The Lizard Men of Crete
This is something I wrote some time ago in a forum where there was a discussion about the war in Crete. War has many repercussion but this is a strange one, particularly as I experienced it myself
With regard to the war on Crete, my son and I vacationed on the south coast of Crete in 1995 in a village called Lautro. The coastline is extremely rugged there with mountains descending almost directly into the sea. About 5 km east of Lautro, as I remember, there was a narrow strip of stony beach at the foot of some cliffs. As is the case for many locations on that coast, there were no roads, and the only access was by boat (in our case, by canoe) or treacherous footpaths along the mountainsides.As my son and I approached this beach in our canoes I initially thought it was deserted, but then I became aware that there were, in places, men lying on the rocks. There were, in total, about half a dozen of them, each weathered to a dark brown colour and sinewy slender in build. Although muscular, they were all obviously elderly. Some were entirely naked and those that weren't, wore only the briefest of loin cloths. There was no form of shelter evident. These men made no acknowledgement of our arrival but merely continued basking on the rocks. There was no conversation, and somewhat unnerved, my son and I cast off once again in short order.We obviously made enquiries off the locals on our return to the village and were told that these were "The Lizard Men", and that they were Germans who had come to Crete during the war and had remained . They lived on that beach without shelter and with very meagre food supplies contracted from locals, We subsequently learned that, in fact, they did not remain on that shore during the winter months but disappeared off somewhere, some said to a hostel of some kind in Athens.They did not encourage visitors to their beach and kept contact with the locals to a minimum. Initially there had been a greater number of them but natural wastage had taken their toll.Some days later I was once again canoeing along the shoreline, this time alone, and put into the Lizard Mens' beach to gain some shelter from the midday sun. I sat beside my canoe for more than hour without any contact being made but, eventually, one of these chaps emerged from the sea close to me. He was having difficulty walking across the stones of the beach which were like hotplates under the sun. I remember droplets of water cascading from him and hissing as they hit the stony ground. (I am not widely travelled but have experienced various parts of India and North Africa -- I have never known heat like it was that June in Crete).Having noticed his sandals some distance away along the beach I ran to retrieve them and placed them at his feet, receiving a grunt of acknowledgment. I returned to the shelter of my partially upturned canoe where this chap subsequently came and squatted beside me.Conversation was laborious. My German is non existant and his English was poor, but, mainly, it seemed he was unused to the act of speech. He mistook me initially for a German and was surprised on learning otherwise. For some reason he is not alone in this misconception. I am always being takenfor a German on my travels - a blonde wife and children aided me in this deception for many years - particularly when in Greece.Despite these problems, I managed to glean something of the nature of the Lizard Men over the next half hour. They had all been Luftwaffe, and I assume from his story, all pilots, who had come to Crete with the invasion. Most had a very happy time on the island and formed very happy relationships with the locals. When I expressed surprise at this version of things, my informant was at pains to point out that, while terrible things happened in war, they happened to a minority of participants (particularly to surviving participants, I suppose, when you think about it). For these men, their stay on Crete during the war was a happy one and, perhaps for some, represented the happiest months of their lives.After the war, these men were all recruited by an airline - and my memory has it as being QUANTAS. They served as airline pilots for two decades but then, sometime in the sixties, were all dismissed. I did not learn why but I wonder if this was a time of changeover from prop to jet power. These men had taken up their existance on that beach at that time and had pursued it since. Initially there were about twenty to thirty of them and what I saw were the survivors. I did not gain an explanation as to what drove them to such a Spartan lifestyle. I suppose it's possible that, in those days, they received no financial consideration from the airline. Their skills were outmoded and their ages against them.Despite my Lizard Man's age, lack of clothing, and the bizarre circumstance of our meeting, I was left with a lasting impression of great personal dignity and an inner peace or, perhaps, that was just some kind of resignation.
With regard to the war on Crete, my son and I vacationed on the south coast of Crete in 1995 in a village called Lautro. The coastline is extremely rugged there with mountains descending almost directly into the sea. About 5 km east of Lautro, as I remember, there was a narrow strip of stony beach at the foot of some cliffs. As is the case for many locations on that coast, there were no roads, and the only access was by boat (in our case, by canoe) or treacherous footpaths along the mountainsides.As my son and I approached this beach in our canoes I initially thought it was deserted, but then I became aware that there were, in places, men lying on the rocks. There were, in total, about half a dozen of them, each weathered to a dark brown colour and sinewy slender in build. Although muscular, they were all obviously elderly. Some were entirely naked and those that weren't, wore only the briefest of loin cloths. There was no form of shelter evident. These men made no acknowledgement of our arrival but merely continued basking on the rocks. There was no conversation, and somewhat unnerved, my son and I cast off once again in short order.We obviously made enquiries off the locals on our return to the village and were told that these were "The Lizard Men", and that they were Germans who had come to Crete during the war and had remained . They lived on that beach without shelter and with very meagre food supplies contracted from locals, We subsequently learned that, in fact, they did not remain on that shore during the winter months but disappeared off somewhere, some said to a hostel of some kind in Athens.They did not encourage visitors to their beach and kept contact with the locals to a minimum. Initially there had been a greater number of them but natural wastage had taken their toll.Some days later I was once again canoeing along the shoreline, this time alone, and put into the Lizard Mens' beach to gain some shelter from the midday sun. I sat beside my canoe for more than hour without any contact being made but, eventually, one of these chaps emerged from the sea close to me. He was having difficulty walking across the stones of the beach which were like hotplates under the sun. I remember droplets of water cascading from him and hissing as they hit the stony ground. (I am not widely travelled but have experienced various parts of India and North Africa -- I have never known heat like it was that June in Crete).Having noticed his sandals some distance away along the beach I ran to retrieve them and placed them at his feet, receiving a grunt of acknowledgment. I returned to the shelter of my partially upturned canoe where this chap subsequently came and squatted beside me.Conversation was laborious. My German is non existant and his English was poor, but, mainly, it seemed he was unused to the act of speech. He mistook me initially for a German and was surprised on learning otherwise. For some reason he is not alone in this misconception. I am always being takenfor a German on my travels - a blonde wife and children aided me in this deception for many years - particularly when in Greece.Despite these problems, I managed to glean something of the nature of the Lizard Men over the next half hour. They had all been Luftwaffe, and I assume from his story, all pilots, who had come to Crete with the invasion. Most had a very happy time on the island and formed very happy relationships with the locals. When I expressed surprise at this version of things, my informant was at pains to point out that, while terrible things happened in war, they happened to a minority of participants (particularly to surviving participants, I suppose, when you think about it). For these men, their stay on Crete during the war was a happy one and, perhaps for some, represented the happiest months of their lives.After the war, these men were all recruited by an airline - and my memory has it as being QUANTAS. They served as airline pilots for two decades but then, sometime in the sixties, were all dismissed. I did not learn why but I wonder if this was a time of changeover from prop to jet power. These men had taken up their existance on that beach at that time and had pursued it since. Initially there were about twenty to thirty of them and what I saw were the survivors. I did not gain an explanation as to what drove them to such a Spartan lifestyle. I suppose it's possible that, in those days, they received no financial consideration from the airline. Their skills were outmoded and their ages against them.Despite my Lizard Man's age, lack of clothing, and the bizarre circumstance of our meeting, I was left with a lasting impression of great personal dignity and an inner peace or, perhaps, that was just some kind of resignation.
posted by Yorgus Nuttpud | 1:42 pm
1 Comments:
Amazing story sir.
Your writing is easy for me to read and understand but also very strong and colourful.
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