withdrawing through Larissa and Lamia and dug in at Thermopylae.   From the heights there at night, we could see the headlights of the Germany army approaching.   Eight or ten bombers came over.   Lying in a slit trench, I saw the belly of a plane above us open and two big bombs start to fall. I thought of the green hills of the Bay of Plenty.   I didn’t want to die.   The bombs did a lot of damage to other units.”

 

After that night, with rearguard cover ordered by Andrew, Twigg and his companies went in divisional transport to Porto Rafti for evacuation to Crete on Royal Navy vessels, arriving on April 25th.   “We were met at Souda by pretty strict sort of Poms (slang for British) who told us to leave all our arms,” relates Twigg.   “We refused.   After regrouping as a battalion, we were sent to Maleme, armed with our rifles, bayonets and Bren guns, but no spades, no tools, no food.   We borrowed from locals: from the start we got on well with them.   We had four rifle companies, one actually on the airstrip.”

 

Days began with porridge from four-gallon benzene cans and tea of water boiled in tin dixies (mugs) over empty bully-beef tins filled with sand topped up with petrol, which was ignited.   As intelligence officer, Twigg’s job was to go round west Crete villages warning of an imminent German attack.   “The weather was lovely.   We had a lovely time, sometimes a swim at the beach.   And we had information bulletins on our situation from Lord Haw Haw (a British traitor employed by the Nazis to disseminate disinformation in propaganda broadcasts).   He told us every day: ‘We have a bullet for every olive leaf and a bomb for every olive tree.’   Then strafing began.   Planes would come in from the mountains and fire on our anti-aircraft installations.

 

“The invasion was first expected on May 19th, then put off till the 20th.   We were having breakfast when a sound came like 100 beehives buzzing.   The sky was darkened as planes flew over thickly and blanket-bombed us for 20 minutes.   We dived under the olive trees for shelter.   Dust was everywhere.   You couldn’t see.   Then gliders came in very low and crash-landed.   After that, we saw the paratroopers floating down.   There were a lot of parachutes too with coloured containers.   We found some of a certain colour had hot coffee, others German flags with the swastika.   Our fellas got the flags and used them as protection against bombing.   After the gliders, there were a lot of bombers.

 

“The day was chaotic and confusing.   All our telegraph lines were cut after the blanket bombing.   There were no communication lines between companies.   None of the runners sent out ever came back.   Colonel Andrew was one of our great soldiers.   And he didn’t know what to do.   As the paratrooper landings went on, he was sending messages asking for a counter-attack.   No answer came.   He’d said to Hargest, ‘We may have to withdraw.’   Hargest answered, ‘If you must, you must.’   We saw our last three Hurricane bombers at Maleme fly off into the sunset (for Egypt, rather than leave them behind to be destroyed).   We began to withdraw the next morning.   After that it became a New Zealand war.”

 

At Maleme, in the group with Hargest, the failure in Twigg’s opinion was not to protect the west flank beyond the Tavronitis River.   “Paratroopers landing west of the river were smashed by Cretans with sticks and stones.   The only subsequent offensive worth mentioning was at Galatas on May 24th.   It was ordered by Kippenberger, my favourite soldier, and led by Captain Rangi Royal with a walking stick, a great fella: he didn’t go crook at someone for getting jittery.   They charged into the village with Bren guns going.”   Carnage was appalling.   Germans hiding in houses lobbed grenades.   Some 250 were killed; 145 New Zealanders, the rest Greek, at least 40 civilian.   Was it foolhardy bravado?   Twigg replied instantly, “It taught the Germans a lot of respect.   It was a great morale-booster.”

 

As troops retreated, word got out that Crete was to be evacuated.   Hania streets, today overflowing with carefree holidaymakers, were running with blood.   Locals never forget it.   “We hadn’t had a meal for ten days.   Nothing,” relates Twigg.   “We were told we had to walk over the White Mountains to Sphakia on the south coast.   Sealed road didn’t go far, then there was only a track.   There was nowhere to sit down.   Men fell over the steep sides.   Rifles and tin hats went clattering down over the rocks.   We heard some troops had got off, and had a message we’d be on the last night.”

 

While troops waited at Sphakia, a squad of German infantry was spotted up in the heights in pursuit.   “The Germans were as exhausted as we were,” Twigg comments.   “Charlie Upham and a few fellas, like us all weak from hunger and dysentery, clambered up behind them and shot the lot.”   For the action, Upham won a Victoria Cross, the highest military honour for bravery.   With Colonel Andrew as “beachmaster”, Twigg’s battalion kept in proper formation and boarded a light cruiser.   “We were an absolute mess.   We ended up with the ship’s stokers, given hot cocoa and thick corned beef sandwiches made with fresh hot bread.   They greeted us as heroes, but we felt they were braver than us.   When daylight came, an Oxford voice was saying, ‘By Jove, looks like some high-level bombing.   ‘We were attacked several times and the boat lurched round, but the navy shot at anything.   We arrived at Alexandria, and everyone shaved.   We had to form up as if for a parade for disembarkation, went on to Cairo, then to Maadi camp, and were allowed to get drunk for two days.”

 

After serving in North Africa, Twigg went on to Italy.   About to take up promotion as major, he was horrifically wounded in the jaw and mouth, concussed, his front teeth snapped off, in a counter-attack by mortars, shells and machineguns.   Soldiers on either side of him in a trench were both killed.   Hospitalised, he had three operations, and was fed through a teapot spout, with a supplement of a bottle of Scotch a week.   His war was over.   In civilian life, he took up a job as a stock agent, and is on his third postwar visit to Crete this year with two sons, one a doctor, the other a lawyer, and two adult grandchildren.

 

Twigg is with seven other New Zealand veterans, the youngest 85, in a pilgrimage group including spouses and younger family members organised largely by Greek New Zealanders in Wellington.   The British contingent on Crete for the anniversary included 14 veterans, from the 65 surviving, aged 85-92. A group of four Australian veterans also took part in events.

 

Article by Ann Elder from the ATHENS NEWS,

26th May 2006,

page: A06 Article code: C13184A061

 

Readers may view Ann’s finished article at URL:

http://www.athensnews.gr/athweb/nathens.prnt_article?e=C&f=13184&t=01&m=A06&aa=1,

 

 


Welcome Address of Foreign Minister Ms. D. Bakoyannis to the Greek-New Zealand Association of Combatants of the Battle of Crete

 

Athens, 17 May 2006

 

Ms. Dora Bakoyannis: Ambassador, Honorary Council, Mayor, Honourable friends, Ι would like to welcome you to Greece. To warmly welcome the Mayor of Wellington, Ms. Kerry Prendergast, the veterans, and their families, on this “pilgrimage to Crete”.

 

The Battle of Crete is one of profound historical importance. A tale of courage and heroism; a tale of a great struggle for freedom and democracy.

 

Sixty-five years have passed, since you bravely fought alongside the people of Crete. For twelve long and arduous days, New Zealanders, British, Australian and Greek troops – greatly helped by Cretan civilians – fought to repel an airborne assault of a scale never seen before.

 

Dear friends,

 

Each year, Crete and the whole of Greece honour you, and others like you, who fought for freedom. Whether you are Greeks, New Zealanders, British or Australians is of little importance. What we honour and value is the courage, dedication, and sense of solidarity that was demonstrated.

 

Personally, as a proud daughter of a great man who at a very young age led the resistance against the Nazis in Chania I feel extremely moved by your presence here today.

 

Your sacrifices earned you the love, gratitude, and esteem of an entire nation.

 

Despite the distance that separates Crete and New Zealand, the ties of friendship and of solidarity are as potent today as the courage and persistence displayed by all of you 65 years ago.

 

You asked for nothing in return for your sacrifices. However, I assure you that your sacrifices and contribution to the course of history are not, and will not be, forgotten.

 

I am sure that this pilgrimage will awaken some memories better left to rest. I am also sure, however, that your visit to Crete, this time under very different circumstances - will be both enriching and fulfilling. It will help to soothe and to heal. I hope that by the end of your pilgrimage, you will leave with only memories of kindness.

 

My most warm welcome.

 

Article from the Greek Ministry of Foreign Webpages.

 

The text of Ms Bakoyannis’ welcoming address can be found at URL:

http://www2.mfa.gr/www.mfa.gr/Articles/en-US/17052006_McC1731.htm


Nottingham Centre Stage for WWII Commemoration

 

HMS Nottingham took a break from her 6-month tour of duty in the Mediterranean as part of a NATO Task Group to be the backdrop to the 65th anniversary commemorations of the Battle of Crete.

 

The ship was alongside in Souda, where the Commonwealth War Cemetery is the resting-place for 1600 British and Commonwealth sailors, soldiers and airmen who died in protection of the island against Nazi invasion.   Sailors provided the Guard of Honour, memorial sentries at the cenotaph and street liners, as 400 people, including politicians, diplomats, the military and over 50 veterans and families paid their respects and remembered hot days of war 65 years ago, when the Mediterranean Fleet blocked the prospect of an seaborne landings and allowed the evacuation of 50,000 soldiers to North Africa.

 

The cemetery has a very large number of New Zealand and Australian servicemen within its immaculate grounds and it is highly appropriate that two of Nottingham’s Officers could lay wreaths to remember their countrymen.   Lt Cdr Stu Watters RAN, the Operations Officer, and S/Lt Layamon Bakewell RNZN, an Officer of the Watch paid their respects after a high number of local and foreign dignitaries, including Greek Ministers, Ambassadors from the United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, as well as Nottingham’s Commanding Officer, Commander Simon Ward, while a bugler from the Ship’s affiliated regiment, the Worcestershire & Sherwood Foresters, sounded the Last Post and Reveille.

 

The main focus of the day was the veterans who continue to make the return journey each May to recall one of WWII’s bloodiest battles. Amongst the many ex-Servicemen present was Chelsea Pensioner, former Gunner Alf Hey, attending the ceremony for his 23rd year in a row.   Alf had fought in the heat of the battle before being injured by shrapnel in both legs and subsequently imprisoned in Germany as a POW until April 1945.   After the service of remembrance Nottingham hosted a reception for them onboard.

 

Commander Simon Ward said that “It is a great honour to be the Royal Navy’s representative for this commemoration and I am delighted that we have been able to be here with so many veterans and their families.   The Battle of Crete was very significant for the Navy who paid a very heavy price, as 11 ships were lost in these waters and many more very badly damaged, with a total loss of 2000 sailors. Ashore, as well, the fighting on the island was fierce in the face of a German airborne assault, and being here is a matter of huge pride for myself and my ship’s company as we remember those who paid the ultimate sacrifice here in Crete”.

 

The aerial bombardment of the Navy and the island throughout May 1941 was so severe the British Generals told the Fleet to save themselves further loss. Admiral Cunningham determined that ‘the Navy must not let the army down’ uttered the memorable words; “It takes the three years to build a ship it takes three centuries to build tradition”.   During the six-week battle the Royal Navy lost three cruisers and eight destroyers with another seventeen ships severely damaged, including two battleships and an aircraft carrier which had to be taken out of service.

 

Fierce fighting, with local Cretan women and children aiding soldiers, raged for 8 days before the Germans gained control of the island.   Crete was an important German target because of the British airfields on the island, which put the oil fields in Eastern Europe, required for the impending German attack on Russia, within allied bombing range.   HMS Nottingham attended the commemorative ceremony during an operational standoff as part of the Standing Naval Maritime Group 2 deployment. The 4,500 tonne Portsmouth based destroyer has been taking part in SNMG2 counter terrorism and Maritime Security Operations across the Mediterranean since January. The destroyer hands over SNMG2 duties to HMS York in June.


 

Background Information

History

The Battle of Crete commenced on 20 May 1941 when Germany launched an airborne assault against the island in preparation for an invasion force. Defending the island were a large number of Allied Troops comprising 3 British Battalions, 2 New Zealand Brigades, 8 Greek Battalions and 6 Australian Battalions.   Crete was an important German target because of the British airfields on the island, which put the oil fields in Eastern Europe, required for the impending German attack on Russia, within allied bombing range. Securing Crete would be tantamount to driving the British out of the Eastern Mediterranean; it would also be the first step towards Cyprus and the Egyptian Delta.

 

The tortuous battle, in temperatures up to 130 F, raged mercilessly with Cretan women and children joining the soldiers in proud defence of the island. Despite the ferocity of the defence however, German and Italian forces overwhelmed the allies and gained control of Crete 29 May 1945.   For the Royal Navy the battle proved that without air superiority or even air defence, ships are extremely vulnerable with the Navy losing three cruisers and eight destroyers with another seventeen ships badly damaged.   The battle claimed over 280000 allied (15000 British, 7000 New Zealand and 6500 Australian) and over 8000 German lives. Moreover the battle is remembered for the terrible retribution the occupying forces took on the Cretan people for their continued resistance and partisan activity.

 

 

Dignitaries

 

The commemorative service was attended by the following personnel:

·         Greece - Mr Vangelis Meimarakis Minister of Defence.

·         New Zealand – The Rt Honourable Annette King, Minister of Police

·         Republic of South Africa – His Excellency Mr Yannis Momburg, Ambassador of the Republic of South Africa.

·         United Kingdom – His Excellency Mr Simon Gass Ambassador of the United Kingdom

·         Australia – His Excellency Mr Paul Tighe Ambassador of Australia.

·         Mayor of Souda – Mr Yannis Perakis.

·         Mayor of Chania – Mr Kyriakos Virvidakis.

 

 

Background

 

HMS Nottingham, a Portsmouth based Type 42 Destroyer, attended the ceremonies during an operational standoff from duties with the Standing NATO Group Maritime 2 (SNGM2) who have been carrying out anti-terrorism and maritime security operations in the eastern Mediterranean. HMS Nottingham now moves on to help train and integrate the Russian Federation Ship Pitlivy as part of SNGM2 before handing over duties to HMS York in June.

 

Article from the Royal Navy, HMS Nottingham webpages

 

This URL takes readers to Nottingham’s webpages showing the Suda Bay service:

http://www.royal-navy.mod.uk/server/show/ConWebDoc.5673

 


War hero honoured by island

 

By Ali Dent

 

AFTER years of paying tribute to his comrades who perished in the Battle of Crete, a Dursley war veteran has been made guest of honour at a memorial service on the island.

 

Eight-five-year-old Doug West, of Wordsworth Road, has just returned from the Greek isle where he was treated like royalty after playing a vital role in protecting Cretans during the Second World War.

 

Widower Mr West was invited to the 65th memorial service for the British and Greek soldiers who died there during May 1941.

 

 

Nicholas Ploumistakis, a councillor for the Municipality of Akritiri Chania on Crete, wrote to Mr West last year.

He said: “I thought what conscious effort have we made to get to know a man who, after more than half a century, has the sensitivity to honour all those who fought and died for freedom and for our country.”

 

Mr West, who joined the 151st Heavy Anti-Aircraft Battery, based in Sloane Square, at the age of just 16 and four years later served with the regiment in Crete, has returned to the island many times to remember the 900 British soldiers who lost their lives there.

Each year he visits in May to commemorate the nine-day battle and lays a wreath on the memorial erected by his own regiment, which lost 11 young recruits.

 

Last year, however, Mr West also laid a wreath at the Greek memorial and in doing so, touched the hearts of many Crete veterans and their relatives.

 

“The day was wonderful. Mr Ploumistakis said a little tribute to me and then I made my speech,” said Mr West, who took up Greek lessons at Gloscat in Cheltenham so he could say a few words during the memorial service.

The pensioner, who moved to Dursley from Croydon with his late wife Lillian in 1995, was presented with an Honorary Award and plaque in appreciation of his role in the battle and return trips thereafter.

 

Eternally modest, Mr West said: “The invite came out of the blue and was a great honour.

 

I didn’t go to Crete every year but I am a member of the Crete Veterans Association and it is our main function for the year.

 

“I do think the visits will die out eventually. The battle was a long time ago and a lot of the veterans - including all those in my regiment - have passed on.”

 

Mr West’s regiment could not make it across the Bay of Souda, on the north coast of the island, and were forced to surrender on June 1 1941.

 

He and his comrades were taken prisoner of war and moved to Munich, where Mr West suffered during one of the coldest winters ever recorded.

 

He spent four years in capture and was moved from various camps before being discharged from the army on grounds of ill health.

 

“The Crete people were marvellous and made us welcome as soon as we landed all those years ago,” said Mr West. “It is just unfortunate we did not carry out our mission successfully but the battle did play its part in the overall picture of events.”

 

In fact, the battle kept German soldiers busy and delayed them from attacking Russia meaning they never made it to Moscow.

 

Mr West, a father-of-one and grandfather-of-one, has since had his experiences in Crete published in a book, Lest We Forget.

 

10:44am Friday 2nd June 2006

Article from “The South Cotswold Gazette”

 

This article can be viewed in full at the following URL:

http://www.thisisthesouthcotswolds.co.uk/display.var.781140.0.war_hero_honoured_by_island.php


Gisborne Herald News Article

May 25th 2006

 

 


Gisborne Herald News Article

June 8th 2006

 

 


 


THE PILGRIMS

 

The tour members forming the 2006 Pilgrimage were;

 

The Veterans.

Malcolm Coughlan, 19th Battalion, of Morrinsville

Roye Hammond, 18th Battalion and Armoured Regiment, of Pukekohe

Anthony Madden, 4th Reserve Motor Transport, of Waipukurau

Arthur Midwood, 28th Maori Battalion, of Rotorua

John Palmer, 19th Battalion, of Waiuku

Brant Robinson, 2nd NZ Divisional Signals, of Taradale

Harry Spencer, 2nd Divisional Cavalry, of Hastings

Frank Twigg, 22nd Battalion, of Taradale

 

Kaumătua.

Tamati Paraone 28th Maori Battalion of Kawakawa, Bay of Islands

 

Official Representatives.

For the New Zealand Government:

The Honourable Annette King, Member of Parliament for Island Bay and Associate Minister of Defence

Julie MacKenzie, of Rome, New Zealand Ambassador to Italy and Greece

Costa Cotsilinis of Athens, New Zealand Honorary Consul General to Greece

For the New Zealand Defence Department:

Brigadier Paul Southwell of London, New Zealand Military Attache in England

For the citizens of Wellington City:

Her Worship Kerry Prendergast, Mayor of Wellington City

 

Pilgrimage Organising Committee.

John Petris of Wellington, Chairman

Harima Fraser of Wellington, Secretary

Robin Lloyd of Wellington Committee Member

Angelo Papageorgiou of Wellington, Committee Member

 

Pilgrimage Medical Officer.

Doctor Paddy Twigg of Hastings

 

The Official Wanderers.

Michael and Kerranne Angell of Nelson

Pipi Boyd of Blenheim

Gary Bristow of Perth, Western Australia

Ross Bristow of Pukekohe

Garry and Beverley Cousins of New Plymouth

Nickie Christie of Wellington

Joyce Downs of Paihia, Bay of Islands

Rene Earnshaw of Napier

Liane Farr of Huntley

Margaret Faulkner of Christchurch

Ian and Lala Frazer of Dunedin

Robyn Gardner of Otaki

Helen George of Wellington

Kathleen Grant of Pukekohe

Jack Grennell of Brisbane Queensland, Australia

Deirdre Hauschild of Tauranga

Dennis Jeffs of London, England

Paul London of Wellington

Barrie and Kaye Malloch of Christchurch

Evan Nathan of Wellington

Manos Nathan of Dargaville

Rex Nicholls of Wellington (husband of Mayor Prendergast)

Elva Paraone of Auckland

Maru Paraone of Kawakawa, Bay of Islands
Violet Paraone of Kawakawa, Bay of Islands
Arthur and Ersi Paxie of Napier

Alec Petris of Gloucester, England

Tracy Pilet of Hamilton

Daniel and Patricia Ratliffe of Pukekohe

John and Lynne Robinson of Hamilton

Ken and Tina Ruwhiu of Manaia, Coromandel

Ruth Sainty of Blenheim

Vin Smith of Feilding

Dan Twigg of Lower Hutt

James Twigg of London, England

Lucy Twigg of Switzerland

Mark and Robyn Wilson of Christchurch

 

Tour Leader.

Jim Christie of Wellington

 

Film Makers.

John Irwin of Wellington

Emma Beer of London, England

 

Tour Travel Consultant and Organiser.

Linda Playle of Maher United Travel, Wellington

 

Members Photographs and Private Webpages.

Several of our more enterprising Pilgrims have published their photographic collections of the tour and have made them available on the World Wide Web.   These photographs may be viewed at the following URL’s.

Tracy Pilet’s Collection.

http://au.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/tpilet/album?.dir=/c2a2scd&.src=ph&.tok=pheckAFBMz3FMx1O

 

Anthony Madden’s presentation.

http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/fernbird_9/album?.dir=/ae02&.src=ph&.tok=phJ9FFFBpsTb2rhS

 


BIBLIOGRAPHY

 

While this list of selected reading material is not intended as a complete war history of Crete; its inclusion may assist readers who wish to examine other aspects of the battle and its aftermath.

 

The Battle of the Wine Dark Sea: The Aegean Sea Campaign 1940-1945 by Lew Lind (Pub 1st July 1994 - Kangaroo Press Limited, Kenthurst, NSW, Australia)   ISBN 0 86417562-0

 

Escape From Crete by Lew Lind (Pub 1944 and later republished as the Flowers of Rethymnon (Pub 1991 - Kangaroo Press Limited, Kenthurst, NSW, Australian)

 

Climax in Crete by Theodore Stephanides (Pub 1946 - Faber and Faber Limited, London)

 

Brothers at War by Jim Rolfe (Pub 1995 – Jim Rolfe, 18 Courant Place, Manukau City, Auckland, New Zealand)   ISBN 0-473-0303104

 

Crete 1941 Eyewitnessed by Costas N. Hadjipateras and Maria S. Fafalios (Pub 1989 – Efstathiadis Group)   ISBN 186941-115-3[27]

 

I’ll Met by Moonlight by W. Stanley Moss (Pub 1950 – George G. Harrap)

 

Hide and Seek by Major Xan Fielding (Pub 1954 – Secker and Warburg, London)

 

Vasili – The Lion of Crete by W. Murray Elliott (Pub 1987 – Century Hutchinson)

 

Operation Mercury – The Battle for Crete 1941 by Tony Simpson (Pub 1981 – Hodder and Stoughton Limited)   ISBN 0-340-23118-1

 

My Escape From Crete by Jim McDevitt (Pub April 2002 - JT McDevitt, 43 Cambridge Terrace, Papatoetoe, Auckland, New Zealand)   ISBN 0-473-8310-8[28]

 

Escape From Crete by Charles Jager (Pub March 2004 - Floradale Productions Pty Limited, Australia)   ISBN 0-9579121-9-6

 

When the War is Over - Let the Battle Begin edited by Paul R London (Pub August 2004 and revised April 2005 Paul R London, 92 Majoribanks Street, Mount Victoria Wellington 6011)

 

The Fall of Crete by Alan Clark; (First Pub 1962 - Anthony Blond Limited, England)

ISBN 0-304-35348-5

 

Crete, The Battle and the Resistance by Antony Beevor (Pub 1992 - Penguin Books, 80 The Strand, London, England)

 

Crete by DM Davin (Pub 1953 - Official New Zealand War History)

 

Pathways To Adventure by WB “Sandy” Thomas and compiled by Denis McLean (Pub 2004 - Dryden Press, Terrace Station, Hororata, New Zealand)   ISBN 0-476-00611-2

 

On The Run by Seán Damer and Ian Frazer (pub 2006 - Penguin Group [NZ], corner Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany, Auckland 1310, New Zealand)   ISBN 0 14 302030 7

 

Galatas 1941 - Courage In Vain by Lynn McConnell (pub 2006 - Reed Publishing [NZ] limited, 39 Rawene Road, Birkenhead, Auckland, New Zealand)   ISBN 10 0 7900 1049 6 or ISBN 13: 978 0 7900 1049 6


 

[1] By coincidence the two RNZAF aircraft carrying these veterans and other officials to the Hyde Park venue transited through Hania, using the military airfield on the Akrotiri Peninsula as a refuelling stopover.

[2] Coincidence number one!

[3] This volcano was later identified as Mount Merapi in the centre of Java Island.   By late May it developed into a major eruption that created a 6·3-magnitude earthquake and caused the death of 6,200 people and injuring a further 30,000 as it levelled entire communities.

[4] George under went this operation in England.   During his period of convalescence he was attended by a New Zealand nurse who when asked if she knew Roy replied to George’s amazement, “Yes - he’s our neighbour!”

[5] Coincidence number two!

[6] Coincidence number three!

[7] Rather tragically, two months later I received an e-mail from Bayard’s son Philip advising me that his father passed away on Friday 21st July 2006.   Thankfully, Bayard had the foresight to archive his material, which I pleasantly refer to as the Stockton Collection.   With his passing I feel I should share a little of his abridged biography, which reveals Bayard Austen Stockton as being born in Switzerland in 1930 to American parents.   He grew up in and around New York City and Colorado Springs.   In later life he was recruited into the CIA and severed at such overseas posts as Berlin and Munich.   At the latter post he became suspicious of a counter-espionage officer in the Federal German Intelligence Service who was later arrested and convicted of treason for his work with the KGB.   After leaving the CIA, Stockton became Newsweek’s bureau chief in Bonn and later in London.   On resigning from Newsweek he took up freelance work primarily in Greece and the Eastern Mediterranean, where he worked for a variety of media outlets including ABC Radio and Television, BBC Radio Four and World Service, ARD (West) German Radio and Television.   It was while living in Athens that he met George Paspati who sold Bayard one of his caiques, which he sailed extensively around the Aegean and part of the Mediterranean.   While working for The Reporter and Harpers Bazaar magazines, one of his Beirut contacts gave him a hint of what turned out to be the Munich Olympic Massacre in 1972, his source was later liquidated by the Israelis.   Bayard was a founding editor of the short-lived Athens Mirror newspaper.   While still living in Athens he wrote Phoenix with a Bayonet and privately published Oceans of Gold¸ a story about George P. Livanos, a major Greek shipowner.   Bayard has lived variously in Berlin, Munich, Bonn, London, Malta, Dublin and Mallorca, and has worked in every European country, many Middle Eastern nations, and done brief stints in Bangladesh, Hong Kong, Japan, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Namibia.   On returning to the United States in 1980 he continued to freelance predominantly for British media until he settled in Santa Barbara.   There he was copy-editor on the Santa Barbara News-Press and for three years, Associated Press award-winning commentator, host and reviewer for a local radio station.   He has written at least nine 9 books and been the “ghost-writer” and editor to a further eight.   In 2001, he started a new series of Adult Ed discussion classes dealing with international tensions, terrorism and religious warfare.   Bayard also taught writing to an Adult Education writing class, known as the Creative Trust.   Bayard was divorced, has three grown children and currently six grandchildren.   He was a fluent speaker of German, a little rusty French and smattering’s of Greek and Italian.

[8] Pavlos (or Paul) Bakoyannis was a highly respected journalist before entering politics as a liberal Greek politician.   He was well known for his radio broadcasts over Radio Deutsche Welle, (Radio Germany) speaking out against the Greek military dictatorship of 1967-1974.   He was shot and killed in the front entrance of his office by members of the radical Marxist terrorist group known as November 17.   He died on the 26th September 1989.

[9] Today Lina is an international acclaimed harpsichordist and founding chairperson of the English Bach Festival.    Among her many awards is an OBE from the British, and the Golden Order of the Cross of the Phoenix from the Greek Government.

[10] Mr Angelos Georgatos

[11] During the Axis occupation of Greece Doctor Hermann Neubacher held the rank of Gruppenführer and was the special emissary of the Reich government for economic matters in occupied Greece.   He later held the post of the German Plenipotentiary for southeast Europe.

[12] Coincidence number four!

[13]New Zealand’s then Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Michael Joseph Savage in his historic broadcast to the nation of the 6th September 1939 said: “…Both with gratitude for the past and with confidence for the future, we range ourselves without fear beside Britain.   Where she goes we go; where she stands, we stand.   We are only a small nation, but we are one and all a band of brothers, and we march forward with a union of hearts and wills to a common destiny….”

[14] Coincidence number five!

[15] This first encounter took place during the 1986 Battle of Crete celebrations, when Dai bump into another New Zealander and asked the same question, only to be told, “Yes - Roy’s my neighbour!”   Dai’s now convinced every New Zealander he’s spoken with knows Roy, it’s a pity I didn’t get a chance to introduce Harry Spencer to him.

[16] The losses suffered by the German airborne forces on Crete had been so high that Hitler never again used these forces on a large scale.   Other than in a number of small airborne actions, including the extraordinary rescue on September 12th 1943 of Benito Mussolini from his Gran Sasso prison refuge in the Abruzzen Mountains by the German commando Major Otto Skorzeny, the paratroopers would fight as infantrymen for the rest of the war.

[17] While in transit to New Zealand from a goodwill visit to Australia, on the 7th July 2002 HMS Nottingham, one of the most modern warships ran aground and almost sank in well-charted waters near the World Heritage-listed Lord Howe Island.   The 3,500-ton guided-missile destroyer hit Wolf Rock 3·7 kilometres east of Lord Howe in rough seas.   The New Zealand Navy sent both HMNZS Te Kaha and HMNZS Endeavour to assist the disabled warship.   The Royal Navy shortly afterwards began an investigation into how this accident happen, saying the inquiry could lead to the court martialling of its 41-year-old Captain, Commander Richard Farrington, who admitted that human error had played a part.   The accident happened as the Nottingham was manoeuvring to put a helicopter into its hanger after the medical transfer of an injured crewman to Lord Howe Island.   None of the 253 crew were injured in the incident, but Commander Farrington admitted he feared at one stage the ship would sink as several compartments had flooded to a depth of more than two meters.   It was later reported by British television Channel 4, that the Nottingham was on hand to protect a shipment of uranium and plutonium, which was on its way back to Britain from Japan after being rejected by the Japanese.   A senior military source said the destroyer was essential to deter terrorists and pirates from hijacking the radioactive shipment.   Almost two years later on April 24th 2004 Nottingham returned to sea after completing a major refit costing ₤39 million.

[18] I’ve since learnt this gentleman’s name is Torbjørn Lauritsen.   Who acknowledged this chance encounter with me, by the arrival two months later to the day of two small gifts in the form of a Norwegian car key ring and a “pin” displaying the crest of the city of Bodø.   His enclosed note recalled our meeting saying, “Here’s an early gift from Santa Claus, you made a sunny day even more shining with your kind words.”

[19] I find Deirde’s encounter most interesting, for my family and I experience a similar welcome by the townsfolk of Vrisses almost a year earlier in July 2005.   The Greeks have a saying “We have eaten bread and salt together”, meaning, that we have shared the most elementary foods, suffered the same hardships, known the same joys and that nothing can ever break that bond that ties us together, not even death.   The following incident clearly personifies that declaration of unity.

 

Our story unfolds on Sunday 10th July as the sun rose above the blue Mediterranean Sea heralding yet another fine Northern Hemisphere Summer’s day, we decided this was the moment to start our pilgrimage through the White Mountains over to the war-time evacuation beach of Hora Sfakion.   After loading the hired van with our two small grandchildren and packing a cut lunch and water bottles for each of us we set off from our seaside Villa at Almirida.   About an hours drive into the journey we came across the picturesque village of Vrisses nestled in the foothills of the White Mountains.   There we stopped at a wayside taverna in an area untouched by time and set in the idyllic surroundings of a small stream and huge shade trees.   Initially the charming waitress who served us thought we were European tourists and started to address me in German.   My son quickly replied in English saying we were New Zealanders, a nationality not immediately recognised by the young lady.   Going unnoticed to us, but taking an enormous interest in our lively discussion were a party of elderly Greek villagers who had stopped for coffee and wine while on their way to church.   After a wonderful meal of honey and Greek yogurt we got up to depart, when unexpectedly our waitress returned with a tray of drinks; two beers, one each for myself and son, two wines for our ladies and a couple of fruit juices for the grandsons.   I looked up at her and was about to say, “but we didn’t order any drinks?”   When I stopped, and followed her gaze to the seated Greek villagers.  For there, with wine glass raised in salute and speaking in broken English the elderly gentleman began saying, “it’s alright mate! There’s nothing to pay, the account’s been settled in full in ‘41!"   My heart skipped a beat as the humbling words of this man’s simple gesture began to sink in; acknowledging the supreme sacrifices made by so many of our countrymen - the honour of his spontaneous recognition of us as New Zealanders made us so proud to be Kiwis that day we could have walked on water!

[20] George Psychoundakis in his book, The Cretan Runner names some of these Cretans as Manoli Paterakis from Selino, Stratis Saviolakis from Anopolis in Sphakia, George Tyrakis and Antoni Zoïdakis from the Amari.   Almost three weeks after his kidnapping on the night of May 14th 1944, General Kreipe was picked up by a British naval vessel from the southern beach of Rhodakino, about thirty-two kilometres west of Sakhtouria.   For a detailed account of the actual physical facts of that operation, readers may refer to Billy Moss’s exciting account of it in his book; I’ll Met by Moonlight.

[21] See pages 46 and 47 for Doug West’s story

[22] Pipi saw service in World War II, the Korean War and was again in action as a gunner in the 1966 battle of Long Tan in Vietnam.

[23] ELAS meaning: Ellenikos Laikos Apelleftherotikos Stratos, (the Greek Popular Liberation Army) and EAM, Ethnikon Apeleftherotikon Metopon  (the Greek National Liberation Front), both organisations were pro-communist in their political affiliations.

[24] Papa Alexandrous Torakis was arrested by the Germans on suspicion of harbouring allied servicemen.   Shortly after his release from prison and suffering from health deprivation while a prisoner Alexandrous died on the 10th May 1944.

[25] The 91-year-old Mick Shand now living in Masterton is one of the few survivors who engineered “The Great Escape” from Stalag Luft III on the evening of March 24th 1944, when 76 British RAF officers tunnelled out of their POW camp at Sagan in Silesia.   Patricia attributes Mick’s father, a doctor to bringing her into the world.

[26] During their 10-day return visit to Crete in October 2006 Ian and Lala Frazer again met Angelo, who acting as their translator were most fortunate in being granted a two-hour interview with this lady.   In the course of their conversation Ian learned that her married name is Vasiliki Sartzetakis and her family name is Petrakis.   During the war years Vasiliki came from the village of Rodovani where the resistance was very strongly supported and after the war she married and moved to Kandanos.   Ian describes their reunion with Vasiliki as being highly emotional, with memories of our May visit flooding back.   The momentoes we gave her take pride and place on her bedroom wall along with Pipi’s carved walking stick.   In his narrative to me Ian went on to say she immediately brought out the walnuts, honey, cheese and grapes and made them feel at home.   Her son John joined them and helped with the stories, explaining that everyone involved in the Resistance had a cover-name, Vasiliki was known as “dressmaker” or “modistra”.   A name given to her for her work during the many visits to the Andartes in their mountain hideouts to make and mend clothes.   From these visits she gradually got involved in the fighting.   Even today she keeps an old German rifle, a relic from World War II in her broom cupboard!   This additional amplifying note has been included by permission of, and with grateful acknowledgment to both Ian and Lala Frazer.

[27] Information contained in this book originates from Bayard Stockton’s archived material.

[28] My very good friend Jim McDevitt died in early 2003; his book is still available from his widow, Mrs Jean McDevitt living in Papatoetoe, Auckland, New Zealand