As the afternoon wore on all waited impatiently for darkness, and when it came the really trying time began. None doubted the Royal Navy; yet as the parties began to move through the 19th's lines down to the beaches, every man who had a watch consulted it frequently and anxiously. The other battalions and units out in front seemed to take hours to come through the position. Four o'clock next morning was the deadline; after that those still on land would be left behind. Would the enemy attack before the job was completed? What would happen if the battalion did not make it? A thousand and one such questions and theories were developed in each man's mind as, crouching in his post, he waited—waited—waited. A smaller perimeter was made at 9 and again at 11 p.m.; parties from the rear, however, kept on coming and as the darkness swallowed them up it grew cold. Some worthy souls worked full time over a primus brewing tea.

At last came whispered orders for the withdrawal—but not yet. In companies, by platoons, with Headquarters Company the last to go and the signals platoon as rearguard for that company. The wrist watches in the last platoons still ticked on—2.45 a.m.—movement began at last. The guide led on down a track to the shore. Here busy black figures could be dimly discerned sorting out the patches of troops crowded together waiting their turn for the caiques and whaleboats which would ferry them out to the warships. God bless the Navy!

The rear elements halted again while the little ships disappeared, the men standing in the darkness listening to the lapping of the water on the beach and the chugging of engines as a pinnace fussed about helping the more clumsy craft out in the bay. There were no doubts now. The embarkation was going according to plan, but time, too, was moving on. Each man was still weighted down with weapons, ammunition, respirators and other items of army impedimenta. The Sigs had lugged all their instruments, from telephone exchanges to signal satchels, with them. It was a wasted effort for the naval guide ordered that everything except weapons and ammunition should be destroyed. Haversacks had to be discarded. All extra clothing was to go, respirators also. Sorrowfully the signallers broke, tramped on, and tore apart the delicate instruments they had so carefully nurtured and carried throughout the whole campaign. Clad now in bare necessities only, with weapons, ammunition, webb and water bottle, they moved on once more. ‘Every alternate man to the left’ was the order, and so the last platoon split up and filed to their ferries.

The last caique to leave the jetty was loaded to capacity. The Royal Navy crew worked feverishly to get every man aboard and when they cast off she was so deeply laden that her bow stuck firm. The engines raced full astern but to no avail. It was a case of get off and push, and on to the jetty leaped a dozen or so of her passengers. While they pushed the others moved towards the stern, rocking the boat in an endeavour to get her free. With a rush that threatened to leave the jetty party stranded she swung clear, and in the mad scramble to jump on to her fast receding bow, two fell into the water. They were fished out quickly and the caique headed out into the bay.

Even when the dim shape of the destroyer Kimberley loomed up out of the darkness the caique's troubles were not over. Wind and current were conspiring against her, and twice she missed the lines while the crew tried to bring her alongside. It was nearly 4 a.m. and the skipper of the Kimberley was getting anxious—so were the soldiers.

Everybody was edgy. It was right on the deadline for sailing and it seemed an interminable time before the caique slowly came about again. Those on her felt that they were fated to circle round in the darkness for ever. But this time there was no mistake, and as she made fast, eager hands reached out from the destroyer's deck to pull the troops aboard. How many men that last caique carried has never been recorded; their transfer to the warship, however, was over in a few seconds. The wounded were helped off, a few stretcher cases hoisted up; then as the caique cast off, Kimberley trembled to the turning of her screws and moved out and away from the mainland.

Passed along amidships by cheerful sailors, the troops crowded below decks and squatted to drink the welcome mugs of steaming hot cocoa which had been handed to each man as he was shepherded to his place. A tin of cigarettes followed the cocoa and curious and admiring sailors stood about fingering the weapons. ‘Blimey,’ said one, ‘Look at this!’ He drew a machete from its sheath and passed it to his friends. This to them was the army version of the cutlass and it was handed around ceremoniously for inspection. Then another picked up a tommy gun—by the trigger. The resulting burst ricocheted round the steel walls but fortunately no one was hurt. Amid the oaths a very startled sailor was heard to exclaim: ‘Eee lad, but they're a bloodthirsty lotta fellas!’

So 4 New Zealand Infantry Brigade Group left Greece. Ajax, Kimberley, and Kingston carried them safely out into the night and into the Mediterranean. ‘The Navy, God bless them!’ was the last thought of many a weary man as he dropped to sleep, sprawled serene and undisturbed against the steel bosom of a British warship.

The New Zealand Division had now tasted war, had faced its hardships and fought against heavy odds. In the bitterness of withdrawal they had proved their worth as men and as fighting units. Sticking together, carrying their wounded with them, they had as a complete force made their way through the whole length of Greece. Neither fatigue nor foe had stopped them. Fifth Brigade, and now the 4th, were safely away. The 6th would soon follow. With the last caique on to the Kimberley had come the commander of 4 Brigade, Brigadier Puttick, who of his men could say: ‘The conduct of all ranks during the operations was of the highest order’. Of his own leadership, and of the mettle of the units he commanded in a difficult campaign, there can be no finer tribute than that paid by General Godley, the commander of 1 New Zealand Division in the 1914–18 War. He wrote:

My Dear Puttick,

I have just been listening on the wireless to the account of your most gallant and splendid rear-guard action and must send a line to congratulate you and your Brigade on a feat of arms which will be a glorious page in the military history, not only of New Zealand, but of the whole Empire. Will you please convey my warmest congratulations and good wishes to all ranks of your Brigade and tell them their performance makes me prouder than ever of having been a New Zealand soldier.

Good luck to you all.

Yours sincerely, Alex Godley

Next morning as dawn broke fine and clear, the few figures who rose from sleep on the throbbing deck of the destroyer watched the sunrise playing on the wake foaming at the stern. Sitting relaxed, and secure, the events of the last month seemed to have been a dream. Every man had but one wish now: to sleep on and on and on.

The 25th April (Anzac Day) saw a dawn parade for Wellington West Coast Company. At 4 a.m. the Company Commander, Major Gordon,

Maj R. K. Gordon, ED; Wanganui; born Bulls, 19 Feb 1899; school teacher; wounded and p.w. 26 Apr 1941.

The company had been cast for an important role. The Corinth Canal bridge and the road leading to it were vital to the evacuation plan for 4 Brigade, which was to be taken off by the Royal Navy at Megara on the following night, 26 April. If this plan should miscarry, then the brigade would cross the Corinth Canal and be evacuated from one of the beaches in the Peloponnese near Navplion.

Early that morning 6 Brigade crossed the canal bridge and before daylight lay up near Miloi, just south of Argos. Fourth Brigade would go next. The canal, unguarded since the Greeks were evacuated from their positions some days before, was an obstacle which, if the enemy were to destroy the bridge, could seal the fate of the troops on the north side. Once our forces were across, however, its destruction by us would delay the German advance and allow more time for evacuation.

Headquarters British Troops in Greece therefore ordered that Isthmus Force should be formed and despatched to carry out the following tasks:

Should 4 Brigade be successfully evacuated from Megara, the demolitions would be fired and Isthmus Force would make for Navplion and be taken off there. If, however, 4 Brigade had to cross the canal, the force would come under its orders once more.

Isthmus Force included Wellington West Coast Company of 19 Battalion, one section of the British 122 Light Anti-Aircraft Battery, 6 Field Company New Zealand Engineers, one squadron of the Divisional Cavalry, a small detachment of the Royal Hussars and some Royal Engineers. Major Gordon was to command the force, and he set off immediately for a rendezvous with the representatives of the other units, timed to take place at Kolatski at 10.30 a.m.

Loading up with six days' rations, the company, under Lieutenant Harold Heiford, moved off to take up a preliminary position astride the road north of Loutraki, where it was thought likely that the enemy might attempt to get through. They made the trip without incident and set up on high ground overlooking the canal.

Meanwhile OC Isthmus Force was the sole arrival at the Kolatski rendezvous: it transpired later that the other representatives did not receive their orders until that afternoon. However, on proceeding to Corinth Bridge, Major Gordon found that a company of Australian infantry had been taken out of the withdrawing forces and now occupied the

The presence of these additional Australian troops was most welcome, for already the enemy was displaying much interest in the position and the anti-aircraft guns were bombed several times during the day. With the strong possibility of enemy aircraft landing between Loutraki and the canal, where the country was flat and suitable, it was deemed wise to move two of the platoons from Wellington West Coast Company down from the high ground and closer to the canal.

That evening Company Headquarters and 11 and 12 Platoons moved to a small fir-covered hill to the north-east of the bridge and some 800 yards away from it. No. 10 Platoon remained on the Loutraki road about three miles away. The new positions were taken up at dusk and the two platoons dug in, then made contact with the troops round the bridge to let them know their dispositions. The next move was up to the enemy. At daylight next morning (the 26th) it came.

Just after dawn a vicious dive-bombing attack, directed particularly against the anti-aircraft guns guarding the bridge, commenced and was kept up until the last gun was put out of action. Ground strafing then started and suddenly the air was full of planes. While the fighters mercilessly gunned the Australian positions, troop-carrying aircraft came slowly down, turned into the wind and, when at about three to four hundred feet, disgorged their cargoes. The paratroops dropped mainly between the bridge and the two platoons. Obviously the company's position under cover of the firs was unknown to the enemy and he had not reckoned with their presence. Those who dropped within range were soon disposed of.

The Aussies were overwhelmed immediately and the tanks, too, were forced to withdraw under the concentrated air attack. The enemy was putting in an all-out effort to take the bridge intact. Anxious to make every shot tell, Wellington West Coast Company pushed forward an attack. But enemy reinforcements were constantly arriving and the second wave of troop-carrying aircraft numbered no fewer than ninety-seven. Paratroops now were dropping all around, and some who had got into position were beginning to take a toll of the 19th's men, but the company fought on. At this stage there was a tremendous explosion and Corinth Bridge, which the Hun had already flattered himself was in his hands, blew up. With it went a German photographer who was standing on one of the piers filming its capture. The sappers had done their work well.

With the blowing of the bridge the German attacking force turned its whole attention to the area in which our men were operating, and heavy fire was brought to bear from both flanks. The position was hopeless, and Major Gordon began to withdraw his men. They would try to reach the brigade, which was thought to be at Megara, Privates Jones and Sullivan volunteering to try to get back and let Headquarters know what was happening. Disengaging was difficult, for now they were being fired at from three sides. Gordon and both his subalterns (Second Lieutenants Chas Ferguson

Capt C. A. L. Ferguson; Gisborne; born Gisborne, 2 Oct 1915; hardware salesman; wounded and p.w. 26 Apr 1941.

After the CSM's party withdrew the enemy advanced and picked up our wounded men. They were obviously disconcerted by the unexpected resistance they had encountered and chagrined over the destruction of the bridge. The two platoons had upset their carefully laid plans and caused them heavy casualties. It was learned later from Australian officers, who after capture had been made to assist, that they had buried no fewer than eighty-eight German dead. Many more paratroops were wounded.

The Germans themselves, writing of the action, said: ‘In the storming of “Blood Hill” too, as the little fir covered mountain to the north east has been called since yesterday— the Britishers with troops from their auxiliary nations had dug themselves in properly. Many were placed in the trees barely visible—and didn't they shoot well!’

As the paratroops were collecting our wounded, Jones and his party fought their way out of the bridge area and made for Megara, but unable to get through, took to the hills. While their supplies and ammunition held they carried on a guerrilla fight with Hun parties. Several highly successful ambushes were staged and enemy transport and troops suffered some rude shocks. As the day wore on, however, and the area became thickly occupied by the Wehrmacht, they were forced to split up into smaller parties. Supplies, too, became a problem. Some men tried to get away by sea but were picked up in the attempt. Some were wounded in skirmishes, and some were betrayed by fifth columnists.

Privates Hill,

Pte A. R. Hill; Taikorea, Rongotea; born NZ, 24 Jul 1918; farmer.

While the battle for the bridge raged below them at Corinth, the men of 10 Platoon at Loutraki were at a loss to know what to do. They could see the paratroops landing three miles away, they heard the firing and the explosion as the bridge blew up, but, obeying orders, they sat astride the road expecting either the brigade or the Hun at any minute. Their visual signals to Company Headquarters were not answered and there was no other method of communication. At midday Greek civilians told them the Germans were in the village below. It was then obvious that the game was up.

Lieutenant Heiford decided to try to get back to the unit and he and his men lay concealed and waited for darkness. About dusk they captured a German paratroop officer riding one of the motor-cycles formerly belonging to their own Company Headquarters. He was evidently out for a joyride and was drunk. When darkness fell the platoon, with its captive, set off for the sea, intending to get a boat across the gulf and make for the unit positions at Kriekouki.

Their furtive progress northwards and their difficult task in locating boats took until almost daylight on the 27th. It was clear that it would be inviting trouble to make the attempt then, for they would have hardly left the shore before they would be discovered. Once more the platoon hid to wait for darkness. A Greek fisherman had promised his motor-boat for the next night, and provided they could see the day out, things looked rosy. The captured German officer proved their undoing. Agitated and now very sober, he did some talking to some civilians who visited the cave in which the platoon was hiding. At midday Greek police arrived as emissaries for the German Army—the cave was surrounded.

The story of Wellington West Coast Company told as the experiences of its individual members would fill many books. The battalion learned the brief facts of the engagement at Corinth from the two men, Privates Jones and Sullivan, whose stout journey back to the unit is well worth recording. Ordered by their wounded company commander to get back as quickly as possible to Brigade with the news of the destruction of the bridge and the overwhelming of Isthmus Force, they took the company truck and, avoiding the roads, set off for the hills to the north-east, bypassing the area in which the enemy were active. They intended to pick up the road again on the outskirts of Megara. After a long period of rough cross-country driving they were compelled to abandon their vehicle, and decided to try for the main road on foot. When they reached it they hid in the scrub until a civilian car appeared. They stopped the driver, found he was headed for Athens via Megara, and learned that the enemy was already in the latter place. They took a risk and, lying on the floor of the car, sped through the town; once clear, they left the Greek to go on his way and set off on foot once more towards Villia, where the brigade had last been located.

Darkness fell, but they plodded on, fighting off fatigue and fearful that at any moment they might walk into enemy hands. About 10 p.m. they hit the road once more and dived quickly for cover at the sound of approaching vehicles. They were Bren carriers—their caution gave place to relief and, rushing out, they contacted Lieutenant-Colonel Kippenberger and part of the brigade rearguard. After telling their story they were picked up and taken to a spot where they were told to await the arrival of a liaison officer.