The Odin Mission

by James Holland

'Not far. About a kilometre north from the church.'

  'Good. Let's head there right away.'

  As they left the farm and continued down the track towards the valley, they heard the now familiar sound of aero-engines thrumming faintly over the mountains above them. Tanner stopped, and held up an arm. 'Ssh!' he said, cocking his head. There it was, faint but distinct, somewhere over the mountains from which they had just crossed. A little louder, then a Junkers roared into view a few hundred yards ahead as it crested the lip of the mountain plateau and plunged into the valley.

  'Everyone, take cover - quick!' shouted Chevannes. They flung themselves onto the track's bushy bank. Tanner watched the aircraft bank and swoop across the valley, then turn, curving, so that its bulbous nose pointed directly towards them.

  'It's bloody well coming right for us!' said Sykes, clutching his helmet to his head. Moments later, the Junkers thundered directly over them, the black crosses and pale blue underside startlingly close. They watched as the aircraft flew on, then banked again, arcing lazily across the valley before turning for another run above them.

  'Here, Dan!' Tanner called out to Lance Corporal Erwood. 'Have a crack with the Bren, will you?'

  'And give away our position?' called Chevannes. 'Are you mad, Sergeant?'

  'Sir, he's seen us. The only way we're going to stop him bleating is by shooting the bastard down.'

  'No, Sergeant, and that is an order!'

  The Junkers was approaching once more, no more than a hundred feet above them. Again it roared overhead, oil streaks from the two radial engines staining the pale underside of the wings. Tanner cursed, then watched as it swung out over the valley and began to bank yet again. 'Sir, he's bloody well seen us!' he shouted. 'Let's have a pop at it. What have we got to lose?' Chevannes said nothing. Tanner smiled, aware that the French lieutenant's silence was the authority he needed. 'Aim off, Dan,' he called to Erwood once more. 'Give yourself plenty of lead.' Erwood glanced at Chevannes, then back at the sergeant. 'Do it, Dan,' said Tanner. He had his own rifle to his shoulder now and saw that the rest of his men had followed his example. He knew a .303 round would probably make little impression on an eight-ton monster such as a Junkers 88, but it was flying so low he reckoned it had to be worth a shot. It was rather like aiming at a high bird, he thought to himself. Admittedly it was travelling at probably a hundred and fifty miles per hour, rather than fifty like a pheasant with a good wind behind it but, he told himself, a Junkers was far bigger.

  He watched it straighten and its wings level. At that distance it looked as though it was travelling slower than a pheasant, but all too soon that illusion was dispelled. Tanner pointed his rifle vertically in the air. 'Ready, Dan?' he called. 'Two seconds now One, two - fire!' he yelled, and as bullets pumped into the sky the aircraft swept over them.

  Then a miracle happened. The starboard engine spluttered and, as the aircraft banked over the valley, flames appeared, followed by a long trail of smoke. As one, the men on the ground stood up and watched, open- mouthed. The pilot tried to climb and they followed the plane as it headed north up the valley, rose over the mountains, then plunged earthwards. A ball of flame erupted briefly on the far side of the mountains followed by the dull rumble of destruction a few seconds later. For a moment the men were dumbstruck, then raised their rifles and cheered.

  It was Dan Erwood who received the most slaps on the back but Tanner knew it could have been any of them, and that in firing together, they had claimed victory together.

  'Good shooting, men,' said Chevannes, adjusting his beret on his head. 'Very good shooting.'

  'And a very good decision to let us fire, if I might say so, sir,' said Tanner.

  'Be careful, Tanner,' said Chevannes. 'My patience is wearing thin.'

  'Come on, lads,' said Tanner, ignoring the Frenchman. 'Iggery, all right?'

  They walked on quickly, past anxious, startled farmers who had emerged from their houses to see what the commotion was about. Two young boys stood on a gate to watch them pass and several of Tanner's men cheered at them as they did so, the boys grinning back.

  'That's enough!' Tanner warned.

  'They are like schoolboys,' said Anna, walking beside him. 'It is amazing to see everyone's spirits lift like this.'

  'Mine will be even higher if this truck works out,' Tanner replied. He turned and barked at his men: 'Come on, you lot! You can stop congratulating yourselves now and get a bloody move on!'

  'We were just saying, Sarge,' said Erwood, hurrying to his side, 'what a shame it is that Mitch isn't with us, him being on my Bren crew an' that. He'd have loved to have seen that Jerry plane come down. I wish I knew he was all right.'

  'I'm sure he is.'

  'Only I feel bad. One minute he was with us and the next he wasn't. It's not knowing what happened . . .'

  'He probably just tripped and fell,' said Tanner. 'Easy to do when it's dark like that. You'll probably find he was picked up by the Jerries.'

  'I'm telling you,' mumbled Mitch Moran, 'I don't know anything. We were just trying to get back to our lines.'

  Sturmbannfuhrer Kurz sat on the edge of his desk and looked at the pitiful figure in front of him. A swollen and cut eye, so puffed and blackened it had closed, a darkening cheek, cracked and bloodied lips, a line of congealed blood and mucus from nose to mouth. Moran's shirt was torn, but hid the bruising round his cracked ribs, while his feet were bare and also bloody and blackened. With his arms tied behind the back of the chair, his head hung down as though it were too heavy for him now that it had been so badly pummelled.

  Kurz sighed. He had been taught torture techniques, but beating someone to within an inch of their life always struck him as crude. And this fellow - well, he was just a simple boy. A few cigarettes, a bit of friendly chat and the Englishman would have been eating out of his hand ages ago. Now it was probably too late. Ah, well, worth a try. He ordered the guard at the door to untie Moran's hands, then lit a cigarette.

  'A smoke?' he said, and without waiting for an answer, placed the cigarette between Moran's lips. 'Listen, I'm sorry you've been so roughly treated. Hauptmann Zellner was - well, he was a bit frustrated, to put it mildly. I'm sorry he took it out on you.' He saw Moran lift his head a fraction, then shakily raise a hand to the cigarette. Kurz smiled. 'I certainly wouldn't want you thinking we're all like that.' Standing up, he walked towards the window. 'War . .. what a waste of time it is. Killing people, uprooting people from their homes - it is all so futile. You know, I was a teacher before the war. I used to teach English in a small town in the Thuringen. I loved England - I travelled all over when I was still a student. You are from Yorkshire, I believe?'

  Moran nodded.

  Kurz stood up again and walked to the cabinet behind Moran where he now kept his Baedekers. He picked up the England edition. 'Which part?'

  'Knaresborough,' mumbled Moran.

  'Knaresborough,' said Kurz, flicking through the pages. 'Near Harrogate, is it not?' He paused, as though lost in the depths of a happy memory. 'Yes, I remember a wonderful English tea at Betty's in Harrogate.' He smiled. 'Do you know it?'

  'It's only for nobs and that, really,' Moran mumbled, 'but my grandma took me there for my tenth birthday.'

  'I remember it being quite charming,' said Kurz, 'as was all of Yorkshire. One day, when this is all over, I should like to go back.' He sighed, then said, 'And here I am, a soldier of sorts, fighting against a people for whom I have a very great affection. It is damnable, it really is.' He leant closer towards Moran. 'Look, I want to help you. You are just a boy and, I am sure, would much rather be at home in Knaresborough with your family, just as I would rather be at home with my wife and baby daughter in Ludwigsstadt, but there is a war on and that is all there is to it. I cannot get you home tomorrow, but I can get you cleaned up and properly looked after, and I can promise you there will be no more beatings.' He paused, looked at Moran and said, 'Can I get you anything? Some water perhaps?'Thank you.'

  Kurz went
to a cabinet in the corner and poured a glass, then handed it to the Tommy. 'There,' he said, taking the cigarette butt from Moran's lips and handing him the glass. 'I was wondering why you were crossing the river last night. It seems rather a risk.'

  'Because you lot were going down the main valley. We thought there'd be less of you about.'

  'But difficult to walk through those mountains. There's still plenty of snow up there.'

  'Not in the valley beyond.'

  Kurz smiled. Really, he thought, this was almost too easy. 'No, I suppose not. So your plan was to head north down the j0ra valley?'

  Moran nodded.

  'As a matter of interest,' Kurz added, 'what made you cross where you did? It showed extraordinary local knowledge, if you don't mind me saying so.'

  'Our sarge had recced the area earlier and found the boats,' said Moran, still almost in a whisper. 'And we had a Norwegian girl showing us the way.'

  'Ah,' said Kurz. Now I understand. 'Well, I'll let you rest now, Moran. And good luck.' Two guardscame over, picked up Moran and took him away.

  Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt, who had been sitting silently in a chair in the corner watching Kurz, clapped slowly. 'Bravo, Sturmbannfuhrer. A virtuoso performance.'

  Kurz made a mock bow.

  'I had no idea you had been a teacher,' Scheidt added. 'You don't strike me as the type.'

  'I wasn't.'

  'Ah. And you don't have a wife and baby daughter?'

  'No, of course not. Nor have I been to England and certainly not Betty's Tea Rooms, whatever they might be. Baedeker's a useful friend.'

  Scheidt smiled, but then his expression changed. The British sergeant was proving a thorn in their side. And they had a guide with them. Damn them, he thought. And damn Zellner. Twice he had bungled what should have been a straightforward operation. Worse, last night he had flagrantly disobeyed Kurz's orders and Odin had slipped through their fingers again. He ran a hand wearily through his hair.

  'Cheer up, my dear Reichsamtsleiter,' said Kurz. 'We know where they're heading and they've still a long way to go. Patience. We're closing in on them.'

  'You keep saying that,' snapped Scheidt, 'yet Odin repeatedly eludes us, and for two days we've heard nothing from our source. The clock is ticking, Sturmbannfuhrer, and if we fail, it won't be only me who falls.'

  '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.

  Chapter 14

  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 fif
ty 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.'