1941
The Italians had invaded Greece in October 1940, which had triggered an agreement that would oblige the British to come to the aid of the Greeks. The British had responded with a modest force while the Greeks themselves repulsed the invaders.
In November, anticipating a buildup of British forces, Hitler had decided to occupy northern Greece. But that hadn’t been enough for him. The following month he had changed his mind and made plans to take over the whole country. Hitler’s main aim was to attack Russia, but first he wanted to clean up Greece, which from a German military point of view was in an untidy state. Churchill had responded in February 1941 by committing Commonwealth forces, including Anzacs, in a hasty and ill-conceived plan.
On 6 April 1941 the Germans advanced from Bulgaria against Yugoslavia and Greece. On the same day, 17th Brigade left for Alexandria to join 16th and 19th Brigades and New Zealand troops who were already there.
Hitler had been unimpressed by Italian efforts on the Greek and Libyan fronts, and he pushed his troops at both with strict orders to take control in both countries within weeks. In Libya, the Germans quickly pushed back the occupying Australian 9th Division. Blamey, who was in Greece, split 7th Division, sending one brigade to Tobruk and another into Mersa Matruh in the hope of halting the fresh enemy onslaught.
The Germans began their blitzkrieg against Yugoslavia and Greece with six armoured divisions, four mountain divisions and 16 infantry divisions. Most importantly, there was hefty support of 60 Luftwaffe squadrons, including hundreds of Stukas and other fighter planes.
The Germans were determined to conquer Greece mainly with this innovative and efficient dive bomber. It was taking the place of artillery. They had stolen a march on the Allies in World War I by putting nearly all their betting chips on artillery. In this war they were ahead of the game again by relying on the Stukas, along with tanks and artillery. The British and Anzacs had come unprepared for them.
The coming battles were destined to be hideously one-sided given the comparatively puny Allied force. It included three Greek divisions, which were quickly broken up and were fighting unit by unit because of the weight of the enemy attacks. There was also one New Zealand division, Australian 6th Division, a British armoured brigade, and feeble air support from just eight RAF squadrons of mainly obsolete aircraft, Lysander trainers.
The lack of adequate air support for the troops was the worst aspect of the Allies’ hasty preparation. There would be few British planes to take on the deadly Stukas, or carry out retaliatory bombing of German bases. The Allies’ advance airbases in Greece were small in number. Those in place were blitzed and knocked out of action almost overnight. German Messerschmitt fighter aircraft hedge-hopped over the mountains, hitting one airfield after another and wiping out entire squadrons of British planes. Destructive waves of these German craft, and of the Heinkel – the first single-seater, turbo-jet fighter – never stopped. British crews often had no chance to jump into their Hurricane bombers, let alone load them. The Messerschmitt pilots were cunning and well organised tactically. They would fly high, drawing ack-ack fire, then slice down beneath it to machine-gun the grounded and helpless British planes. This nullified any Allied effort in the air and left all ground troops vulnerable.
Many thought this overall masterstroke by the Germans would end the Greek war before it began. But with full British-bulldog stubbornness, Churchill and his planners went ahead with the campaign.
Allied propaganda was suggesting that the Stukas were cumbersome and had to be escorted by fighter planes. This gave every Allied gunner a sense that they could fight back. The Australian gunners were almost all gamblers, and they liked the chance that they could win at least a few encounters from the ground.
The Stuka did have some vulnerabilities, which had first been exposed in the Battle of Britain in 1940. It had poor manoeuvrability, it was slow and it lacked good defensive armament. This information had been passed on to all the 6th Division gunners. They were told that if they fixed their sights on one coming in, and if they could hold their nerve as it roared and whined at them, they had a chance of more than the odd kill. Yet it was never easy for defenders on the ground. The ugly truth was that, without a fight in the air and protection from British aircraft, the gunners on the ground were in for a torrid time.
***
In these less than adequate circumstances, 16th Brigade began to take over the road and rail junction at Veria Pass in northern Greece, 400 kilometres from Athens. On 8 April, 19th Brigade reached Vevi, covering the central road and railway from Monastir Gap in Yugoslavia. Most of the fighting would be in icy-cold mountains with poor supply and communication lines.
The Germans and British forces engaged for the first time on 10 April, when the British and the Greeks had decided to withdraw to a line across Greece 240 kilometres north of Athens.
The next day, Savige’s 17th Brigade was approaching the coast on a transport ship, unaware of a Luftwaffe onslaught the night before. It was an uplifting moment for all members of the battalion, who had endured the bland rock and sand of Libya’s barren desert. Here at last would be a vista of vivid, dark green, the ground covered in grass and ferns with large fronds, around neat, sloping rows of sandy-coloured villas. But as their transport ship steamed closer, it became clear that Athens’s Piraeus Harbour was a different matter. It had been hit so hard by the Stukas that it was inoperable.
Their ship sailed on to another port, Volos. Savige took his staff on ahead of his brigade, who could not disembark immediately. He was driven to Larissa, about 100 kilometres south of where the Australian and New Zealand forces were fighting near Mount Olympus. They were fused as Anzac Corps, which was a lift for all involved, with memories of their original amalgamation in the same month 26 years earlier at Gallipoli, 320 kilometres away across the Aegean Sea.
The next day Savige met an anxious Blamey.
‘Stan, I’m so glad to see you! Where’s your brigade?’
Savige explained that most of his men were still on board ship. ‘It was impossible for them to get off in numbers because of those bloody Stukas dive-bombing us and all the other vessels at Piraeus. They hit the Clan Fraser [ammunition ship], which destroyed half the port. We landed at Volos.’
‘How soon can you bring them forward?’
‘Tomorrow [13th April]. The 14th at the latest.’
Savige had never seen Blamey even near rattled, but right now he was more than agitated.
‘I knew there was big trouble,’ Savige said later. ‘I’d known Blamey since I first served under him as an 18-year-old [more than 30 years earlier]. He’d never called me by my Christian name before [when in uniform].’1
Blamey’s behaviour alerted Savige to how serious the situation was in Greece.
He reported to corps HQ early on 13 April, where he was allowed to join Blamey in conference with British Field Marshal Henry Maitland Wilson, the overall commander of the ‘Lustreforce’, the unfortunate name given to the Commonwealth army.
Like Blamey, the Eton- and Sandhurst-educated Wilson, 59, known as ‘Jumbo’ for his overweight pear shape, was worried.
‘The Greeks are disintegrating on my inland flank,’ Wilson noted with a concerned rub of his bald pate. ‘This may well allow the Germans to break through and reach Larissa.’
Blamey again asked Savige where his brigade was.
‘They have just completed disembarkation, General. Should be here by tomorrow.’
‘We are very much reliant on you, Brigadier,’ Wilson said. ‘You control the last of the troops yet committed to battle.’
‘Savige,’ Blamey said, spreading a map out on the table in front of them, ‘I want you to reconnoitre the road running west from here [Larissa] through Mount Pindus, near Kalabaka.’2
Savige departed with a liaison officer at 3 p.m. and drove to a valley road with the Pindus range on his left. They reached the snow-covered top of the range, and using binoculars he could see the Adriatic Sea in the distance. Below he could see the spring’s blossoming fruit trees and streaks of red poppies, which brought back thoughts of Flanders fields. From this vantage point, there was no sign of German troops or vehicles. Savige was confident that he could send his troops through the area. He returned to Larissa just before midnight.
At 7 a.m. the next morning, Savige arrived at HQ and met Blamey and Wilson’s senior staff officer, Brigadier Galloway.
‘Brigadier, you really must get your brigade to the Kalabaka area!’
Savige, like Blamey, was not kindly disposed towards any staff officers, British or Australian, who told him to do anything. But after a quiet glance from Blamey, Savige kept his own counsel.
‘My boys will be here inside an hour, Brigadier,’ Savige said. ‘They will be sent out straightaway.’
At that point, Brigadier Syd Rowell, now on Blamey’s staff, burst into the room without knocking.
‘General, the Germans have broken though the Greeks on our left [at Kalabaka]!’ Rowell blurted. He was visibly shocked.
There was silence for a few seconds. Blamey, who had not reacted to the news, turned to Savige and said, as if he were suggesting leave at a holiday resort: ‘Savige, it appears that there is nothing for you to do but to go to Kalabaka.’
Savige later noted in his diary: ‘His coolness and decisive qualities were superb.’3
Blamey ordered Savige to protect Lustreforce’s left flank. Savige arrived at the intended destination late on 14 April with a force that included four of his battalions, seven cruiser tanks, nearly two batteries of artillery, and an anti-tank troop. He was up before dawn on 15 April positioning his various units, ready for action.
Blamey sent an experienced staff officer, Colonel Alwyn Ragnar Garrett, to join Savige, aware of Savige’s shortcomings not as a battle commander, but as an organiser. Savige was at first defensive, although he had heard Blamey mention that Garrett was the best logistics and intelligence officer in the entire force. Savige was still smarting from his treatment by regulars in Libya, and he half suspected that the regulars were up to some plot to spoil his efforts once more.
He coldly showed his deployments to Garrett, who was impressed. After countless such dispositions in war and militia exercises, they were one of Savige’s strengths.
Barrett respectfully made a few useful observations. Savige liked them and carried them out. Barrett soon proved most helpful, and Savige appreciated him.
‘When will you be going back to the general [Blamey]?’ Savige asked.
‘I’m not going back. The general wants me to act as your intelligence officer.’
‘I could do with the extra help,’ Savige said with a smile, knowing that Blamey always acted in Savige’s best interests. He shook hands with Barrett warmly.4
***
Jumbo Wilson decided to abandon the forward positions and pull the troops back to a shorter line, which, in effect, was the beginning of the British retreat. Savige learnt that some of his battalions would be rushed to Lustreforce’s right flank, where the Germans were becoming more threatening. Wilson ordered him to withdraw his troops and Savige began this action on the night of 15 April, when it poured and the roads turned into bogs. This slowed the heavy German armoured divisions and allowed Savige time to make an orderly pull-back. This meant he worked for two and a half days without sleep as he organised his men in the inhospitable mountain country.
Savige, however, was in his element. He had been through worse withdrawals, especially in Persia as a 28-year-old. As a 50-year-old it was tougher, but he had a remarkable constitution that allowed him to keep pace with men half his age.
Even more importantly, it was Savige’s spirit in adversity that caused him to stand apart as a commander. He was always cheerful with the troops and kept smiling and urging them on. Morale was so vital in this test of endurance. He seemed to know every single soldier by name. Savige had that sort of memory when it came to the soldiers he commanded.
‘Come on, Reg,’ he called with a grin, ‘you’re slower than a wet week!’
‘Move it, Bill . . . I know you reckon you could take on Fritz single-handed, but I don’t want you to prove it right now!’
‘Jack, are you loitering with any intent?’ he laughed. ‘You know you can get arrested for that!’5
Savige kept up the banter, knowing that tougher times lay ahead. The Anzacs had to hold a 25-kilometre line running from Savige and his 17th Brigade in the west to the Pinios River closer to Larissa, which seemed certain to fall to the slow but relentless German war machine.