EYE-WITNESS ACCOUNT WITHDRAWAL IN GREECE

Korero (AEWS), Volume 2, Issue 10, 22 May 1944, Page 24

EYE-WITNESS ACCOUNT WITHDRAWAL IN GREECE

By a New Zealand Medical Orderly

At the ration dump we waited to rejoin the rifle unit with which we had been serving on Olympus, and towards evening our ambulance took its place in a seemingly endless convoy moving swiftly rearwards. Though we did not know it at the time, the withdrawal had begun in earnest, a tremendous game of hide and seek with death for the loser. A scene which must have inspired and cheered thousands of weary men met us at a crossroads where two great rivers of traffic joined. A staff car, on the bonnet of which proudly fluttered the emblem of New Zealand, was parked in the centre of the crossing. Beside it stood a partv of officers, one of whom was directing traffic. There was an incredulous gasp as we neared him. “ It’s Tiny himself ! ” Someone said “ Gee ! It’s the boss. What on earth is he doing here ? ” It was a highly dangerous place, a spot which might at any moment become the target for heavy attacks of Nazi divebombers, but it was by just such acts that the G.O.C. won and held, as no other man could do, the respect, admiration, and genuine affection of every single individual soldier in the Division. It is safe to say that there is not one man who is not proud of his leader. All night the convoy pressed on, and all next day. Here and there we had brief halts to rest for a few minutes and to prepare hot drinks. Twice we stopped to attend to injuries, but always it was “ keep going,” the moment the task was done. The road became dotted with wrecked vehicles, and we entered a city still smoking from a recent heavy bombardment from the air. The way was littered with wreckage of all kinds. Our vehicle jolted crazily over rubble-filled craters or lurched to avoid masses of debris. Everywhere was desolation, destruction, ruin. Shops and dwellings, churches, and hospitals—-

the raiders in indiscriminate savagery had spared nothing. And yet, we were told, the city had been empty of military objectives at the time of this latest exhibition of Nazi barbarity. Night merged into day, and day into night, as we travelled, until one day engine trouble held us up for a while and we lost our convoy. There were plenty more though, and we carried on independently, a single unit in an endless chain. Once we stopped “to consider our position,” being in doubt as to which route to take. The delay may well have saved us, for as we argued the toss a distant hum grew rapidly to a roar. A cloud of black bird-like specks in the distance became unmistakably German bombers. From our cover amid the crops on the roadside we watched them form into line, very high, but almost directly above us. Plainly a town towards which we had been travelling was the target. With high pitched scream of sirens they went, one after the other, into an almost perpendicular power dive. Down they went, the sound of their screamers rising to a crescendo of banshee - like wails, punctuated by the rattle of machine-gun fire. One by one we saw the planes seem to vanish among the buildings of the town. One by one they rose again to form up in the clouds and roar away out of sight beyond the hills, while behind them a great cloud of smoke mushroomed out. There was crescendoing scream after scream, crash after shuddering crash, like the regular pounding of heavy guns, until each plane had dived and dropped its single heavy calibre bomb. Apparently only two targets had been hit, but we wondered what possible benefit the enemy would reap from bombing an open town. As we moved on again there was a sound like thunder rolling among the distant hills. It was

no thunder though, for here and there, from points we could not see, columns of dun smoke rose lazily. At last we came to what was plainly a line of defence, and were greatly cheered by the hope that possibly the enemy would be held there. Soon after dark, a short distance behind the line, an officer “ pulled us out ” of the convoy to join our own unit, from which we had been separated since first going into action. This was our first real halt for some days and nights, and thus a welcome opportunity to rest. We were situated on the edge of a marsh, and day and night the air was filled with the continuous harsh croaking of countless frogs. Mosquitoes, too, were more ■ persistent and more numerous then we would have dreamed possible. They attacked in literal clouds. Otherwise, however, the surroundings were pleasant enough—trees and grass, scrub-covered hills, a stream in which to wash clothing and bathe. From the nearby high country we could from time to time see enemy aircraft harassing convoys on a distant road. At times the noise of machine-gun fire was almost continuous, and frequently we heard the sound of bursting bombs. By this time we were experts at taking cover. I can still remember vividly how I once wriggled into a culvert so small that I feared I would never be able to wriggle out again. More than once I’ve thoroughly soaked myself by lying in irrigation channels. Some of the situations seemed decidedly funny afterwards. All too soon came the order to move. It arrived as we had come to expect, in the wee sma’ hours of the night, but I was one of a party to remain behind' with an ambulance to deal with wounded should there be any in the convoy. The day before Jerry had been systematically strafing the road, section by section. Prompt with the dawn he reached our section. Like the rest, I dived for cover, and from the shelter of a slit trench watched fascinated while a black three-engined aircraft skimmed bare feet above the road, following along its whole length, guns blazing in short regular bursts.

It was hardly a pleasant experience, this crouching in a muddy hole while round about unseen “ things ” plopped into the mud and the air was filled with a twittering whistle more menacing than its background of staccato explosions and roaring engines. Have you ever wondered what it is like to be unarmed and helpless while someone has a little sport with a machine gun, with you as the target ? We medical folk soon found out. We soon learned, too, the difference between fear and courage. It is impossible not to be afraid, sometimes terribly afraid, under fire. The man who says he does not know fear is either a liar or he is not normal. Courage is simply the ability to keep that fear in check and to carry on with the job just the same. We had further visitations that day. Once there was a plop in the mud close to my head, and a strong smell of burnt powder. No doubt a spent cartridge case, I thought, and wished there were time to dig it out for a souvenir. Thinking the danger past, I looked up when the plane was directly above me. Quite distinctly, without any possibility of being mistaken, I saw three bombs leave the plane, vanishing as they gathered speed. They were “ wailers,” and seconds seemed hours as the scream grew in volume, to culminate in the crash of explosions nearly a mile away. We travelled on again that day, with frequent stops to take cover when the road was threatened, but rejoined our unit without further incident. By this time the “ hide and seek ” aspect was becoming more pronounced. Enemy planes were never far away during daylight, and we began to travel by night, hiding by day among bush-covered hills. It was a source of satisfaction, though, to think that time and again Jerry flew low over heavy concentrations of men and material, evidently without even dreaming of their whereabouts. Near one of our stopping-places was a high escarpment, scrub and bush covered to within a short distance of the top. It was a splendid vantage point, so one morning I climbed it, to find a sheltered ledge from which to watch in safety the activities of enemy bombers. All day,

with monotonous regularity, plane after plane ” covered ” the area between the bluff and the sea. They came one at a time, but the moment the first turned for home a second would roar into sight. The enemy must have known that the area was literally packed with men, but, fly low as he would, he could not find them. Bombs dropped and cannon shells burst without effect.

Once a big flight of bombers tried for a bridge “ Must be the beginners’ class out for a run,” remarked a mate, for out of over a score of bombs not one landed within “ cooee ” of the mark.

To even the grimmest incidents there is a lighter side, as a rule, and the ability to see this is a treasure possessed by many New Zealand soldiers. We had several good laughs while in this particular area. For example, there was the man upon whom a Messerschmitt dived while he was engaged in “ borrowing ”

a few chickens from a deserted farm. “ Feathers flew,” he said, “ and I flew, but all Jerry got was a stray fowl I’d missed. B thoughtful of him ! ” and he

showed an armful of spoil. There was chicken for dinner for all that day.

Then there was the great beehive robbery. Quite a large apiary was discovered close to our camp—too close, as we later discovered, when someone decided to have honey for tea. The decision to rob the hives led to considerable discussion on ways and means. In the end two or three chaps armed with great swathings of mosquito-netting, their hands encased in leather motoring gloves, began the task. Results were surprising in more ways than one, and though a small quantity of honey was saved we had our best and broadest smile for some time. In some cases smiles turned to wrath when the outraged bees began a united assault on a party of handy, but innocent, men who had found “ desirable residences ” in a dry'- river-bed just below the apiary.

They were iorced to leave in haste until the bees had calmed down. Being with a medical unit we were able to see for ourselves the German attitude towards the Red Cross. It seemed to vary with the individual enemy airman, for I have been a passenger in an ambulance which enemy planes banked to avoid while convoy strafing. On the other hand, I have seen the wreckage of ambulances, plainly marked, which had been deliberately attacked with incendiary and explosive machine-gun bullets. One had had the Red Cross on the roof used as a target for cannon fire, for the cross had been blown out. Others looked like collanders, they were so full of holes. At all events we decided it best to take no risks, so when raiders were about we showed an astonishing turn of speed and dexterity in leaving the ambulance—and the road— for the wide open spaces. Once or twice our spotter, posted so that he could scan the skies behind and above, gave the alarm on seeing flights of birds, getting soundly cursed for his trouble. As a rule, though, travel was by night when enemy planes were grounded, the vehicles seeking shelter with the first streaks of dawn. During the day we would sleep, hidden among the rocks and bushes. Times without number veritable armadas of the air would roar and scream their way over our shelters. Often they flew so low that they seemed to be almost clipping the tree-tops, obviously searching, and equally obviously not finding, that for which they

searched—us. They would fire random bursts, hoping for some reply that would reveal our presence, and whenever that reply came they were quick to pay deadly attention to that particular area. When we failed to find a suitable spot one morning a squadron of fighters spotted us as we moved off the road, or so it seemed, for they wheeled from their course and began to dive, with machine guns blazing, apparently at us. It was an uneasy time, but perhaps the Red Cross did save us, for the bullets were directed at the road and we were left otherwise in peace. Morning tea had just been put on to boil, and some clumsy lout in his hurry to escape the guns sent primus and billy flying. Poor chap. He came in for more abuse than "the enemy. Later in the morning exceedingly large flights of aircraft searched the hills and valleys. Along both, so low that I was .actually above them, flew a long succession of enemy planes, their screamers wailing like ten thousand devils. Greek shepherds were driving their flocks along bush tracks, and the word “ Luftwaffe ” was plain to distinguish in their excited talk, but they did not attempt to hide. Once again I was one of a small party to leave the medical unit for service with a rifle unit, and one morning, while ■other convoys were hastening back, we set out to advance towards the approaching enemy. It seemed we were to be attached to a rearguard party, to all intents and purposes as regimental stretcher-bearers, but with the difference that while they carried rifles we were unarmed. We joined an R.A.P. in a wooded valley down the centre of which ran a road. Apart from the usual searching planes, the first day passed ■calmly. Next day, however, our own artillery began a heavy barrage, firing over our heads and down the valley. The crash of guns and the scream of shells continued all day, and we began to amuse ourselves •counting the bursts as the shells landed •away in the distance.

Suddenly there came a new sound. A new type of scream. A scream which, instead of dying away in the distance, became louder every moment until it was rather like the whistle of a railway train. Someone yelled Duck ! As we hugged the ground there was a series of explosions along the top of a nearby ridge, and a line of showers of dirt. Next moment our own guns replied thunderously. There were no more enemy shells. “ They must have been trying to pot our guns,” said a rifleman, “ but those shells must have been a mile or more short.” At all events they did no more damage than to shower our M.O. with dirt.

That evening news came “ Expect to contact enemy to-night.” We brought the wounded to the roadside at nightfall, and shortly afterwards began to move out. Apparently our battalion was not to be the rearguard after all. A motley crowd, we began the march to a less-advanced area where transport was waiting. We passed men standing ready to blow bridges, and to blast down tons of earth on to the roadway. Ahead of us, ringing clearly through the frosty air, came shouted orders, then suddenly the blackness of night gave way to blinding light and the thunder of guns. Shells screamed towards us, over our heads, to pound the most advanced enemy elements. The guns were straddling the road and close to it, ready to pull out the moment we should all be passed and safely embarked in transport. They fired as we drew level, their flashes lighting up the whole countryside for a moment of intense brilliance. And so began what was, for our section of the forces at least, the final stage of the evacuation from Greece. At the time we did not know this. We knew nothing of what was going to happen, nothing except that we were in transport racing through the night while little more than bluff and the splendid “ delaying tactics ” of the engineers held up the enemy.