Authors: James Holland
Chevannes shook his head. 'Brilliant, Sergeant,' he
said, smirking at the others, 'and just how do you think we can get past the
Germans in the valley and across a three-hundred-metre-wide lake? And where
exactly will we find a vehicle that will take us all?'
'We don't cross the lake. We cross at Tretten where
the river is much narrower.'
'And the fact that the village will be full of Germans
does not worry you?'
'We go at night, when it's dark. There's no moon
tomorrow. Anyway, we've got German uniforms now. Of course it's a risk, but if
we do as you suggest, we have no chance at all.'
'It's a preposterous idea.'
'There is a place you could cross,' said Anna. All
eyes turned to her. 'Just north of the village, a few hundred metres before the
bridge. There is a small spur that juts out into the river. The crossing is
only about a hundred and fifty metres wide at that point and there is a wooden
jetty. On the bank are several small row-boats.'
Good girl
, thought Tanner. 'In any case,'
he added, 'there's no reason why Tretten will be full of Germans. Some, maybe,
but most will already have headed north.'
Anna spoke hurriedly to her father, who nodded. Then
Larsen spoke to her in Norwegian. For a minute an argument ensued between
Larsen, Anna and her father: Larsen, firm and emphatic, Anna increasingly
animated and irate.
At length Chevannes said, 'What are you talking
about?'
'She wants to come with us,' said Larsen. 'I told her
it is out of the question.'
'But I know those mountains. I know the J0ra valley.
My brother and I hiked all over the Oppland mountains last summer.' She looked
imploringly at Chevannes, then Tanner. 'Please,' she said. 'I want to help.'
'What we have to do is far too dangerous for a woman,'
said Chevannes, 'and especially for a pretty girl like yourself, Mademoiselle.'
Tanner groaned to himself, then said, 'But there's no
doubting she'd be a great help. Listen to what she said. She knows these
mountains - none of the rest of us do. Second, the fact that she's a woman
might be an asset. The Germans would be less likely to suspect her.'
'And I speak German,' she added.
'Sir, please, listen to her,' said Tanner.
'She'll slow us down,' said Chevannes.
'I will not,' said Anna, defiant now.
Her mother spoke to her, but her father interjected
angrily.
'Her father says she is twenty-two,' Larsen
translated, 'and old enough to know her own mind. He also says he is proud of
his daughter for wanting to help in the battle against these Nazi thugs.'
Chevannes sat quietly for a few moments, stroking his
chin thoughtfully.
'Sir?' said Tanner.
The Frenchman picked up his dark blue beret, which had
been on the table in front of him, and felt with his finger round the badge. 'I
want to think about it. I am not at all convinced that we should even try to
cross the valley, regardless of what you say, Sergeant. In any case, are you
proposing that we stay here until tomorrow night?'
'If possible, yes. We might have to move elsewhere,
but not too far from here. I don't see that we have any choice.'
'There is a cave in the forest above the farm,' said
Anna. 'It is a secret place. We could show you in the morning.'
'And we need to move the wounded,' added Tanner. 'Anna
and her father are proposing to take them in their cart to Tretten.'
'And hand them over to the enemy?' said Chevannes. He
seemed appalled by the suggestion.
'They will die if they stay here,' said Anna. 'They
need proper attention.'
'Sir?' said Tanner, again. Chevannes picked at his
lip.
Come on, damn you,
thought Tanner.
Make a decision.
'Sir,' he said again, 'we need
to make a plan.'
'Be quiet, Tanner!' Chevannes snapped. '
Mon dieu, I
need to think. Stop rushing me.'
'But what about the wounded?' Tanner insisted. 'You're
the commander here. Mr Rostad and his daughter are willing to risk their lives
to save them. Tell them what you want them to do.' He looked at the lieutenant
with barely concealed contempt.
'Steady, Sergeant Tanner,' said Larsen. 'We are all
exhausted.'
'Yes, we are,' snarled Tanner, 'but it's a simple enough
decision.'
'All right, all right, damn you!' Chevannes ran his
hands through his hair. 'Take the wounded men. In the morning.' He smiled
weakly at Anna and her father, then said, 'Thank you, Mademoiselle, Monsieur.'
Larsen placed his hands flat on the table and said,
'Well, gentlemen, Miss, I think we should get some sleep now. The situation may
seem simpler when we have rested.' He stood up and bade the family good night.
Without a further word, Chevannes and Tanner followed him outside into the darkness.
The air was sharp and cold after the warmth of the
kitchen. The sliver of moon was hidden behind the mountains, but despite the
dark, Tanner could sense the looming immensity of their surroundings. Such a
vast place. He looked towards the valley, a black cavity in front of him, and
thought of the enemy below and the net they were casting inexorably over this
land.
Christ,
he thought,
what chance have we got?
The responsibility, the huge
barriers facing him at every turn, suddenly seemed too much. He wondered what
the next day would bring, then chastised himself.
Don't think
, he told himself.
Sleep.
Tanner had spent long enough in the Army to be able to sleep anywhere
so, despite having only a thin layer of straw between him and the floor, he
slept like the dead. When he awoke, it was nearly six in the morning. He
blinked and scratched.
Lice,
he thought, or was it fleas from the barn? He hadn't
washed properly since he'd arrived in Norway six days before. Six days! Not
even a week. It felt like eternity.
He sat up and looked round the barn. Shafts of light
shone through gaps in the roof, where suspended dust particles curled. One of
the doors was also ajar, revealing a bright sliver of deep blue already bathed
in sunshine. Gentle and not so gentle snores rose from some of the men, all of
whom seemed to be still fast asleep. Next to him Sykes was sleeping peacefully,
a contented smile on his face. Tanner grinned to himself.
It was only then that he noticed the wounded men were
no longer there; neither was Lieutenant Larsen. Grabbing his rifle, he quietly
left the barn, went out into the yard and crossed to the farmhouse. Anna and
her mother were there, as was Larsen, drinking coffee. The smell of fresh bread
and chicken filled the room.
'Good morning, Sergeant,' said Anna. 'You slept well?'
'Too well, thanks, Miss. Where are the wounded men?'
'We moved them in the night,' said Anna. 'They were in too much pain
and crying out.'
'They were keeping some of the men awake,' added Larsen. 'I felt the
first priority was to make sure the fit and healthy stayed that way.'
'Christ, I didn't hear a thing. And how are they now?'
'We gave them more brandy. Riggs is not good, though.'
Anna's mother passed him some bread and chicken and gave him a mug of
coffee.
Ah,
that's good,
he thought. How could something so simple taste so delicious? Sleep and food
had made him feel a different man; his mind was clear and his limbs no longer
ached.
'We need to post guards,' he said to Larsen, and then to Anna, 'When
will you take the wounded into Tretten?'
'My father is tending the animals. Then we will go.'
'I'll come with you some of the way,' said Tanner, suddenly. He'd not
thought of it before, but it now occurred to him that reconnaissance, however
crude, would greatly improve their chances of success.
'Isn't that an unnecessary risk?' asked Larsen.
'We need someone to recce Tretten,' Tanner replied. He pushed back his
chair, stood up, and took his rifle. 'Thank you for breakfast. I'll be outside.
Call me when you want help with the wounded.'
Outside, the air seemed so still, and across the valley, the morning
sun shone gold, casting long blue shadows over the mountains beyond. Behind him
he could
already hear
melting snow dripping from the pines.
His mind was whirring now, thinking of the many
possible scenarios that could unfold that day They were now down to seventeen
men, still a cumbersome number. He wondered whether Zellner and his men had
escaped, whether Luftwaffe reconnaissance planes would spot them, if and when
more German troops would be sent to search for them. And he wondered how he
could best manage Chevannes. He was conscious that he had perhaps antagonized
him too much the previous night, yet despite that he still felt certain that
his plan to cross the valley was the right one. Getting back to the Allies
would not be easy - far from it - and he knew their chance of success was
slight. Even so, they had to give themselves the best possible opportunity. For
Tanner it was a simple equation: if they continued north, they would fail; if
they crossed the valley, they had a sliver of a chance. He had to persuade
Chevannes of that.
He had let his men rest, mindful that they had endured
much since their arrival in Norway, but now, at nearly half past six, it was
time for them to be up and alert. Guards should be posted, weapons cleaned.
Stomachs needed to be filled and the plan of action explained. Damn it, he
thought, it must be made and agreed upon. He hurried back towards the barn as
Larsen emerged from the house.
'Sergeant,' Larsen called to him.
'Are they ready to take the wounded now?' Tanner
asked, walking over to meet him.
'Very soon, yes.'
'Have you seen Lieutenant Chevannes? Is he up?'
'Not yet.'
'Well, he should be. He's got fifteen men to command
and one civilian to look after.'
Larsen offered Tanner a German cigarette, which the
sergeant accepted. 'You know,' said Larsen, as he struck a match, 'you should
try to patch things up with Chevannes.'
The comment surprised him. 'Have you, sir?' he
replied, then immediately regretted it. He had sounded churlish, he knew.
'After yesterday, you mean? I don't blame him for
that. I would probably have responded in the same way, had I been in his position.
He had no personal reason to think I’ll of that German.'
'With respect, sir, his judgement is terrible. He
makes bad decisions and he undermines my authority with my men.'
Larsen smiled. 'He is a proud man. He feels threatened
by you - by your greater experience. None of us is very experienced in war. We
are not experienced at all. No doubt he did well at St Cyr, but as we are all
finding out, what is taught in peacetime bears little relation to what we
discover in war. We are not warned, for example, about the sometimes very
difficult decisions we are forced to make. Decisions that affect lives. Is it,
I wonder, better that we save one life even though that might cause us to lose
another?'
'That's the nature of command, sir,' said Fanner.
'Those difficult choices are part of the deal. We should have left the
seter
two nights ago when it stopped
snowing. If we had we would be with the Allies by now.'
'And quite possibly prisoners-of-war.'
'But not Sandvold. He would have been whisked away to
safety.' Tanner sighed. 'I know what I promised Gulbrand, and I'm sticking to
that - not from a warped sense of honour but because of what he told me about
the professor. If Sandvold is as important as the colonel made out, I have a
duty - we all do - to see him safe. Then I have a duty to my men. If I keep
quiet, Chevannes will lead us to disaster.'
'How can you be so sure? What if he's right? What if
we head north instead?'