6
Ralph didn’t have the legs for more hiking but, having dragged Renard all this way, he was not going to give up now. He headed to a shop and spoke to its owner, a tobacco merchant and part-time coastguard. He explained his predicament: he was stuck and wanted a boat to make for Crete. Even with nothing to offer, Ralph was persuasive and the merchant said he would make enquiries. On his return he led Ralph and Renard to the southern end of the beach, where they were confronted by a five-metre-long wooden rowing boat with three oars. It had no motor or sails and wasn’t what Ralph had been hoping for, but he reckoned from his map that they could make it to Crete in a week and a half. Given the state Renard was in, Ralph would have to do all the rowing.
Ralph thanked the merchant and took possession. He must have looked as if he knew what he was doing; three men came down the beach towards him. One was a New Zealand sapper, doubtless having missed the evacuation after slowing down the German advance. The other two were Australians, one of them a driver, the other a lieutenant by the name of Jim Forrest of 2/1st Battalion. Hailing from Sydney’s wealthy Elizabeth Bay, he looked every part the officer. The Lieutenant reached his hand out to Ralph and asked if the three of them could join the boat. Ralph replied that five was better than two and explained his plan to row down the coast and then on to Crete. With that, the five Anzacs pushed the boat out to sea and waved goodbye to the merchant.
Jim took a pair of oars and began rowing south-west across the bay. Ralph took the third oar as a rudder and sat at the stern. Overhead came the sound of engines: the Luftwaffe had arrived. They weren’t strafing the beaches, thank God, but there was no chance of evacuation now. The five men decided to take off their uniforms, hoping to get mistaken for fishermen, and sat in the boat stripped down to white singlets and boxers.
Jim rowed on; he was authoritative and calm under pressure. When the craft reached the west end of the bay, he took some blankets and shirts and improvised a crude sail, which he hoisted on the third oar.1 It turned out that Jim had been sailing most weekends since he was a boy. A north wind was at their backs just in time, and they set out on the long voyage to Crete. Behind them, Tolo fell. A British and Australian rearguard held while Ralph and hundreds of others fled, but they eventually had to surrender in mid-afternoon on 28 April.2
Far down the coast, the last evacuations began at Monemvasia and went smoothly. In the early hours of the following day, Freyberg was on the last transport off. His efforts and refusal to leave earlier helped save thousands of lives. Meanwhile, as Lusterforce was ceasing to exist, the five men aboard the wooden boat rowed all night. They planned to move only at night; before dawn they’d find a likely cove to pull into and sleep by day. What they would do for food and water, Ralph didn’t know – they had a little, enough for a few days at most. They rowed in shifts, except Renard. The boat made good time on the first night and as planned pulled into a cove before first light. They lay down to rest, a couple on the shore and a couple in the boat, after posting Renard as the watch.
He nudged them awake a couple of hours later. Three Greeks were heading down towards the cove. Two were elderly, weather-beaten types, the third a man in his late twenties – an eternal Yank. He asked if they were English. Being Anzacs increased the warmth of the Greeks’ greeting.
What were they trying to do?
Hoping to sail to Crete.
‘Hopeless’, was the firm opinion: the Germans were already swarming down the Peloponnese. Their patrol boats would make the coastal journey impossible.
Was there any alternative apart from surrender to the Germans?
The men offered shelter until they could be evacuated by submarine.
The Anzacs were sceptical, not expecting that a submarine would be risked on their account. How would they even go about hiding?
The Greeks said they would dress the Anzacs as Greek soldiers, giving them the identities of local young men who had fallen on the Albanian front, then pass them off as shell-shocked casualties. It was a generous offer. The problem for Ralph was, if he was captured, his family would at least be notified through the Red Cross. If he went on the run, the report would be ‘Missing in action’. He wouldn’t do that to Ronte. The other Aussies agreed: they’d press on. The Kiwi sapper, however, decided to take up the Greeks’ offer. It surprised Ralph and the others, though no one was going to deny a man his decision over his own fate.
What happened to the Kiwi, Ralph would never know. Some soldiers returned home after months on the run. Some joined Greek partisans and resistance groups and fought on. A few integrated into their hiding places, married, settled, and never returned home.3
Before night the eternal Yank returned with food and water and wished them well. On the second night of rowing, the wind was against them, and the sail came down. Following their plan, the four again pulled into a likely spot before dawn. Greek hospitality arrived again that day. And the next, and the next, and the next. They worried that if the Greeks could spot them, so could the Germans, but it was a risk they had to take as they needed food and water. Jim even acquired some canvas to rig a better sail.
The crew’s experiences with Greek civilians were repeated up and down the country. While the Greek Army still fought, relations with the British expeditionary force had been jittery. Various stand-offs between Lusterforce soldiers and Greek soldiers and civilians over transport priority had been solved at gunpoint.4 Lusterforce supplies and soldiers’ belongings had a habit of disappearing. The situation got so bad that at one point General Blamey threatened to kill a Greek civilian he suspected of stealing his coat.5 Now, faced with Allied soldiers in need, Greek civilians displayed nothing but charity, despite their own poverty, without regard for their own safety. ‘[Everywhere] we were kissed,’ wrote an Australian sapper who crossed by boat to Turkey, ‘wept over, given bread, cheese, and wine, and provided a guide within the space of half an hour.’6 Without Greek help, Ralph’s boat journey could not have even started, let alone continued.
After a week of rowing, the crew knew that only the German base at Monemvasia lay between them and the open sea. They would row past the town in the night, pull into a cove at the tip of Greece, and cross to Crete.
For the seventh night, the Aussies hauled along the Ionian coast. But after passing Monemvasia they heard the roar of a motorboat. They withdrew the oars, lowered the sail, and lay quiet. The boat’s engine cut out close to their vessel. The moon was out, but clouds had covered its glow, enough to hide them. ‘Vee know you dere,’ a voice shouted. ‘Mister Englishmens. Soon vee comes for you.’7
Silence hung between the vessels.
Then the German engine started again, and the boat chugged away. The Aussies’ hearts were racing as they put the oars out and sail up, and they rowed like madmen to get as far away as possible. Before dawn they reached Cape Maleas, the southern tip of the Greek mainland. They pulled the boat up in a likely spot, but there was no sentry that night. The crew were shattered and fell asleep nestled in pairs for warmth. Ralph and Jim lay wrapped up in the boat; Renard and the driver slept on a flat patch on the rocks.