Authors: James Holland
Chevannes was already urging the others to head into
the trees. 'Come on!' he shouted. 'Quickly! Get moving!'
'Sir, wait!' Tanner called out. He ran up to him.
'Sir, if you and your men take the professor and Miss Rostad, my men and I will
try to hold them off for a while.'
Chevannes paused then said, 'Very well.'
'Miss - Anna,' said Tanner. 'Where will you head for?'
'Here,' she told him. Her finger was shaking as she
pointed on the map. 'Skjedalen. There are several mountain
seters
where we can shelter.' She
swallowed, her eyes searching Tanner's face for reassurance. 'There are two
peaks above us over to the right of where we are now - the Olasfjellet and the
Silikampan. Keep those on your right and head almost due north.'
'All right,' he said. 'Now go. Wait for us there.'
Wide-eyed, frightened, she turned and ran.
'Lads, quick,' he said, calling his men to him. 'We
need to halt these Jerry bastards. There are four trucks, and by my reckoning
that's around seventy men.' The men's faces were ashen. 'Stan, the time has
come for us to use up a bit more of our explosive. Can you start rigging the
truck? You've got about five minutes. Dan, head up stream a bit, then cut into
the trees on the right- hand side. Look for a good view down here, where you
can see the road both sides of the bridge. The rest, follow Dan and be ready
with your magazines. Find some good cover. The corp and I will join you in a
minute. Now get going. Iggery, all right?'
Erwood and the other five hurried off and Sykes was
already rigging together four cartons of Nobel's gelignite.
'What have you got, Sarge?' he asked, quick fingers
deftly tying a length of fuse round them.
'Five more packets of Nobel's and about ten sticks of
Polar. Oh, and half a dozen grenades. Where you going to put them?'
'Round the fuel tank, I thought. And why don't you put
one of your cartons of Nobel's in the engine bay?'
'All right. What size bang is this going to make?'
'A big one.' Sykes grinned.
'Good. It needs to be. We've got to blow up as many of those trucks and
as many Jerries as possible. How are we going to trigger it?'
'Grenade on the door?'
'Sounds good.' He lifted one side of the bonnet, and placed the carton
of gelignite beside the coil.
'Seems a shame to blow her up,' said Sykes, as he opened the driver's
side of the cab and leant in to set the booby trap on the passenger door. 'She's
a good little runner, this one, and only a year or two old.'
'All for the greater good, Stan.'
'I s'pose. Even so.'
He handed the fuse back to Tanner then said, 'I see Mr Chevannes has
buggered off.'
'I told him to. Someone's got to look after the professor and Miss
Rostad.'
'He didn't need much persuading.'
'No, the sod. I could read his mind like a bloody book. He was
thinking, This might seem a bit cowardly, but there's every chance I'll get rid
of that bastard Tanner.' He chuckled. 'Christ, he's a pain in the arse.'
'Well, it's just us now, Sarge.'
'Yes,' said Tanner, 'and I feel happier already. Right. All done?'
Sykes nodded.
'Good. Let's get the hell away from here.' They scrambled off the road
and up the side of the stream. 'You in position, Dan?' Tanner called to Erwood.
'Yes, Sarge,' Erwood shouted back, as Tanner and Sykes continued
climbing up and away from the road.
'Good cover?'
'Yes, Sarge!'
'Have you sorted out your escape route?'
A pause. 'Think so, Sarge.'
Tanner slipped, cursed, then looked back to see the
leading enemy truck turn the last shallow curve in the road a couple of hundred
yards behind them. His heart was thumping again. 'Here they come!' Tanner
called, and scrambled up through the snow and into the trees, short of breath,
chest tight, blood pumping.
Good,
he thought. Erwood, with Hepworth beside him, lay
behind a rocky outcrop, a clear field of fire on the road below and the stream
beneath them. The other riflemen were nearby, most behind trees but making good
use of the undulations on the steep slope rising from the stream. They were
learning, thought Tanner. Behind him, he saw the others' tracks disappearing
into the trees. The forested slopes, he knew, would be a great help; as the
mountain climbed away from them, the dense pines seemed to draw towards one
another, so that within about seventy yards from where he now stood he could no
longer see any snow-covered ground at all, only the trees. The pines would
protect them as they fell back.
'Stan, you stick back on the lip of the ravine,' he
told his corporal. He wanted Sykes to be able to make an easy get-away, should
it be necessary. 'And here,' he said, taking off his pack and gas-mask bag,
'keep these by your feet, or put them somewhere out of the way.' He now realized
how foolhardy he had been in keeping so much high explosive about him during
the firefight at the
seter;
he'd been fortunate then, but he didn't want to chance
his luck a second time. He grabbed two sticks of Polar dynamite and three
grenades, then stuffed them into his haversack, which still hung from his hip,
and ran over to Erwood and Hepworth.
'Hep, grab your rifle and move back. I'm going to man
the Bren with Dan.'
'Where to, Sarge?' asked Hepworth.
'Up the hill a bit. Where you can get some good shots
in and get away quickly. Go! Get a bloody move on!'
Along the road ahead the trucks were drawing near.
With shaking hands, Tanner undid the fastenings on his magazine pouches, felt
in his haversack for his grenades and .303 ammunition clips, then pulled his
rifle into his shoulder. 'Got a couple of tracer rounds, Dan?'
Erwood handed him two. Tanner fed them into an
ammunition clip and slotted it into his rifle's magazine.
'Ready?' he asked.
'Sarge.'
'Don't fire until I say.' He took a bead on the truck.
The pack of Nobel's strapped to the fuel tank was out of sight, but he had a
clear view of the bonnet. His body was tense, heart hammering, as the first
enemy truck drew alongside the Morris-Commercial, then slowly pushed on across
the bridge.
Damn
,
he thought, then saw that the two trucks following had halted alongside
Sulheim's wagon. Orders were being barked and troops, most now wearing helmets
rather than field caps, were jumping from the back of the lorries. Tanner
watched with bated breath as two men approached the Morris. Then, to his
annoyance, they stepped round to the far side and opened the door. 'Sod it,'
whispered Tanner.
'What is it, Sarge?' mouthed Erwood.
'They've opened the wrong door.' The soldiers were
shouting now and pointing wildly. 'They've found the grenade,' muttered Tanner,
and pulled back the bolt on his rifle. He knew that the moment he fired the
battle would start. Would he survive? Would any of them?
God only knows.
He swallowed hard, took a deep
breath and squeezed the trigger.
The first bullet missed, but the men by the truck had
had no chance to look up before the second slammed into the bonnet, puncturing
the thin metal, tearing into the packet of gelignite and igniting it. Less than
a split second later, the explosion in the engine bay provided the spark needed
to detonate the two packs of Nobel's that Sykes had tied to the petrol tank. A
vast ball of livid orange flame erupted round the Morris, incinerating the men
who, a moment before, had been examining the cab, and engulfing the second
German truck. Stunned soldiers screamed and fell backwards, some on fire. Now
the third truck was aflame, the engine exploding, propelling shards of metal
and glass.
'Bloody hell, Sarge!' whistled Erwood.
'Start firing, Dan,' said Tanner. 'We might have
destroyed two trucks but that's only half the job.' He fired off several rounds
himself as the Bren began to chatter next to him, empty cartridge cases
clattering on to the bare rock. Men were falling in disarray at either side of
the burning vehicles, too stunned to think clearly or organize themselves, but
Tanner knew this advantage would soon pass. Adrenalin had taken over from fear.
His mind was alert and clear, and what concerned him now was that the men from
the first and last trucks, either side of the carnage, would try to infiltrate
round the side of their position. Smoke billowed upwards - thick, black smoke.
It covered the road and lead truck too.
Bollocks.
He'd not thought of that, but it gave the enemy from
the lead truck perfect cover to make an advance up the slope on the far side of
the stream.
We should make what use of it we can too
, thought Tanner.
'We need to fall back, Dan,' he said, with sudden
clarity, 'and quick.' A moment later he heard a whistle and twenty yards to his
right there was an explosion.
'What was that?' shouted Erwood.
'Mortars! They're firing bloody mortars from behind
the smokescreen!' Two more followed in quick succession. Bullets were now zipping
through the trees as the enemy troops from the first truck found their composure
and their aim. 'Quick, Dan, get off a few rounds towards that first truck! Fire
through the smoke!' shouted Tanner. Vague figures flitted in the haze as enemy
troops scurried from the direction of the truck and onto the bank beside the
road. Blindly, he fired several rounds in succession. A man cried out and a
spectral figure fell, but Tanner knew it was now critical that he and his men
move back. His mouth was parched with acrid smoke. Tracer now arced luminously
through the smoke - a machine-gun: its rapid fire raked the ground around them
in short deadly bursts. Even with half the force destroyed or out of action,
enemy fire-power was already proving too heavy.
'Come on, Dan, we've got to move.' He pulled out a
grenade. 'On three get up and go. One, two, three! Now!'
Erwood stood up, then fell back with a cry. 'Bastard!'
he yelled. 'He's got my arm!'
'Think you can still move?'
Grimacing, Erwood nodded.
'Right,' said Tanner. 'Hand over the Bren. I'll cover
you.' He rammed another thirty-round magazine into the breech and pulled back
the cock. 'Go, Dan!' he shouted, as he opened fire, the butt of the Bren
pummelling his shoulder. Tanner glanced back as Erwood slid behind a tree a
short way above, then hollered, 'Fall back! Everyone, fall back!' Sykes was
still firing at the first truck. More mortar shells fell among them, but the
enemy machine-gun was now silent. Had Sykes or one of the others hit the men
manning it or had they moved? Tanner couldn't tell. He had to get Sykes's
attention above the din of battle. 'Stan!' he yelled. 'Stan!' Out of the corner
of his eye, he could see more enemy troops working their way round the lead
truck, ghostly figures in the smoke, and opened fire with another burst from
the Bren.
Christ,
but we've got to get out of here.
The first truck was drawing all their fire, yet he
knew the men from the last must be working their way behind them. 'Stan!' he
yelled again, and this time the corporal looked across. Frantically, Tanner
waved his arm -
fall back!-and
Sykes nodded. First, though, the corporal pulled a
stick of Polar dynamite from his haversack. Tanner fired another burst of the
Bren, saw Sykes light the dynamite, count, then hurl it across the stream
towards the enemy troops now working their way up the slope opposite. More
mortar rounds rippled across the slopes, the blast tearing branches and kicking
up spurts of snow, rock and mud.
Then Sykes's dynamite exploded, and for a moment, the enemy fire from
the lead truck stopped.
Tanner snatched his rifle, slung it over his shoulder,
grabbed the Bren, stuffed two more magazines into his pouches and scrambled out
of his position - to be met by bullets fizzing past his head from the opposite
direction.
Damn it!
Frantically Tanner searched the ground above him. He needed cover.
Trees ahead and above him and to his left, a fallen trunk. He gasped, lungs
straining. More bullets. Something whipped through his trousers. Yards to go.
Feet losing their grip. Where were the others? Shouting from behind. Another
mortar shell, this time below him, followed by yet another, between him and his
attackers from the flank. It was just the cover he needed and as the blast
erupted twenty yards away from him, he plunged over the fallen tree, face down,
then rolled and lay sideways. He brought the Bren to bear, slammed in another
magazine as debris pattered on his tin helmet, cocked it and opened fire.