Some weeks ago I have read "The Cretan Runner" from George Pyschoundakis, his memories as a runner for the Cretan Resistance and later 1941-1945 for Special Operations Executive (SOE). He was born 1920 in Asigonia , had a little school teaching and after he was shepherd. In prison he wrote his war- memories , which has Patrick Leigh Fermor translated and also wrote the 30 pages long foreword.
The memories tell about the dangerous and exhausting errands , which took place mostly in the night, from the hard life in the mountains during hot summers and cold winters , the hiding in wet cold caves with little or no food. He and the others did great results , for example he run one night from Kissamos to the southern coast , normally today 45 km, through the mountains and with hiding much more longer . Admirable how he is telling without bitterness, with exactly memory, with humanity and warmness and a lot of humour.
Patrick Leigh Fermor is describing him : "When the moon rose he got up and threw a last swig of raki down his throat with the words Another drop of petrol for the engine, and loped towards the gap in the bushes with the furtiveness of a stage Mohican or Groucho Marx. He turned round when he was on all fours at the exit, rolled his eyes, raised a forefinger portentously, whispered, "the Intelligence Service", and scuttled through like a rabbit. A few minutes later we could see his small figure a mile away moving across the next moonlit fold of the foothills of the White Mountains, bound for another fifty-mile journey"