The Odin Mission

by James Holland

  'No!' yelled Tanner. 'You bastards!' Bullets pinged above him and slapped into the fallen tree-trunk. Blindly he fired another burst of the Bren, then pulled out a grenade and hurled it at his attackers. A whistle as yet another mortar round hurtled towards him, closer this time. Tanner ducked, heard the explosion, then felt the blast knock him back against the tree-trunk.

  He was unsure how long he had been unconscious, but when he came to he was aware that the deafening din of battle had gone and then that he was surrounded by half a dozen enemy troops. As his mind cleared and his eyes focused, he realized he was looking up at none other than Hauptmann Zellner.

  Tanner rubbed his head. He had a pounding headache, his ears still rang shrilly and his mouth was drier than sand, yet despite his predicament, he had the presence of mind to glance at his watch. Well, that's something, he thought. Nearly fifty minutes had passed since Chevannes had led Sandvold into the trees. Fifty minutes was a good head start.

  Two men grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet, so that he was now face to face with Zellner. The German smiled, then rammed his fist into Tanner's belly. The sergeant gasped and doubled over, only to be pulled up again.

  'Where is he?' Zellner hissed.

  'Who?' said Tanner.

  Zellner punched him again, every bit as hard. 'Where is he?' he repeated, as Tanner gasped and retched a second time.

  'I couldn't possibly say,' murmured Tanner. 'We're just the holding force - holding you up, that is. And we have. In fact we are. I am, right now. So, let's chat some more.'

  'Enough!' said Zellner, and then struck him a third time, this time on the jaw but the blow was misjudged. Tanner jerked his head back and the blow barely hurt. 'That should wipe the smile off your face. In any case, we do not need to know. We will just follow the tracks,' said Zellner, 'and we will catch him.'

  'You won't,' said Tanner. 'Because he'll be shot before you get a chance.'

  Zellner pulled out the pistol from Tanner's holster. 'Mine, I think,' he said. He held it, checked the magazine was full, then cocked it and pointed it at the centre of Tanner's forehead. 'I said I would kill you, Tanner, and so I will.'

  Tanner smiled. 'You're a fool, Zellner,' he said. 'A stupid Nazi bastard fool.'

  Zellner glared back. 'Tanner,' he said slowly, 'you have said your last.'

  From the safety of his position among the trees on the slopes above, Sykes crouched, watching his sergeant and wondering what on earth he could do. Having seen Tanner knocked backwards, he had immediately thought to turn his back, follow the others and slip into the trees, but something had made him stop. As he had turned he had seen enemy troops hurry to Tanner and pull him to his feet. Knowing he was alive, Sykes felt compelled to stay and help. But how?

  Wincing as the German officer landed repeated punches on his sergeant, he decided that a diversion was his best option. He still had a few packets of Nobel's 808 as well as several sticks of dynamite, and he had Tanner's pack too. Crouching, he glanced to his left in the direction the fourth truck of troops had come from. It was hard to see, so he scampered a short distance forward, climbed a bit higher, then he saw what he was looking for: a jutting outcrop of rock, like a giant boulder. If he could get enough explosives behind it and force it to tumble down the mountainside, he might help Tanner escape or, at worst, give the enemy a further headache.

  He took a deep breath, then glanced back at Tanner and the enemy troops around him. He froze. The sergeant was now obscured from view by another of the German troops but the officer had his arm extended with a pistol pointing at Tanner's head. 'No!' mouthed Sykes, under his breath. He turned his head, not daring to look.

  Then came the sound of a single pistol shot.

  Chapter 16

  Tanner had eyed the men gathered round Hauptmann Zellner. There were six, with more milling about in the trees beyond and, he knew, others on the far side of the shallow ravine behind him. But it was the seven men in front of him that he needed to worry about first. Three had their rifles slung on their shoulders, two clutched them loosely with one arm, while a sixth had a machine- gun slung by his side from a strap that ran over his shoulder. Tanner was not familiar with the different types of German machine-gun, but it looked to him to be a similar if somewhat more sophisticated weapon than those he had seen after the firefight at the seter. It had a similar air-cooled perforated barrel jacket, with ribbed and rounded side magazines. The cock, he noticed, was on the right of the breech. The crux of the matter, he realized, was whether or not the magazine was empty. Surely no machine-gunner would wander around with an unloaded weapon while the battle still had a chance of continuing. In any case, it was his onlyhope of getting out of his current predicament alive.

  Tanner was glad he had kept Zellner talking long enough to take all of this in, but accepted that the moment had arrived to act. Holding Zellner's stare, he brought up his left hand quickly and knocked away the German's arm. Zellner fired harmlessly into the air as Tanner rammed his stronger right fist straight into the man's mouth and nose. As the unconscious Zellner fell backwards, blood spraying in a mist round his head, Tanner lunged for the machine-gun and slid it down the stunned soldier's arm. Pulling back the breech, he fired.

  The recoil of the machine-gun nearly knocked him backwards - it was heavier than the Bren - but a rapid burst of bullets emerged from the barrel at a rate of fifteen rounds per second, neatly scything through the six men so that only Zellner, who had slumped backwards, escaped being nearly sliced in two. Seconds - that was all he had. Firing another quick burst at the startled men behind, he grabbed a rack of two-drum magazines, then spotted his rifle lying on the ground a few yards above him. He snatched it and raced for the trees. Act decisively, act quickly, his first sergeant had told him some years before. It was an adage Tanner had not forgotten.

  It took the shocked German troops a few seconds more to recover their composure, take their weapons from their shoulders and fire after him. Bullets pinged and zipped either side of him, smacking into trees and kicking up snow, but although one passed clean through a loose part of his trousers, the trees were closing protectively round him.

  On he ran, heart pumping furiously, driven by instinct alone, until an explosion shook the ground and made him stop, lungs almost bursting. Below and away to his left, he could hear the blast of rock. Screams followed and as he stared wild-eyed, uncomprehending, through the pines he heard someone call: 'Sarge! Sarge!'

  Startled, he swung round and saw Corporal Sykes scrambling towards him.

  'Stan, you're alive!' Tanner grinned and held out a hand, which was shaken gratefully. 'I thought you'd been killed back there.'

  'And me you!'

  They hurried on without any more talk, preserving what energy they had for their climb. At last the gradient began to ease and as they reached the plateau and the edge of the treeline, they emerged into a wide expanse of snow.

  'Look!' said Sykes. 'The others! All of them! We made it!'

  Away to their right, a peak emerged magisterially from the snow. 'Olasfjellet,' said Tanner. 'That's the first of two that Anna mentioned. Christ, we need to watch our backs up here. It's bloody exposed, Stan.'

  'And bloody hard going.'

  'You're not wrong.'

  One of the others turned and waved. Moments later Tanner and Sykes had caught up with them.

  'Come on, lads, get a bloody move on,' said Tanner, as he reached them. 'Dan, what's the damage?'

  'It just nicked me, Sarge. Took a bit of my forearm out, but didn't break anything.'

  'Good,' said Tanner. 'Any sign of the others?'

  'Only tracks. Easy enough to follow,' said McAllister. 'Do you think Jerry's coming after us, Sarge?'

  'I don't know. We need to catch up with the rest, then get the hell out of this snow.'

  'I'm about done in,' said Hepworth.

  'Me too,' said Bell. 'Tell me it's not much further, Sarge.'

  'Stop bloody bellyaching,' said Tanner. 'We're all soddi
ng tired, but we've got two, maybe three miles of this, and then we should be among the trees again, so it's not far. Come on, boys, keep fighting. We've done the hard part - seen off those Jerries. We can't let ourselves down now.'

  He said this for his own benefit as much as his men's, for exhaustion had swamped him too. Fighting was tiring, especially when it was followed by a steep running climb weighed down by a leaden load. The instinctive desire to survive seemed to make part of his brain shut down so that an adrenalin-fuelled primal capacity to keep going took over. Once the immediate danger was past, though, his mind returned to normal and told him he was physically and mentally all but spent.

  The snow was crisp and hard, so walking on it was not as difficult as it had been, but even so, each footstep seemed ever harder. On his shoulders, he still carried his rifle and the German machine-gun, as well as the drum magazines, his pack, gas-mask case and haversack. The weight now seemed agonizingly oppressive. Keep going. Keep bloody going.

  And what of the enemy? There was still no sign. He thought of Zellner and reckoned he'd judged the punch about right. A broken nose, probably a broken jaw, and it would take him a while to wake up. Whether they followed now or regrouped depended, he guessed, on whether other officers and NCOs were present and still fit. By God, he was tired. He now realized he was hungry and thirsty too. He leant over to pick up some snow and stumbled, falling to his knees. McAllister was now beside him, grabbing his arm, but Tanner shook him off. 'I tripped,' he snarled.

  'Only trying to help, Sarge.'

  Tanner got to his feet again, using his rifle as a staff, and put the snow in his mouth. Numbingly cold, it offered some relief from the cloying dryness. He fumbled in his pack and found a piece of bread the Sulheims had given him. Slowly chewing it, he tramped onwards, his men following. At least, he thought, it was nearly May. These mountains would be deadly during the depths of winter, but with a high, warm sun, they presented less danger and although it was cold, it was not debilitatingly so. In any case, he now felt well dressed for the task in hand. His stout German boots were warm, his clothes dry. The leather jerkin, with his belt and packs binding it to his body, offered perfect insulation, while the snow goggles protected his eyes from the worst of the glare; the rim of his helmet worked well as a sun visor. No one would succumb to exposure.

  Exhaustion was their main enemy now, but already Tanner could see the second peak Anna had mentioned and then he heard - they all heard - the distant boom of guns. His spirits rose. The battle at Kvam - the Allies were still there! New reserves of energy found their way into his legs. 'Lads!' he said, grinning. 'Hear those guns? We're nearly there. We've nearly bloody well gone and made it!'

  McAllister cheered. 'Hoo-bloody-ray, Sarge!' he exclaimed. 'Come on, boys, let's get a move on. What's that you say, Sarge? Iggery!'

  Tanner glanced back: still no sign of the enemy, but they had to remain watchful. The horizon behind them was shortening now that they had crested the highest point of the mountain ridge and had begun to climb down the reverse slope of the plateau. Ahead, he could see the treeline, still masking the view beyond, but marking the crest of the valley sides.

  Ahead, a figure emerged from the darkness of the trees. Bloody hell, thought Tanner, those pines offered good cover - the man could not be seen until he was well clear and standing in the snow. Tanner put his binoculars to his eyes. 'Lieutenant Nielssen,' he said, and waved.

  '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 s
hould 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