The Odin Mission (18 page)

'Of course not - but listen, Stan. Those buggers are going to catch us
up soon enough, so we've got no choice but to stand and face them.' He spoke quickly,
his eyes constantly darting to the trees behind them. 'I know they're Nazi
bastards but they're not going to leave their wounded to die, are they? That
means there'll probably be only twenty of them - maybe twenty-five at most. And
if we're ready and waiting, we can beat them.' Sykes still seemed doubtful.
'Look, we all walk into the hut, then jump out the back and into the stream. No
more footprints. By going up and down the stream we can get the men into
position without Jerry seeing where we've gone. A few can clamber up on to that
small cliff - it'll give a perfect line of fire. Others can go down the stream
and hide behind trees and rocks.'

Sykes was smiling now.

'Jerry's going to see the tracks going into the hut and none coming
out,' Tanner continued. 'And he'll see a bit of Riggs's blood. If he's not very
clever he'll come forward - and we've got them in the bag. On the other hand,
if he's got any sense he'll smell a rat. If it's Mr

Sandvold he's
after, he's not going to risk spraying the hut with machine-gun fire, is he?
Which means he's got to send some men forward to investigate.'

'And we shoot them.'

'I reckon so. Then he's got even fewer men, and he
'
ll
know we've got him covered. So he
won't be able to move unless he goes backwards, or tries working round the
sides. In any case, we'll still have him covered.' He looked back again. 'First
we've got to persuade Chevannes, though. That stupid bugger won't listen to me.
Maybe you should suggest it. He'll take it from you.'

To Tanner's surprise, Chevannes was receptive to the idea, as explained
by Sykes. 'Yes, Corporal, I think there is something in what you say.' He
turned to Tanner. 'You are lucky to have such a clever corporal, Sergeant. You
could learn something from him, you know.'

The French lieutenant ordered the men to walk quickly to the
seter,
while Sykes and Tanner
unwrapped the bandages from Riggs's head once more. The rifleman was indignant.
'If I faint from loss of blood, I'm blaming you, Sarge,' he said.

'Stop being such a baby, Riggs,' Tanner told him. 'You've got eight
pints of the stuff. Losing a few spots won't make much difference.' With
droplets of blood from Riggs's cut dripping and spreading in the snow, they
followed the rest of the men into the hut. To his relief, there was a shuttered
glassless window at the back, leading straight to the stream. Chevannes
divided the men, posting his Chasseurs Alpins on top of the shallow cliff above
the
seter,
and ordering Tanner to disperse his men south of the hut. 'Sandvold, Nielssen, Larsen
and I will take up positions over there,' he said, pointing to a rise in the
ground below the ravine and further back from the stream. 'And no one will fire
until I do so. You take my lead, you understand? Now, let us get into position
-
vite
.
We
don't have much time.'

Chevannes' men clambered out first, followed by their officer and the
Norwegians. As his own men were about to follow, Tanner stopped them. 'Listen,
lads,' he said, 'make sure you position yourselves with decent cover, all
right? Remember what you've been taught. Make sure your ammo's near to hand.
Have your rifles ready. Use the trees and the larger rocks along the edge of
the stream. And don't fire until Lieutenant Chevannes gives the order, all
right? Once he fires the first shot, you can fire at will. You see any
Jerry-wallahs, shoot the buggers.' They were frightened, but exhilarated, too,
he knew. 'And, finally, make sure you don't leave any footprints until you're
well clear of this basha. Don't you worry about getting wet feet because when
we've got these bastards beat, we can pinch their boots. Now, off you go,
quickly - but carefully.'

He patted them on the back as they squeezed out of the window, one by
one, then noticed Sykes pulling at the straps of his pack.

Sykes caught his eye and grinned. 'We could always give him an even
bigger 'eadache, Sarge.'

'What did you have in mind?'

Sykes winked, licked his thumb, then opened his haversack. 'I lifted a
few bits of HE, didn't I?'

'You crafty begger!' said Tanner.

'Well, no point leaving it all at that train depot for Jerry, was
there?'

Tanner smiled. 'No, Corporal. What do you think I'm carrying in these?'
He pointed to his respirator satchel and pack.

Sykes chuckled. 'Bloody 'ell, Sarge, and there was me thinkin' I was
the only sneaky bastard round 'ere.' He looked around conspiratorially, then
said, 'In any case, I was thinking we could string something up to the door.
Might give 'em a nasty shock.'

'Have we got time?' Tanner peered through a narrow slit in the timber
along the wall by the door. 'Can't see them yet.' He had another look through
his scope. Nothing, but he was certain it wouldn't be long.

Ignoring the sergeant's concerns, Sykes was already taking a length of
safety fuse from a round metal tin in his haversack. 'It's good stuff, this,'
he said. 'Perfectly strong enough for what we need.' He cut a short strip with
his clasp knife, then tied one end round the latch on the door frame and
threaded it through the handle. He took out a hand grenade, loosened the pin
and tied the other end of the fuse, so that the grenade hung gently against the
door.

For a moment neither man spoke. The hut smelt musty - damp wood and
dust: probably unused since the previous summer. Tanner watched Sykes with
mounting unease. 'I hope that pin's not going to slip out, Stan.'

'It'll need more pressure than the grenade's weight to pull it out.' He
felt in his pack again. 'Now for a little extra something. A nice packet of Mr
Nobel's finest, I think.' He produced a cardboard packet of gelignite and tied
it to the door handle with more safety fuse.

'Bloody hell - careful, Stan!'

Sykes grinned. 'You know what your problem is? You worry too much.'

'Sod you, Corporal. I just don't want to be blown to smithereens.'
Tanner watched Sykes put away his knife. 'Ready now?'

Sykes winked.

'Good. Let's get out of here, quick.'

Jumping into the stream, they clambered along the rocks, keeping an eye
on the trees in the direction they had come and praying they wouldn't be
spotted. The weight of his packs affected his balance, and Tanner slipped on a
smooth rock. He cursed to himself as ice- cold water splashed up his trousers.
Regaining his footing, he staggered on. Ahead he caught sight of Hepworth
dashing from one tree to another.
Stop bloody moving about, Hep,
he thought. He could feel
his pulse throbbing again; he wanted to run but the splashing of water would be
too noisy, yet if the enemy arrived now he and Sykes would be sitting ducks.
Fifteen yards ahead he spotted a pine close to the water's edge, leaning out
awkwardly over the stream.
If we can just reach that,
he
thought. The trunk would hide his tracks on the far side. 'Stan!' he whispered,
and pointed urgently to the tree. Sykes nodded.

Reaching the tree first, the corporal clambered up out of the stream
bed, holding out a hand for Tanner. A short distance away there was a small
knoll between the trees, shallow, but offering good cover. The two men ran over
to it. For a moment, Tanner lay on his back, looking up into the trees, breathing
in the chill, crisp mountain air. In the valley below he could still hear the
battle, but there was silence around them, save for water gurgling through the
rocks on its journey down the slope.

Tanner rolled over, pulling his rifle to his chin. They were about
sixty yards from the hut with a clear view towards it. Glancing around him he
could see some of the men, thankfully now well hidden from the enemy behind
rocks, trees and rises in the ground. Only a few yards away Lance Corporal
Erwood and the Bren crew had their machine-gun ready.

A minute ticked by. Tanner wondered where the Germans were; perhaps the
ambush hadn't been such a good idea. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut.
He glanced at his watch; he reckoned they now had at least a fifteen-minute
advantage over the enemy. Perhaps they should have pushed on. Another minute
passed. 'Come on, damn you,' he muttered. 'Where the bloody hell are you?'

'There, Sarge!' whispered Sykes. 'Look! See that Jerry dropping on to
his knee?'

Tanner could see
him clearly - perhaps eighty yards away. The man was studying the tracks in the
snow that led to the
seter.
Tanner gripped the barrel of his rifle and felt
his finger glide against the cool dark metal of the trigger.
About bloody time
, he thought.

Hauptmann
Zellner saw the leading group commander stop, kneel, then signal back.
Crouching, Zellner hurried forward.

'Tracks, sir,' said the sergeant, 'leading to the hut. And there's
blood on the ground. Looks like at least one is wounded.'

Zellner took out his pistol. Clutching the grip was somehow reassuring.
'Well, there are certainly plenty of footprints here.' He lifted his arm and
waved in a circular motion, the signal for his men to deploy into an open
skirmish line. Two machine-gun teams hurried through the trees sixty yards
either side of him, while the third fell in beside him. Without a word, the
soldier carrying the MG30 lay down in the snow, prised apart the bipod, drew
the stock into his shoulder, and pulled back the cock until it clicked into
place. His partner crouched beside him with the spare ammunition, then
unfastened the clip that held the two drum magazines together. At the same
time, the rest of the men had hastily taken up positions behind trees and on
the ground and, with their rifles unslung, the
seter
was now covered. It had taken less than half a
minute and Zellner felt proud of his men. They had confirmed what he already
knew: that there could be few men better trained in the entire 3rd Gebirgsjager
Division. General Dietl himself would have been impressed.

'Do you think they're in there?' the sergeant asked.

Zellner was not sure. It seemed likely. After all, if they were not,
where were they? These were the only tracks. He lifted his binoculars to his
eyes and swept the ground ahead. He could see nothing out of the ordinary. But
what if the hut was a trap? He bit at his thumbnail. Three machine-guns now
covered it and were mutually supporting, while eighteen rifles were trained
towards it.

In addition, his
men each carried at least three stick grenades. It was a considerable amount of
fire-power. Moreover, he had to do something. His mission was to capture Odin.
He must act decisively.

'I'm going to
tell them to surrender,' Zellner told his sergeant, 'and if they don't come
out, I'll send you forward. What can they do? We've got them covered.'

Tanner had seen
the German officer lift his binoculars and pressed his own head into the snow.
He prayed that curiosity would not get the better of any of his young,
inexperienced men and that they would, like him, keep themselves hidden.
Seconds ticked by. Silence - no cry of alarm, no crack of a rifle. The enemy
officer could not have seen them. Tanner breathed a sigh of relief.

'Ergebt
euch!'
he suddenly heard shouted out. '
Waffen neider!'

'What's he goin' on about?' whispered Sykes.

'I think he wants us to show ourselves.'

'Surrender!' the German shouted in English. 'Come out with your hands
up!'

'Told you,' whispered Tanner. Carefully he lifted his head. The German
officer was ordering his men forward. Six soldiers, crouching, their rifles
drawn to their shoulders and aimed at the hut, scampered across the open ground
to the
seter.
Four stood at either side
of the door, while the remaining two stood back a few yards, their rifles still
aimed at the hut's entrance.

'The moment of truth, Sarge,' whispered Sykes.

One man had a silver bar on his upper left sleeve. Tanner guessed he
was an NCO; at any rate, he now walked to the door, listened a moment, turned
briefly to the officer, then kicked hard.

The door swung open and Tanner's heart sank. 'Bollocks,' he muttered.

But then came a deafening crack and the hut erupted into a ball of
angry orange flame. Even eighty yards away Tanner could feel the blast as the
air was sucked towards the fireball, and a pulse throbbed through the ground. A
shot rang out next to him. Dan Erwood's Bren began to chatter. Tanner could see
the Germans were startled once again - so much so that, for a moment, they seemed
frozen to the spot. As grit and flecks of bone and flesh fell round them,
Tanner began firing. He saw one man go down and another fall prostrate in the
snow.
Where's that Jerry
officer?
He scanned the trees but already
his view was clouded by smoke rolling across the clearing. Spurts of flame and
tracer bullets glowed curiously through the haze, pinning down the rifle fire
from beyond the stream. More tracer arced from the other end of the German line
snapping branches and twigs. He heard one man cry out, then another.