The Odin Mission

It was because of this that the farmer was able to tell them some news as to what was happening in the ongoing battle for Norway. There was fighting to the north of Trondheim, near Namsos; Narvik had also been heavily bombed. In the Gudbrandsdal valley, there was heavy fighting at Kvam, some forty-five miles to the north-east. German-backed radio had reported that they were advancing virtually unopposed up the Glama valley, east of, but parallel to, the Gudbrandsdal. On hearing this Tanner had glanced at Chevannes. And you reckoned we could head north in that direction.

But Sulheim reported something more. That morning an announcement had been broadcast by the German authorities that a dangerous band of British, French and Norwegian troops was at large in the Gudbrandsdalen. There was a reward for any help in securing their capture, but a warning too: anyone offering these men help could expect 'the severest' punishment for doing so. Well, that made one thing clear, though Tanner. The Germans knew about Sandvold.

The threat of severe punishment did not seem to perturb Sulheim, who explained that he was a patriot and openly professed his desire to help his country against the Nazi oppressor. He had already tried to join up in Lillehammer, but because of his timber business and position as one of the few milk and meat producers in the area, he had been sent home. 'In any case,' he added, in near-perfect English as his wife ladled out bowls of porridge, 'we have seen a few planes, but not a single German soldier yet.' He offered them his truck. Petrol was scarce and there was little in the tank, but he produced two four-litre cans that he told them he had kept to one side. 'You should have enough for maybe fifty kilometres.'

'Then we should leave right away,' Tanner said.

Chevannes shook his head. 'In broad daylight? It would be better to lie up here today, and head off this evening when all is quiet.'

'I agree,' said Larsen. 'Think how far we got last night. If we wait until dark we can drive to here.' He pointed to a spot on Anna's map a few miles west of Vinstra, where the road rejoined the main Gudbrandsdal valley. 'Then we can head over the mountains to Sjoa, west of Kvam, perhaps be there by early next morning.'

Tanner sighed with exasperation. 'Look,' he said, 'it's clear that Jerry knows about the professor. I was already pretty sure of that before I heard about that radio announcement. Think. First we were chased through the mountains. Then last night they were waiting for us to cross at Tretten, and this morning we were given three passes by an enemy reconnaissance plane. Now the Germans have put out a broadcast about us. They're going to be looking for us, and if Sandvold's as precious as I think he is, then they're not going to stop looking until they've found him. We should get going while we've got the chance to keep one step ahead of the bloody Bosches.'

'No,' insisted Chevannes. 'We should lie low until evening, even if that means hiding in the mountains.'

'We should make as much ground now while we have the chance,' Tanner countered. 'Mr Sulheim has offered us his truck. It's sitting there now. Instead of arguing, let's head north, towards the Allies.'

'Sergeant, not for the first time, I would like to remind you that I am the senior officer here, the one in command, not you. And I am ordering us to stay where we are.'

'But this is madness!' said Tanner. 'Do you think those Germans who attacked us last night are going to sit quiet all day? They'll be swarming all over this valley.'

'You were happy enough for us to lie up yesterday,' said Chevannes.

'Yesterday we had no choice. We were exhausted, short of food and had nowhere to go. That's not the case today. We're still reasonably fresh and we have a chance to get a long way north, an option that was not open to us yesterday. Please, sir, I implore you, don't delay. Let's go now, while we have the chance.'

'No,' said Chevannes. 'If the Germans come looking for us today, then fine - we will hide in the mountains and come back down this evening.'

Tanner put a hand to his brow. 'We can't afford to lose another whole day if we don't have to,' he said slowly. 'We have the chance to drive north now, away from the enemy. It's madness.' He turned to Professor Sandvold. 'Professor, surely you see that?'

'How dare you try to undermine me?' shouted Chevannes. 'I have made my decision, Tanner and you will abide by that.'

Sandvold shrugged. 'Both options seem fraught with risk, Sergeant,' he said. 'Please - I am not the one to make such a decision.'

Sulheim now coughed. 'I have a suggestion,' he said. 'I have a seter up in the forest. It's quite a climb but no one has used it in years and it's deep in thick forest. You would never be seen from the air and I don't think any German would find you. I can take you there now. Tonight I will come and get you when the coast is clear.'

'That settles it,' said Lieutenant Larsen. 'We stay here today and head out tonight.'

'If we're still able to,' snarled Tanner.

Larsen turned to him. 'Sergeant, this is not about you and the lieutenant. This is about what is best - best for the professor and for all of us. I am sorry - but I agree with Lieutenant Chevannes.'

So, thought Tanner, that's that. As they went back outside, Chevannes called everyone together. When the men were gathered round him, he said, 'Today we lie up in the mountains. Tonight we continue our journey north in Monsieur Sulheim's truck. Now, vite, we get going.'

Tanner could see the expression on Sykes's face. 'Don't say it,' he growled. 'It's insanity. That man has no brain. Neither does Lieutenant Larsen, for that matter.'

'Isn't it time we left them to it, Sarge?'

'For God's sake, Stan, how can we? Sulheim's not going to lend us his truck without the Norwegians, is he? I tried to persuade the professor but he said it wasn't his place to make a sodding decision. And anyway, I made a solemn vow.'

Sykes nodded doubtfully.

'All right, Stan,' snapped Tanner, 'but what if Sandvold is as important as Gulbrand made out? Think about it. Would these Jerries be after us if he wasn't? It's our bloody duty to do the right thing.' He sighed. 'Look, if you want to try and make a go of it on your own, you and the other lads, I won't stop you. But I've got to stick by him and somehow get him back to our lines, despite that bastard's every effort to stop us. If that means wasting another bloody day, so be it.'

'Don't worry, Sarge, I'm not going to bugger off. I don't like it, mind, but as you say, we have to sweat it out. God knows, though, this place could be swarming by the evening.'

It was largely because Hauptmann Zellner had waited until mid-morning for useless Luftwaffe reconnaissance reports that the fugitives could leave Merit Sulheim's farm safely and make their way across a wooden footbridge, over grey pastures and into the dense pine forest that covered the steep western slopes of the valley. By following a mountain brook they hid their progress and were able to reach the heart of the forest without a trail of tracks in the snow. The seter, when they reached it, was overgrown with young shoots of alder and pine, the entrance and shuttered window thick with ageing cobwebs. As a place to hide, it was, Tanner admitted, hard to fault. A short distance below, a little clearing that offered a good view of the river, road and the cluster of farmsteads that made up the community of Alstad. It was there that Tanner settled to watch any activity in the valley.

A truckload of German soldiers reached the church just before midday, and Tanner watched as they began their search, one by one, of the farms. Eventually another truck of troops arrived and aircraft flew up and down the valley, then over the mountains but, as Sulheim had predicted, they seemed unable to spot any movement in the thick forest below. Tanner wondered whether that morning's old man had squealed. He could see through his binoculars that soldiers were now searching the place. Sure enough, not long after, a number of troops hurried down the track and made for Sulheim's farm. As they reached it, Tanner hardly dared breathe. He hoped Sulheim held his nerve; hoped he'd be as good as his word and not say anything to the enemy troops now swarming over his house and farm. Then he remembered the truck. Surely the Germans would spot it and requisition it. He cursed once more.

Hauptmann Zellner banged his fist hard on the kitchen table. He was pleased to note that not only did the wife flinch but the farmer too. 'I know they were here, Herr Sulheim,' he said, each word spoken slowly and clearly.

'And so they were,' said Sulheim, eyes wide, 'but they left again. I turned them away.'

Zellner stared at him. 'But why would you? They had your fellow countrymen with them. Are you not a patriot, Herr Sulheim?'

'I - that is we - heard the announcement on the radio.

That you were looking for these men. I am a patriot but I love my family more. I didn't want to put them at risk.'

'But you have a truck, do you not?'

'Yes, and they wanted it, but it's not working at the moment.'

'Not working?'

'No - something wrong with the alternator, I think.'

'Did they try to get it to work?'

'They tried but, as I said, it's broken down.'

'Show me.'

Sulheim shot a nervous glance across the room to his wife, then led him out of the house and across the yard to one of the outbuildings where the truck now stood.

'Lift the bonnet,' Zellner ordered. He had no idea how engines worked and called one of his men. In German he asked the soldier to examine the engine bay.

'And where is the alternator now?' he asked, turning back to Sulheim.

'Er, here,' said Sulheim, pointing to a cylindrical block of metal lying on a workbench to the side of the shed.

'And where did they go when they left?'

'Up the road. North,' said Sulheim. 'Whether they stayed on it or not, I couldn't say. I made it pretty clear I didn't want them anywhere near my farm.'

Zellner couldn't decide whether or not the man was lying and wished he had Sturmbannfuhrer Kurz with him, a man more practised in interrogation techniques. The Norwegian's answers certainly seemed plausible, but either he was telling the truth and the fugitives would be further up the valley by now, or he was lying and they would presumably reappear once darkness fell.

He ordered a thorough search of the entire farm. Nothing was found. No hidden troops, no footprints, no dropped cigarette butts. After an hour, he called his men back. He posted half a dozen in the church a few hundred yards to the south of the farm - the bell-tower was to be used as an observation post - then ordered the rest back into the trucks and headed north.

Tanner watched these events carefully. The officers appeared from time to time, but he preferred to trust the task of observation to himself, Sykes and his own men. By taking short cat-naps in the seter he was able to catch up on his sleep, then return to watch the valley once more.

During the afternoon more trucks arrived. Planes hummed overhead. On the far side of the valley, he followed a platoon of troops with skis on their backs as they climbed out of Alstad and up into the mountains. But despite these movements, he was painfully aware that the men in the church had remained where they were.

The hours ticked by. The afternoon came and went. As the evening drew on, the shadows lengthened and the sun dipped below the mountains behind them. There was no sign of Sulheim or of the German observers leaving the church.

It was after ten when Chevannes shuffled down the slope beside him.

'They're still there, sir,' said Tanner.

Chevannes peered through his binoculars. 'Merde,' he said.

'I could go down when it's dark and try to get them.'

Chevannes bit his lip, but before he could answer, a truck arrived at Uskum Farm and men got out.

'I take it we stay here for the time being,' said Tanner.

Chevannes turned away without looking at him. 'Yes, Sergeant,' he snapped. 'For the moment.'

As the brief hours of darkness passed, Tanner's anger and frustration rose. Never had he felt more inclined to throttle the French lieutenant. He could not help thinking about the Allied front line. Was it still at Kvam? Surely not. By now they must have been pushed ever further away. A whole day wasted, and now, perhaps, several more. And it was cold up there among the pines. Not for the first time Tanner wished he had never set eyes on Colonel Gulbrand and his men.

It was with relief that Brigadier Morgan saw Major General Bernard Paget standing before him at his small headquarters at Heidel. He had known him a long time - indeed, they had worked together before the war - and Morgan had always thought the general cut an impressive figure. The fierce, intelligent eyes, the long, aquiline nose and thin lips somehow contained so much authority. Not for nothing had Paget gained a reputation as one of the finest trainers of British soldiers the Army had possessed in many years.

'General, how very good to see you,' said Morgan, stepping forward into the dim light and clasping Paget's hand.

'Harry,' said Paget. 'Good to see you too, although I wish the circumstances might have been different. This is a hell of a bloody mess, isn't it?'

'You've seen General Ruge?'

'Just come from his headquarters south of Dombas.' Paget chuckled mirthlessly. 'And got an earful too. Not very impressed with we Brits, is he?'

'No, sir.'

'And with reason. This is a shambles, Harry, a bloody shambles. Not your fault - you've done jolly well and Ruge is impressed with you. I'm afraid it's the bods back at Whitehall who are to blame. Lack of planning, lack of thought. Not enough kit. Not enough bloody air cover. Anyway.' He sat down in front of Morgan's desk while the brigadier poured two tumblers of whisky from the bottle Ruge had brought the previous evening. It was already nearly finished.

'Tell me what the news is here. Communication seems to be half the problem. No radios, not enough telephones. No reconnaissance. How are 15th Brigade doing?'

'We've held off the enemy so far, General. The narrowness of the valley has worked in our favour and the Gladiators have performed magnificently. I think the sight of them has given heart to the troops.'

'Good,' said Paget, then raised his glass. 'Cheers.'

Morgan raised his in turn, then added, 'But I'm afraid there are only four serviceable aircraft left now, so I'm not sure how much they can achieve tomorrow.'

'And what about tomorrow?'

Morgan took a large gulp of his drink. 'The enemy never seems to attack during the night or early in the morning. A real creature of habit. So I've straightened the line and brought up some reserves, but no doubt by mid-morning they'll come at us heavy again. I hate to say this, General, but I don't think we'll survive another night. Our best hope is to keep the enemy at bay until evening and withdraw overnight. As it is, Brigadier Smyth has been wounded.'

Paget nodded. 'All right, Harry. I'm going to report back to London tonight, if I can, and you should know that I'm going to recommend our withdrawal. Your brigade's already had a savage dusting. I can't see any point in letting the rest of our troops be lambs to the slaughter as well.'

Morgan finished his whisky, then said, 'did General Ruge mention anything to you about a missing patrol of British and French troops?'

'Is this the scientist?'

'Yes, sir. Professor Hening Sandvold.'

'Yes - yes, he did.'

'The King's very anxious they should be found.'

'I know, but we can't hang around here on the off- chance when this fellow might already be dead.'

'I don't think he is, though, sir. London intercepted a radio signal broadcast by the Germans. Apparently they've warned Norwegians to report any sightings and threatened severe punishment for anyone not complying. It seems Jerry's on to them.'

Paget stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'Well,' he said at length, 'we'd better hope they're still out there and that they get to us quickly. I'm sorry, Harry, but the King has to face facts: we can't stay here for much longer. Not for him and certainly not for some errant Norwegian professor.'