SNIPER ON CRETE
For any soldier in any army to hear "sniper" is like any one
hearing "ghost," "rattlesnake," or "black
widow." Thunder and lightning are also a bit like a sniper in that
there is a strike. Depending on how far away the strike originated you
can hear the rumble or bang in the distance-----------later. That on its
own gives the sniper an edge, because when a man falls down no one knows
why until they discover he has been shot. By the time they start looking
round not knowing where the shot came from the sniper is long gone.
When a regiment goes into battle it can meet up with an enemy force
and lots of ammunition is
wasted as one side tries to knock off the other. To get a regiment to
this point involves Commanders, map readers, Sergeants,. Corporals etc,
cooks, and so on. So it is a joint effort and each relies on the other.
Aircraft have crews, tanks have crews, so do ships, and they don't see
individuals, they just see a target.
Not so the sniper. He is alone, he does his own map reading, doesn't
cook, lives off the land. He is a
loner by nature, and he also misses nothing, he can't afford to. Forget
the broken twig , that's okay in the movies. To prove my point, the next
time you go for a walk brush up against a bush or branch and you will find
it will bend to let you by and then spring back.
Most of the targets a sniper fires on can't fire back because he is
out of range or they just can't see
him. The only things the sniper has to fear is another sniper and getting
boxed in. Being boxed in a good sniper can avoid, but an enemy sniper is
an uknown threat. But if lady luck is smiling down on him the sniper can
outwit his enemy.
(I watched a movie one night called Sniper, and found it entertaining,
but in real life the sniper would
have been dead the moment he stepped from cover, and to take a novice
with him to show him the ropes,? Not on, because no-one in his right mind
would take someone out to teach him the ropes on a live mission. And unlike
the movies the last place a sniper would want to be is up a tree. Not only
that, but even two experts together would leave a double trail , be twice
the target for an enemy sniper and t would be a waste of a good sniper
because one of them could be employed more efficiently else where. Thank
you for your patience.)
I was below decks on the destroyer HMS Glenroy. We had been moved from
Solum to Alexandria
harbour.
There was a lot of speculation amongst our lads. "Well we bin'
up the desert so long they is goin' tae
gi' us a trip rand t' Med,( the Mediterranean sea) sa'ht-see'in no da'ht
(no doubt)." "Ah shouldn't wonder," some one else chimed
in. "Na, they wouldn't do that, not in a destroyer they wouldn't,
would they"? and "Yu wanta bet?"
And it was bandied back and forth until one of our officers poked his
head through a door at the top
of the step ladder.
" I say, would you chaps keep the noise down a little, we don't
want the world to know there are
troops on this ship."
The bloke next to me said, " Nice, when we trooped up the gang-way
half of bloody Alexandria
knew," but we simmered down and a few minutes later a matlow appeared
and began to close the hatches. As we protested it was going to get ruddy
hot with them closed, he said, " Sorry lads but I got orders. There's
some enemy planes coming over and I got to shut you in just in case."
"That's bloody charmin'," said a voice from the back. "A
bomb hits us, we go to the bottom an' we
can't get out!" But naval discipline being what it was, cries of
"leave the bloody covers were they are!" fell on deaf ears.
I had seen something like this before I thought, then it clicked. Back
home they used to round up the
sheep and put them in a pen to wait their turn in the slaughterhouse.
About ten minutes went by and we could hear the aircraft now and then.
There was a noise like
someone playing one very high note on a violin and it got louder and
louder as everyone, including myself shrunk down to make as small a target
as possible. I don't know where the bomb hit but there was one hell of
a bang and dust fell on us from some where up above, then more bombs and
more dust. We could hear yelling and pandemonium up top.
Finally the noise of the planes faded and the covers were removed and
the fresh air was like
champagne. Looking round we expected to see mass destruction. I was
disappointed, it was difficult to tell there had been a raid until I learned
that a ship had been sunk and some blokes injured.
We set sail, or rather we put-putted out of Alex harbour, as there aren't
any sails on a destroyer,
and we put-putted to Crete, an island off Greece.
As we were nearing Crete, I was told by my Sergeant to report to the
armourer Sergeant and take
my rifle and bayonet with me.
When I got to the armoury, I reported to the Sergeant and said, "
I'm 2252 Barker I was told to
report here."
I gathered he was Welsh when he looked up and said, "That's very
nice of you boy-o! Just leave yo
ri-fle an' bay-onet by there now."
So I leaned my rifle and bayonet by there and he thrust another one
in my hand. It looked the same
as the one I had just put down except it had about three inches of barrel
sticking out at the muzzle, and it also had a scope on it. I was interested
in it. It had nice balance, a silky smooth action, and my reverie was interrupted
by the Sergeant. "See what yu can do with that boy-o, don't wo-rry
it's been zeroed an' it's spot on , so do-n't shoot y'sel' in the foot,
all right?"
Then he pointed out how much was wasted. When one bomber dropped a ton
of bombs he was
lucky if one hit the target, and when they put down a creeping barrage
using thousands of shells they might hit a tank or kill a rabbit, in spit
of all the blokes and equipment that was used to such a meagre end.
"But you, sonny Jim, are on your own. You make the decisions and
if they are wrong it's your
funeral. One shot, one dead enemy,"
Having watched cowboy films on a Saturday afternoon as a kid I was always
impressed by the
goody and how he would not lay in the bushes to get the baddy: "Hell
no pardner, ah ain't abaht tu BUSHWACK anybody, no siree Bob." (I
never did find out who in hell Bob was) However, I relayed my sentiments
on back-shooting to the armourer and he quietly said, "What about
the la--st war when the Ger--mans came over in sil--ent zeps and dropped
bombs on slee--ping women and kids? And they are do--ing it again now boyo.
You is not a kid at the pic tures any more, we are at war. Grow up."
He was right.
When I got back with the other blokes I got a mixed reception. "Yu'
must be a good shot, Doggy,
fur them tu gi' yu' a special rifle." And a chilling remark: "If'n
yu get caught with that they's gonna shoot yu."
We got to Crete. The sea was rough and alongside us were T.L.C.s, tank
landing craft. These
T.L.C.s were bouncing up and down on the waves like the horses one sees
at the fair ground on the roundabouts, or some call them carousels.
We were assembled on deck and as we inched to the stepping off point,
we were supposed to step
off the deck of the destroyer and step on to the T.L.C which was just
on it's way down the ship's side like an elevator with its winch wires
cut--then suddenly it changed its mind and came charging back up again
and was on its way up again. The matlow next to me gripped my arm and shouted
above the wind, "Wait till it's at the top of its climb! Then step
into it!"
I tittered mentally and thought, the navy must be scraping the bottom
of the barrel if this nutter is an
example. Does he seriously think I'm going to step on to that bloody
yoyo? Not on yer nellie, mate. However the matlow had other ideas.
I had on my pack, and in one hand I was clutching my rifle with the
scope on it. The matlow
screamed, "Now!" and I did not have much choice because he
loosened his grip and pushed on my pack and I sprang outward towards the
T.L.C. I must admire that matlow's timing because as I landed the T.L.C.
had just reached the top, dead center and as it went down again I went
with it. It was like being on the big dipper on the fair ground as with
a woosh it plummeted down. When it got to the bottom of the wave trough
it started its next climb. I thought some one had suddenly put a load of
rocks in my pack it felt so heavy and my legs buckled and I plonked onto
my butt on the bottom of the T.L.C. Some one explained later " it's
the force of 'G'ld boy, they use it quiet a lot in the RAF so I'm told.
Gee how about that I thought, you learn something every day.
We set off for the island and expected to be fired on, but nothing happened.
There were lots of steel
plates on hinges attached to the rim of the opening to the deck of the
T.L.C and these were clipped back and common sense told me these were there
to be swung into place should we suddenly be strafed from the air. Fortunately
we did not have to use them.
As we neared the beach I became aware of my dry mouth and heart thudding
as we expected to be
met by enemy fire. But all was quiet and the other T.L.C's also landed
without mishap.
We nudged up on to the beach and the huge doors at the front fell to
the sand with a thud. We
stepped onto the sand in about half an inch of water as a rough guess,
we maybe got our boots wet but we did not get wet feet. That's how close
to the beach we got before disembarking.
Then one of the sailers with us shouted, "That bastard's leaving
us on the beach!" Sure enough the
destroyer was indeed getting under way. It got up speed and curved away
to the horizon.
The sailors who had been left were understandably upset and one threatened
what he was going to
do to that **** when he next saw him, something about gutless (or was
it nutless?).
(But today in 1997 we know what he did was right, because there is nothing
more tempting to a
Stuka pilot than a ship not moving. A ship on the move has steerage
and the skipper can anticipate and dodge the bombs from an enemy aircraft,
if he's lucky that is, but a ship not moving is a sitting duck. So to save
his ship and all the men on it, four sailors and two T.L.C.s are a cheap
price to pay. Depends on your point of view though. If you are one of the
sailors left on the beach you could be forgiven for not agreeing with this.)
However, back to the beach. We moved inland with tongue in cheek but
there was no opposition.
Finding some open ground, we got settled down and some blokes were sent
to scout out the land and report back while over there two officers were
having an argument as to who had seniority.
The Sergeant came over to me and said, "You know what to do with
that," nodding at the rifle
hanging on the sling over my shoulder, and he continued with, "Get
grub where yu can and watch yersel'."
We carried on as if we had come here to sight-see. Indeed we were greeted
by the locals as
long-lost friends. They were very nice people and to my delight two
of us were invited to have a meal in this little house. As I watched the
lady prepare the meal I saw how they cooked eggs. Instead of frying them
as we do, she just broke the shell and dropped the eggs into a pot of hot
olive oil.
Then the lady put what looked like rocks on the table and said"
psomi" and because we looked
puzzled she got one of these rocks and dipped it into the wine glass.
So we copied her and found that it was indeed bread that was dried so it
would keep for hard times. Dipping it for a short time in wine made it
edible again.
Then some one screamed, "Aircraft!" and some-one else joined
in with, "Paratroops!" Everyone
leapt to their feet. It was in fact a false alarm, but an aircraft had
indeed flown over because a few minutes later sheets of paper began to
float down every where.
I can't remember the exact wording but the jist of the message was,
"Lay down your arms and
we will treat you well. Resist us and we will bomb your villages and
towns to ashes, and if a German soldier is killed, we will kill ten of
you as a reprisal."
Needless to say a lot of fingers jerked skyward
About two days went by and I was sitting in the back of a Morris truck
(the one with a wedge
shaped front) with a couple of other blokes when some one shouted, "Aircraft!"
I looked up, and now above the noise of our engine I could hear the Stuka
as it seemed to be coming straight down on us. The screaming noise it made
grew louder and louder and everything seemed to shrink except the Stuka
as it got bigger and bigger, and the shrieking siren seemed like it was
going to pierce the ear drums.
The truck suddenly pulled up and we leapt for our lives and ran to a
gully at the side of the road and
jumped right into a bunch of thorns just as the bomb detached and the
Stuka hauled itself out of its dive. At first I thought, he's left it too
late, and waited for the crash but he swooped away. Then then there was
such a crash like I had never heard before as the bomb hit the truck and
bits of metal and debris went flying all over the place.
The truck was a write off and one of our blokes said, "therrre
goes ma no claims bonus." I noticed
he had a lot of blood on his leg, and when I inquired he said, "Och,
dinna wurry aboot et, they ruddy thorrrns en the ditch ye ken."
The next day the Stuka came back. This time one of our lads had got
a Bren gun mounted on a
tripod. We were sitting under an olive tree enjoying the shade when
we heard the Stuka a long time before he got to us. I stayed put under
the tree with the others but one of our blokes dashed out to where the
bren was mounted and was shouting, "Come on you bastard, have a taste
of this!" Pulling back on the cocking handle, he swivelled round to
get a bead on the now approaching Stuka. Because he was not under cover
the Stuka pilot spotted the movement, changed course and began his dive
at the same time he opened up with machine guns.
We got round the other side of the tree while screaming to the bloke
to leave it and take cover, but
he was obsessed with the Stuka. He ripped off the used magazine and
while he was putting the new magazine on it looked like a huge blast of
wind and big hail slammed him to the ground and he stayed there still.
The Stuka climbed up and away.
I didn't know his name. I wished I did but I think that bloke should
have got the highest award.
Someone did get his dog tags and I heard him say, "You will always
be remembered mate, no question, and Ah'll see to it yu git a medal."
Later I heard one company was moving out. "We're off to Heraklion,
mate," I heard, so I decided I
would tag along. But as they moved out I got on higher ground so I could
see better and kept more or less in sight of them. But I soon got left
behind because I had to negotiate rough country while they were on the
track.
I was on the lookout for the slightest movement up ahead, so I would
take cover and survey the
terrain then move quickly to another location. I had just crouched behind
a bush when I could see the silhouette of a man behind the bush to my right
at about thirty yards.
I got a rock and hurled it at the bush and the man rose pulling up his
breeks. When he saw the gun
pointing at him he gabbled away in Greek and his hands shot in the air
and his breeks fell down, so as I knew he was no German. I lowered the
rifle and he again pulled up his dacks and tied them with string round
the waist. He stood grinning not knowing what I wanted him to do, so I
did the walking bit with my fingers and pointed to the distant village
and he grasped it straight away. With a hesitant wave he scurried away.
Later in the afternoon I heard firing in the distance and they were
Lee Enfields, the Rolls Royce of
Rifles. You can tell a Lee Enfield. It's like someone hitting a pan
of stiff dough and withdrawing their fist quickly, there is a kind of back-echo
like no other rifle.
There was also a Spandau machine gun and the sharp crack of Mauser rifles
and suddenly I got just
the merest scent coming downwind. I crouched under cover. It was hot
and I had my mouth open because you can hear better, and keeping still
and quiet I waited and waited as the sweat trickled down my back.
After about twenty minutes I saw a pair of horns start to bob up and
down at the crest of the hill and
now and then a faint metalic tink, tink. Bloody goats, I thought.
I moved and the goat caught the movement and stood stock-still staring
at me. Then with a thin bleat
it whirled and was gone the way it came, the bell round its neck jangling
and jingling, or was it jingling and jangling? Don't matter, it was a bloody
noise and would draw attention.
I stayed put a long time under the bush because I knew if someone with
binocs had seen that goats
behaviour he would know some one was here. I began to doze. Then a breath
of wind caught the leaves and they rustled as if to say, "It's time
you were gone," so I took the hint but not before I had a good look
round with my scope.
I could still hear sporadic firing, and working ever closer I discovered,
upon looking over the top of
some rocks that some of our blokes were having a ball with a mob of
Jerries. I was about nine hundred yards away up the hill side and the bloke
who caught my eye was using a Spandau.
I aimed at the hairs sticking out of his ears and let go just as he
was firing a burst. He sort of
keeled over, still holding the gun to his shoulder. The gun fell down
and he sagged but the others were now looking wildly around, not knowing
where the shot had come from.
I was long gone and had a new position next to a tree with a thick bush
at the bottom of it. I was
now peering through this bush at the antics of the Jerries. One had
braid on his lapels, indicating he was a Feldwabel (Sergeant) and he was
screaming orders when he suddenly clutched his neck and fell to remain
still.
Four more followed him and I suddenly realised I dare not shoot at the
others because I had
worked my way round and they had suddenly moved. If any of my shots
ricocheted I could hit my own men. But the Jerries had had enough and melted
into the trees.
I potted at different groups. The ones I liked to upset were groups
having a rest in the shade. They
would have the helmet over the eyes and maybe one would be reading a
book when I would let go--and the one reading the book would get a bullet
through the ear and the others would look round at the hills when they
heard a shot in the distance and shrug. It was not until someone spoke
to the reader that they realised he was never going to finish the story.
I had to work my way back to get more ammo and a decent meal. I had
been living on locust beans
and was getting sick of them. Also I wanted a good swim in the sea.
I was getting heat or sweat rash.
You have to be just as cautious disengaging from the enemy because a
sniper could get behind you.
I got back okay and scrounged some food, had a swim and collected some
ammo, which I hid and marked. Then went back the next day and it was a
different bloke so I asked for more ammo and I had about three hundred
and fifty rounds. Well, I had two cloth bandoliers round my waist, one
over each shoulder, and one in each bren gun pouch, plus some loose rounds.
The ones over my shoulders I hid further out so I did not have to come
all the way back, because 350 rounds are heavy when you want to move quietly
and quickly. By the way, a cloth bandolier holds 50 rounds.
I did a bit more foraging in the general direction of Heraklion and
thinned out a few more weeds so
to speak, and I would keep coming back to base.
One day I went to the top of a hill and looked over. The view was magnificent,
and because there
was a track or rough road in the distance I thought if anyone were to
come this way they would come along that road, so I made it a regular place
to lay and observe the landscape.
On one afternoon I saw dust in the distance and then it went behind
a shoulder of a hill. Then a bit
later, as I watched, it appeared again. It was too far away to make
out what it was because of the heat shimmering in the distance. Again it
dissapeared behind a hill-- then as I watched the next bit where the road
came from behind a hill a bit nearer I saw this motorcycle and sidecar
gradually taking shape as it rounded the base of the hill.
I looked through my scope and could make out a bloke sitting in the
side car behind a mounted
machine gun. He and the driver both had goggles on and the driver had
a rifle slung over his back.
I saw there were a few trees and bushes where they were, so I waited,
because as they drew nearer
and clearer they were soon going to be where there was no cover.
I did a quick check round and I was alone under the cover of my favourite
bush, so all I had to do
was wait.
There was an aircraft somewhere, but he was way up high and since I
was under this bush there was
no way he could see me. Now I could faintly hear the engine of the motor
bike and it was echoing from the hills, so it sounded like a whole mob
of motor bikes were coming.
Then I thought, that's as far as you go Fritz. He was
about 900 yards
away. I didn't really know his
name, I just stabbed at it, and he sort of curled up and fell off.
The bloke in the side car stood up and it flashed through my mind when
the photographer takes a
picture he says "smile please" and as every one smiles he
snaps the pic. Well this was a bit like that. As he stood up I snapped
and he collapsed in a heap on the road. The motor bike kept on going until
it veered and hit a rock and stopped.
Well I think it did but I'm not sure because suddenly I got a bang on
my tin hat and I saw lots of
pretty stars.
