The Fall of Crete and What It Could Teach Taiwan

In the early morning hours of May 20, 1941, screaming swarms of German Messerschmitts and Stukas suddenly materialized in the cloudless cerulean skies over Crete. Ferociously strafing and dive-bombing the anti-aircraft batteries of the island’s sleep-addled defenders, they were closely followed by a rumbling phalanx of Dornier 17 and Junker 88 bombers. Behind this flew a veritable airborne armada — 70-odd gliders filled with troops from the Seventh Airborne Division’s Storm Regiment and wave upon wave of lumbering Junker 52s crammed to the gills with nervous young paratroopers. For Gen. Bernard Freyberg — the highly decorated commander of Crete’s 32,000-strong garrison of British, Australian, and New Zealander troops, supplemented by close to 10,000 Greek soldiers — there was little cause for undue alarm. Plied with a steady stream of Ultra intercepts, the burly New Zealander had known for weeks that the Germans were preparing an invasion of the island. He retained something of a blithe self-confidence in his defensive preparations. So much so, in fact, that he calmly continued to enjoy his breakfast on his villa’s veranda, even as the bright blue sky above him grew increasingly pockmarked with Luftwaffe aircraft. Convinced that the bulk of the enemy’s invasion force would be ferried in by sea, where they would run afoul of the Royal Navy, the World War I veteran, like many of his fellow officers, remained dubious of the effectiveness of any large-scale airborne operation.