'Are you all right, Sergeant?' asked Anna.
'Yes - thank you, Miss.' Then he said to Chevannes,
'Sir, we need to watch the road ahead like hawks.'
'Yes, thank you, Sergeant, but all I can see at the moment is the end of the lake,' said Chevannes, 'so at present there is little I can do.'
'In a couple of kilometres, the road climbs again,' said Anna. 'It follows the lip of the mountain plateau. You can see a long way from up there.'
'What about snow?'
'There will be snow on the mountains but the road will be clear by now. I'm certain of that. There are quite a few farms along it - they will make sure the road can be used.'
'Good,' said Tanner, then took his German binoculars from round his neck and passed them to Anna. 'Here,' he said. 'Do me a favour, will you? Keep a dekko with these.'
'A what, Sergeant?'
Tanner smiled. 'Sorry, Miss. Soldier slang. It means, could you keep a sharp lookout?'
'Of course.' She returned the smile, and Tanner was pleased to see irritation on Chevannes' face.
A mile, then two. Suddenly the end of the lake reappeared and the climb began. Tanner dropped down a gear, the Morris grinding sluggishly forward. The road was winding, too, so their forward view was never more than a hundred yards at most. Tanner felt a heaviness in his stomach. He tapped his fingers on the steering- wheel, bounced up and down in his seat again, then eventually took out his last remaining packet of German cigarettes, offered one to Chevannes and Anna - who both declined - then fumbled for his matches. The effort of getting at them from under his jerkin, then delving into the right-hand breast pocket on his battle blouse caused him to drive over a pothole and briefly lose control of the wheel.
'Concentrate, Sergeant,' snapped Chevannes. 'We haven't come this far just for you to drive us off the road.'
Tanner ignored him, and as he clutched the steering- wheel, matches now in one hand, Anna said, 'Would you like me to light it for you?'
'Thanks, Miss,' said Tanner, and passed her both matches and cigarette. Having lit it, she carefully placed the cigarette between his lips.
'Thanks,' said Tanner again, inhaling deeply.
'Don't forget to keep watching the road ahead, Anna,' said Chevannes.
'No, of course - sorry,' she said, hastily bringing the binoculars back to her eyes. Tanner smiled to himself - as if they'd be any use on this winding stretch of road. He opened the window and the smoke dissolved through the narrow gap. It felt cooler already, and Tanner felt a shiver run down his back. Christ! Any moment, just round this corner ... But then he turned and the road was still empty. He felt a momentary flutter of relief.
'We're nearly there,' said Anna, as they drove round a sharp hairpin. Beneath them, away to their right, there was a deep ravine, dark, forbidding and densely covered with thick forest, but as they crested the brow the road levelled at last. To the left, they saw the snow-covered mountain plateau, to their right the ravine and in front, the long, straight road that hugged the lip for some fifteen miles, almost all the way to Vinstra. 'How far can you see now?' Tanner asked Anna.
'Three or four kilometres at least. It's empty.'
Patches of thin mud-brown snow covered the road, but its surface was clear enough for Tanner to push down hard on the throttle and build up speed. 'See anything at the back?' Tanner yelled.
'Nothing,' came the muffled reply.
Where were they? Tanner wondered. He drummed his fingers, felt the pistol at his hip; his trusted Enfield was wedged between his seat and the door.
Another two miles, and the road veered to the left, round a subsidiary valley to the main ravine, then curved back and straightened once more. As Anna had told them, there were a number of farms along this high mountain route, but not a soul stirred. The road was empty - not a cart, person or animal. Tanner realized he had barely even seen a bird. The place seemed lifeless; it was almost impossible to think a war could be going on. Tanner strained his eyes. One of the eyelids flickered. Fatigue was getting the better of him.
A glint in the distance snapped him out of his reverie. 'There!' he said. 'What was that?'
Both Chevannes and Anna had their binoculars trained. Another glint. 'There it was again!' said Tanner.
'It's them,' said Chevannes. 'A convoy of four trucks.'
Tanner's heart was drumming in his chest, his tiredness forgotten. 'How far?'
'Seven kilometres, maybe eight.'
'What are we going to do?' asked Anna, fear in her voice.
'Stop and head into the mountains,' said Chevannes.
'Here?' said Tanner. 'Where? There's no cover at all.' He glanced at the map. 'Where are we? What's this valley here?' With half an eye on the map, he pointed to a dogleg in the road.
'It's not far,' said Anna. 'Look, the road turns just ahead.'
'Good. Another valley to skirt round, then we'll be out of view. Ten to one it'll be wooded. We can ditch the truck there and take cover in the trees.'
To his relief, as they turned the corner and lost sight of the enemy, Tanner saw that the landscape was covered with dense forest. To their right a mountain stream was tumbling and cascading down to the ravine. At the corner of the dog-leg, the road crossed the stream and it was here that Tanner stopped.
'Everyone out! Quick!' shouted Chevannes.
Tanner hurried to the back of the truck and grabbed his pack, slinging it on to his shoulders, his mind whirling. 'Five miles at twenty miles an hour,' he mumbled, 'take away five. Ten minutes.' He looked at his watch. Nearly half past ten. Ten minutes to get Sandvold and Anna away and come up with a plan to delay the Germans. Think, man, think.
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 h
e 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'v
e 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.
Men loomed into view ahead. Bollocks, he thought. I've got sodding Jerries either side. He glanced behind and saw Sykes up ahead, urging him to follow, mouthing something he couldn't hear above the ear-shattering noise of mortars, shouts and small-arms fire. Another shell hit a tree not far from Sykes and exploded. Tanner ducked again, then shot a glance back to his corporal. No one was there.
The Odin Mission Page 24