Authors: James Holland
Chevannes and Larsen consulted the map once more.
The Frenchman
looked directly behind him to a peak marked as the Skj0nsberg. 'We're no more
than three kilometres from Tretten,' he said.
'Then we should start dropping into the valley,' said Tanner, who had
walked over to join the impromptu conference. 'If we head slightly north-west,
we can aim straight for Tretten. It'll be easier and quicker than if we
continue north along the lip of the plateau.'
'What about the Germans?' said Larsen.
'They haven't started their infantry attack yet, have they? If we get a
move on—'
'No,' said Chevannes, cutting him short. 'That's far
too
risky. We head due north, then cut down to the
village. Two more minutes, then we get going.'
Tanner walked back to his men. 'Come on, lads,' he said. 'Nearly there
now. Then this'll be over. One last effort, eh?' He shook Hepworth awake. 'Hep,
come
on,
up you get.' Hepworth opened his eyes, nodded bleakly
and stood up, stumbling backwards from the weight and awkward balance of his
pack. 'Remind me never to go up a mountain again, Sarge,' he said.
Away to the left, Tanner spotted a clearing in the trees and what
seemed like a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. 'Stan, keep an eye on
Sandvold, will you?'
'Where you goin', Sarge?'
'To have a quick look round. I'll catch you up. He moved through the
trees until he could see Tretten nestling just up the valley, then felt in his
haversack and pulled out his scope. He squatted by a jutting rock and peered
through the lens. A shell exploded near the village, the mass of smoke and
debris mushrooming, into the sky several seconds before any sound reached him.
He looked south. Troops and vehicles were on the road, emerging round a bend in
the gorge. He lowered his scope to clean the lens. Suddenly, movement caught
his eye in the trees below to his left and he brought the scope back to his
eye. Nothing. He scanned the trees, then there it was - men moving. A mass of
German troops, just a few hundred yards below and no more than a quarter of a
mile to the south.
'Bloody hell,' he muttered. 'We're bloody running out of time here.' He
scrambled to his feet and soon caught up with the others, then strode on
towards Lieutenant Chevannes.
'What is it, Sergeant?' The tone was impatient, weary.
'German troops, sir, on the slopes below, not far behind.'
'Who would have caught us out if we had done as you suggested.'
Tanner clenched his fist. Just one blow, he thought - that was all it
would take to silence the man. 'No, sir,' he said slowly, 'because, as I
explained at the time, it was a chance worth taking. The moment we saw them we
would either have altered course or hurried onwards.'
'You can't ever admit it when you are wrong, can you, Sergeant Tanner?
Your insolence is really wearing very thin. Do remember that you are speaking
to a senior officer.'
'I don't give a damn,' said Tanner, his fury mounting. 'If we'd left
last night when I said we should, we'd have been in Tretten by now.'
'I've had just about enough—'
'Please,' said Sandvold, speaking up for the first time. 'No more
arguing. Let's just keep going. We still have a chance of reaching safety.'
Chevannes glared at Tanner. 'We must push on beyond the village. There
is little we can do to stop the Germans outflanking Tretten now.'
Tanner thought of the gelignite and TNT in his pack. Actually, he
realized, there was quite a lot they could do with a sackload of explosives and
the twin advantage of height and steep, rocky slopes. Had it not been for
Sandvold, he would have peeled his men away from Chevannes and had some fun.
Instead he said, 'I'll tell my men to keep at it, sir,' then fell back towards
Sykes and the others.
'What's going on, Sarge?' Sykes asked, as Tanner rejoined him.
'Jerries,' said Tanner. 'Down below.'
Sykes whistled softly. 'Cunning sods,' he said.
'Listen, we need to keep our wits about us,' Tanner told him. 'We don't
want to get caught napping. We've got to watch our arses up here. Make sure we
keep looking around.'
Sykes nodded, then repeated the sergeant's instructions to each of the
men. Tanner walked on. He needed to think, but fatigue had settled over him, as
though it was sucking out the remnant of energy he had left.
Come on
, he told himself.
Keep going.
Think.
Gulbrand had said the Germans were not following
them, but what if he had been wrong? The Norwegians had been strafed twice,
nearly caught during a German search, and the reconnaissance planes must have
spotted them that morning. Coincidence, perhaps, maybe these things had happened
because there was a war on and they were near the fighting. Maybe the enemy
didn't know about Sandvold but were aware that they were carrying something
important. He rubbed his eyes and his brow. Tiredness was putting ideas into
his head.
At least they were among the trees, rather than out in the open. The
canopy provided by forest - the closeness of the environment, the sharpness of
sound - was something he always found reassuring, even though these were high
mountain forests of dark conifers, rather than the broadleaf woodland of
southern Wiltshire. As a boy he had spent much of his time in woods, helping
his father or on his own. He knew the smells of the changing seasons, the dry,
cool shade of summer, the damp, earthy mustiness of winter. He knew the
different songs of birds, from the nightingale to the wood warbler. From his
father, he had learnt which mushrooms and fungi could be eaten and which would
play havoc with your guts. He knew stoat from weasel, fox dung from badger,
hawthorn from blackthorn.
He remembered taking a boy from the village one night to see the badger
cubs; the other lad had been frightened of the dark and the night shadows; of
strange beasts that might lurk. Tanner had been mystified - what was there to
be scared about? - then angry when the boy had insisted on going home before
they had got anywhere near the sett. 'It's the unknown that people are afraid
of,' his father had told him. 'You and I have always roamed the woods. They're
a second home to us.'
Home.
What wouldn't he do to see it again - yet wasn't the
Army his home now? Certainly it had been all his adult life. Or, rather, the
2nd Battalion had been; but now, a little more than twelve hours since
Chevannes and his men had stumbled on them, he felt new warmth for these
Territorial lads of the 5th Battalion.
'Sarge! Sarge!'
Tanner was startled from his thoughts.
'You'd better come, Sarge. Looks like we're being followed,' Sykes
gasped.
Adrenalin coursed through his blood and in an instant his mind cleared.
He reached the end of their column where Riggs and Chambers were each crouched
behind a pine, looking backwards, rifles ready.
'How far?' said Tanner, as he pulled out his scope once more.
'Couldn't say, Sarge,' said Riggs, 'but maybe a third of a mile.'
Tanner peered through the scope. Yes, there they were, still some way
off but climbing in their direction. He could see the lead men advancing
through the pines. Silently he passed the scope to Sykes.
'They're wearing caps and goggles,' said Sykes.
'Mountain troops,' said Tanner. 'How many can you see now?'
'Hard to say. A platoon, is my guess. God knows whether there are more
behind, though, Sarge. They can't really be after us, can they?'
Tanner shrugged, and put his scope into his trouser pocket. 'Right,' he
said. 'Let's get out of here.' He hurried his men forward, Sykes chivvying them
too, until they caught up with Chevannes and the Norwegians.
'Mon dieu
,' muttered Chevannes, when Tanner told him what they
had seen.
'We need to find out exactly how many there are,' said Tanner. His mind
was alert once more, his heart thumping.
'Yes,' said Chevannes.
'I'll take Sykes here and two of my men and head back for a dekko,'
Tanner continued. 'You keep going and we'll catch you up shortly.'
Chevannes nodded, his face taut.
Tanner hurried over to Lance Corporal Erwood, the Bren leader. 'Dan, I
want you to take charge of the rest of the lads, and I need you to do one other
thing. See that Norwegian civvy up ahead with the Frog officer?'
'Sarge.'
'Don't let him out of your sight.'
'Aye, Sarge. I won't.'
Tanner slapped him on the back. Then, collecting Chambers and Riggs, he
briefly looked around. Although the valley sides were densely forested,
especially along the east-facing slopes, up here, where it was more difficult
for the loggers to fell and remove their timber, the pines and larch grew
wildly, covering but not smothering the mountain. There were open patches too,
and it was as the German troops crossed one that Tanner hoped to get a good
look at their enemy.
He reckoned he wanted to be about four hundred yards away when he saw
them - far enough for them to be out of effective range, but close enough for
him to see them clearly through the scope.
'Sarge?' said Sykes. 'I don't like to hurry you or nothing but—'
'I know,' cut in Tanner, still peering at the snow and trees around
him. He had spotted a small spur a short distance above and was trying to
decide whether it would offer the view and cover they needed. For a brief
moment he was paralysed by indecision, then said, 'Up there, quick, to that
crest.'
They scrambled up and, as they crouched between two pines, Tanner was
relieved to see they had a fine view down the undulating slopes of the valley
sides.
'There they are,' hissed Sykes.
Tanner smiled as he watched the enemy troops reach the edge of the
clearing, pause, spy the tracks in the snow, then continue forward. 'Start
counting them, lads,' he said quietly, then screwed his scope onto the mounts
on his rifle.
'You going to start firing, Sarge?' asked Chambers. He looked worried.
'Keep counting, Punter,' said Tanner, 'and if you've got a full
magazine, take it from your rifle and hold on to it until I ask you to pass it
to me.' He raised the rifle to his shoulder. Through the scope he could clearly
see the first section of men. They were spread out in a loose single file and,
Tanner was glad to see, their rifles were still slung over their backs. Behind
the section leader was a machine-gunner, his weapon carried loosely on his
shoulder. A further section of ten followed, and another beyond that. Tanner
led his aim along the column. Where was the commander? Some of the men wore
green-collared greatcoats, but most had on shorter, light olive jackets. All
were wearing peaked field caps rather than helmets and had only small rucksacks
on their backs. At that distance, even with the scope, it was hard to tell who
was in charge.
'Thirty-nine, sir,' said Riggs.
'That's what I make it,' agreed Sykes.
'Fine,' said Tanner. 'You ready with that magazine, Punter?'
'Yes, Sarge,' said Chambers.
His father had taught Tanner a good trick for judging distance. The key
was to be able to assess a hundred- yard stretch almost exactly. Do that, his
father had assured him, and the next hundred yards and the hundred yards beyond
that were easier to judge; it was a matter of understanding the naked eye's
sense of perspective and increasingly reducing each ensuing hundred-yard
stretch. He reckoned the leading troops were now at about four hundred yards.
Then remembering that distance was easily overestimated when you were looking
downwards, he aimed just a fraction low at the lead troop, exhaled gently and
fired.
The man dropped immediately, and Tanner fired his next three shots
while the startled troops looked around wildly and thought to flatten
themselves on the ground. Even once they were prostrate on the snow, there were
some easy targets as they lifted their heads to loosen their rifles, or
crouched and ran for the cover of the trees. Tanner reckoned he had hit seven
men with his first magazine. One man was crawling across the snow, vivid blood
trailing behind him. Men were shouting. The first German rifle shot cracked
through the mountainside, way off, but was followed by many more, bullets
zipping through the trees above and below them.
'Give me that magazine,' said Tanner. His voice was steady, firm. He
unclicked the first, drove the replacement into its place and fired again.
Five shots and by then the machine-gunner of the second section was firing. The
aim was wild, but the short, rapid bursts were well spread. Tanner fired twice
more. Another burst from the machine-gun, and this time bullets fizzed close
by. Riggs screamed.
'Sarge, we need to get out of here!' Sykes had grabbed Riggs, who was
clutching the side of his head.
Tanner pulled back the bolt one last time and hit a man square in the
chest. 'Come on, let's go. Is it serious?' he said to Sykes as they scrambled
down from the spur.