The Odin Mission sjt-1 Read online

  And what the hell were these Norwegians doing up here? He had probed Gulbrand once more, but the colonel had been evasive. Sykes joined him as Tanner scanned all around with his scope.

  'Got a spare beadie, Stan?' Tanner asked him.

  Sykes tapped the packet out of his pocket. 'There's something funny going on with these Vikings,' he said as he struck a match into his cupped hand. He passed a lit cigarette to Tanner. 'They look terrible and not just the colonel. They've been up here a fair few days. If it weren't for the fact that there're lots of Norwegians in the valley I'd say they're on the run from something.'

  'The Bosches?' suggested Tanner, with a grin.

  'Course from Jerry, but there's more to it than that. Why are they up here? What's more, who's that civvy geezer? Nah, I tell you, Sarge, there's something going on. Something they don't want to tell us.'

  Tanner shrugged. 'Maybe. But right now I don't give a damn what they're doing up here as long as they can help us get back to the battalion.' He blew out some smoke. 'Stay out here a moment, Stan, and keep a dekko. I'm going to get one of those Norwegians and sort out a plan of action. We've wasted enough time already.'

  Tanner went back into the seter, where most of the men now sat. The temperature had dropped noticeably and it was cold inside, despite the men now huddled there. The hut was small - perhaps twenty foot by fifteen - a simple wooden structure that had a musty smell of dust and damp pine. There was a door at the centre, and a window to the side from which the thick cobwebs had been removed.

  Tanner sighed. Christ, he was tired. Tired and bloody starving. Several of his men were already asleep and they had only been there five minutes - Hepworth was squatting in the corner, his head falling forwards. Tanner stooped over Gulbrand. 'He's asleep,' said Larsen.

  'Asleep or unconscious?' asked Tanner. As he said this the colonel groaned. 'Asleep for now.' He stood up again. 'We've got to get him out of here somehow.'

  Larsen nodded. He had a pale, lean face, with several days' growth of gingery beard. Like the others, he was exhausted, his eyes grey and hollow.

  'Who's the most senior of you lot after the colonel?'

  'I am,' said Larsen. 'I've been two years a lieutenant. Nielssen was only promoted last year.'

  'Have you got a map?'

  'Here.' He delved into his rucksack.

  'Look, my corporal's outside. Do you mind if the three of us have a talk?' Larsen followed him out. 'It's after nine now,' said Tanner, blowing into his hands. He could see his breath on the chill evening air. 'It doesn't get dark until after eleven, so we've a couple more hours of daylight. We need to get a move on if we've any chance of catching up with the Allies. But we've got two big problems. First,' he said, to Larsen, 'Colonel Gulbrand. We're not going to get far if we take him with us.' Larsen nodded. 'Second,' continued Tanner, 'we've got a lot of exhausted men in there - or, rather, starving exhausted men - and I include myself.'

  'And me an' all,' said Sykes.

  'Yes,' said Larsen, 'it is the same for us.'

  Tanner eyed him. 'Are you going to tell us what you're doing up here? You look like you've been on the go even longer than us.'

  'I wish I could,' said Larsen. 'But please believe me that it is of vital importance. Vital importance.'

  'All right, but I'm assuming you want to reach the Allies too?'

  'Yes. Very much.'

  'So, first we need to know where we are and find out what's going on down in the valley. And, second, we need food. I want to have a dekko, see how far Jerry's got and where our boys are.'

  Sykes noticed Larsen's quizzical expression. 'I know, sir,' he said to the Norwegian. 'It took me a while to understand the sergeant's lingo. He means he wants to have a look.'

  'I see,' said Larsen.

  'And at the same time, we try to find some food. How far down do we have to go before we get to some farmhouses, sir?' he asked Larsen.

  'Not so far. I think we are above Oyer.' Larsen opened the map and held it up. 'Look, this stream. I'm sure it is just ahead - you can see the ground falling away. If so, there are bound to be farms high above the village.'

  'And from the contours, sir, it looks as though the valley sides are not as steep here as they were around Lillehammer. That'll make things easier.' Tanner looked at them both. 'In that case we should take the colonel. It there are farms below, as you say, we can leave him at one of them. They can get him into the village and then to Lillehammer. All right,' Tanner continued. 'I suggest you and I, sir, go on a recce. We'll take a couple of others with us - one of my lads and Lieutenant Nielssen. Between us we can carry the colonel. Stan, you stay here and look after the others. Make sure there's a guard at all times, but that'll give them a chance to get some kip. There's going to be a reasonable moon tonight, so I reckon we should rest up here until dark. Then, if things are quiet, we'll head down into the valley.'

  'How will you carry the colonel?' asked Sykes.

  'We find a couple of strong sticks and thread the arms of two greatcoats through them to make a stretcher.'

  The colonel, however, woke as they tried to lift him on to the improvised stretcher and refused to be moved. 'No,' he said, through gritted teeth. 'I will not be handed over to the Germans. I cannot.'

  'But you need to get to a hospital, sir,' said Larsen.

  He glared at his lieutenant. 'No, Henrik.'

  'Colonel,' Tanner added, 'the longer we leave you, the greater the chances are that you'll die before we can get you proper help.'

  Gulbrand winced with pain again. 'No!' he hissed. 'Now, do as I say. Leave me.'

  Tanner did as he was ordered. Whatever their reason for such secrecy was their affair; as long as they continued to help him and his men, it made no odds. He understood. He had secrets of his own; dark secrets he had never spoken about to a living soul since he had joined the Army as a sixteen-year-old boy soldier. In any case, he reasoned, their climb down the mountain would be easier without the colonel - and greater manoeuvrability meant the risk would be less. Wounded men, he reminded himself, were always a hindrance.

  Tanner took Private McAllister, one of the riflemen in Sykes's section - he seemed less affected by the afternoon's events than the others. At any rate, he was still awake and appeared to have his wits about him. Nielssen accompanied Larsen, leaving the civilian with the colonel.

  Progress was slow to begin with but, overlooking the steep ravine cut by the stream, they found the outline of a rough track that wound its way through the trees and off the slopes. The further they climbed down, the more the snow thinned until eventually the dark stone and grit of the track was revealed and the four men were able to walk freely. As the trees cleared, they crept forward to the bank at the side of the track. Spread beneath them was the snaking valley of the Lagen river, which resembled a winding lake. Nestling above the water's edge was the village of Oyer, the valley and the single railway line clearly visible. Beyond, isolated farms dotted the lower slopes on both sides of the river, and around them, marking clear breaks in the thick pine forests, were small fields - which would soon be full of rich grass for hay-making and grazing. Now, though, in the third week of April, the valley was like a photograph - black and white and shades of grey. Only the water of the Lagen, deeply, darkly, icily blue, offered colour.

  Almost directly below there was a farmstead, and another beyond, a hundred yards further down. Tanner admired the now familiar design: the steep-pitched roof, the ornate wooden veranda, the barn with its stone ramp. A dog barked briefly, but otherwise it was as eerily still as it had been higher up on the mountain. Again, he could not hear the song of a single bird.

  'It seems quiet enough,' said Larsen.

  Tanner pulled out his scope. 'There's movement,' he said. Several Heinkels flew northwards along the valley, dropping their bombs a few miles north-west of the village. Clouds of smoke erupted on the lower slopes of the mountains and across the river. Intermittent artillery shells resounded around the same part of the valley. In
the distance there were bursts of small arms.

  'They're making some kind of stand up there,' said Tanner.

  'What can you see?' asked Larsen.

  'Not sure. Hard to tell, even with this. A few vehicles on the road in front of us, though. What look like several carts. I need to get closer.'

  'Nielssen and I will try these farms,' said Larsen.

  'All right,' said Tanner. 'McAllister and I will cover you. We'll be able to see if the coast is clear, then we'll head down a bit further.' Tanner looked at his watch. 'It's a quarter to ten. Meet back here in half an hour, no later. We need to get on our way. If the front really is only a few miles up the valley, we've a good chance of catching up tonight.'

  Larsen nodded. 'Good luck, Sergeant.'

  Tanner and McAllister watched the two Norwegians walk cautiously down the track towards the farm, their rifles slung over their shoulders and rucksacks still on their backs. Tanner heard McAllister's stomach grumble. 'My God, Mac,' he said. 'That's some racket your belly's making.'

  'Sorry, Sarge,' said McAllister. He grinned at Tanner sheepishly. 'It's them Vikings heading off for food. It's got me going again.'

  'Well, stop thinking about it. Concentrate on keeping a bead on them.'

  Tanner had his own rifle out and aimed towards the farm. In silence now they watched the two men approach the house. Two dogs barked and ran towards them. Nielssen held out his hands and they approached, tails wagging at the friendly gesture. Larsen knocked on the door, which opened. A middle-aged man, with a grey moustache. Talking - an explanation. Then the two men were inside, the door closed behind them.

  'Good,' said Tanner. 'Looks like we might get some grub. Come on, Mac, let's get going.'

  They left the track and moved back into the trees. The forest was dense and dark. Melting snow dripped round them, but the ground, although steep in parts, was covered with no more than an inch or two and they were able to move easily, almost running in places. Skirting another farm, Tanner stopped by a clearing in the trees from which they could see the road, now no more than a few hundred yards ahead.

  They were behind several pines to the side of the clearing, and Tanner knew they were well hidden, especially now that the light was fading. A column of men and horses pulling artillery pieces was working its way towards the village. Tanner peered through his scope. 'Damn it,' he hissed.

  'Jerries?' whispered McAllister.

  Tanner nodded, then turned towards the village. There were trucks, cars, other vehicles, and by the church, a huge tank, with a squat, thick-muzzled gun. Emerging from the village was a line of men, three or four wide. From their helmets and greatcoats, he knew they were British. 'Jesus,' he murmured.

  'What is it, Sarge?'

  'You don't want to know.' Several German infantrymen were walking beside them, rifles in hand. As they cleared the village and tramped slowly out on the valley road, they met the line of artillery. Tanner saw the Germans jeering, then strained his eyes to the front of the prisoners and realized with dismay that none other than Captain Cartwright and Lieutenant Dingwall were leading the column.

  Poor sods. For the moment, though, he would keep it to himself. No point unduly worrying the others. 'Come on, Mac, we've seen enough. We need to get a move on.'

  They found Nielssen and Larsen waiting for them by the track above the farm. Between them they had managed to get hold of some salted ham, a dozen eggs, some cheese and several loaves of bread. Larsen cut Tanner and McAllister some ham now and passed it to them. It was old, almost blue, and as salty as seawater, but to Tanner it tasted delicious. 'Here, have some bread too,' said Larsen, tearing off a chunk.

  'Damn me, that's good.' Tanner grinned. His energy was returning.

  'Did you ever have chocolate as a kid, Sarge?' McAllister asked him.

  'Once or twice maybe. Why?'

  'This tastes even better than that.'

  Tanner laughed. 'I reckon you're still a bloody kid, Mac. How old are you?'

  'Eighteen, Sarge. A fully grown man, I am.'

  'And so, old enough to carry a rifle and go to fight a war,' added Larsen.

  'Yes, sir,' said MacAllister. 'Although I admit this wasn't quite what I'd imagined.' Larsen sighed. 'Me neither, Private. Me neither.'

  The sky was darker now and would be even more so once they were within the shelter of the dense wooded slopes. 'We should get going,' he said. 'Those are dark clouds. We could be in for some snow up here.'

  By the time they were nearing the seter, the cloud lay low over the mountain. Snowflakes were falling.

  'Bloody hell,' cursed Tanner. 'Of all the luck.'

  'This is not good,' said Larsen.

  'It might be all right in the valley,' added Nielssen, 'but up here . . .'

  Tanner was pleased to see that the guard outside the seter was awake and alert. Hepworth asked him whether they had managed to find food and if the front had fallen back. 'Yes to both,' Tanner replied. Inside, most of the men slept, although they soon stirred with the arrival of the recce party. The two Norwegian officers passed round the food with, Tanner noticed, considerable fairness. Nielssen produced a Primus stove and a mess tin, then put on some water to boil. The men eagerly crowded round.

  'I'm gasping for some tea,' said Kershaw, prompting an enthusiastic muttering of agreement from the others.

  'Only coffee, I'm afraid,' said Nielssen.

  'Perfect, sir,' said Sykes, quickly. 'Anything wet and hot will be pure nectar.'

  Tanner went over and crouched down beside Gulbrand, then looked at the civilian still sitting next to him. He was curious about this fellow - what was a gaunt-faced, middle-aged man doing with these troops of the King's Guard? A politician or diplomat perhaps? He wanted to ask, but reminded himself that it was not his concern why these men were here or what they were doing; after all, he hated people nosing into his own business and saw no need to pry into theirs.

  The man eyed him, then leaned over and dabbed the colonel's brow. 'It's not good,' he said. 'He's getting a fever.'

  'That probably means his blood's infected.' Tanner opened Gulbrand's greatcoat once more.

  The colonel stirred. 'Ah, you're back, Sergeant.'

  Tanner continued to peel back his clothing. The smell as he lifted the tunic was overpowering. Gangrene was setting in. Probably septicaemia too. The antiseptic hadn't worked; Tanner had never really thought it would. That shard had probably taken soiled cotton and serge with it into Gulbrand's side and liver. A bit of gentian violet couldn't have performed the miracle the colonel needed.

  'It's all right,' said Gulbrand. 'I know I'm going to die.' His voice was low and hoarse.

  'I'm sorry, sir. If you'd let us take you down the mountain .. .'

  'It would have made no difference. But that's not the point.' He gripped Tanner's arm. 'Tell me, Sergeant, can I depend on you?'

  'To get your men to safety? I don't know, sir. We've a few problems just at the minute. But you can depend on me to do my damnedest. I've no intention of getting myself killed or spending the rest of my life in some Jerry prison camp.'

  Gulbrand released him, then turned to the civilian. 'Sandvold? Will you leave us alone a moment?' The man got up and walked to Nielssen. Gulbrand watched him, then said, 'We should be with the King. We are, after all, his bodyguard. I have been in His Majesty the King's Guard for nearly twenty years. My loyalty is total. The King knows that. It's why he chose me for this task.' Tanner listened without saying a word. 'The ninth of April was a terrible day,' Gulbrand said. 'A terrible day..

  The Germans had attacked Oslo. Everyone had been completely unprepared and it quickly became clear that the capital would fall. Prime Minister Nygaardsvold was persuaded by his government that they should leave Oslo and head north where they could continue to govern and manage the crisis away from German guns. The King was informed of the decision and immediately agreed that he and his son, Crown Prince Olav, should go with them. Shortly after, he called for Gulbrand. King Hakon wanted a doz
en men to act as his bodyguard and for the rest of the Guard to follow to Hamar as quickly as possible. Gulbrand was to remain with the King, who entrusted to him a number of documents and jewels for safe-keeping. The King had made him swear to keep them about his person at all times.

  The train for Hamar had left at seven that morning. 'Imagine what that was like,' said Gulbrand. 'To leave the capital. It felt as though we were running away. It was hard to bear.' But, in truth, they had had little choice. Norway was a peaceful country - a neutral country - and her armed forces were ill-equipped to deal with such an invasion. 'A mobilization order was announced that same morning,' Gulbrand told him, 'but it was too late. Far too late. Most of the men fighting in the valley here have had no training whatsoever. They've been given a uniform and a rifle and sent off to fight. Those serving in the standing Army will have had just eighty-four days' training. That's not even three months. We in the Guards, of course, train all the time, but even so, our equipment is poor so our training has been limited. All my men, Sergeant, can fire a rifle as well as anyone, but that's not enough to stop these bastards. We've got no tanks, no anti-tank weapons, no mines. We don't even have any hand grenades. Our field guns are old. We've got some machine-guns but few men have had any training on them. My God, there haven't even been enough uniforms. Half the men have been issued with 1914- pattern. So, you see, we had no choice but to leave Oslo.'

  The train took them to Hamar, but by evening word reached them that German forces were on their way to capture them so they boarded another train for Elverum. Two days later a German delegation arrived, offering peace terms, which had been rejected. It was shortly after this that Gulbrand had been summoned by the King. His son, Prince Olav, had also been present, but otherwise they had been entirely alone. King Hakon had a task for Gulbrand. In the chaos of their departure from Oslo, they had left someone behind, a man named