The Odin Mission (37 page)

'You made it!' said Nielssen, grinning as they reached
him. Over the past few days his beard had grown, and without his kepi, his flaxen
hair was tousled and unkempt.

'They don't seem to be following us,' said Tanner.
'Where are the others?'

'Sheltering in a
seter
, but we wanted to be below the
snowline, so I've been waiting, keeping watch, to guide you there.' He patted
Tanner's back. 'It's good to see you safe.'

He led them through a finger of dense pine until they
emerged into open snow once more, then reached the crest of the next valley.
When they came into a small clearing a vast view stood before them.

'The Gudbrandsdalen once again,' said Nielssen.

Guns were booming dully, shells still exploding, and away to the right
beneath them, a thick pall of smoke hid the valley and the Lagen river. Above,
they heard the faint drone of aircraft.

'Heavy fighting, Sarge,' said Hepworth.

'That's not just from shells and bombs, Hep. Look.' He took a few steps
forward and away to the east. Through the smoke he could see a hazy orange
glow. 'That's a sodding great fire. They've set the forest alight.' His
heartbeat had quickened again and the blood drained from his face.
Christ
, he thought.
That's all we bloody well
need.
He
turned to Nielssen. 'How much further, sir? We need to hurry.'

'Not far, Sergeant.'

Tanner turned to his men. 'Come on, boys. Keep going. I know it's been
bloody hard, but we're nearly there.'

The
seter
stood beneath the crest of the valley, hidden by trees but with a view of the
village of Sjoa and the curve of the river. Stretching away to the west from
the Gudbrandsdal valley was a smaller, lesser valley.

'You're alive!' said Anna, smiling as Tanner entered the hut.

'Just about,' he said. 'And you? Are you all right?'

'Yes - I'm fine, thank you.' Tanner saw her shoot a glance at
Chevannes.

'What happened?' said the Frenchman.

'We destroyed two of their trucks and killed a number of them, I'm not
sure how many. They don't seem to have followed us. One of our men is slightly
wounded.'

'Your Bren?'

'Lost,' admitted Tanner. 'But I found this Spandau.'
He tapped the German machine-gun. 'And a couple of magazines. Look, sir, we
need to hurry.'

'The battle is still raging, Sergeant.'

'Yes, sir, but not for much longer, I fancy. We need
to keep going.'

Chevannes gave orders for them to move.

'There's a bridge across the river Sjoa about a kilometre
west of the village,' said Anna. 'We can cross there and then get over Lagen at
the village itself.'

'Very well,' said Chevannes.

They stumbled down the steep valley sides. Tanner
disliked walking down mountains more than he did climbing them, and now his
knees felt particularly weak, as though his legs might buckle at any moment.
They headed diagonally across the valley, in a north-westerly direction, until
they reached a rough track. As they tramped across the undulating slopes, the
valley ahead was lost from view then reappeared, but although Tanner paused
repeatedly to peer through his binoculars, the sounds of battle had now all but
died away. The shellfire was nothing more than desultory, the small-arms had
almost petered out, while enemy bombers continued to drone overhead, appearing
through the thick pall that had now risen high into the sky. Bitter
disappointment swept over him, yet part of his brain refused to accept what his
eyes and ears were telling him. 'Come on!' he urged his men. 'Keep going!'

By seven o'clock they were standing above the bridge
over the Sjoa and now all could see that the bombers were dropping their loads
further north. For a moment, no one spoke. Tanner scanned the valley. Clearly
the main Allied effort had fallen back, although from the edge of the mass of
smoke, on the far side of the valley, it appeared that some British troops were
still fighting. His spirits rose momentarily, but then he spotted enemy forces
blocking the road south of Sjoa. They had evidently outflanked them over the
mountain and come in behind, cutting off any further Allied retreat. He lowered
his binoculars and breathed deeply.
No,
he thought.
This is too much.
He wanted to crumple to the ground, fling away his
weapons, to scream with anger. Instead he stood silent, numbed by the knowledge
that again they had missed their chance of freedom by a sliver.

'We've missed them.' It was Sandvold, and Tanner
turned to him. Defeat and despair clouded his face. 'They're bombing them as
they retreat.'

Tanner glared at Chevannes, who continued to stare
through his binoculars.
You stupid bastard,
he thought. He blamed Chevannes
for this - Chevannes and Larsen. Thwarted for want of a few hours. Time that
should have been theirs.

'What can you see?' said Anna, anxiety in her voice.

'Have a look,' said Tanner, passing her his glasses.

'Germans,' she said quietly.

'Bastard bloody hell!' McAllister kicked the ground.

Kershaw began to sob.

Tanner looked at the disappointment on their faces,
the bloodless cheeks and dark rings round their eyes; the sheer exhaustion. He
wondered whether he himself had the strength to keep going. He could feel the
dirt and dried blood on his face, and his uniform filthy and torn. 'A couple of
hours earlier and we'd have been safe,' he growled. 'A couple of sodding hours!
Jesus Christ!' He was uncertain that he could control his anger any longer. His
desire to thrust his fist into Chevannes' face was almost overwhelming.

'I did what I thought was best for all of us,' said
Chevannes. 'Lieutenant Larsen agreed with me. So did Professor Sandvold.'

'For pity's sake, man,' snarled Tanner, 'you're in
charge. It's your decision, not theirs, and it's your fault we've missed the
chance yet again to rejoin the Allies.' For a moment no one said anything.
Tanner walked away a few yards. He took another deep breath.
Calm down
, he told himself.
This is not helping.
They were too late. That was
all there was to it. He had to think clearly and rationally. 'We must work out
a new plan,' he said. 'What do you suggest, sir?'

'The map,' said Chevannes, icily. 'We must look at
it.'

A rough track followed the southern side of the Sjoa
valley as it ran north-west. There were no villages of note, but scattered
farmsteads all the way to Heidel, some ten miles on. A couple of miles south of
the village there was a bridge where they could cross. If they kept going now,
Tanner suggested, they could cross when it was dark, then try to find a farm to
rest for a few hours before heading into the next ridge of mountains. 'Jerry
won't be coming down here tonight. He's just been fighting a two-day battle,
and if the jokers that were after us earlier haven't followed us across the
mountain, they're not going to get us now. We should be able to make good progress.'
Beyond the next range lay the Otta valley and the town of Vagamo. 'Look,' he
said, pointing to the map, 'there's a road leading north. It bypasses

o

Dombas and joins the Andalsnes road further north - here. What's that?
Forty or fifty miles? And it means we keep well away from the main German axis
of advance but we still run parallel to it.'

'What if the enemy is already past Dombas by then?'
asked Larsen.

Tanner shrugged. 'Do you have a better idea, sir?
Perhaps we'll find some more transport. Maybe in Vagamo.'

'Good,' said Chevannes. 'This is what we'll do. First,
we rest for a short while, eat what food we have left and drink something. Then
we head for the bridge.'

Tanner's men gazed at Chevannes with contempt, then
delved into their packs and squatted on the ground. A cool spring breeze blew
across the valley, bringing with it the smell of woodsmoke, which blended with
the strong scent of pine. Even though it was hardly cold, Tanner saw that Bell
and Kershaw were shivering. 'Listen, boys,' he said, to all his men, 'this is a
blow, I know, but we've got to put it out of our minds. It's in the past. We
need to look forward now. Come on, I know we can do it.' Tanner watched the
resigned nods, the faces blank with exhaustion and renewed despair.

He wandered away from them, and leant against a tree,
then let his back slide down the trunk until he was squatting on the damp,
needle-strewn ground at its base. Taking off his helmet, he ran his hands
through his hair and took several deep breaths. Christ, his words had seemed
fatuous. 'Chin up, lads, it's not all bad!'
Jesus. Hardly inspiring.
He wondered how long they would
be content to follow him. What reserves of strength were left in the tank? A
man's will to survive was only so strong. At some point it would break - sooner
rather than later, if there were any more soul-destroying setbacks.

The crack of a twig made him turn.

'I'm sorry to disturb you, Sergeant,' said Sandvold,
'but I wondered whether I might talk to you a moment.'

Tanner began to get to his feet.

'Please,' said the Professor. 'You rest where you
are.'

'What is it?' asked Tanner.

Sandvold kneaded his hands together. He now wore a
full beard, grey at the chin. It made him seem older, more venerable. 'I want
to apologize,' he said.

'For what?'

'I should have backed you up at the farm. If I had we
might have persuaded Lieutenant Chevannes. Then we would have reached the
Allies before it was too late. I—' He cleared his throat. 'It was weak of me,
but I thought I should not get involved in military decisions.'

'What's done is done, Professor,' said Tanner, 'but
we've still got a long way to go. There will be other difficult decisions to
make. But if you're prepared to trust me, you could back me up. If we work
together, we'll have a better chance of succeeding.'

Sandvold nodded thoughtfully. 'All right, Sergeant,'
he said. 'I will do my best.'

Soon after, Chevannes gave the order to move off.
Tanner tried again to rouse his men. 'We'll still make it, boys,' he told them,
slapping their backs as they got to their feet. 'We will. Don't lose heart.'

'It's easy to say that, Sarge,' said McAllister, 'but
I felt knackered before and I'm even more done in now.'

'Listen, Mac,' said Tanner, grasping his shoulder,
'you either give up now, and at best spend the rest of the war in prison, or
you keep going. I know what I'm going to do and it would be terrific if you'd
keep me company. We're not high on a mountain now, we're on a decent track.
We'll be at the bridge by nightfall and once we've got across we can have a
rest. It's not far. You can do it.'

They were strung out in a patrol line. Of the enemy
there was still no sign. The track passed through dense forest that ran almost
all the way to the river's edge, giving them good cover.

'Don't worry, Sarge,' said Sykes, drawing alongside
him. 'They're good lads. They'll be all right.'

'You think so?'

'Course. We were a bit low back then, but you adjust.
We've got a bit of grub inside us now. That helps.'

'Perhaps.'

"Ere, Sarge,' said Sykes, after they had walked
on in silence for a short while, 'I've been wanting to ask all afternoon. How
the hell did you get away from those Jerries? I saw that officer pointing his
pistol straight at your bloody head and the next minute I heard a shot. I
thought you was a goner.'

Tanner smiled. 'He made a mistake. I brought my arm up
quickly and simply knocked the gun to the side of my head. By the time he'd
pressed the trigger the shot was already wide.'

Sykes whistled. 'Blimey.'

'He couldn't react quicker than the speed of my arm.
No one can because the eyes don't pick up the movement fast enough - not at
that distance. If he'd been standing a few feet away and pointing that pistol,
I really would have been in trouble. So, anyway, before he knew what was
happening, I'd given him a right hook to remember me by. The men around him
weren't quick enough either, so I grabbed the machine-gun and fired before they
could do anything. You've got to remember they weren't expecting it. They'd
relaxed, rifles on their shoulders, and were enjoying watching their commander
get his own back. But I was lucky after that. Got a bullet through my trouser.
Another inch and, well—'