Snatch

Easing his paunch a trifle. Major General Kreipe came briskly out of his office. He had had a long day at his desk. It was precisely 9:30 p.m. In this gottverdammte Crete--which was not, after all, so gottverdammt after Russia--it was stilt annoying that there should be so much paper work to do; and it was annoying that there was no getting away from the blackout.

The General's peaked cap was cocked rakishly over his left eye as he answered his stiffened driver's salute. Like many middle-aged bachelors, General Kreipe was a methodical man; every night his limousine left at the same hour for the eight-mile drive to his villa.

He eased himself into the seat. The car clicked into high gear, picked up speed. Suddenly the car glided to a stop; a red lantern waved urgently.

The next thing the General knew, a revolver was jammed into his side. In German a voice whispered in his ear: "We are British officers. You are now our prisoner of war."

The car started up again, streaked through the streets of Herakleion, its two divisional commander's pennants fluttering arrogantly. Past 22 military control posts--guards frozen in salute--sped the limousine, with the helpless divisional commander.

Wedged between two gottverdammte Englander in the back seat, General Kreipe sat in military silence as the car rushed 30 miles across Crete, from the north to the south shore: The car stopped; the General and his chauffeur were hustled aboard a waiting British ship.

The automobile was abandoned, with a note:

"April 26

"To the German Authorities in Crete

"Gentlemen:

"Your Divisional Commander Kreipe was captured a short time ago by a British raiding force under our command. By the time you read this he and we will be on our way to Cairo.

"We would like to point out most emphatically that this operation has been carried out without help of Cretans or Cretan Partisans. . . .

"Any reprisals against the local population will be wholly unwarranted and unjust.

"Auf ein baldiges Wiedersehen." (See you soon.)

"P.S. We are very sorry to leave this motorcar behind."

The calligraphic British signatures were those of a major commanding the raid and a captain in the Coldstream Guards.

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