The Odin Mission sjt-1

by James Holland

  'Sergeant,' said Chevannes to Tanner, 'organize guards. The rest, follow me into the house.'

  'Hep, you can take first watch with me,' said Tanner.

  Hepworth groaned. 'Sarge, why's it have to be me?'

  'Would you rather be woken up in an hour? This way you get it over and done with.' He leant his machine-gun against the gate. 'Now, stay here and watch the road.'

  'Where are you going, Sarge?'

  'For a nose round. I won't be long.'

  Tanner watched the others head into the house, then walked quietly towards the farm. There were two barns and several other outbuildings, while to the back a shallow field rose steadily towards the patchily wooded valley sides. The house, he noticed, was shuttered, and effectively so - only the faintest light could be seen from within.

  The smell of woodsmoke again. A wisp now floated from the chimney. Good, he thought. They've found some scoff. His stomach groaned.

  Back at the gate he found Hepworth leaning against it, his head in his arms.

  'Hep,' he said, 'wake up.'

  'Hm?' said Hepworth. 'Sorry, Sarge ...'

  Tanner left him and, taking his machine-gun, walked across the road. There was only one way the Germans could come, he reasoned, and that was from Sjoa. He had his rifle and the MG set up on its bipod. The night was so quiet that if any vehicles approached he knew he would hear them a long way off.

  Satisfied that should there be any sign of the enemy he could raise the alarm and get everyone hidden in the woods behind the farm, he sat down on the bank, listening to the water hurrying over the rocks in the river below and thinking of what Sykes had said earlier. He felt sure it couldn't be Sandvold, yet the professor had been in Oslo during the first days of the occupation and had admitted to him that he had been reluctant to leave. Perhaps the story of his mother was a lie. Perhaps he was working for the Nazis after all. Then he considered Larsen and Nielssen. Again, it was possible, but seemed so unlikely. If one was a spy, he could surely have killed the other two and taken Sandvold to the Germans long before they ever reached the Balberkamp.

  He thought about Anna. In truth, he'd thought about her quite a lot over the past two days, although it troubled him that he should even consider her as a spy. Yet there was no denying that she had been very keen to help them - perhaps overly so. But if she was a traitor, how was she passing on information? She carried a rucksack, but was it big enough for a wireless? Tanner wasn't sure. And what was her motive? He shook his head. It didn't make sense.

  And, of course, there was Chevannes. No one, in his view, had done more to hinder them at every turn. And yet it couldn't be the Frenchman - of that he was sure. Maybe it really was just paranoia.

  Sleep. That was what he needed. Sleep and food. Perhaps he'd be able to see the situation more clearly after that.

  An hour later Sykes and Bell relieved him and Hepworth.

  'Go on, Sarge. Get inside,' Sykes told him. 'We found a whole load of tins of Maconochie's and a few bottles of vino too. There's no doubt about it, some of our boys were here not so long ago.'

  'Probably till this afternoon,' muttered Tanner. He shook Hepworth awake. 'Wakey, wakey, Hep, you useless sod. Time for some food.' Hepworth grunted then staggered after him.

  Inside, Tanner found Chevannes and Nielssen sitting at the table, one empty and a further half-drunk bottle of wine between them.

  'Where's the professor?' he asked.

  'Upstairs,' said Chevannes, pointing above his head. 'Don't worry - he's safe, and sound asleep.' His eyes were glassy, his words somewhat slurred.

  'For God's sake,' mumbled Tanner.

  'What?' said Chevannes. 'What was that you said, Sergeant? Parlez haut.'

  'Nothing, sir. I'll just get something for me and Hepworth to eat. I hear there's some stew about.'

  'Out, oui. Heat up another tin. And have some wine.' While Tanner found two tins of stew and vegetables, Chevannes poured out a chipped tumbler of wine, spilling some. 'A toast, Sergeant,' he said, pushing the tumbler in Tanner's direction. 'A toast to surviving so far.'

  Give me strength, thought Tanner. He scowled at the Frenchman, said, 'No bloody thanks to you,' then picked up the tumbler and drank, slamming the glass down only when he had finished it all.

  'What did you say, Sergeant?' slurred Chevannes.

  'You heard,' Tanner retorted. He went back to heating his tins of stew over the fire.

  'How dare you?'

  'How dare I what?' said Tanner, turning on him. 'If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be sitting in this

  God-forsaken hole. Now, get drunk if you want to but in a few hours' time we'll be off again and I'm not bloody well waiting for you.' Tanner grabbed the tins and stormed out of the room.

  'Sergeant!' Chevannes called after him. 'Come back here!'

  Tanner ignored him. He found Hepworth almost asleep on the stairs, then entered another room on the ground floor in which McAllister and Kershaw were already asleep. He lit a match and saw a half-burnt candle on a desk, which stood before a fireplace. Lighting it, he looked around, eating his stew as he did so. It was not warmed through, but he didn't care. It was food, and he'd eaten a lot worse. An empty whisky bottle stood on the table, while in the grate he found the remains of a number of papers. Tanner picked up the top of a sheet entitled, 'War Diary or Intelligence Summary', beside which had been scrawled in pencil, '148 Inf Bde.' What remained of the writing underneath had been scribbled out. So, this had been Brigadier Morgan's headquarters, he thought. Missed by hours.

  Tanner lay down on the floor by the fireplace and, using his captured jacket as a pillow, closed his eyes and slept.

  He was being shaken roughly. 'Sarge! Sarge!'

  'What?' he said. He had been sleeping deeply and his eyes, reluctantly opening, strained in the dark to see who was standing over him.

  'Sarge, it's me, Bell. You need to come. The corp sent me.'

  Rubbing his eyes, Tanner got wearily to his feet, grabbed his rifle and stumbled outside. Sykes was by the gate. 'What is it?' Tanner asked.

  'Someone came out the house, Sarge,' Sykes whispered. 'I couldn't see who it was, but they went into the barn. Whoever it is, they're still there.'

  'All right,' he said. 'Let's go over and have a look.'

  They crept towards the barn. The door on the ground was ajar and they paused beside it. Tanner's heart was hammering again; he hated creeping round buildings at any time of day but especially in the dark. 'Cover me,' he whispered, then pushed open the door and went in.

  A sudden scratching made his heart leap and he flinched, then realized it was only rats or mice. He listened intently but could hear nothing. Sykes and Bell were now behind him. He felt in his trouser pocket for his matches, took out the box and lit one.

  The flame gave only a little light, but it was enough to show a row of animal stalls in front of them. Nearly burning his fingers, he pinched out the match, lit another and walked slowly along the stalls.

  The match died and he lit a third. As the flare subsided, he reached the last stall and there, asleep on a pile of hay, was the mystery person.

  'Miss!' said Tanner.

  She woke with a start. 'Sergeant,' she said, blinking, 'what's the matter?' She sat up, propping herself on her elbows.

  'We heard someone leave the house,' said Tanner. Suddenly he felt rather foolish. 'We weren't sure who it was . . .' Sykes lit another match. There was nothing beside her: no rucksack, and certainly no radio.

  'I'm sorry,' she said. 'It was the lieutenant. He was drunk.'

  'What did the bastard do?'

  'Nothing, really.' She made to stand up and Tanner stepped forward to offer her a hand. 'He - well, he was drunk and making a nuisance of himself.' She smiled uncertainly at Tanner, then took his hand. Her fingers were cold, but gripped his tightly. 'I didn't want to make a scene.' The match went out again, but her hand stayed in his.

  'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I didn't mean to alarm you. I just thought it would be quiet out
here. Although, actually, I should have known there would be rats.'

  With his heart still hammering, but now for a different reason, he said, 'It would be safer if you came back inside, you know. If anything should happen ...'

  'Don't worry, Miss,' said Sykes. 'I'm sure the lieutenant will be sound asleep by now.'

  'Yes, of course,' she said. 'I understand.'

  Back outside the barn, Tanner turned his watch to the light of the moon. 'Just gone one,' he said. 'Stan, you and Tinker are on until half past, then get Mac and Kershaw out for an hour and they can get me again. I'll get Chevannes' man, Derigaux, to join me. We want to be away by half three. All right?'

  'Got it, Sarge.'

  'Night, Sarge,' added Bell. 'And night, Miss.'

  Tanner led Anna back into a silent and sleeping house. 'In here,' he whispered, showing her to the office. McAllister and Kershaw were still asleep on the floor, their slow, rhythmic breathing clearly audible in the close atmosphere of the room. In the dark, he bumped into her, apologized, then whispered, 'Over here.' Having found his pack and wind jacket, he crouched and heard her settle next to him. 'Would you like my jacket?' he asked.

  'No, no - I'm fine. Thank you. I've got my own.'

  'Try to get back to sleep, then,' he said. He closed his eyes, then felt her hand stretch out and take his, squeezing it. Was she genuine, or playing a part? To hell with it, he thought. In less than two hours he had to be awake again. For now, the soft warmth of her touch was a much- needed comfort.

  He had been in a deep sleep when McAllister woke him but this time was alert in an instant. Deciding to let Derigaux be, he went out to watch the road alone. Not for the first time since arriving in Norway ten days before, he watched the dawn rise, creeping over the mountains to the east and sweeping over the narrow valley, bathing it in a rich golden light.

  Soon after three, he hurried back into the house, woke Sykes and ordered him out to watch the road, then stoked the fire and roused Anna. 'I need your help,' he said. 'Can you heat some more tins of stew for me?'

  She nodded sleepily.

  'Are you all right?' he asked, as she stretched and yawned.

  'Yes, I think so. This is harder than I thought it would be. I am used to tramping over the mountains, but I had not realized we would get so little sleep.'

  He smiled, and touched her cheek lightly. 'It's an occupational hazard, I'm afraid.'

  'I know.' She looked up at him. 'Jack - do you think we'll make it?'

  'Of course. We have to.' He smiled again, then went to wake the others.

  One by one, the men stumbled into the kitchen, stretching and yawning. Chevannes was the last to appear, eyes narrow and puffy, cracked lips stained with wine. Tanner chuckled to himself, then noticed Sandvold standing alone in a corner, rocking gently, eyes glazed. 'Professor?' he asked.

  Sandvold jumped.

  'How are you feeling? How are the legs?' Tanner asked.

  'My legs - well, they are still here. I feel my age, Sergeant. How far do you think we must go today?'

  'Perhaps a dozen miles - seventeen kilometres.'

  Sandvold nodded gloomily. 'We still have such a long way to go.' He paused, then said, 'Ignore me. I have these moments of depression.'

  While the others ate the remaining tins of Maconochie's, Tanner spread Anna's map on the stone floor. 'Anna,' he said, 'do you know this stretch of mountains?'

  'I know Bringsfjellet. It's the peak above Vagamo, and I've been to the town before.'

  'Good, but what about here?' He pointed to a narrow, steep-sided valley that ran north from Heidel.

  'No,' she admitted. 'I've not been up there.'

  'Do you think it will be wooded?'

  'Almost certainly.'

  'And it looks as though there's a track through it. What's more, it's mostly south-west facing so with luck there won't be much snow.' He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'I think we should head down there.'

  'Excuse me interrupting,' said Chevannes, his voice laden with sarcasm, 'but it is not up to you, Sergeant, to decide.' He leant over, stale wine fumes heavy on his breath, and snatched the map. He examined it briefly, then said, 'We should find some transport. The men are still exhausted. I have noticed that the welfare of yours is not of paramount concern to you, Sergeant.'

  Tanner took a deep breath. 'I agree that if we see something we should take it, but I don't think we should waste time looking for it. It's no more than a day's march to Vagamo where we'd have to ditch any M/T we had anyway.'

  'And the fact that the men are exhausted?' said Chevannes. 'We should find a vehicle.'

  'We need to get going while it's still safe, sir. We're by a main valley road, and it's not long before Jerry will be down here. I've had a look at the sky. It was clear three- quarters of an hour ago, but the cloud's building and it looks like rain. We need to get away and under the cover of the forest as soon as possible. We can rest up later. Better to do so where we can post proper sentries and prepare a decent escape route. We should aim to get to the mountains above Vagamo. Anna knows those peaks.'

  'There are good views of the river Otta, the VSgavnet lake and the town from the Bringsfjellet,' added Anna.

  'So from there,' Tanner continued, 'we can look down on the town. It may even be that we'll get there before the Germans do, in which case we'll be fine. If not, we can work out how to join the road north of the town. I agree, we will need some M/T then, but we don't have time to look for transport now.'

  'The track we take this morning should be fairly easy going,' said Anna.

  Chevannes turned sharply to face her. 'Oh, I see,' he said. 'You two, you have - how shall I put this? - a little understanding. It seems as though you have it all planned.'

  Tanner reddened.

  'That is charming,' continued Chevannes, 'but, Sergeant, you must not let your feelings for Miss Rostad cloud your judgement.'

  Something inside Tanner snapped. He prided himself on being able to keep a cool, calm head, no matter how testing the circumstances, but at several moments in his life uncontrollable rage had got the better of him. He had reached one such moment now.

  Without further thought he clenched his fist and swung his right arm at Chevannes. The movement was so quick, and executed with such lightning precision, that the Frenchman had no time to react. The force of the punch knocked him backwards in an unconscious heap against McAllister and Bell, who caught him clumsily, thus saving him from further injury.

  For a moment, no one said a word.

  Damn, damn, damn, thought Tanner.

  'Sergeant,' said Larsen, eventually. His face showed incredulity. 'What did you think you were doing?'

  'He pushed me too far.' He glared at the Norwegian.

  Hoisted upright by the two Rangers, Chevannes groaned, then came round. Blinking wildly, he suddenly focused on his assailant. 'Tanner,' he hissed, 'you struck an officer!'

  'You insulted me and Miss Rostad, sir.'

  'You struck an officer,' Chevannes repeated. 'I have never seen anything so disgraceful in my life.'

  'Jesus Christ,' muttered Tanner.

  'You had better apologize, Sergeant,' said Larsen.

  'For God's sake,' said Tanner. He wasn't sure how to react. You bloody fool, he thought.

  'Sergeant, it would be better if you just apologized,' said Larsen again, his voice firm and measured.

  'You most certainly will apologize, Sergeant!' shouted Chevannes. 'Now!'

  Tanner sighed, then said to Chevannes, 'Sir, I apologize for hitting you. And now can we get the hell out of here?'

  'Just a minute,' said Chevannes, cheek muscles twitching with anger, 'don't think that's the end of it, because when we get back to our lines, Sergeant, I'm going to report you, and you will be court-martialled. I'm going to make sure your career is finished for what you have just done.'

  'Enough!'

  The Professor had stepped forward. 'Enough of this,' he said again. 'Lieutenant - please. Ask everyone to wait outside. You,
Sergeant, and you, Henrik Larsen and Nielssen, stay here.'

  Chevannes was plainly surprised by the professor's intervention. 'Yes, all right,' he said. 'Everyone-out. Now!'

  'Listen to me,' said Sandvold, once the men had gone and the door had closed. 'I'm not interested in your petty squabbles and, with the greatest respect, no one else is either. What I am interested in is successfully reaching the Allies, and it is your task to help me. If you want to bring charges against the sergeant once this is over, that is up to you, but for now you must put aside your differences, because if I may say so, Lieutenant, your desire to undermine Sergeant Tanner is, to my mind, undermining our chances.'

  Tanner smiled to himself. Good lad, he thought.

  'Now, Sergeant Tanner has clearly studied the land carefully and it strikes me his plan is the right one.'

  Chevannes sniffed. 'And with the greatest respect to you, Professor,' he said slowly, 'you are not a military man. You should be leaving any such decisions to me.'

  'No,' said Sandvold. 'I am not under your orders, Lieutenant. I am a civilian. I have already been dragged from my home and I have come this far without complaint or protest, partly because His Majesty the King has requested that I do so, and also because I have no desire to become a prisoner of the Germans. Sergeant Tanner is surely right. We must stop bickering and leave now.'

  Chevannes was silent, then glanced at Larsen and Nielssen, hoping for support, but found none.

  'Maybe there's something in what he says,' said Nielssen.