Authors: James Holland
'Yet we know where they have headed. The j0ra valley
is narrow and quite small. Zellner and his men will be able to search it with
far greater ease than they could the Gudbrandsdalen.'
'Zellner,' muttered Scheidt. 'Hardly a man to inspire
confidence.'
'Don't write him off yet, Herr Reichsamtsleiter. He
has excellent credentials and no doubt he'll be anxious to put right his
previous attempts to capture Odin.'
'I hope to God you're right, Kurz,' said Scheidt.
At Tretten station, Hauptmann Wolf Zellner was anxiously awaiting a
call from the Luftwaffe. At ten o'clock, they had told him, he could expect a
report from their morning reconnaissance yet it was now nearly half past and
there was still nothing. He glanced at his watch again, drummed his fingers on
the desk in the station master's office, then impatiently put a call through to
Fornebu. One plane was back, he was told, and had found nothing. The other was
late and out of radio contact.
Zellner slammed down the receiver and kicked the door.
He cursed Odin and Tanner, every single one of those miserable fugitives - men
who were making a fool of him. He still could not believe they had got away.
Countless times he had replayed the events of the previous evening over in his
mind, and every time, his anger and despair grew.
He could feel the career for which he had worked and trained
so hard slipping away from him. As a boy he had wanted to be a soldier, an
ambition that had never left him. He had joined the Austrian Army at eighteen,
and had cheered when Hitler had marched into Vienna in the spring of 1938. He
was proud to be part of what would surely become a great nation - a military
nation in which he had a part to play. From that moment on, he had dreamt of
great things. Ahead lay a future of endless opportunity in which he would
perform great deeds, win a multitude of awards for valour, and in which he
would rise steadily but surely to the top of his chosen profession.
Yet now a handful of Tommies, a few Frenchmen and
Norwegians threatened to shatter those dreams. It was inconceivable. The sense
of humiliation was too great.
Tanner
, he thought. He picked up an old cup from the desk
and flung it at the wall.
There was one small consolation. The rest of the
division were now further north, engaged in fighting at Kvam. That had meant a
reprieve for him and his company. It was not yet too late. If he could
successfully capture Odin, all else would be forgotten, and the upward path of
his career would continue uninterrupted.
He made a decision. He could not wait for late-
returning planes any longer. Odin had to be found. His men were ready and
waiting so they would begin the search now, on their own, without the
Luftwaffe's help. Kurz had told him they had been heading for the Jora valley.
Well, if that was so, someone somewhere must have seen them. And, that being
so, he would make sure they talked.
Sergeant Tanner had to remind himself that it didn't pay to allow
over-confidence to creep into one's thinking, but nonetheless he couldn't help feeling
that things were looking up. Shooting down the Junkers had probably meant their
whereabouts would remain secret for a while longer, but had also boosted
everyone's spirits. And then they had safely reached Uksum Farm, where Merit
Sulheim was considerably more helpful than the nervous farmer they had
encountered above Alstad earlier that Thursday morning.
With the men left to keep a close watch from the large
barn outside, Fanner, Sandvold, Anna and the officers were ushered into the
house. A spry, heavily built man in his thirties, Sulheim had a young family,
ran a successful logging business, and also kept cattle, goats, sheep and even
pigs, all housed in a number of rambling barns on the farm during winter and on
pastures that ran along either side of the J0ra river in summer. Evidently a
man of enterprise and zeal, he had, unlike most other farmers
of the Gudbrandsdal valley, invested in the latest machinery, including
an American Fordson tractor and a large Morris-Commercial truck. Neither was
the farmhouse as primitive as some of the others Tanner had seen: rather, it
was equipped with electricity, running water, had a modern range in the kitchen
and even a radio, on which Sulheim had been carefully following the progress of
the war.
It was because of this that the farmer was able to
tell them some news as to what was happening in the ongoing battle for Norway.
There was fighting to the north of Trondheim, near Namsos; Narvik had also been
heavily bombed. In the Gudbrandsdal valley, there was heavy fighting at Kvam,
some forty-five miles to the north-east. German-backed radio had reported that
they were advancing virtually unopposed up the Glama valley, east of, but
parallel to, the Gudbrandsdal. On hearing this Tanner had glanced at Chevannes.
And you reckoned we could
head north in that direction.
But Sulheim reported something more. That morning an
announcement had been broadcast by the German authorities that a dangerous band
of British, French and Norwegian troops was at large in the Gudbrandsdalen.
There was a reward for any help in securing their capture, but a warning too:
anyone offering these men help could expect 'the severest' punishment for doing
so. Well, that made one thing clear, though Tanner. The Germans knew about
Sandvold.
The threat of severe punishment did not seem to
perturb Sulheim, who explained that he was a patriot and openly professed his
desire to help his country against the Nazi oppressor. He had already tried to
join up in Lillehammer, but because of his timber business and position as one
of the few milk and meat producers in the area, he had been sent home. 'In any
case,' he added, in near-perfect English as his wife ladled out bowls of
porridge, 'we have seen a few planes, but not a single German soldier yet.' He
offered them his truck. Petrol was scarce and there was little in the tank, but
he produced two four-litre cans that he told them he had kept to one side. 'You
should have enough for maybe fifty kilometres.'
'Then we should leave right away,' Tanner said.
Chevannes shook his head. 'In broad daylight? It would
be better to lie up here today, and head off this evening when all is quiet.'
'I agree,' said Larsen. 'Think how far we got last
night. If we wait until dark we can drive to here.' He pointed to a spot on
Anna's map a few miles west of Vinstra, where the road rejoined the main
Gudbrandsdal valley. 'Then we can head over the mountains to Sjoa, west of
Kvam, perhaps be there by early next morning.'
Tanner sighed with exasperation. 'Look,' he said,
'it's clear that Jerry knows about the professor. I was already pretty sure of
that before I heard about that radio announcement. Think. First we were chased
through the mountains. Then last night they were waiting for us to cross at
Tretten, and this morning we were given three passes by an enemy reconnaissance
plane. Now the Germans have put out a broadcast about us. They're going to be
looking for us, and if Sandvold's as precious as I think he is, then they're
not going to stop looking until they've found him. We should get going while
we've got the chance to keep one step ahead of the bloody Bosches.'
'No,' insisted Chevannes. 'We should lie low until
evening, even if that means hiding in the mountains.'
'We should make as much ground now while we have the
chance,' Tanner countered. 'Mr Sulheim has offered us his truck. It's sitting
there now. Instead of arguing, let's head north, towards the Allies.'
'Sergeant, not for the first time, I would like to
remind you that I am the senior officer here, the one in command, not you. And
I am ordering us to stay where we are.'
'But this is madness!' said Tanner. 'Do you think
those Germans who attacked us last night are going to sit quiet all day?
They'll be swarming all over this valley.'
'You were happy enough for us to lie up yesterday,'
said Chevannes.
'Yesterday we had no choice. We were exhausted, short
of food and had nowhere to go. That's not the case today. We're still
reasonably fresh and we have a chance to get a long way north, an option that
was not open to us yesterday. Please, sir, I implore you, don't delay. Let's go
now, while we have the chance.'
'No,' said Chevannes. 'If the Germans come looking for
us today, then fine - we will hide in the mountains and come back down this
evening.'
Tanner put a hand to his brow. 'We can't afford to
lose another whole day if we don't have to,' he said slowly. 'We have the
chance to drive north now, away from the enemy. It's madness.' He turned to
Professor Sandvold. 'Professor, surely you see that?'
'How dare you try to undermine me?' shouted Chevannes.
'I have made my decision, Tanner and you will abide by that.'
Sandvold shrugged. 'Both options seem fraught with
risk, Sergeant,' he said. 'Please - I am not the one to make such a decision.'
Sulheim now coughed. 'I have a suggestion,' he said.
'I have a
seter
up in the forest. It's quite a
climb but no one has used it in years and it's deep in thick forest. You would
never be seen from the air and I don't think any German would find you. I can
take you there now. Tonight I will come and get you when the coast is clear.'
'That settles it,' said Lieutenant Larsen. 'We stay
here today and head out tonight.'
'If we're still able to,' snarled Tanner.
Larsen turned to him. 'Sergeant, this is not about you
and the lieutenant. This is about what is best - best for the professor and for
all of us. I am sorry - but I agree with Lieutenant Chevannes.'
So,
thought Tanner,
that's that.
As they went back outside,
Chevannes called everyone together. When the men were gathered round him, he
said, 'Today we lie up in the mountains. Tonight we continue our journey north
in Monsieur Sulheim's truck. Now,
vite,
we get going.'
Tanner could see the expression on Sykes's face.
'Don't say it,' he growled. 'It's insanity. That man has no brain. Neither does
Lieutenant Larsen, for that matter.'
'Isn't it time we left them to it, Sarge?'
'For God's sake, Stan, how can we? Sulheim's not going
to lend us his truck without the Norwegians, is he? I tried to persuade the
professor but he said it wasn't his place to make a sodding decision. And
anyway, I made a solemn vow.'
Sykes nodded doubtfully.
'All right, Stan,' snapped Tanner, 'but what if
Sandvold is as important as Gulbrand made out? Think about it. Would these Jerries
be after us if he wasn't? It's our bloody duty to do the right thing.' He
sighed. 'Look, if you want to try and make a go of it on your own, you and the
other lads, I won't stop you. But I've got to stick by him and somehow get him
back to our lines, despite that bastard's every effort to stop us. If that
means wasting another bloody day, so be it.'
'Don't worry, Sarge, I'm not going to bugger off. I don't like it,
mind, but as you say, we have to sweat it out. God knows, though, this place
could be swarming by the evening.'
It was largely because Hauptmann Zellner had waited until mid-morning
for useless Luftwaffe reconnaissance reports that the fugitives could leave
Merit Sulheim's farm safely and make their way across a wooden footbridge, over
grey pastures and into the dense pine forest that covered the steep western
slopes of the valley. By following a mountain brook they hid their progress and
were able to reach the heart of the forest without a trail of tracks in the
snow. The
seter
, when
they reached it, was overgrown with young shoots of alder and pine, the
entrance and shuttered window thick with ageing cobwebs. As a place to hide, it
was, Tanner admitted, hard to fault. A short distance below, a little clearing
that offered a good view of the river, road and the cluster of farmsteads that
made up the community of Alstad. It was there that Tanner settled to watch any
activity in the valley.
A truckload of German soldiers reached the church just before midday,
and Tanner watched as they began their search, one by one, of the farms.
Eventually another truck of troops arrived and aircraft flew up and down the
valley, then over the mountains but, as Sulheim had predicted, they seemed
unable to spot any movement in the thick forest below. Tanner wondered whether
that morning's old man had squealed. He could see through his binoculars that
soldiers were now searching the place. Sure enough, not long after, a number of
troops hurried down the track and made for Sulheim's farm. As they reached it,
Tanner hardly dared breathe. He hoped Sulheim held his nerve; hoped he'd be as
good as his word and not say anything to the enemy troops now swarming over his
house and farm. Then he remembered the truck. Surely the Germans would spot it
and requisition it. He cursed once more.
Hauptmann Zellner banged his fist hard on the kitchen table. He was
pleased to note that not only did the wife flinch but the farmer too. 'I know
they were here, Herr Sulheim,' he said, each word spoken slowly and clearly.
'And so they were,' said Sulheim, eyes wide, 'but they
left again. I turned them away.'
Zellner stared at him. 'But why would you? They had
your fellow countrymen with them. Are you not a patriot, Herr Sulheim?'
'I - that is we - heard the announcement on the radio.
That you were looking for these men. I am a patriot but I love my
family more. I didn't want to put them at risk.'
'But you have a truck, do you not?'
'Yes, and they wanted it, but it's not working at the moment.'
'Not working?'
'No - something wrong with the alternator, I think.'
'Did they try to get it to work?'
'They tried but, as I said, it's broken down.'
'Show me.'
Sulheim shot a nervous glance across the room to his wife, then led him
out of the house and across the yard to one of the outbuildings where the truck
now stood.
'Lift the bonnet,' Zellner ordered. He had no idea how engines worked
and called one of his men. In German he asked the soldier to examine the engine
bay.
'And where is the alternator now?' he asked, turning back to Sulheim.
'Er, here,' said Sulheim, pointing to a cylindrical block of metal
lying on a workbench to the side of the shed.
'And where did they go when they left?'
'Up the road. North,' said Sulheim. 'Whether they stayed on it or not,
I couldn't say. I made it pretty clear I didn't want them anywhere near my
farm.'
Zellner couldn't decide whether or not the man was lying and wished he
had Sturmbannfuhrer Kurz with him, a man more practised in interrogation
techniques. The Norwegian's answers certainly seemed plausible, but either he
was telling the truth and the fugitives would be further up the valley by now,
or he was lying and they would presumably reappear once darkness fell.
He ordered a thorough search of the entire farm. Nothing was found. No
hidden troops, no footprints, no dropped cigarette butts. After an hour, he
called his men back. He posted half a dozen in the church a few hundred yards
to the south of the farm - the bell-tower was to be used as an observation post
- then ordered the rest back into the trucks and headed north.
Tanner watched these events carefully. The officers appeared from time
to time, but he preferred to trust the task of observation to himself, Sykes
and his own men. By taking short cat-naps in the
seter
he was able to catch up on his
sleep, then return to watch the valley once more.
During the afternoon more trucks arrived. Planes
hummed overhead. On the far side of the valley, he followed a platoon of troops
with skis on their backs as they climbed out of Alstad and up into the
mountains. But despite these movements, he was painfully aware that the men in
the church had remained where they were.
The hours ticked by. The afternoon came and went. As
the evening drew on, the shadows lengthened and the sun dipped below the
mountains behind them. There was no sign of Sulheim or of the German observers
leaving the church.
It was after ten when Chevannes shuffled down the
slope beside him.
'They're still there, sir,' said Tanner.