He placed two fingers on one of the men's arteries. There was no pulse. He moved to the other man and found a weak pulse. Nikolas let out a sigh of relief and rushed frantically to unbutton the man's shirt. Blood gushed out of his chest wound, soaking his clothes. Nikolas put pressure on the wound, but soon realized it was too late. He then put his arm under the dying man's head and held him. The man opened his eyes and tried to say something, but blood filled his mouth. He took Nikolas's hand and directed it to his breast pocket. Then there was no movement. Nikolas yelled out loud, cursing the pilots: "You bastards! You sons of bitches!"
He closed the man's eyes gently and laid him on the floor. Disliking the task, he opened the man's uniform and looked into his pockets. There were his wallet, papers, letters, and photographs. In one of the pictures, there was the soldier, a beautiful woman, and a little boy and a girl -- neither of whom were more than six to eight years old. The boy, the eldest, was a spitting image of his father. Nikolas read one of the letters:
"Dear Kevin, The children and I anxiously wait for your return. Sheila and I made a beautiful cake for your birthday. Sean misses you a lot; so do I. We are working hard to keep the grape vines healthy until you return. My father has been helping. I read that more troops from New Zealand are being sent to Crete. Someday I hope the children and
I can visit there. I Love You, Laura."
Nikolas lowered his head and wept. He remained in that position for a while, until he realized he must return to Anna. He took the wallet, to send to the man's wife.
After removing the handgun, which the man still clung to, with his cold finger clutching the trigger, he crossed the man's hands over his chest and quickly went to the radio with high hopes.
"This is Gaidouronisi. Can you read me? Over," he spoke into the radio. There was no response. "Is anyone there? Over." Nikolas looked behind the radio and found the line severed. He dropped the small intercom and let it dangle.
"The decent thing is to bury these men," Nikolas told himself. As he bent over the dead bodies and tried pulling one by the arms, there was an explosion. A hand grenade had been set off by the smoldering fire. Debris flew and Nikolas dropped face down on the two dead soldiers. There was now a lot more dust and smoke covering everything, but Nikolas was not hit.