Free Corporal Cotton's Little War by John Harris Page A

call after departing guests. ‘Thank you. Perhaps God will assist us.’
    Staring back, he frowned, uncertain and worried. He’ll need to, he decided.

5

    In the headquarters he had set up in the Hotel Potomakis in Kalani, Major Baldamus sat back and considered his position.
    He had done well in France and his promotion had been rapid, but he was also clever enough to have kept his nose clean without claiming that he was part of a master race. He hadn’t particularly wanted a war but, having got one, he was determined to get the best out of it; especially here on Aeos, where he felt he was ideally suited for the job he’d been given. He spoke excellent Greek, had spent a lot of time as an archaeological student in the islands during the thirties, and had used his money to make sure he did it with a certain amount of aplomb. He was, in fact, a German version of Lieutenant Patullo, whom, oddly enough, he had even once met in the Parthenon Hotel in Athens before the war.
    A flight of Messerschmitts had just reached the island to support him and, to maintain them, two more transports loaded with fuel, spares, fitters and riggers. Every public office was already controlled by his men, under the efficient Captain Ehrhardt, and the mayor and the island officials were still under lock and key until he could decide what to do with them. Everything seemed highly satisfactory and he was happy that he had not been obliged to call on the bombers to break the islanders’ will.
    He shifted in his chair and lit a cigar. Contemplating the blue smoke with a certain amount of satisfaction, he felt he had a right to be pleased with himself. It had been a bold stroke to take over Aeos so far in advance of the Wehrmacht. It had been captured entirely by airborne troops and, as General Ritsicz had said, could well be a pattern for the future. Because of the speed, with every hour that passed Baldamus’ position grew stronger, and there was no doubt in his mind that eventually the Germans would control the whole of the mainland and the Greek archipelago as well. From the outset of the Balkan campaign, the British and Greek troops had been falling back in the face of strong and determined attacks.
    Belgrade and Skoplje were secure now, he’d heard, and the panzers were already pouring into Greece. The British would inevitably have to form a new line near Mount Olympus and the River Aliakman - and then only until the growing German flanking movement in the west compelled a further withdrawal. They hadn’t a chance. They were suffering intensely from bombing, because when Field Marshal List’s 12th Army with twelve first-class divisions and over 800 aircraft had started their advance, the RAF in Greece had possessed only eighty usable machines out of a strength of 150; the rest were already unserviceable on airfields all over the country. Once the panzers were completely through the passes and had seized the Salonika plain to establish fighter bases supported and maintained like his own by transports, there would not be a single British unit that could not come under intense and constant air attack, while in the rear every sector of military organization, ports and aerodromes could suffer incessant bombing.
    Major Baldamus decided he didn’t have a lot to worry about. He had the island nicely wrapped up. The population chiefly lived in the north round Kalani and, since he controlled that and the airstrip at Yanitsa, it seemed his worries were over. Surely there could be only a few more days to hang on. The transports and Messerschmitts were merely the first of the supporting units to arrive and, with the build-up going well, he no longer had any fear of a rising against him because the rest of the island consisted of mere hamlets and groups of farms. Though he could hardly patrol them all, he preferred in any case to keep his people close together. It was one of the first principles of soldiering and, since Major Baldamus was rather out on a