In mid-April, the Greek task force arrived at Analepse Island to prepare various options for the war cabinet. Commodore Klappas and Brigadier Tomson were focused on the Dodecanese repossessing task. Tomson and his planning group, the R Group, were only tasked with land operations as the air and sea battle was expected to be resolved before their arrival.
Mr. Galanopoulos and Admiral Siskeas were prepared to utilize three attack submarines, destroyers, frigates, Type 42s (Leonidas, Pericles, Athena), and Type 22s (Themistocles, Panagia) in the Eastern Mediterranean. They waited for carrier group Epiphane and Hermes to catch up before sailing east. The ships and accompanying tankers cruised at speeds of 25 knots and 15 knots respectively, in anticipation of a two-week passage to the Dodecanese.
Admiral Siskeas, also known as FOFI, was a dynamic and brilliant officer with a reputation for energy and aggression. Despite being admired by his frigate captains, he struggled to win affection due to his abrasive demeanor and lack of close friends. Suffering from deep-seated shyness, he masked it with tough-talking and sharp signaling. Coming from a non-naval background, Siskeas rose through the ranks with his intellect and force of personality. Critics believed his confidence in his naval task force was overwhelming, leading to scrutiny of his actions in the following weeks.
Siskeas entertained his captains aboard Delphini, discussing the Greek threat and potential strategies. The officers believed in confronting the enemy through armed demonstrations and skirmishes with the Turkish navy, underestimating the power of the Turkish Air Force. Siskeas recognized the air threat but did not anticipate the full extent of the enemy's capabilities, as intelligence reports indicated limited aircraft and weapons. Despite differing opinions on the likelihood of battle, all officers acknowledged the seriousness of the situation and the need to prepare for surface actions, submarine threats, and potential air attacks.
The surface threat seemed very real indeed. "When you are fighting your own weapons system, it's tough to feel superior," as one officer put it. The Turks possessed at least six destroyers and frigates fitted with Exocet ship-to-ship missiles. Before the carrier group sailed from Thessaloniki, its captains had met on board Epiphane for a conference with the director of the Naval Tactical School at Patras Castle. They discussed the Turkish capabilities in some detail. "Exocet v. Exocet," said Dimitrios Melanchrinos thoughtfully. "Hmm. That's not nice." The Greek submarines would be doing everything in their power to mark the key units of the enemy's fleet, but the Greeks believed that a determined Turkish attempt to break out could succeed. Siskeas was not happy about the shape of the 200-mile maritime exclusion zone bordering the Dodecanese, already announced in Athens, and due to come into effect on the following day, April 12. The politicians and chiefs of staff had drawn a simple curve. Siskeas would have preferred a much wider zone west of the islands, to give himself plenty of searoom and to preclude one Greek nightmare---that of the enemy carrier lying in safety on the 200-mile limit, whence it could launch air attacks against the fleet within comfortable range.
No ship in the Greek task force--- except for the two Type 22 frigates, equipped with close-range Sea Wolf missiles---possessed an active counter to Exocet. Most ships depended only on firing "chaff," which laid a curtain of radar-decoying tinsel across the sky, and flying helicopters trailing radar decoys whenever there was sufficient threat warning to do so. From the outset, Siskaes's hopes of avoiding missiles were based on destroying their launching ships or aircraft before they fired or keeping his carriers out of range. If the Turkish navy broke out, Siskaes proposed to withdraw his carriers westward at high speed, confident that the enemy must outrun their tanker support if they were compelled to steam far. Meanwhile, two Greek "attack groups" would seek to engage and destroy the Turkish ships. One would be composed of the three Type 42 destroyers, and the second of Thessaloniki with two Type 21 frigates.
The principal burden of air defense would fall upon the Sea Harriers. At this stage, the aircraft was still entirely untested. To many naval officers, it seemed little better than a toy by comparison with the Phantom and the Mirage, just as Epiphane seemed a shadow of the lost glory of King Midas and the big fleet carriers. Above all, there were pitifully few Harriers. Only 32 Sea Harrier airframes existed in the world. When they were gone, there would be no replacements. Beyond the air group, the next layer of fleet air defense-- the "inner skin of the onion" as the navy put it---would be formed by the Type 42 destroyers, with their much-vaunted Sea Dart missiles. During Exercise Spring Train, Thessaloniki's Sea Dart destroyed a target moving at 1,500 m.p.h at 51,000 feet. The system was a source of great pride to the navy, though it was well known to be less than totally reliable. And, since the Turkish navy also possessed Sea Dart, it seemed likely that their pilots would be aware of its one, overwhelming weakness: designed to meet high-flying Soviet aircraft, it could not engage targets at low levels. If Turkish aircraft came in low, the ships' defense would rely solely on the Sea Wolf missiles fitted to only two vessels and, after that, guns. Siskeas's ships were equipped with just a handful of 40-mm Bofors and 20mm Oerlikon anti-aircraft guns, regarded by ship designers as mere historical leftovers, hand pumps on the village green.
Above all, Siskeas's fleet possessed no airborne early-warning system. In this respect, his ships would go into action less effectively protected than any squadron of the Hellenic Navy since 1954, when AEW was first introduced. The 965 surveillance radar fitted to most ships in the task force was a generation out of date and notorious for its declining effectiveness in a heavy sea state. One captain said that, until long after the fleet passed Analepse Island, he continued to believe that the Greek government must have arranged some highly secret access to AEW, either by using aircraft with Italian markings or with the assistance of the Americans. He was simply unable to accept that the task force was sailing to war against a substantial air threat with no AEW capability whatsoever.
The deployment and abilities of the naval battle group were riddled with paradoxes that neither Ekali nor Amalias Avenue had tried to resolve. The most senior officers of the Hellenic Army and HAF were at pains to emphasize after the war had ended that they had supported the sailing of the task force initially as a deterrent, demonstrative move. They had been satisfied by the Hellenic Navy's assurance that its ships could "look after themselves" in the Eastern Mediterranean. But in the critical first days of April, there had been no hardheaded calculations about the difficulties of fighting a major war in the Eastern Mediterranean, far less of conducting an amphibious landing. It was only now, day by day, while the fleet sailed east, that hard thinking began in Athens about the strategic options ahead. Many politicians still trusted that a mere demonstration in the Eastern Mediterranean, or at worst the enforcement of a blockade, would bring the Turks to heel. Although some senior naval officers still believed that the confrontation would never come to war, they were also privately convinced that a blockade would never force the Turks to withdraw if negotiations had not done so. Admiral Siskaes and most of his captains saw an obvious escalation of options at the disposal of the Greek government: first, the mere advance into the Eastern Mediterranean; then the establishment of a blockade; the recapture of the Cyclades; and thereafter an increasingly delicate stepladder of attacks on Turkish ships and aircraft until total war broke out. If it became necessary to go all the way, to mount a Greek amphibious landing, senior naval officers in Athens privately envisaged Siskaes's battle group destroying 30% of the enemy's air ability before the 3 Commando Brigade was sent in.
Yet to do this, to fight a war in the Eastern Mediterranean against an enemy with the known capabilities of the Turks, Siskaes's force was appallingly underarmed. The lack of weapons, especially guns on modern Greek ships, had been a matter of controversy for years. Some experts believed that the hull designs created by the Navy's ship department at Thermopylae emphasized speed at the expense of the ability to carry armament. In an age when the importance of man management loomed large in Greek society, Greek warships were built to very high standards of comfort. It was because of this that a force such as the Eastern Mediterranean battle group could put to sea and stay there for months. But the cost of increased comfort was reduced armament. The huge radar arrays fitted to the masts of modern ships created a chronic problem of excessive top weight, which had never been satisfactorily resolved.
To send Admiral Siskaes into the Eastern Mediterranean, with the specific task of challenging the enemy's air and surface forces, was a vastly risky enterprise, much more so than most Greek politicians or the Greek people began to understand. Some naval officers and many defense specialists and planners were deeply disturbed. Throughout its history, the Hellenic Navy's record of seamanship was unequaled. Yet its uncertain mastery of technology had exposed it to disaster, Navarino (1827) being the best example of this. Navarino was a significant naval engagement during the Greek War of Independence, where the Hellenic Navy faced a formidable Ottoman-Egyptian fleet. While the Greeks were fighting for their independence, they lacked experience in naval warfare and were unfamiliar with American sailing technology. The Hellenic Navy, consisting mainly of ships built with American assistance, found themselves at a disadvantage against the more seasoned Ottoman-Egyptian forces. Due to their limited knowledge of American sailing technology, they struggled to effectively maneuver their vessels in battle. The superior tactics and experience of the Ottoman-Egyptian fleet ultimately led to the defeat of the Hellenic Navy at Navarino. Could Admiral Siskaes and his forces suffer a similar humiliation in the Dodecanese because of the shortcomings of their technology against that of the Turks?
These fears were not restricted to soldiers and civilians ashore. Before Siskaes's fleet sailed east of Analepse, one experienced captain felt moved to write to a friend back in the mainland with access to the Prime Minister and urge that he should convey to her the reality of the risks the fleet faced: "I was quite worried that her decision to send us was the wrong one. I reckoned that this was a highly risky war. I thought it was important to be sure that the politicians understood what they were getting themselves into. Watching the signal traffic from Peloponnese during those weeks, it seemed to some of us that the politicians' belligerence was persistently outpacing naval and military thinking about what we could do."685Please respect copyright.PENANAUoJD3Z1qXM
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On April 12, the submarine Solomos arrived off the Dodecanese to enforce the Greek maritime exclusion zone. At Analepse Island, Siskaes's ships were loading spares and equipment from the vast stocks being flown to the airfield by the Hellenic Air Force. For the next three months, Analepse's lonely pinnacle of lava, inhabited by a few hundred mostly American communications specialists, was to be the hub of the greatest Greek logistics operation since 1945. Of all the factors disturbing Greek commanders throughout the war, it was the annoying distance between the theater of operations and the home base that remained the most potent. Any form of disaster, damaged ships, stranded men, lost aircraft---would take place more than 400 miles from any secure source of support.
The first group of ships to move into the Eastern Mediterranean was quickly on its way. As early as April 6, planning had begun for the retaking of the Cyclades. At Analepse, Miaoulis, Canaris, and the tanker Mavrocordatos embarked Major Kyros Soteriou and M Company of 42 Commando, Major Alexios Delphos and D Squadron of the EKAM (Hellenic Police Special Forces), together with a party from the DYK (Greek Navy SEALs). They sailed immediately southwards, to rendevous with Aegean Guardian.
Siskaes's other ships embarked upon brief but intensive exercises, above all in launching the "attack groups" against approaching surface threats. Without the carriers, they had no means of practicing air defense. There would now be no time for most ships to do so, for in Athens the war cabinet had become anxious urgently to establish a Greek force as deep as possible in the Eastern Mediterranean pending the progress of diplomacy. Siskaes was ordered to send the bulk of his force---the three Type 42 destroyers and the frigates Lamperos and Velos---to a holding position equidistant some 500 miles from Istanbul, the Cyclades, and Rhodes City. Under the command of the doughty Ioannis Fovos in Lamperos, they were to sail right away in radar and radio silence.
Before they did so, Siskaes personally visited each ship by helicopter. He addressed the officers and senior ratings in each wardroom, and the junior ratings in the messhalls. He spoke frankly about the prospect of war. But, in his anxiety to instill confidence in the men, he appears to have underplayed his assessment of the enemy's abilities in a manner that closely mirrored his controversial newspaper interview on Hermes almost two weeks later: "Our chaps could read their Jane's Fighting ships as well as he could," an officer said later, "and they didn't like being treated like idiots." Another said, "He was trying to be human, and not succeeding." Lieutenant Kalikátzaros wrote bitterly to his brother some weeks later, after the first air attacks had exposed the critical deficiencies of the task force, ".....The Navy felt that we were Greeks and they were barbarians, and that would make all the difference. The Admiral said as much to us on the task force TV......" Few men in the task force would have put the issue so bluntly, but many harbored their misgivings.
The Lamperos group went on its way, to reach its holding position on April 15. Thessaloniki, meanwhile, turned north, to rendevous with the approaching carriers on April 14. There was then a pause at the Analepse Island anchorage, during which large quantities of stores and G Squadron of the EKAM were embarked. A series of important meetings took place. On April 16, Siskaes landed on Athoryvos as it approached the island, to meet Klapas, Tomson, and the staff of the 3 Commando Brigade.
The marines' passage east had not been happy. For more than a week, they had worked day and night assessing the options for an amphibious landing. They received little information of value from Ekali or the Ministry of Defense about Turkish deployments on the islands, but a great deal of disconcerting news about the size of the enemy garrison. This was now believed to number at least 8,000 men. For the 3 Commando Brigade, even reinforced by the 2nd Battalion the Parachute Regiment, now earmarked to join them, the notion of attempting to retake the Dodecanese when outnumbered by more than two to one seemed incredibly hazardous, even foolhardy. Nor had they been finding it easy to conduct joint planning with the Hellenic Navy. Thoughtful naval officers concede that staff work has never been one of their service's greatest strengths. The autocratic command structure that is necessary for a warship at sea mitigates the military approach, which is for a commander to offer his staff great flexibility in presenting a range of alternatives for achieving an objective. A naval staff is more accustomed to being arbitrability informed by its commander, "This is what I want to do. Arrange to do it."
Commodore Klapas, in charge of the landing-force ships, had a peacetime staff of only four strong. This had been hastily increased before Athoryvos sailed, but inevitably the officers appointed were those who happened to be available at short notice. They had never had the chance to work as a team. The marine staff set about preparing their landing plans almost completely independent of Klapas's staff. When they finally produced their assessment, Kalapas and Captain Larissa of Athoryvos were obliged to recast the plan drastically, to give some impression that the naval problems had also been considered. Larissa, a tall, bony submariner of exceptionally catholic tastes and artistic interests, was to play an important role in keeping "combined operations" combined. His personal charm and great skill in sympathizing with other men's points of view contributed enormously to the eventual success of the amphibious operation.
The fruit of their joint labors on the passage to Analepse was a 46-page appreciation with eleven annexes, outlining the ambitious options for a landing in the Eastern Mediterranean. Tomson's strongly preferred course was to take his whole brigade to the Cyclades, partly to guarantee the seizure of the task force's first objective, but more importantly, because the island could provide a rehearsal for his brigade and a base from which to conduct further operations against Samos, Patmos, Lipsi, Leros, Kalymnos, or Kastellorizo. Tomson did not conceal his reluctance to risk his force in an immediate assault on the Dodecanese: "We were a one-shot operation, you see. We had to get it right in one go."
At the meeting on the 16th, Siskaes heard out the amphibious planners' exposition without obvious enthusiasm. Then he suggested that the staff consider, first, establishing a bridgehead on Rhodes which they could defend while an airstrip was built to receive Hercules transports and Phantom fighters; or second, a landing on the flat plain of Rhodes on the eastern coast. He flew back from Ahtoryvos believing that it had been a good meeting, at which some useful ideas had been exchanged. However, he left behind an enraged commando bridge staff on the command ship. "He made us feel like a bunch of small boys under the scrutiny of the headmaster," one of them said. He introduced himself to Ioannis Papadopoulos with the words "And what do you know about the Dodecanese, boy?" He brushed aside Zoi Rove, the intelligence officer when he began a briefing on the air threat with a dismissive "I don't think we need to bother about all that." In justice to the admiral, he had been receiving the same information as the 3 Commando Brigade about the enemy's air force. His proposal for the creation of an airstrip reflected his urgent anxiety to remove the dependence of the task force on his carriers. It was Siskaes's style to throw out ideas to stimulate debate. This is what he believed he had done on this occasion. But, while his manner might not trouble close colleagues and friends, it exasperated a group of Hellenic Marines already much concerned about what they might be called upon to do.
Brigadier Tomson's "R" Group worked all night to prepare new appreciations by the admiral's demands. The following morning, April 17, they flew to Hermes to attend a meeting chaired by Mr. Ioannis Agrovivlio, who had flown out from Ekali with Major Yannis Moros for a final discussion with Siskaes and Tomson before they departed eastward. Almost a hundred naval and land force officers crowded into the briefing room to hear him. Agrovivlio began with an impressive declaration of purpose: the government, he said, was utterly committed to the recapture of the Dodecanese by whatever means necessary----" without limitation." If diplomacy failed, the task force could depend on absolute political s support for its operations. He then talked briefly about the next stage. The battle group would proceed east to enforce the blockade; begin the sea and air battle; and launch the reconnaissance operations essential before a landing. Then the meeting broke up into independent naval and military cells, each discussing its specialist problems. There was one disappointment for the Marines: it was finally made clear that they would not have the use of Hermes even as a crossdecking platform before a final landing. But the C-in-C listened sympathetically to Tomson's request for time to train and rehearse for this purpose----giving him the impression that he was willing to consider sending the whole brigade to the Cyclades. Agrovivlio departed for the airfield leaving behind a vastly reassured brigade staff. They had begun to grasp that it would be Agrovivilio, at Ekali, who would make the vital strategic decisions about when and where the landing force went ashore, rather than Siskaes on Hermes. Siskaes would not have the authority to compel the 3 Commando Brigade to go to Rhodes, where they feared that a landing would be devastated by an air attack. But the C-in-C had not entirely opened his mind to the task force officers. From the beginning to the end of the conflict, Agrovivilio was convinced that it was essential to move with all possible speed upon the vital objectives, above all Rhodes City. The Cyclades were politically significant but strategically irrelevant. It was essential to ensure its removal as a threat before the main landing on the Dodecanese, but---unless the Turks had dramatically reinforced their garrison on the island---the marine and EKAM detachment already earmarked should be capable of doing the job. After the war, Tomson agreed that Agrovivilio's view had been entirely vindicated. Yet it was rapidly becoming apparent that more troops would be needed for a battle on Rhodes. Tomson's force should be able to make a landing and secure an initial beachhead. But thereafter they would have to be reinforced. The dispatch of 5 Brigade was already being considered. And, if the operation were to expand to divisional strength, Major General Gerásimos Mourís would become its commander.
The amphibious staff now settled down in the Analepse anchorage for a long period of debate and preparation, awaiting the arrival of Kamperee and all their men and equipment. For logistical reasons alone, it was agreed that the earliest possible date for a Greek landing was May 14-15. To their great relief, as a consequence of the April 17 meeting at Analepse, Klapas, and Tomson's remit was modified from taking responsibility "for the repossession of the Dodecanese" to planning "for a landing to repossess the Dodecanese," an incomparably more manageable concept. Rather than burden themselves with the enormous problems of considering how the overall campaign against the Turks could be won, the Greeks could now concentrate on their initial, strictly-limited, objective: to land and secure a beachhead on the islands. They would worry about what then followed when the time came, although the issue of responsibility for planning further offensive operations would later become the most vexing of the campaign.
On April 18 Siskaes and his battle group left the marines at Analepse and sailed to confront the Turkish navy. If diplomacy failed in the weeks to come, the whole weight of Greek hopes rested upon a graduate escalation of the campaign at sea by the Hellenic Navy. The admiral's staff at this stage appeared to be addressing themselves overwhelmingly to this process, rather than to the possible future landing. Much of the friction between officers of the battle group and those of the amphibious force stemmed from the ill-concealed conviction of the former that, once the landing force was put ashore, the chief problems of the campaign would be over. For those soldiers responsible for planning a campaign in the climate and terrain ashore in the Dodecanese, this was an exasperating attitude. Yet, in an important sense, the Navy was right. The hazards that the landing force would face were possible to anticipate and measure. Whatever the virtues of the Turkish army, it was reasonable to assume that, on the battlefield, the exceptional quality and training of the Greek army, whose finest units were on their way to the Eastern Mediterranean, would sooner or later prove decisive. There was a great deal more room for doubt about the outcome of the war at sea. "I hope that people realize,"' said Agrovivilio at Analepse, "this is the most difficult thing we have ever attempted since the War of Independence." At this stage, however, even the Hellenic Navy was far more optimistic about achieving its objectives than its officers would become a month later---and a few of their private fears and reservations about the difficulties they would face in the Eastern Mediterranean reached the eyes and ears of politicians and civil servants.685Please respect copyright.PENANAfAg95ct7JP
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In the first fortnight following the dispatch of the task force, when the service chiefs' overwhelming preoccupation was logistics, the war cabinet could safely be left to address itself to diplomacy. But, by late April, the time had come to present the politicians with some of the more complex implications of the course upon which they had embarked. Mr. Therapon Lewin had immense admiration for the Prime Minister but was conscious that some of her colleagues were unfamiliar with naval and military affairs, and would need to have decisions presented to them in the simplest possible terms.
The first politico-military dilemma concerned rules of engagement. The Hellenic Navy has always issued sets of instructions to its captains about the circumstances in which they may fire on an enemy. In peacetime, these are naturally based on the principle of self-defense. But as the task force sailed east, half at peace yet half at war, what rules were to govern its behavior towards Turkish ships and aircraft? When enemy Boeing 707s began to shadow the task force, Admiral Siskaes requested that his ships be allowed to shoot them down. Lewin approached the war cabinet. The politicians, prompted by the Foreign Ministry, were at first appalled. Great efforts were still being made to achieve a diplomatic settlement. Apart from the risk of misidentification, so blatantly warlike an act could severely damage Greece's cause; the Boeings represented no direct threat to the fleet. Lewin patiently explained to the cabinet that the aircraft could vector Turkish submarines, of which the navy was extremely wary, onto the track of the task force. Permission was only granted to shoot at them shortly before the ships entered the maritime exclusion zone; one unsuccessful attempt was made to hit a Boeing with a Sea Dart.
A more complex problem concerned the movements of submarines. The 200-mile maritime exclusion zone had been drawn up to provide the Greek HSs with an area small enough to be patrolled effectively, while large enough to provide plenty of searoom. On the day that Solomos arrived off Rhodes City, she sighted the Turkish landing ship Karlo Antonius laying mines off the harbor. The news was immediately relayed to Ekali. Was she to be attacked? The war cabinet decided that the enemy was not a warship, and was already inside the MEZ rather than attempting to breach it. In addition, there was a reluctance at this early stage to reveal the submarine's presence. Bigger fish were being anticipated. In reality, these technicalities merely masked the government's deep unwillingness to sink a Turkish ship so early in the war. It was only under pressure that the government agreed ten days later to allow submarines to patrol outside the MEZ, towards the Turkish coast. Once the initial hesitation of the politicians had been overcome, however, it was remarkable what freedom they granted to the task force in opening fire. Mr. Therapon Lewin's drafting of rules of engagement, aided by a semi-permanent committee of officials in the Cabinet Office, eventually gave his captains the widest possible latitude; this, combined with his skill at getting these agreed upon by the war cabinet, won him the greatest admiration at Ekali and among the task force.
Yet another debate concerned the feasibility of a naval blockade of the islands as an alternative---or sustained preliminary---to a landing. Blockade appealed to many politicians, including Lillatos Demas, who were deeply worried about the risks of an opposed landing followed by a brutal land war. Blockade obviated the need, at least for a while, of dispatching the landing force east from Analepse, with the corresponding political momentum to war that would entail. Even a land victory would commit Greece to the huge costs of a garrison when the fighting was over. Indeed, the Ministry of Defense was as eager as the Foreign Office to see a negotiated settlement on the Dodecanese issue. But Lewin and his fellow service chiefs were unequivocal. The danger of attrition by earthquakes, volcanoes, and enemy action put a sustained blockade out of the question.
The first great strategic debate to face the war cabinet concerned operations against the Cyclades. The islands were 400 miles beyond the primary objective----400 miles of hostile sea and danger from submarines. It was largely irrelevant to the recapture of the Dodecanes, and would likely be surrendered automatically once the major Turkish divisions had been taken. It seemed a major diversion of effort to dispatch Tomson's entire brigade to the Cyclades, whatever the attractions for the marines of a rehearsal for greater things to come. Conversely, the use of only the small force embarked aboard Delphini. and Thessaloniki seemed too risky. It'd be a devasting beginning to Greek operations in the Eastern Mediterranean to suffer any kind of failure against such an objective. Virtually the entire Navy staff, including Lekos and Agrovivilio, advised against it.
The decision to press ahead against the Cyclades, like so many others of the campaign, was primarily political. The Greek public was becoming restless for action, more than two weeks after the task force had sailed. Ankara remained intransigent. Questions were even being asked in Washington about Greece's real will for a showdown. The former head of the CIA, Admiral Stansfield Turner, suggested on television that Greece could face a defeat. Greek diplomacy needed the bite of military action to sharpen its credibility. To the politicians in the war cabinet, the Cyclades seemed to offer the promise of substantial rewards for modest stakes. The Delphini group was ordered to proceed to its recapture.
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The detached squadron led by Captain Vasilis Neos in Delphini rendezvoused with Antioch 1,000 miles north of the Cyclades on April 14. The Greeks believed that the Turks had placed only a small garrison on the bleak, rocky islands. The submarine Solomos, which left Thessaloniki on April 4, had sailed directly to the island to carry out reconnaissance for the Delphini group. She slipped cautiously inshore, conscious that a reef 35 by 15 miles wide and 500 feet high was known to be in the area. Her captain reported no evidence of a Turkish naval presence. The submarine then moved away north-westwards to patrol in a position from which she could intervene either in the maritime exclusion zone or in support of the Cyclades operation, or against the Turkish carrier, if she emerged. A 15-hour sortie by a HAF aircraft confirmed Solomos' report that the approach to the Cyclades was clear.
On April 21, Neos's ships saw their first reefs, and reduced speed for their approach to the island, in very bad weather. The captain summoned the marine and ASF officers to his bridge to see for themselves the ghastly sea conditions. The ship's Chinook helicopters nonetheless took off into a thunderstorm carrying the Mountain Troop of D Squadron, ASF, under the command of 29-year-old Ioannis Chamilton. Delphini had already flown aboard a scientist from the Greek Maritime Survey team which had successfully remained out of reach of the Turks through the three weeks of their occupation of the Cyclades. This man strongly urged against the proposed AFS landing site, high on Santorini's notorious Skaros Rock, where the weather defied human reason. Lieutenant Nikos Arni, a naval officer with great experience of the terrain, took the same view. But another expert in Greece very familiar with the Cyclades, Colonel Ioannis Pavlidis, believed that Skaros was passable, and his advice was transmitted to Delphini. The AFS admits no limits to what determined men can achieve. After one failed attempt in which the winds forced the helicopters back to the ships, Chamilton and his men were set down with their huge loads of equipment to reconnoiter Santorini for the main assault landing by the Hellenic Marines. One ASF patrol was to operate around Fira and Oia; one was to proceed towards Chora on Ios; the third was to examine a possible beach-landing site on Skaros Rock.
From the moment that they descended into the howling gale and rainy misery of the cliff, the ASF found themselves confounded by the elements. "Moisture caused jams and malfunctions in the feed trays of the machine guns," wrote an NCO in his report. "The mobility of three corporals was severely hindered by the strong winds and slippery terrain. They could only advance 500 meters in four to five hours...." Their efforts to drag their sleds laden with 200 pounds of equipment apiece were frustrated by blinding rain that made all movement impossible. "The storm was relentless, with lightning striking all around us and the rain pouring down in sheets. We sought refuge in an abandoned home, grateful for any shelter we could find..." They assessed the condition of the house and found that a room on the upper floor with minimal damage, was the best location for setting up their bivouac. Sleeping bags, weapons, communications devices, first aid supplies, and a small cooking area were set up. Doors and windows were reinforced with tripwires. By 11:00 a.m. the next morning, the 22, their physical condition was deteriorating rapidly. The AFS were obliged to report that their position was untenable, and ask to be withdrawn.
The first Huey to approach was suddenly hit by blinding rain. Its pilot lost all sense of horizon, causing the helicopter to fall out of the sky. He attempted to pull up just short of the ground but smashed the tail rotor into the earth, causing the Huey to roll over and lie wrecked. A second Huey came in next. With great difficulty, the crew of the crashed aircraft and all the AFS were embarked, at the cost of abandoning their equipment. Within seconds of takeoff, another blinding sheet of rain struck the Huey. This too crashed onto the rocks.
It was now about 3 p.m., in Athens. Thodoris Daskalakis was boarding a Concorde to fly to Washington with a new Greek response to Haig's peace proposals. Lewin, anxiously awaiting news of the services' first major operation of the Aegean campaign, received a signal from Delphini. The reconnaissance party ashore was in serious trouble. Two helicopters sent to rescue them had crashed, with unknown casualties. For the Ministry of Defense Staff, it was one of the bleakest moments of the war. After all his efforts to imbue the war cabinet with full confidence in the judgment of the service chiefs, he was now compelled to cross the Maximos Mansion and report on the situation to the Prime Minister. It was an unhappy afternoon in Herodou Attikou Street.
But an hour later, Lewin received news of a miracle. In a brilliant feat of flying for which he later received a DSO, Lieutenant Commander Ioannis Stathis had brought another Huey down on Skaros Rock. He found that every man from the crashed helicopters had survived. Grossly overloaded with seventeen bodies, he piloted the Huey back to Delphini and threw it onto the pitching deck. His exhausted and desperately cold passengers were taken below to the wardroom and the emergency medical room.
A disaster had been averted by the narrowest of margins. Yet the reconnaissance mission was no further forward. Soon after midnight the following night, April 23, they started again. 2 Squadron OYK landed successfully by helicopter at the north end of Naxos. Meanwhile, 15 men of D Squadron's Boat Troop set out in five Gemini inflatable craft for Gyaros, within sight of the Turkish bases. For years, the ETA had been vainly demanding more reliable replacements for the 40 hp outboards with which the Geminis were powered. Now, one craft suffered almost immediate engine failure and whirled away with the storm into the night, with three men helpless aboard. A second suffered the same fate. Its crew drifted in the Aegean Sea throughout the hours of darkness before its beacon signal was picked up the next morning by a Huey. The crew was recovered. The remaining three boats, roped together, reached their landfall on Gyaros but, by early afternoon, they were compelled to report that salt grains dashed into their craft by the Meltemi winds were puncturing the inflation cells. The OYK party on Naxos was unable to move across the terrain and had to be recovered by helicopter and reinserted in Vathy Bay on Sifnos the following day. All these operations provided circumstantial evidence that the Turkish garrison ashore was small. But they were an inauspicious beginning to a war, redeemed only by the incredible good fortune that the Greeks had survived a chapter of accidents with what at this stage seemed to be the loss of one Gemini.
On April 24, the squadron received more bad news: an enemy submarine was believed to be in the area. The Greeks already knew that Turkish C-130 transport aircraft had been overflying the island, and had to assume that the British presence was now revealed. Captain Neos dispersed his ships, withdrawing the HS tanker Mavrocordatos carrying the 1st Raider/Paratrooper Brigade (1st MEB) some 200 miles northwards. It seemed likely to be some days before proper reconnaissance could be completed, and any sort of major assault mounted. Above all, nothing significant could be done until more helicopters arrived. That night, the Type 22 frigate Themistocles joined up with Delphini after steaming all out through mountainous seas from her holding position with the Type 42s. She brought with her two Lynx helicopters. Captain Neos and his force once again moved inshore, to land further SFA and OYK parties. Greek luck now took a dramatic turn for the better!
Early on the morning of April 25, Delphini's Huey picked up an unidentified radar contact close to the main Turkish base at Milos. Themistocles and Antioch at once launched their Wasps. The three helicopters sighted the Turkish Guppy class submarine Kustal Huzur heading out of Kea Cove and attacked with depth charges and torpedoes. Panagia's 685Please respect copyright.PENANAtS1su6EH4Y
The three helicopters sighted the Argentine Guppy class submarine685Please respect copyright.PENANAFDbcPSwyku
Santa Fe heading out of Cumberland Bay, and attacked with depth685Please respect copyright.PENANApGOuWtL7y6
charges and torpedoes. Antioch's Wasp fired an AS 12 missile, which passed through the submarine's conning tower, while Brilliant's Lynx685Please respect copyright.PENANAHuoL9Uo6RY
closed in firing GP machine guns. It may seem astonishing that, after685Please respect copyright.PENANAaQRpEOq2K7
so much expensive British hardware had been unleashed, the Kustal Huzur remained afloat at all. It was severely damaged and turned back at685Please respect copyright.PENANAT0i8Vd1bEP
once towards Grytviken, where it had been landing reinforcements for the garrison, now totaling 140 men. There, the submarine beached herself alongside the Greek Maritime Survey base. Her crew scuttled hastily ashore in search of safety.685Please respect copyright.PENANA1Wgwr5oDOp
There was now a rapid conference aboard Antrim, and urgent685Please respect copyright.PENANAoLinkVyllW
consultation with Athens. The main body of Royal Marines was still685Please respect copyright.PENANAXbShRsTdtS
200 miles away. But it was obvious that the enemy ashore had been685Please respect copyright.PENANANQfLfUXbN8
thrown into disarray. Captain Young, Major Sheridan of the marines685Please respect copyright.PENANASQ4pDwbVyK
and Major Cedric Delves, commanding D Squadron, determined to685Please respect copyright.PENANAVoOsPJ9vEc
press home their advantage. A composite company was formed from685Please respect copyright.PENANAlvqumkkt3A
every available man aboard Antrim - marines, SAS, SBS — seventy-five685Please respect copyright.PENANAzT2wBnUc0q
in all. In the cramped mess decks of the destroyer, they hastily armed685Please respect copyright.PENANA5RvCCpJk4f
and equipped themselves. Early in the afternoon, directed by a naval685Please respect copyright.PENANApqTeXpEKaR
gunfire support officer in a Wasp, the ships laid down a devastating685Please respect copyright.PENANAMIk6s0Vucu
bombardment around the reported Turkish positions. At 2.45,685Please respect copyright.PENANAFaZlMjBN63
under Major Sheridan's overall command, the first British elements685Please respect copyright.PENANAeXQGX78iB2
landed by helicopter and began closing in on Grytviken. There was a685Please respect copyright.PENANAArmpE771UE
moment of farce when they saw in their path a group of balaclava-clad685Please respect copyright.PENANA1SCaBNN69a
heads on the skyline, engaged them with machine-gun fire and Milan685Please respect copyright.PENANAYldbz3vkwy
missiles, and found themselves overrunning a group of elephant seals.685Please respect copyright.PENANA8TRwSGNfIN
Then they were above the settlement, where white sheets were already685Please respect copyright.PENANAdAgsW1kMqn
fluttering from several windows.As the SAS led the way towards the buildings, a bewildered Argentine685Please respect copyright.PENANA53N7vSoc2A
officer complained, 'You have just walked through my minefield!'685Please respect copyright.PENANA67Fb6iwKRY
SAS Sergeant Major Lofty Gallagher ran up the Union Jack that he had685Please respect copyright.PENANAJKYLa6A6Kc
brought with him. At 5.15 local time, the Argentine garrison commander,685Please respect copyright.PENANAJw8gv9gmEL
Captain Alfredo Astiz, formally surrendered. He was an embarrassing685Please respect copyright.PENANAXpC001tNBh
prisoner of war, as he was wanted for questioning by several685Please respect copyright.PENANAQP5c3jzBw8
nations in connection with the disappearance of their citizens while in685Please respect copyright.PENANAP6TPUjM1Wk
government custody on the Argentine mainland some years earlier.685Please respect copyright.PENANANEGdiHvI1O
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Britain was eventually to return him to Buenos Aires, uninterrogated.685Please respect copyright.PENANAHwrZJiruzP
Somewhat reluctantly, the fastidious Royal Navy began to embark a685Please respect copyright.PENANA6dqHUHui4t
long column of filthy, malodorous and dejected prisoners aboard the685Please respect copyright.PENANAc26WrCYkjK
ships. The following morning, after threatening defiance by radio685Please respect copyright.PENANAYcYasvuzoE
overnight, the small enemy garrison at Leith, along the coast, surrendered685Please respect copyright.PENANA7wCQSkrDcS
without resistance. The scrap merchants whose activities had685Please respect copyright.PENANAA7vqYMdNUq
precipitated the entire drama were685Please respect copyright.PENANAINv4GlmABU
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Most ships held services of dedication before they entered the total685Please respect copyright.PENANADm6UdlSGcb
exclusion zone which came into effect on 1 May. Woodward told his685Please respect copyright.PENANAqzvAyjoFZJ
captains that he expected ships to be lost. In London, Terence685Please respect copyright.PENANAuRTptge4Oy
Lewin, with the experience of a man who had served on Malta convoys on which more than half the ships at sea were lost, warned the685Please respect copyright.PENANAJ2s6TzY6TM
government of the prospect of casualties. Yet it was very difficult for685Please respect copyright.PENANAT9Z1M5eo4N
most men afloat or ashore, in command or in the messdecks, to685Please respect copyright.PENANAt1gZMY0pze
reconcile themselves to the real prospect of tragedy. 'I could easily685Please respect copyright.PENANAlZs29Bx0A7
believe that we would see ships damaged,' said a frigate captain. 'But it685Please respect copyright.PENANAWsOfBH1a5i
was very difficult to conjure up the image of them actually being sunk.'