Biographies & Memoirs

5

Stragglers

Ralph woke late, to find headquarters gone. All that remained were a few non-commissioned officers (NCOs), papers, and furniture. The unfortunate few who remained had drawn the short straw. They gathered every scrap of paper that might be useful to the enemy and burned it. Ralph saved and pocketed a map of Greece. The burning done, they exchanged nervous looks before a sergeant major ordered them on their way. They wouldn’t catch up with the rest of HQ, but their order was to get to the evacuation point at Nafplion. Ralph Churches was now a straggler without a unit; his time at Anzac HQ was over. That night, 24 April, most HQ staff boarded ships and evacuated.1 Behind them lay a country in chaos, Blamey gone, Papagos resigned. Anzac HQ had left in such a hurry they forgot to inform their Kiwi counterparts in the New Zealand 2nd Division.2

The 2nd Division commander, Brigadier-General Freyberg, had similar orders to Blamey, though they came by cable, not in person. Freyberg asked who was to take over from him. Unhappy with the vague response, Freyberg disobeyed his orders and stayed.3 He was now the senior field commander, and his HQ kept the evacuation together. The same day as Anzac HQ departed, he had to issue revised orders for new beaches and new times. Priority would go to intact fighting units. Rearguards would remain in place to hold off the Germans.4

For Ralph, reaching Nafplion would be a slog. Between Mandra and the south coast port lay the enormous Corinth Canal, with a single bridge over it. Ralph’s map showed it was over sixty kilometres to Corinth and another fifty to Nafplion. Separated now from the rest of Lusterforce, his only companions were a few NCOs. Behind Ralph, the last car out of HQ rumbled down the road with an orderly at the wheel, and a major in the passenger seat; it was an open-top with running boards mounted on the sides. It pulled over and the Major told them to jump on, so Ralph and his companions clambered aboard.

The car meandered along bombed-out roads, slowing to manoeuvre around recent craters. The drone of an aircraft engine became audible: a German fighter was swooping towards the vehicle. Someone shouted, ‘Bail!’ The Major and the orderly opened their doors and threw themselves on the ground. The standing passengers leapt off into the nearest crater – still hot, it scorched their hands. The drone became a roar, and guns opened fire, spraying bullets across the crater’s edge. Dirt showered over Ralph. As he pressed himself down into the earth the heat burned through the entire front of his uniform. Into his mind came the memory of gunning down rabbits in the Mallee: now he knew how it felt to be a bunny. The plane peeled off and did not return. Ralph and the others climbed out of the hole and brushed off the dirt. Everyone was okay; so was the car. They all climbed back aboard and drove on.

Halfway to the Corinth Canal the car halted at a supply dump. The Major needed to destroy the supplies to avoid them falling into the invaders’ hands. He told his passengers to take anything they could carry and go on their way. They stuffed their pockets and haversacks with food and water and headed off on foot. That night they slept out in the open. One of the NCOs had grabbed a fire starter, so it was roasted tinned beef for dinner. Like the others, Ralph found himself being woken by the pain of burned skin and blisters from the spell in the crater.

Once on the road again, they met another straggler from HQ. He was a private, and in considerable pain. Ralph thought that his neat moustache seemed as French as his name, Gaston Renard. Apparently, he was from the intelligence section of HQ, so Ralph was curious how he’d got there and how he’d got injured. Renard told them his mission was secret, and that his wound was an old one from the London Blitz that had flared up again. He was trying to evacuate but could hardly walk and asked for their help so he could complete his mission. Ralph felt sympathy for a fellow straggler but his colleagues thought he would slow them down and they departed, leaving Ralph and Renard by the road. Ralph’s greatcoat was weighed down with ration tins, he was tender from blisters and now had Renard in his care.

Ralph didn’t know (and never discovered) that his companion was not on any secret mission. In fact, Renard had gone absent without official leave (AWOL) months after arriving in Britain. A naturalist from Queensland, he was an early volunteer, but soon found that war was not for him. At some point in his absence, he had acquired a severe leg injury. He was court-martialled and imprisoned, then released early to serve in Greece. When the evacuation orders had arrived on 22 April, Renard had not moved with HQ from Livadia to Mandra, claiming that he had visited Greece in peacetime and could find his own way. He’d walked off the job, AWOL once again.5

Ralph may have felt charitable, but Renard crippled his marching time – without him Ralph could have made it past the Corinth Canal by nightfall with ease. Instead, for a second night, he found himself camping in the open. He shared his rations, and they ate tinned beef straight from the can. Early morning on 26 April the pair hobbled their way towards the bridge.

Their luck had now run out. From behind came the roar of a hundred planes – fighters and transports. To Ralph, it seemed as though the whole Luftwaffe had come to get him. At 07.25, an entire regiment of Fallschirmjäger (German parachutists) fell from the sky. The 2nd Fallschirmjäger was attacking the Corinth Canal.6 Ralph and Gaston stood in stunned silence. On the other side of the canal, they could hear Allied forces opening fire. By the sound of things, the Allies didn’t have enough guns.

Ralph heaved Renard back the way they’d come, to a wooded hill. They were for it now: if the Germans took the canal, the two of them would be cut off. Most of Lusterforce was already across, and Ralph and Renard couldn’t turn around. Their best bet was to wait until night and cross under the cover of darkness. The Germans might not take the bridge, but if they did, there was the chance that it would be chaotic enough for the pair of them to slip by. Ralph and Renard hunkered down in the shade and waited for the day to pass.

The outnumbered Fallschirmjäger took the Corinth Bridge with ease, getting the better of disorganized Allied troops. Once they’d secured the bridge, the Fallschirmjäger sat tight. They had thousands of prisoners. An intact bridge and German tanks on the way meant Lusterforce would never be able to evacuate in time. The Germans found and removed the demolition charges the British had laid before they could detonate them, and they set the bombs aside in a pile on the bridge – a stunning blunder. A stray shot hit the pile, there was an almighty bang and a great plume of smoke, and the bridge was wrecked.7

Now Ralph did have chaos on his side. As night fell, he and Renard made their play. The Germans were in control, but there were more Allied prisoners than Germans, and many of them walked away behind the Germans’ backs. It was also a new moon, a night so dark that patrols would be near blind. Ralph and Renard crept their way to the coast and along the shore to the canal’s edge. On the water Ralph could make out a white shape: a dinghy. He loaded Renard aboard.8 Ralph didn’t have much experience rowing, much less silent rowing, and it was nerve-wracking. All it would take was a German patrol to poke their head over the canal to see the white shape, and if the enemy erred on the side of caution, they’d start shooting.

No Germans came, though, and on arriving at the southern bank the Australians headed south. By sunrise they’d made enough progress to justify a pause. There was no sign of any Germans. Ralph had got away with it.

As well as being a dead weight, Renard wasn’t talkative, and overall made a poor travelling companion. Luckily, they stumbled on a British signals unit, so at least they had company for breakfast. The signalmen seemed beaten and lost, and it perplexed Ralph that the officer took meals separate from his men – when the food was coming straight from the can, Ralph expected divisions of class and rank not to matter.9

Breakfast over, the signalmen left Ralph and Renard behind; they had no desire to be slowed down. Ralph was coming to resent his companion. Tired and frustrated, the pair continued south. It was unlikely any Allied vehicles would pass their way with Corinth in enemy hands, yet Ralph still expected some semblance of order. He thought the roads would be lined with checkpoints and military police. They weren’t.10 The two men would have never made it to a beach by nightfall had it not been for a ride on a Greek horse cart heading to Nafplion.

Before they arrived, a friendly Greek travelling in the other direction gave them fresh intelligence. Ships had come to Nafplion last night, but now men were moving east to the fishing village of Tolo. Ralph consulted his map: Tolo wasn’t far away and made sense as a secondary site if Nafplion was a problem. Ralph and Renard got off the cart; Ralph thanked their driver and the passing Greek. He and Renard now made their approach to Tolo on foot. As the road became congested with Allied soldiers also heading to Tolo, Ralph felt a sense of relief. For the first time in days his spirits lifted, and he felt confident of rescue. The sun was beginning to set, and the last light faded as they entered the small, charming village.

Square whitewashed houses lay crammed between a beach and a steep hill. Beyond the shore lay an island, and beyond that, endless sea. In better times, this would have been an excellent spot for a romantic weekend. From the edge of town, more Allied soldiers emerged: they’d been hiding from the Luftwaffe during daylight.11 Exhausted, Ralph and Renard lay down on the beach and joined over 1,000 others waiting for the navy. It turned out there had also been ships at Tolo last night, but things hadn’t gone well. Two Australian ships had come: the destroyer HMAS Stuart and the cruiser HMAS Perth. Landing craft designed for tanks had come to collect the men. As the water was so shallow, they had run aground, and hundreds of men had had to strip off and wade in to push them free. When sunrise approached Stuart and Perth were still nowhere near full. The ships withdrew to avoid air attack, leaving many still stranded on shore.

The whole thing had been avoidable; a naval officer had begged the evacuating army to move to a location with deeper water, but the army officers had insisted the operation remain here.12 They had a plan to solve the problem: the officers had pooled money to charter caiques – Greek sailing boats – to ferry their men out to the ships. In the end they succeeded in acquiring just a single craft.13 Ralph and the others now stood waiting patiently on Tolo beach. Last night’s arrival time for Stuart, 22.00, had passed: no ships. Then 23.00, then midnight. As 03.00 came and went, anxiety turned to despair. The previous night had been the last for evacuations from Tolo and Nafplion; Freyberg had ordered everyone left to head further south for another evacuation at Monemvasia.14 The orders hadn’t reached Tolo and 1,500 men waited all night on Tolo beach, but the navy wasn’t coming.

Daybreak brought chaos and approaching Germans; no one was in clear command. A Royal Artillery officer reported that his superior had agreed to surrender, but this provoked protests that it was beyond his authority. Cut off and without leadership, the order of the day was every man for himself. The single caique chartered took on 150 men and sailed away. Others lay down and waited for capture. Some fled into the hills; a few stayed in the vain hope that the navy would return.15

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