The Odin Mission

Chapter 23

Sergeant Tanner and his men, under Sykes's imperturbable supervision, had blown the road and the railway line three times with fifty yards between each crater. They had also felled a series of trees and linked a web of booby traps among them so that the moment anyone tried to move the barriers one or more cartridges of Nobel's finest No. 808 desensitized gelignite would explode in their faces. In addition, they made liberal use of grenades and safety fuse, preparing a variety of trip-wires between trees further up the slopes away from the road.

Since midday, two more waves of bombers had headed over, dropping loads at either end of the tunnel, then going on to paste Andalsnes, but the tunnel had not been blocked, Lieutenant Lindsay had confirmed, and the tiny port was still open for business. A number of Junkers 88s had swept low down the valley, half-heartedly strafing the Marines' position, but no one had been injured; men dug in and spread out were a far harder target than a lone convoy on a narrow road.

There had been no sign of the enemy on the ground, which had given Tanner and his men the chance to put some finishing touches to their devil's nest of explosives and booby traps. At well-spaced intervals, they were now placing single cartridges of gelignite, some propped up on rocks, others wedged atop mounds of earth and pebbles. All, however, were visible from a number of vantage-points along the Marines' positions.

'A bloody good idea of yours, this, Sarge,' said Sykes, as he handed over his last cartridge.

'Waste not, want not, Stan. Got the box?'

Sykes handed it to him.

'I can't resist this.' Tanner grinned. He upended the wooden box in the middle of the road, then placed the last cartridge on top. 'Now, where's Hep? I need some tracer rounds. Hep?'

Hepworth hurried over from one of the other jelly- mounds - as the men had christened them - and gave him a handful. Placing them in his haversack on his hip, Tanner strode forward and, binoculars to his eyes, gazed down the valley.

Sun glinting on glass, a few miles away. 'They're coming,' he muttered, under his breath, and glanced at his watch: 19.35. His heart began to beat faster, but this time with exhilaration rather than fear. 'They're coming!' he yelled. He felt in his haversack, took out his Aldis scope, unravelled the cloth in which it was wrapped and screwed it on to his rifle.

Sykes hurried over to him. 'How many, Sarge?'

Tanner peered through his binoculars again. 'Eight trucks - company strength, I suppose.' He watched as the trail of vehicles drew ever closer. Then, when he judged them to be a little over four hundred yards away, he pulled back the bolt of his rifle, pushed it into place and said to Sykes, 'Right, Stan. Keep still.' Resting the rifle on Sykes's shoulder he took careful aim, inhaled gently, held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

Five rounds slammed into the leading truck, which swerved off the road, rolled down the side of the hill and crashed into the river. Tanner's men cheered. They could hear the screams of the enemy troops. Raising his binoculars once more, Tanner watched men pour out of the remaining trucks and spread out in a wide arc.

'Time to go,' said Tanner.

They ran back to the Marines' lines and watched as the enemy cautiously approached. Germans shouted as they reached the gaps in the road, then pressed on, spreading out through the trees. Soon after, as Tanner and his men wove their way through the Marines' positions, they heard a small explosion and another scream.

McAllister grinned. 'That's one trip they didn't notice.'

Crouching beside one of the Marines' Bren crews, Tanner took a bead on one of the jelly-mounds. A short distance beyond he could make out some enemy troops darting from tree to tree. 'Come on, Jerry,' he muttered, 'a bit closer.' Now. As he squeezed the trigger, the tracer round hurtled down the rifle's barrel at a little under two and a half thousand feet per second, smacked straight into the cartridge of gelignite and exploded instantly. Several men disintegrated with the blast, while others were flung through the air, limbs torn from them. A half- minute later, Tanner had detonated a second. Trees caught fire, enemy troops cried out and then, as the first Germans came into range of the Marines' Lewis and Bren guns, the chatter of small-arms rang out around the valley.

A tank was now squeaking and scraping its way forward, trundling at a steep angle round the side of the trucks. It was huge, larger than any Tanner had seen before. Pausing to watch, he followed it as it edged its way towards the first of the fallen trees.

'Come on, my lovely,' said Tanner. 'A bit closer.' He glanced round and saw that his men were crouching beside him, watching too.

The tank drew within twenty yards of the first of the felled trees, then opened fire at point-blank range. Immediately a huge ball of flame erupted into the sky followed by a second explosion as the tank's magazine detonated. The dark shape of the turret was silhouetted against the flames as it was propelled into the air. Thick black smoke engulfed the road and railway line and swept across the river, and then, as indistinct figures emerged through the smoke, the machine guns opened fire again. But the enemy infantry pressed on. Half a dozen ran straight down the road towards them, shouting as they came.

'The mad bastards,' said Tanner, carefully drawing his rifle to his shoulder and taking aim at the lone gelignite box now directly in front of the advancing soldiers. He fired, the gelignite exploded, and when the smoke cleared, the six men were gone. So, too, were the rest of the attackers, who had slipped back behind the cover of the smoke.

The attack had been stopped dead.

The small band of Marines and Rangers now waited. Pacing up and down through the trees, Tanner peered ahead through the smoke and haze, straining his eyes for any sign of the enemy. The tank still burned, thick black smoke pitching high into the valley. 'Where are those bastards?' he muttered. An eerie quiet had descended across the valley. A cough from someone beside him, a chink of metal, but no one spoke. He saw the exhausted and tense expressions on the faces of his men and on those of the Marines nearby.

Minutes ticked past. Sykes passed round a packet of cigarettes. Tanner smoked, looked at his watch for the twentieth time in as many minutes, then said, 'Damn it,' and strode towards Lieutenant Lindsay's sangar.

'Any news, sir?' he asked.

'None, Sergeant, I'm afraid. Perhaps Jerry's called it off for the night.'

'Maybe,' said Tanner. 'I just wish that damned train would leave.' He looked at his watch: 20.21. He walked back to his men, and as he approached Sykes, he stopped suddenly and cocked his ear.

'What is it, Sarge?' asked Sykes.

'Listen.' The faint, but increasingly distinct sound of engines. Aero-engines.

They could all hear them now, the sound rising to deafening roar. Jesus, thought Tanner, how many is that? A dozen at least. The aircraft were above them now, and through the trees and the thinning smoke, he saw a formation of Stukas high above them. As he craned his neck, the first flipped over on to its back and dived, siren howling, then the next, and the next, and the one after that, until the air was rent by the crescendo wail of their diving scream. Tanner lay flat on the ground, his hands clasping his tin helmet to his head as bombs hurtled towards them.

Explosions, an ear-splitting clatter, one after another. Tanner heard the scream of one man, then was lifted clean off the ground and smacked back down again, the air knocked clean from his lungs. He gasped, debris and grit tinkling on to his hands and helmet, and pattering through the branches above. Suddenly he noticed he could no longer hear. He could feel the pulse of the bombs rippling through the ground, could see the flash of orange and thick clouds of smoke, but there was no sound. Daring to look up he saw two Marines crouching in their sangar not forty yards from him as another falling bomb seemed to detonate right on top of them. Tanner ducked again as debris sprayed him. When he raised his head and the smoke cleared, he saw the men had gone, their sangar replaced by a large hole in the ground. There was something wet on his hand - a glob of gore. 'Christ,' he said to himself, and wiped it off. Five yards ahead the bloodied face of one of the Marines lay among the dried pine needles. Of the rest of the head and body, there was no sign.

His ears began to ring, a high, piercing whine, then sound returned. The sirens of the Stukas had gone but, he realized, shells were now ranging in towards them from the south. 'Rangers!' he shouted, and began to run between the trees. He found Hepworth vomiting, then saw Sykes and McAllister. Another artillery shell fizzed over and exploded behind them. 'Where are the others?' he yelled.

Sykes pointed to Bell and Chambers, taking cover a short distance behind, then spotted Kershaw half running, half crouching, towards him. 'Keep looking out for the infantry,' he shouted.

A glance at his watch: 20.42. Bloody hell, he thought. Artillery shells continued to smash through the trees and along the valley, and there were mortars, too, popping down, almost with no warning, blasting deadly shards of shredded metal.

'We can't hold out here much longer, Sarge,' said Sykes.

'No,' agreed Tanner, 'I just hope to Christ that train's gone now the Stukas have buggered off.'

A shrill single whistle blast rang out, and as one the Marines moved from their positions and hurried backwards.

'Rangers!' shouted Tanner again, at a second whistle blast. 'Fall back!'

A shell screamed above them and now the burp of a Spandau and the crack of rifle fire could be heard. As Tanner began to run, he turned to see shadowy figures emerging through the smoke. 'They're coming,' he yelled, then a flash of orange and more screams as another trip-wire was detonated. He paused briefly, squatting on his haunches, and using his scope, aimed at one of the remaining jelly-mounds. Bullets whiffled through the air, zapping through branches and slapping into the ground around him. Spotting the stick of gelignite, he aimed his rifle as troops materialized through the smoke. Tanner squeezed the trigger, watching the tracer trail slice through the air and hit the explosive. A ball of flame erupted. He turned and ran, more bullets hissing and slicing around him.

A searing pain scorched his neck and he stumbled, crashing to the ground. Gasping he put up a hand. It came back red with blood. Someone grabbed his shoulders and yanked him to his feet. Sykes and Hepworth were beside him.

'Can you still run, Sarge?' yelled Sykes.

Tanner nodded.

'Then run!'

The three sprinted through the trees until at last the bullets were no longer following them. Ahead was a clearing and Tanner groggily saw trucks pulling out.

He stumbled again. A hand grabbed his collar and urged him forward. 'Come on, Sarge, nearly there!'Sykes. Tanner's neck stung like hell, his chest was so tight he thought it would burst, and his legs felt as though they had turned to jelly. A shell whistled over, and another landed a hundred yards to the right. The trucks were leaving. One left. Men leaning out, arms outstretched. Tanner cried out, then sped towards it. Suddenly his hand was clutching the wood of the tailgate and he was being pulled aboard.

He collapsed on to his back as the truck rattled away out of the clearing and sped on to the road, away from the carnage and turmoil of battle. Grimacing he clutched his neck. Sykes and Lieutenant Lindsay were staring down at him.

'The trains? Have they gone?' he asked.

The captain nodded. 'Yes, Sergeant. They have.'

Tanner closed his eyes briefly. 'Thank God for that.'

'Here, Sarge,' said Sykes, handing him a field dressing. Tanner sat up and, still short of breath, hoisted himself on to the wooden bench. As he pressed the bandage to his neck he saw that all six of his men were among the Marines. Thank Christ.

'Let's have a look at you, Sarge,' said Sykes. He pushed Tanner's head forward. 'It's just grazed you. You'll live. Here, let me wrap that bandage round it.'

As he began to breathe more easily, Tanner felt his composure return. His neck hurt, but his mind had cleared. His legs no longer felt weak. As Sykes bandaged him, Tanner gazed at his men: Hepworth and Kershaw, McAllister, Bell and Chambers. McAllister and Hepworth were by the tailgate, scanning the skies for aircraft; he'd not even asked them to do that. They were becoming soldiers, he thought. Not kids any more.

'You did damned well there,' said Lieutenant Lindsay, sitting opposite him, 'you and your men. If it hadn't been for your pyrotechnics, I'm not so sure we'd have held them off.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'And it was a pretty close-run thing.'

'But you know for certain that the trains went, sir?'

The Captain smiled. 'Yes, Sergeant. I had a clear line throughout. They left after the Stukas went. And we haven't had any more visits from the Luftwaffe, so they'll be there already.'

They fell into silence as the truck rumbled on. They had left the Germans and the enemy artillery behind, and were within touching distance of safety, yet just one enemy attack from the air could end their chances. Tanner smoked almost continuously, until his throat, already sore from the thick smoke of battle, was so dry he could barely speak. He tapped his feet and drummed his fingers, patted the wound on his neck and stowed his father's old scope in his haversack. But the truck would not go any faster, however much he might wish otherwise.

At last, after nearly an hour, they emerged from the valley, and there, nestling at the water's edge beneath a thick pall of smoke, stood the tiny port of Andalsnes.

The town was a wreck, hardly any houses standing; most had been reduced to little more than charred, blackened remains. Thick, cloying smoke hung heavy on the air. The harbour teemed with exhausted troops, but there was no sign of the ships. Tanner and his men jumped down from the truck.

'Thank you, sir,' he said, offering his hand to Lieutenant Lindsay, 'but we must leave you here. We need to find the Norwegians.'

Lieutenant Lindsay shook his hand. 'I hope our paths cross again, Sergeant. Good luck.'

They left the Marines and headed down a rubble- strewn road towards the quayside. 'Stick close to me, boys, and keep your eyes peeled. We've got to find them.'

'Why, Sarge?' said McAllister. 'They'll be here somewhere.'

Tanner turned on him. 'I'll tell you why, Mac. Because we've lost good men for that professor. We've hacked over mountains and across lakes, been strafed, bombed and shot at, and I'm damned if I'm going to leave this God-forsaken place without knowing that they're here and safely on a ship.'

His head throbbed and now that he was on his legs once more, the depth of his post-battle fatigue weighed down on him. Ahead, as they reached the quayside, all he could see was a sea of men. Jesus, he thought, how are we ever going to find them? They pushed their way through amid angry cries from equally exhausted and irritable men. 'We're looking for three Norwegians,' he said. 'Two men and a girl? Anyone seen them?' It was hopeless asking, he knew.

'There are lots,' said one wag. 'Have a look the other side of those mountains.'

They pushed on, but the light was fading, and then ahead, inching its way towards them, a ship - a destroyer. As it sounded its horn, the entire throng let out a massed cheer.

'Blimey, Sarge, it's like bloody Elland Road around here,' grinned Hepworth.

Tanner looked up at the skies. The light was fading.

'Another ten or fifteen minutes,' said Sykes, 'and then it'll be too dark.'

'I know, Stan,' said Tanner. 'That's what worries me.' He craned his neck. 'Come on, come on,' he muttered, 'where are you?'

'I didn't mean that, Sarge,' said Sykes. 'I meant it'll be too late for the Luftwaffe.'

They reached the end of the quay, but there was no sign of them. 'Where the bloody hell are they?' said Tanner. 'Come on, back we go. Let's have another look.' Doubts were creeping into his mind. What if they had never got aboard that train, after all? Perhaps they had been turned away. The destroyer was pulling into the quay. And it was getting darker by the minute.

They pushed their way through the mass of soldiers, but still nothing: no blue-grey greatcoat; no fair-haired girl in a long blue coat; no middle-aged professor. As the destroyer berthed and a gangway was pushed out on to the quay, Tanner lurched forward, forcing his way through the throng. 'I've got to get to the gangway!' he called out frantically. 'I've got to get to the gangway.'

The crowd of increasingly annoyed soldiers closed in on him.

'You don't understand,' pleaded Tanner, 'I've got to make sure someone gets on that ship.'

'Sarge! Sarge!' Tanner felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Sykes and the others behind him. Then Hepworth and McAllister parted and Tanner turned to see Professor Sandvold, Lieutenant Nielssen and Anna standing before him.

For a moment, he felt as though he had seen a ghost, and then he was laughing.

'He's been getting in a right flap,' Sykes told them. 'Worrying 'is pretty head that you got left behind.'

'You need not have done, Sergeant,' said Professor Sandvold. 'We have been here for over an hour and a half, quite safe.'

'We were worried about you, though,' said Nielssen. 'We heard there was heavy fighting.'

Tanner looked at Anna and pushed his way towards her.

'You're wounded,' she said, reaching out to him.

'A nick, that's all. I was lucky.' He squeezed her hand. 'Anna, I'm very glad to see you.'

She smiled, but then he saw a wistful expression cross her face - the same he had seen on the morning they had headed towards Tretten together.

'Will you come with us?' he asked, but he knew what her answer would be.

'I cannot leave my family, Jack. I have to find my brother. If I went with you, I would feel as though I am running away. Deserting my country.'

Tanner nodded. He took both her hands in his. They were nearing the gangway, the throng pushing them towards it. 'What will you do?' he asked.

'I don't know. Try to get home. Continue the fight.' She looked at him. 'The war will not go on for ever. One day. . .'

They had almost reached the gangway. Professor Sandvold was now walking up it on to the ship. Tanner glanced at him, then turned back to her.

'I'll miss you,' she said.

'And me you.'

'Sarge?' said Sykes.

'You must go,' said Anna. She kissed him, her lips lingering a moment on his. 'Goodbye, Jack.'

Tanner swallowed hard and felt her fingers let go of his. Someone pushed into him and then he was walking up the gangway, looking back towards her. He stumbled, steadied himself and then, as he was about to step aboard, he looked back once more. She had gone.

As the destroyer pulled away to ferry the men to the waiting cruiser, Tanner leant on the railings and gazed at the black outline of the mountains. It was little short of a miracle, he thought, but they had made it. He took out a cigarette, cupped his hands and lit it, inhaling deeply. Sandvold was safe. He and six of his men were safe. But far too many men - good men - had been left behind.

'Cheer up, Sarge,' said Sykes, beside him. 'We're going home.'

Tanner smiled. 'Yes, Stan.' He patted Sykes on the back. 'I suppose we are.'

THE END