Ill Met by Moonlight

With my visit to Crete looming in less that two weeks, I just completed a quick re-reading of W. Stanley Moss's 1950 memoir, Ill Met by Moonlight -- his blow by blow account of how he and Patrick Leigh Fermor, as members  of the British Special Operations Executive ("SOE"), successfully kidnapped the general in charge of the German occupation of Crete in 1944.

The "memoir" is more accurately the belated publication of Moss's actual day by day journal, written beautifully under the most dangerous and uncomfortable of conditions.  Moss wrote in 1950 that he had deliberately refrained from revising his journal -- aside from clarifying information, printed in italic font -- preferring to let the freshness and youthfulness of his emotions at the time be revealed through his actual words, rather than tidied up at leisure under more comfortable conditions.  All the more amazing the detail and length of his daily entries:  The observations of his natural surroundings.  His reactions to the many persons -- Cretan, British, Italian, Russian, and German -- with whom he came in contact during the 48 days of his adventure.  His reading of classical literature while bored.  His contemplations of philosophical questions while staring at the starry skies. 

How atypical of war zones appear some of his journal entries.

Paddy and I spent the morning reading short stories aloud to each other -- this, because we have only one book left between the two of us.  Stevenson's Markheim, King Arthur and the Green Knight, Saki's wonderful The Interlopers ... it was all rather fun.  Then Paddy recited snippets from Shakespeare in German, at which he is adept; and we talked of mythology and lore and wondered if General Kreipe would look anything like Erich von Stroheim.  Minotaurs, bull-men, nymphs of Ariadne, kings of Minos, and German generals -- a splendid cocktail!

All this while hiding in a dry riverbed, within a day of the actual abduction -- the failure of which would most likely result in their own deaths.

"Paddy" Leigh Fermor, who was in charge, left it to Moss to describe the details of their operation.  Leigh Fermor's own favorite story was of trading memorized Latin quotations from Horace with the captured general -- while they were on the lam from the Germans deep in the Cretan mountains -- in what must have been one of the more civilized exchanges between friend and foe during the second world war.

Moss points out that General Kreipe, once captured, was well-behaved.  He agreed on his honor not to make any effort to prevent his evacuation to British-held Cairo in exchange for good -- almost fraternal -- treatment by his abductors.  Although an "old man" -- Moss estimated he must have been 45 to 50! -- he did his best to keep up with the their long nightly marches, at times riding a mule because of exhaustion.  He shared their uncomfortable days in wet caves, and their near-starvation at times, with only minimal complaining but with major lamentations about his humiliation and his accidental loss of one of his Iron Cross medals.  The general observed -- with perhaps some surprise -- how willing the Cretan mountain residents were to aid and assist the British, despite routine murderous reprisals by the Germans.

Upon eventual evacuation by small launch from a southern beach rendezvous point, the general, along with Leigh Fermor, Moss, and a few others, were taken to Cairo.  General Kreipe was greeted by the commanding British brigadier general with salutes and full recognition of his rank.  Moss notes that Kreipe and his British counterpart talked long into the night, with much drinking and loud laughter. 

At least in those days, war was a game for the generals, and a true sport always respects his worthy opponent.

On the other hand, the successful removal of the general to Cairo was not met back in Crete with the same sense of sportsmanship.  The German High Command issued the following order:

From now on all enemies on so-called Commando missions in Europe or Africa, challenged by German troops, even if they are to all appearances soldiers in uniform or demolition troops, whether armed or unarmed, in battle or in flight, are to be slaughtered to the last man. ... Even if these individuals, when found, should apparently be prepared to give  themselves up, no pardon is to be granted them on principle.  ...   [I]t must be made clear to the adversary that all sabotage troops will be exterminated, without exception, to the last man.

After considering this barbarity, it is pleasant to realize that both Moss and Leigh Fermor were men of civilization, curiosity, and advanced liberal education, and that both possessed lively senses of humor. 

After the war, Patrick (Paddy) Leigh Fermor published a number of travel books, still eagerly read, and a novel.  He also translated Greek works to English.  He died four years ago, at the age of 96, and was the subject of many news stories about his life.  W. (Billy) Stanley Moss unfortunately died at the age of 44, but nevertheless had time to write two non-fiction books about his wartime adventures, including Ill Met by Moonlight, and three novels.  He crammed a large number of adventures into his short post-war life.

While I'm not a fan of war stories, Moss's book reads as a boys' adventure -- lots of excitement with the necessary killings taking place largely off-stage.  Moss and Leigh Fermor were the kind of soldiers who make you feel there is hope for humanity, even in the midst of sordid warfare.

I left the book, also, with the realization that a short seventy years ago, the British Empire still ruled the world.  The battle for Crete was an all-British affair, and Cairo was under total British dominance.  The Empire and its representatives, despite cracks beginning to show between the two world wars, still showed the confidence and self-complacency that America and Americans show to the world today.

Makes you think.