‘Collyer. We’ve been told to send someone to HQ in Athens. They need a report, apparently. Bloody waste of time at this point but …’ He sighed. The colonel, a middle-aged man with close-cut grey hair and a sculpted face that always reminded Tom of a pharaoh he’d seen in the museum at Alexandria, looked at Tom with eyes that hadn’t been rested for days. He wasn’t a bad type, Tom had decided. In fact he was a rather good type, always quick to encourage and not afraid to stand on the gun line, even when things were very tricky indeed. ‘Can’t really spare anyone but it’ll have to be you, Collyer. I want you to take a car – ask the quartermaster.’ The orderly officer, a red-faced man with a sparse moustache and a receding chin, jogged over at that point and said something to the colonel. ‘And Collyer, you need to give a couple of Signals chaps a ride to Marathon. It’s out of your way, I’m afraid.’

‘OK, sir.’ Tom saluted wearily. The colonel wiped his face with a sleeve and stuck his unlit pipe between his teeth. A flight of stukas was passing overhead. As the two men watched, they banked and their sirens began to screech. A few moments later, dull explosions rolled across from the direction of Thebes.

‘Not quite a shambles, Collyer, eh? Not quite. Not yet. A bloody mess, but not a shambles.’ He tapped his teeth loudly with the stem of his pipe, looking around at the portees and trucks. ‘You’re GPO of C Battery, aren’t you?’ Tom nodded obediently. The colonel knew perfectly well who he was. ‘Seeing as you got thrown in at the deep end, and you should have been troop leader, not GPO, you’ve done bloody well. Anyway, can’t have a second lieutenant as GPO, so I’m promoting you to lieutenant, effective immediately.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Tom said reluctantly.

‘You’re a good officer, Collyer,’ the colonel told him. ‘Hate to use you as an errand boy, but if you have to be one, you may as well outrank the Signallers, eh?’ The pipe went back between his teeth and he winked at Tom. ‘Hope I’ll see you on the beach at Rafina tonight. Best of luck, old man. Oh, and here’s another order for you: scrounge up as much petrol as you can and get it to our muster points. Know where those are?’

‘Roughly – around Markopoulon, sir.’

‘Roughly.’ The colonel chuckled bitterly. ‘There are fuel dumps in Athens – probably a lot more on the docks at Piraeus. Find some Divisional Petrol Company drivers and get them to Markopoulon on the bloody double. Clear?’

‘Clear, sir.’

‘Good man. Well, best of luck, Collyer.’

‘And to you, sir.’