The Odin Mission (14 page)

'Stars, Sarge.'

'Exactly. So, let's
get back in the hut, kick everyone awake and get the hell out of here. Leave
those Frogs to get some kip. I'm sure they need it.'

Tanner and Sykes
burst noisily into the
seter
and immediately began to shake awake the rest of their men. 'Come
on, wakey-wakey,' said Sykes. 'Mac, Hep, come on, up you get.' The men yawned
and stretched.

'Just what do
you think you're doing, Sergeant?' said Chevannes. 'Is this how you always
treat your men?'

'We're off,'
Tanner said tersely. 'Time to go.'

'You'll do no
such thing, Sergeant.' In the dark half- light, Chevannes glared up at him,
almost daring Tanner to challenge him.

'You're not in
command of my men, sir. I am. And, furthermore, Colonel Gulbrand has ordered me
to take Mr Sandvold here to the safety of the Allied lines. If I'm to do that,
I need to get going while it's still dark and the Germans are getting their
beauty sleep.'

Chevannes laughed. 'The colonel ordered you, did he? Tell me, Sergeant,
why on earth would a Norwegian colonel order you - a mere sergeant - to such a
task when two of his men, his fellow countrymen and officers senior in rank,
are infinitely better placed to carry out that role?'

Tanner felt his anger rising. 'He ordered me not fifteen minutes ago.
Ask him yourself.'

Chevannes' mouth curled into a barely suppressed smile. 'Yes, why don't
we?' He moved towards the colonel and, crouching beside him, said, 'Colonel
Gulbrand? Colonel, can you hear me?' The colonel's eyes were wide and staring,
his face glistening with sweat. 'Colonel?'

Gulbrand gibbered, his words inaudible.

'Colonel!' said Chevannes again, then stood up slowly, and faced Tanner
and the Norwegians. 'He's delirious with fever.'

Quickly Tanner knelt beside Gulbrand. 'Colonel! Colonel!' Gulbrand's
eyes suddenly locked on his. With one hand he clutched Tanner's shoulder and
began speaking in Norwegian, gabbling frantically, panic in his eyes.
'Colonel,' said Tanner again, 'it's me, Sergeant Tanner.'

'He thinks he is talking to the King,' said Larsen, quietly.

Tanner felt Gulbrand's grip loosen and with it his own grip on the
situation. Anger and humiliation flushed through him as he realized he had lost
his fight with Chevannes. 'Colonel!' said Tanner again, searching desperately
for life in Gulbrand's face. 'Come on, damn you!'

'Sarge.' It was Sykes, standing beside him. 'Sarge, he's gone.'

'Your corporal's right, Sergeant Tanner,' said Chevannes.

Tanner clenched his fist. By God, he wanted to knock the man down.
Momentarily closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, then stood up once more.

'So,' said Chevannes, 'I am in command.'

'We still need to get going - and now,' said Tanner, with undisguised
exasperation.

'We
need
rest.'

Give me strength,
thought Tanner. 'Sir, we need to get to the Allied
lines as quickly as possible. Half an hour before dark last night, the Germans
were attacking a position only four or five miles west of here. My guess is
that they're still there, and I'd put money on the rest of our forces being at
Tretten. That's no more than six or seven miles. We can do that in three hours.
The men can rest then.'

'Sergeant, it is still dark out there, the snow is deep, and although
my men have proper mountain boots, yours do not, and none of us has either skis
or snowshoes. It is freezing cold and my men - yours too - are exhausted. If we
stumble out there now, we are asking for trouble.'

What was this madness? 'But we'll be in considerably worse trouble if
we don't get to Tretten before the Germans.'

Chevannes smiled and scratched his chin thoughtfully. 'You've
obviously not been studying the German
modus operandi,
Sergeant.' He glanced at the Norwegians, then at his men, and chuckled. 'The
German is an organized fellow, Sergeant, and has a plan that he likes to stick
to. Let me enlighten you. Every morning at first light, reconnaissance planes
are sent over. Later in the morning, their field guns start firing. At noon,
the Luftwaffe arrives and bombs and strafes the position they are going to
attack. The artillery firing increases and later in the afternoon, with our
infantry nicely softened up, their infantry and armour move forward and attack.
And he will do precisely the same tomorrow. So I tell you this - again. No, I
order you, Sergeant.' The smirk had gone. 'We stay here now, rest, and leave in
the morning. We will still be at Tretten before noon, well before your
commander decides it is time to retreat once more.'

Tanner appealed to the Norwegians. 'You're surely not going to listen
to this?' But as he said it, Nielssen avoided his eye and Larsen was unmoved.
Some of his men were awake now, and he looked at them for support. No one spoke
in his defence, but they wouldn't: it wasn't the place of privates and lance
corporals to argue with officers. Their task was to obey orders, whether it be from
their section leader, patrol leader or an officer.

'Sergeant,' said Larsen, his voice placatory, 'we have been on the run
for more than a week and on these mountains for three days. We have lost Stunde
and now our beloved colonel. Neither I nor Nielssen have had any sleep for two
days. I believe Lieutenant Chevannes is right. We will, God willing, still make
the Allied lines if we rest here a while longer.' He nodded at Sandvold,
huddled in the corner of the hut, his arms hugging his knees. 'He is still
asleep. Leave him be a while longer.'

Tanner was defeated. 'Very well,' he muttered. He realized he was
exhausted too. His limbs ached, his feet were sore, and he could no longer
think clearly. 'We need to bury the colonel,' he said.

Chevannes spoke to two of his men, who went over to Gulbrand's body,
lifted it and took it outside. Tanner slumped against the far wall next to
Sykes, took out his gas cape, draped it over himself and closed his eyes.

'We'll all be better for the rest,' whispered Sykes.

'I don't give a
damn,' muttered Tanner. 'We're soldiers and we're at war. Our task is to get
back to our lines as quickly as possible and, according to Gulbrand, there's a
hell of a lot at stake. If we fail because of that French bastard, I'll kill
him.'

They were on
their way by seven, with Gulbrand buried and their stomachs warmed with coffee.
The sky above was blue and bright, the air cold and the snow deep. The
landscape had changed. Golden early-morning light cast long, blue shadows. Snow
twinkled brightly on the trees. Three of Chevannes' men were scouting ahead of
the column, followed by the French lieutenant and the Norwegians, Tanner and
his men trudging silently behind, like chastened schoolboys still in disgrace.

Snow crunched beneath their feet. Tanner clutched the canvas strap of
his rifle and felt his pack weighing on his shoulders. The air was so still
that his own breathing seemed to be amplified.

If he was honest, he felt better for the sleep, but his anger and
frustration had not subsided. Neither was his mood improved when he realized
the French and Norwegians were walking faster than his own men. He had promised
himself he would keep Sandvold in sight at all times, but although he could
still see him, the gap between his men and the Norwegians was increasing.

'Come on, lads,' he urged. 'Get a move on.'

'We're not so well dressed for a snowy stroll in the mountains as they
are, Sarge,' said Sykes. 'Look at the clobber of those Froggies.'

It was true, and Tanner had eyed the Chasseurs Alpins' uniforms with
envy. Each man had a thick sheepskin jacket, or
canadienne
, as they called it, with a wide collar that
could be turned up to warm the neck and cheeks. Underneath, they wore a
waterproof khaki canvas anorak and a thick wool sweater, while their trousers
were heavy-duty serge plus-fours. Stout studded mountain boots, made of
sealskin, kept their feet warm and equally waterproof gaiters covered their
ankles and shins. A dark blue beret, with snow goggles completed the outfit.
Again, Tanner cursed the brass who had planned this expedition to Norway. The
Germans had mountain troops, the French had mountain troops, why the hell
didn't the British? Or, at least, why hadn't the bigwigs given the men kit
designed for the job? Already, his feet were painfully cold; the leather of his
boots was not waterproof now that the polish had largely worn off, while the
soles were slippery in the snow. Nonetheless, the length of his stride gave him
an advantage over his men, most of whom, he knew, were runts from the
working-class slums of Leeds and Bradford. No wonder they were struggling to
keep up.

And when, Tanner wondered, were they going to head back into the trees?
Chevannes' men had led them round the top of the narrow ravine he had
overlooked the previous evening, then round another, but Tanner remembered
seeing no other such streams on Larsen's map.

'This is bloody ridiculous,' he muttered to Sykes. 'Why the hell are we
slogging through this? I'm going to have a word with Chevannes.' He pushed on
ahead and eventually caught up with the lieutenant.

'Ah, Sergeant,' said Chevannes, as Tanner drew alongside, 'your men
seem to be struggling this morning. I hate to think how many we would have lost
in the dark last night.'

'Why aren't we pushing further down towards the treeline?'

'We're taking the most direct route, Sergeant, so we can get to Tretten
in good time.'

Tanner fought a renewed urge to knock Chevannes down. 'The most direct
route, Lieutenant, is not the quickest,' he said. 'If we go along beneath the
lip of the valley, the snow won't be so deep, and the trees will give us
greater cover. Up here we stand out like sore thumbs.'

'Are you questioning my decisions again? Good God, Sergeant, your
superior officers will hear something of this! Now, get back to your men and
tell them to hurry. I do not want to hear another word.'

Tanner turned, then heard the now-familiar sound of aero-engines and
paused to scan the sky. A moment later he spotted the dark outline of a German
aircraft, like an insect moving slowly in their direction from the south.
Chevannes saw it too.

'Quick!' he shouted. 'Lie down!'

'Why, sir?' asked Tanner. 'I thought you said the Germans only send out
recce planes in the morning.'

Chevannes glared at him. The Junkers flew over, a thousand feet or so
above them, circled twice then flew west. Tanner, who had remained standing the
entire time, watched Chevannes get to his feet and brush the snow off his
jacket and beret. 'You were right, sir. A recce plane,' he said. 'I wonder how
long it will take them to get that information back.'

'Go to your men, Sergeant!' Chevannes hissed.

Tanner glared back as he stood defiantly in the snow and waited for his
men to catch up.

Soon after, the scouts changed direction, heading west towards the
treeline.
At last
,
thought Tanner. Perhaps now they'd make proper progress. And the sooner they
got back to the Allied lines the better. Then they could be shot of the
Norwegians and, more especially, of Chevannes and his bloody Chasseurs Alpins.