Rifles of Santorini: Chapter 2

As the sun set, it colored the Aegean orange and purple. Nikos, Maria, and the rest of the team gathered in a secluded cave by the shore. This was their base—a hidden sanctuary where plans were whispered and hope was rekindled.

There was dim, flickering lantern light, shadows across the walls with cracks and ridges. Center stage was a worn wooden table bearing the scratches of countless meetings over its battered, scarred surface. Laid across it were maps, blueprints, explosives, and a radio tuned to the frequencies of their allies.

Nikos stood at the head of the table, his eyes taking in his team. Each face was etched with hardship and determination. Kostas, the grizzled mechanic who could jury-rig anything with a wrench and scrap metal; Eleni, the young scout whose keen eyes missed nothing; and of course, Maria, fierce in spirit and skilled in combat.

“We move tonight,” Nikos began, his voice steady but low. “The Germans won’t expect us to strike so soon after their last patrol sweep. That’s our advantage. But it’s also our risk. They’ll be on edge.”

Maria moved forward, eyes flashing with conviction. “We have been preparing this for weeks. We know better the layout of the Eagles’ Nest than them. Stick to the plan and we will get through.”

The plan had been fine-tuned to the finest detail. Eleni would serve as their scout, hiding on a hill overlooking the German encampment. She’d flash the lantern when patrols were on their way. Kostas and two other fighters would take care of the dynamite-laden connections, making sure to plant them in strategic places around the artillery. Maria and Nikos would spearhead the penetration, opening a path for the others and leaving the team clear to escape.

As the last orders were barked, the squad geared up. Nikos readied his revolver, a leftover from the Italian invasion, and adjusted the straps on his pack. Maria made sure her knife was secure at her belt and slung a rifle over her shoulder. Each motion was fluid, purposeful.

Nikos was standing there, looking at his comrades, before turning away. “We all know what’s at stake,” he said softly but firmly. “This is not about ruining the guns. It is about showing them that we are not broken. Santorini will fight.”

This was all they said as a murmur of agreement passed round the group. One after another, they filed out of the cave under the darkness, with the sound of their footsteps cushioned by the sand.

The journey to the Eagles’ Nest was dangerous. The team moved through the rugged terrain, avoiding the main roads. The moon dark and low, its light barely enough to guide their way. The air was cool and carried the faint scent of thyme and wildflowers, a sharp contrast to the tension that gripped them.

As they approached the German encampment, crunching boots in gravel reached their ears. It was a patrol. The team froze, against the rocky hillside. Nikos signaled to be silent. His hand remained raised in a clenched fist.

Two German soldiers emerged, their rifles slung casually over their shoulders. They were speaking in hushed tones, their words indistinguishable but their laughter carrying in the still night. The resistance fighters held their breath, every muscle taut.

The soldiers walked by, within meters of their secret hide, yet continued on, ignoring the threatening presence lurking in the darkness. Nikos gestured for them to move again only when the sound of the soldiers’ footsteps faded into the distance.

The German encampment loomed ahead, a stark contrast to the natural beauty of the island. Barbed wire fences surrounded the perimeter, and watchtowers stood like sentinels, their searchlights sweeping the ground. Beyond the fences, the massive artillery guns jutted into the night sky, their barrels gleaming ominously in the moonlight.

Eleni signaled from her position on the hill, her lantern blinking twice. The coast was clear—for now.

The team crouched low, trying to avoid detection as they approached the first fence. Kostas produced a pair of wire cutters and started snipping through the metal with practiced efficiency. It was faint, but to their ears, the sound seemed almost deafening in the silence.

Once through the fence, the group split up according to the different groups. Nikos and Maria were the first, moving with quiet deliberation. They slid by a German guard who was lighting a cigarette; the match had lit up his face for an instant.

With each step, they moved closer to the guns. Nikos’s heart thudded in his chest, but his mind stayed clear. There was no room for fear, no time for doubt.

They came to the first gun. Kostas and his crew set to work, attaching explosives to the base. The charges were small but powerful, designed to cripple the artillery without drawing attention until it was too late.

Maria scanned the darkness with her sharp eyes, rifle ready. Beside her, Nikos checked his watch. They had just minutes to finish the job and get out before the next patrol came by.

The team worked with quiet urgency, their hands moving deftly despite the tension. One by one, the charges were placed, their timers set.

Finally, the job was accomplished. Nikos motioned for the team to fall back, and they began their slow, careful march through the camp.

But the night was far from over. As they slipped through the shadows, the faint sound of barking reached their ears. The Germans had released their dogs.

Maria’s grip on her rifle tightened. “We need to move—now.”

Nikos nodded, his jaw set. The job wasn’t done yet. And as the first searchlight swept towards them, they knew the hardest part was still to come.