Larsen looked at Chevannes. 'He has a point.'
Chevannes sighed. 'You may stay and listen, Sergeant, but our decisions will be final. Understood?'
Anna's mother came into the kitchen. She looked much like her daughter, but older. Her eyes darted from one man to another, then she placed some more wood on the fire and glanced at the two chickens cooking in the range. The smell of hot fat wafted across the room. As she stood up again, Tanner could see the fear in her eyes. But of course she's frightened, he thought.
Larsen spread his map on the table and Erik Rostad pointed to where they now were. He spoke quietly with Larsen, as his wife put two bottles of beer on the table and brought over four glasses.
'There are mountain tracks that run along the valley,' Larsen explained to Chevannes and Tanner. 'It is not unusual to have snow still on the ground at this time of year although it has usually stopped falling by now. The snowfall of last night was not typical. Summer comes quickly here. In a week the snow could be gone from the valley, although not on the mountains.'
'We have to chance it and head north along here,' said Chevannes pointing to the map.
'We need roads,' said Tanner, 'a vehicle of some kind. If we try to walk it we'll never make it.'
'We nearly made it today,' said Larsen.
'But we didn't, did we? And we only had to cover six or seven miles. I've no idea how far the Allies have fallen back, but it's got to be some distance. At least to here - Favang - and that's, what? A dozen miles. Twenty kilometres. In any case, Brigade's lost so many men and we're so short of guns and M/T that there would be little point in making another stand just a few miles down the road. Those generals might want their heads examining but even they're not that stupid. But whatever distance they've retreated, we'll never be able to walk faster through the mountains than Jerry can through the valley. And he's got increasing amounts of M/T as well as horses.' There was silence for a moment. Tanner leant over the table. 'Here,' he said, 'what about this road? Look - it goes from Tretten, cuts over the mountains into this valley here. Jerry's not going to go down there because it's this valley that's the axis of his advance. If we can get over there and find ourselves some transport, we could overtake them. We could maybe get all the way to here - Otta - without seeing any Germans at all.'
Chevannes shook his head. 'Brilliant, Sergeant,' he said, smirking at the others, 'and just how do you think we can get past the Germans in the valley and across a three-hundred-metre-wide lake? And where exactly will we find a vehicle that will take us all?'
'We don't cross the lake. We cross at Tretten where the river is much narrower.'
'And the fact that the village will be full of Germans does not worry you?'
'We go at night, when it's dark. There's no moon tomorrow. Anyway, we've got German uniforms now. Of course it's a risk, but if we do as you suggest, we have no chance at all.'
'It's a preposterous idea.'
'There is a place you could cross,' said Anna. All eyes turned to her. 'Just north of the village, a few hundred metres before the bridge. There is a small spur that juts out into the river. The crossing is only about a hundred and fifty metres wide at that point and there is a wooden jetty. On the bank are several small row-boats.'
Good girl, thought Tanner. 'In any case,' he added, 'there's no reason why Tretten will be full of Germans. Some, maybe, but most will already have headed north.'
Anna spoke hurriedly to her father, who nodded. Then Larsen spoke to her in Norwegian. For a minute an argument ensued between Larsen, Anna and her father: Larsen, firm and emphatic, Anna increasingly animated and irate.
At length Chevannes said, 'What are you talking about?'
'She wants to come with us,' said Larsen. 'I told her it is out of the question.'
'But I know those mountains. I know the J0ra valley. My brother and I hiked all over the Oppland mountains last summer.' She looked imploringly at Chevannes, then Tanner. 'Please,' she said. 'I want to help.'
'What we have to do is far too dangerous for a woman,' said Chevannes, 'and especially for a pretty girl like yourself, Mademoiselle.'
Tanner groaned to himself, then said, 'But there's no doubting she'd be a great help. Listen to what she said. She knows these mountains - none of the rest of us do. Second, the fact that she's a woman might be an asset. The Germans would be less likely to suspect her.'
'And I speak German,' she added.
'Sir, please, listen to her,' said Tanner.
'She'll slow us down,' said Chevannes.
'I will not,' said Anna, defiant now.
Her mother spoke to her, but her father interjected angrily.
'Her father says she is twenty-two,' Larsen translated, 'and old enough to know her own mind. He also says he is proud of his daughter for wanting to help in the battle against these Nazi thugs.'
Chevannes sat quietly for a few moments, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
'Sir?' said Tanner.
The Frenchman picked up his dark blue beret, which had been on the table in front of him, and felt with his finger round the badge. 'I want to think about it. I am not at all convinced that we should even try to cross the valley, regardless of what you say, Sergeant. In any case, are you proposing that we stay here until tomorrow night?'
'If possible, yes. We might have to move elsewhere, but not too far from here. I don't see that we have any choice.'
'There is a cave in the forest above the farm,' said Anna. 'It is a secret place. We could show you in the morning.'
'And we need to move the wounded,' added Tanner. 'Anna and her father are proposing to take them in their cart to Tretten.'
'And hand them over to the enemy?' said Chevannes. He seemed appalled by the suggestion.
'They will die if they stay here,' said Anna. 'They need proper attention.'
'Sir?' said Tanner, again. Chevannes picked at his lip.
Come on, damn you, thought Tanner. Make a decision. 'Sir,' he said again, 'we need to make a plan.'
'Be quiet, Tanner!' Chevannes snapped. 'Mon dieu, I need to think. Stop rushing me.'
'But what about the wounded?' Tanner insisted. 'You're the commander here. Mr Rostad and his daughter are willing to risk their lives to save them. Tell them what you want them to do.' He looked at the lieutenant with barely concealed contempt.
'Steady, Sergeant Tanner,' said Larsen. 'We are all exhausted.'
'Yes, we are,' snarled Tanner, 'but it's a simple enough decision.'
'All right, all right, damn you!' Chevannes ran his hands through his hair. 'Take the wounded men. In the morning.' He smiled weakly at Anna and her father, then said, 'Thank you, Mademoiselle, Monsieur.'
Larsen placed his hands flat on the table and said, 'Well, gentlemen, Miss, I think we should get some sleep now. The situation may seem simpler when we have rested.' He stood up and bade the family good night. Without a further word, Chevannes and Tanner followed him outside into the darkness.
The air was sharp and cold after the warmth of the kitchen. The sliver of moon was hidden behind the mountains, but despite the dark, Tanner could sense the looming immensity of their surroundings. Such a vast place. He looked towards the valley, a black cavity in front of him, and thought of the enemy below and the net they were casting inexorably over this land. Christ, he thought, what chance have we got? The responsibility, the huge barriers facing him at every turn, suddenly seemed too much. He wondered what the next day would bring, then chastised himself. Don't think, he told himself. Sleep.
Chapter 10
Tanner had spent long enough in the Army to be able to sleep anywhere so, despite having only a thin layer of straw between him and the floor, he slept like the dead. When he awoke, it was nearly six in the morning. He blinked and scratched. Lice, he thought, or was it fleas from the barn? He hadn't washed properly since he'd arrived in Norway six days before. Six days! Not even a week. It felt like eternity.
He sat up and looked round the barn. Shafts of light shone throu
gh gaps in the roof, where suspended dust particles curled. One of the doors was also ajar, revealing a bright sliver of deep blue already bathed in sunshine. Gentle and not so gentle snores rose from some of the men, all of whom seemed to be still fast asleep. Next to him Sykes was sleeping peacefully, a contented smile on his face. Tanner grinned to himself.
It was only then that he noticed the wounded men were no longer there; neither was Lieutenant Larsen. Grabbing his rifle, he quietly left the barn, went out into the yard and crossed to the farmhouse. Anna and her mother were there, as was Larsen, drinking coffee. The smell of fresh bread and chicken filled the room.
'Good morning, Sergeant,' said Anna. 'You slept well?'
'Too well, thanks, Miss. Where are the wounded men?'
'We moved them in the night,' said Anna. 'They were in too much pain and crying out.'
'They were keeping some of the men awake,' added Larsen. 'I felt the first priority was to make sure the fit and healthy stayed that way.'
'Christ, I didn't hear a thing. And how are they now?'
'We gave them more brandy. Riggs is not good, though.'
Anna's mother passed him some bread and chicken and gave him a mug of coffee. Ah, that's good, he thought. How could something so simple taste so delicious? Sleep and food had made him feel a different man; his mind was clear and his limbs no longer ached.
'We need to post guards,' he said to Larsen, and then to Anna, 'When will you take the wounded into Tretten?'
'My father is tending the animals. Then we will go.'
'I'll come with you some of the way,' said Tanner, suddenly. He'd not thought of it before, but it now occurred to him that reconnaissance, however crude, would greatly improve their chances of success.
'Isn't that an unnecessary risk?' asked Larsen.
'We need someone to recce Tretten,' Tanner replied. He pushed back his chair, stood up, and took his rifle. 'Thank you for breakfast. I'll be outside. Call me when you want help with the wounded.'
Outside, the air seemed so still, and across the valley, the morning sun shone gold, casting long blue shadows over the mountains beyond. Behind him he couldalready hear melting snow dripping from the pines.
His mind was whirring now, thinking of the many possible scenarios that could unfold that day They were now down to seventeen men, still a cumbersome number. He wondered whether Zellner and his men had escaped, whether Luftwaffe reconnaissance planes would spot them, if and when more German troops would be sent to search for them. And he wondered how he could best manage Chevannes. He was conscious that he had perhaps antagonized him too much the previous night, yet despite that he still felt certain that his plan to cross the valley was the right one. Getting back to the Allies would not be easy - far from it - and he knew their chance of success was slight. Even so, they had to give themselves the best possible opportunity. For Tanner it was a simple equation: if they continued north, they would fail; if they crossed the valley, they had a sliver of a chance. He had to persuade Chevannes of that.
He had let his men rest, mindful that they had endured much since their arrival in Norway, but now, at nearly half past six, it was time for them to be up and alert. Guards should be posted, weapons cleaned. Stomachs needed to be filled and the plan of action explained. Damn it, he thought, it must be made and agreed upon. He hurried back towards the barn as Larsen emerged from the house.
'Sergeant,' Larsen called to him.
'Are they ready to take the wounded now?' Tanner asked, walking over to meet him.
'Very soon, yes.'
'Have you seen Lieutenant Chevannes? Is he up?'
'Not yet.'
'Well, he should be. He's got fifteen men to command and one civilian to look after.'
Larsen offered Tanner a German cigarette, which the sergeant accepted. 'You know,' said Larsen, as he struck a match, 'you should try to patch things up with Chevannes.'
The comment surprised him. 'Have you, sir?' he replied, then immediately regretted it. He had sounded churlish, he knew.
'After yesterday, you mean? I don't blame him for that. I would probably have responded in the same way, had I been in his position. He had no personal reason to think I’ll of that German.'
'With respect, sir, his judgement is terrible. He makes bad decisions and he undermines my authority with my men.'
Larsen smiled. 'He is a proud man. He feels threatened by you - by your greater experience. None of us is very experienced in war. We are not experienced at all. No doubt he did well at St Cyr, but as we are all finding out, what is taught in peacetime bears little relation to what we discover in war. We are not warned, for example, about the sometimes very difficult decisions we are forced to make. Decisions that affect lives. Is it, I wonder, better that we save one life even though that might cause us to lose another?'
'That's the nature of command, sir,' said Fanner. 'Those difficult choices are part of the deal. We should have left the seter two nights ago when it stopped snowing. If we had we would be with the Allies by now.'
'And quite possibly prisoners-of-war.'
'But not Sandvold. He would have been whisked away to safety.' Tanner sighed. 'I know what I promised Gulbrand, and I'm sticking to that - not from a warped sense of honour but because of what he told me about the professor. If Sandvold is as important as the colonel made out, I have a duty - we all do - to see him safe. Then I have a duty to my men. If I keep quiet, Chevannes will lead us to disaster.'
'How can you be so sure? What if he's right? What if we head north instead?'
Tanner shook his head. 'Why are you saying this, sir?'
'Because I am not sure I know what to do.'
'Listen, sir, there's no road this side - other than that in the valley - for more than twenty miles and that leads away from the coast. Then there is nothing for a further fifty miles or more. Think about our progress these past days. We have neither the time nor the strength to catch up with the Allies. Our only chance is by finding transport and using roads as much as we possibly can. That means we have to cross the valley.'
'Yes,' said Larsen. 'You are probably right. But it feels as though we are heading into the lion's den, and I have my duty too: to the King and the mission he entrusted to us. Sandvold cannot be taken by the enemy.'
'He won't be,' said Tanner grimly. 'I won't let that happen.' He flicked away his cigarette. 'Perhaps, sir, you should talk to Chevannes. He's more likely to listen to you than me. And it would be useful to have Anna Rostad with us too. It's about survival, not about honour and decorum.'
Larsen smiled. 'All right, Sergeant. Yes, I will do that.'
Tanner nodded, then turned towards the barn.
'And, Sergeant?'
Tanner stopped.
'I am glad we have had this talk.'
'Me too, sir,' said Tanner. But now, he thought, it was time to stop worrying about people's feelings and get on with the bloody mission.
That morning, Tanner and Lieutenant Chevannes avoided each other as far as possible. Certainly there was no need for Tanner further to argue his case because, with the men roused, Chevannes stood at the entrance to the barn and outlined the plan exactly as he and Anna Rostad had suggested the previous evening. 'After careful thought,' he told them, 'I have devised a plan that I believe gives us the best chance of success.' They would be crossing the valley that night, he announced, and they were to spend the day resting and getting ready for the continuation of their mission. The three wounded men were to be taken into Tretten, he told them. 'It means they will become prisoners,' he added solemnly, 'but they will also have a chance to live.' Neither did Chevannes object to Tanner's suggestion that he accompany Anna and Erik Rostad part of the way.
'He's hoping you'll get caught, Sarge,' said Sykes.
Tanner grinned. 'You might be right, Stan.'
First, however, Anna Rostad would lead them to the cave, in the woods above the farm, where they would lie up until evening. It proved to be ideal, no more than a quarter of a mi
le from the farm, approached first through bare grey grassland, then through dense pine forest where there were only patchy drifts of snow, enabling them to reach it without leaving a trail of footprints. The entrance to the cave was further hidden by a jutting rockface.
Tanner left Sykes in charge of the men and his own packs. 'You know the drill, Stan,' he told him. 'And don't let Sandvold out of your sight.' He hoped he would not be seen, but had left his jerkin and tin helmet behind, instead taking the German wind jacket and field cap.
It was an old, creaking cart, led by a plodding mule. Erik Rostad sat up front with his daughter, his foot resting on the flimsy brake pedal, as they stuttered down the track. Saxby was awake and, sitting in the back with the three men, Tanner saw him contort with pain at every jolting stone the cart passed over. 'All right, Sax,' said Tanner. 'Not long now.'
'I don't want to die,' Saxby mumbled. 'I don't want the Jerries to kill me.'
'They won't. They'll look after you. Make you better.' Tanner watched tears run down his face. 'You've got to be strong,' he told him. 'You're a fighter, I know you are. Be brave and you'll get through this. One day you can go home.' He knew he sounded trite. He was sending them to the Germans in the hope that the enemy would show compassion but, really, he had no idea whether they would or not. Hell, he thought, and moved away from Saxby's misery to draw alongside Anna and her father. 'Thank you for doing this,' he said.
'I only wish we could have looked after them ourselves,' said Anna. 'I'm training to be a doctor, so I feel bad that I cannot help more.'
'Where are you training, Miss?'
'In Oslo. Or, rather, I was. The war has interrupted my studies. I'm afraid I've rather a long way to go, but in any case, I don't have the equipment or medicines to help these men.' She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then glanced at Tanner, a wistful expression - and framed by such a lovely face, he thought. It was madness, but he wished he could hold her and tell her all would be well: that her brother Jonny would come home, that the Germans would go away and that one day she would be a doctor. For the first time since the war had broken out, he began to realize what a terrible thing it must be for the Norwegians. He tried to imagine how he would feel if there were Germans swarming across England. It was incomprehensible.
The Odin Mission Page 16
