speed, mainly thanks to the laxity of Luftwaffe radio procedure. This signals intelligence was never sufficiently immediate to lay elaborate traps for the advancing enemy — W Force in any case lacked the command and control, training and equipment to make the most of such opportunities — but it certainly helped save the British and Dominion forces from disaster. Security regulations surrounding Ultra material prevented the British from sharing this information with the Greeks, but since their army on the Albanian front was pitifully short of transport, it probably made little difference. Papagos did not begin the withdrawal across the Pindus mountains until 13 April. As a result the Germans managed to force an armoured wedge between W
Force and his right-hand divisions which soon led to their encirclement.
The enemy spear-point on the Monastir front, including the Adolf Hitler Liebstandarten, never slackened in attack, but the crudity of German armoured tactics revealed how little resistance they had come to expect. In the passes between the Vernion and Vermon mountain ranges, the guns of the 1st Armoured Brigade, including the 2nd Royal Horse Artillery's twenty-five pounders fired over open sights, inflicted heavy losses on a number of occasions, but the worn-out M.10 cruisers of the 3rd Royal Tank Regiment were breaking down. Tracks designed for the desert came off regularly and spare parts generally were in depressingly short supply. With little time for anything except the simplest repair, mechanical casualties had to be abandoned at the side of the road and set on fire.
An effective holding action was fought just south of Ptolomais, where a troop of the Northumberland Hussars, with anti-tank guns mounted on the back of their portee lorries, knocked out eight panzers in
'quite a nice bit of shooting'. Nearby, a mixed force of New Zealand machine-gunners, a troop of the 3rd Tanks and a battery of the 2nd Royal Horse Artillery opened up. The weight of fire convinced the enemy that they were facing a whole armoured division. But this was a rare success. A leap-frog retreat from gorge to mountain pass developed. Sometimes German bombing blasted the road from the shale-covered hillside. Gerry de Winton remembered 'a hole twenty yards long in a hillside road which the command vehicle crew filled with dead mules rivetted with castaway Greek rifles.'
In retreat, rumours spread even more feverishly. Most were desperate attempts at optimism: a Canadian division had landed at Salonika to take the Germans in the rear, several hundred Spitfires had miraculously arrived. The Greeks were far more fatalistic, and also generous. British troops, touched and embarrassed, found themselves feted by Greek villagers each time they pulled out. The commanding officer of one regiment was held up when the priest insisted on blessing his staff car with holy water.
Greek feelings towards the enemy were often demonstrated in a less pacific manner. Gerry de Winton, on seeing a German pilot bale out from his aircraft and parachute into a copse just outside a village, went forward to take him prisoner. A group of civilian mechanics barred his way. 'You stay out,' they told him, brandishing heavy spanners. 'We'll settle this.'
Air attacks, few in number at first, had stepped up once the rain and snow cleared. Mark Norman of Yak Mission remembered how the clarity of the sky could produce a curious optical effect. Spotting a Stuka poised to dive, he had hurled himself from their truck into the roadside ditch. Glancing back at their attacker, he saw it flap its wings. In that brilliant light 'a hawk at two hundred feet looked just like a Stuka at two thousand'.
The other bird to cause confusion was the stork. Alighting in great numbers in the course of their northern migration, they provoked wild reports of parachute landings. Other birds caused only pleasure. A member of the rearguard described listening to nightingales in a wood near Atlante
Force and his right-hand divisions which soon led to their encirclement.
The enemy spear-point on the Monastir front, including the Adolf Hitler Liebstandarten, never slackened in attack, but the crudity of German armoured tactics revealed how little resistance they had come to expect. In the passes between the Vernion and Vermon mountain ranges, the guns of the 1st Armoured Brigade, including the 2nd Royal Horse Artillery's twenty-five pounders fired over open sights, inflicted heavy losses on a number of occasions, but the worn-out M.10 cruisers of the 3rd Royal Tank Regiment were breaking down. Tracks designed for the desert came off regularly and spare parts generally were in depressingly short supply. With little time for anything except the simplest repair, mechanical casualties had to be abandoned at the side of the road and set on fire.
An effective holding action was fought just south of Ptolomais, where a troop of the Northumberland Hussars, with anti-tank guns mounted on the back of their portee lorries, knocked out eight panzers in
'quite a nice bit of shooting'. Nearby, a mixed force of New Zealand machine-gunners, a troop of the 3rd Tanks and a battery of the 2nd Royal Horse Artillery opened up. The weight of fire convinced the enemy that they were facing a whole armoured division. But this was a rare success. A leap-frog retreat from gorge to mountain pass developed. Sometimes German bombing blasted the road from the shale-covered hillside. Gerry de Winton remembered 'a hole twenty yards long in a hillside road which the command vehicle crew filled with dead mules rivetted with castaway Greek rifles.'
In retreat, rumours spread even more feverishly. Most were desperate attempts at optimism: a Canadian division had landed at Salonika to take the Germans in the rear, several hundred Spitfires had miraculously arrived. The Greeks were far more fatalistic, and also generous. British troops, touched and embarrassed, found themselves feted by Greek villagers each time they pulled out. The commanding officer of one regiment was held up when the priest insisted on blessing his staff car with holy water.
Greek feelings towards the enemy were often demonstrated in a less pacific manner. Gerry de Winton, on seeing a German pilot bale out from his aircraft and parachute into a copse just outside a village, went forward to take him prisoner. A group of civilian mechanics barred his way. 'You stay out,' they told him, brandishing heavy spanners. 'We'll settle this.'
Air attacks, few in number at first, had stepped up once the rain and snow cleared. Mark Norman of Yak Mission remembered how the clarity of the sky could produce a curious optical effect. Spotting a Stuka poised to dive, he had hurled himself from their truck into the roadside ditch. Glancing back at their attacker, he saw it flap its wings. In that brilliant light 'a hawk at two hundred feet looked just like a Stuka at two thousand'.
The other bird to cause confusion was the stork. Alighting in great numbers in the course of their northern migration, they provoked wild reports of parachute landings. Other birds caused only pleasure. A member of the rearguard described listening to nightingales in a wood near Atlante
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