The Odin Mission

Chapter 5

Jack Tanner noticed another set of footprints leading away from the rock. 'Whose are those?' he asked.

'Lieutenant Larsen, also a member of His Majesty the King's Guard,' said the younger man, in heavily accented English. 'He has gone to find somewhere for us to hole up. Our colonel needs help.'

Tanner signalled to his men, then clambered down from the rock. 'Me and my men are from the 5th Battalion, the King's Own Yorkshire Rangers,' he told them. 'That makes us allies. I'm Sergeant Tanner.'

'And I am Lieutenant Nielssen,' replied the blond officer.

Tanner looked at the colonel. 'Is it bad?'

'A splinter in his side,' Nielssen told him. 'He's lost a lot of blood. We were attacked an hour ago. The stupid German missed us, but a shard of wood from a tree struck the colonel.'

'We saw the attack,' said Tanner, kneeling beside Gulbrand and pulling out another twin pack of field dressings. 'He was more successful firing at us. Two dead.'

'I'm sorry,' said Nielssen. Tanner was conscious of a tapping sound and turned to see the civilian clicking together two small stones. The man looked exhausted, with dark hollows around his spectacled eyes and an unkempt moustache and grey stubble around his lined face. Seeing Tanner's glance, he stopped tapping the stones, dropping them by his side into the snow.

'And who are you?' asked Tanner, as he tore open the cotton and ripped off the waterproof covering around each of the dressings.

'Someone we are escorting,' said Gulbrand hoarsely before the other could answer.

Tanner nodded. You don't want to tell me. Fine. It wasn't his business. 'Is the shard still inside?' he asked.

Gulbrand nodded. 'Yes.' He grimaced, then opened his coat and tunic. His shirt was almost entirely red and glistened stickily. With clenched teeth, he lifted it free. Tanner inspected the wound. The blood was bright crimson. The tip of the shard protruded from the colonel's side. Tanner rubbed his face. Tiredness. It was catching up with him again.

'What do you think?' asked Gulbrand, his English near flawless.

'That it's embedded in your liver, Colonel,' said Tanner.

'I think you're right.' He took a sudden sharp breath and winced.

'I can't pull it out,' said Tanner, still peering at the wound. 'Do that and you'll bleed to death in about ten minutes.'

'He needs a hospital,' said Lieutenant Nielssen, 'an operation, and soon.'

'Easier said than done, mate,' said Corporal Sykes, now standing over Tanner.

'What about Lillehammer?' said Nielssen. 'Two of your men could take him.'

'Two of our men?' said Sykes. 'Are you having a laugh? Even if they made it back down the mountain, they'd walk straight into Jerry hands. Lillehammer's fallen, if you hadn't already noticed.'

'I know - we saw earlier ... But they would save the life of the colonel.'

'If you're so bloody keen, why don't you two take him?'

'Shut your trap, Stan,' growled Tanner. 'You're not helping.' He turned to Gulbrand. 'Colonel, it's a bad wound. I'm sorry. Your lieutenant's right. You need a hospital.' He delved into his haversack again and produced a small tube of gentian violet antiseptic ointment. 'I don't carry much first aid, but this should help prevent infection.' He gingerly pasted the cream over the wound, then placed the dressings over it. Gulbrand cried out, but Tanner took another packet from Sykes, tore it open and wrapped more bandages round the colonel's waist. 'Why can't your men take you to Lillehammer, Colonel?' he asked. 'The fighting's going to be over soon. Better to live and fight another day, eh?'

'They can't,' Gulbrand gasped. 'It's impossible.'

'Why?'

Gulbrand stared hard at him, but did not answer.

Instead he said, 'Tell me, Sergeant, what are you doing up here?'

Tanner told him, then added, 'But now we need to get a move on. The front's fallen back this afternoon. I'm damned if I'm going to let us get stranded.'

'We're holding you up. I'm sorry.'

'But you're natives, sir. We help you, you can help us. We desperately need a map, and someone who speaks Norwegian would be useful.' He noticed that the sounds of battle from the valley had quietened. An occasional aircraft, desultory shellfire, that was all. Had the Allies fallen back yet again? 'And what about you, sir?' he asked Gulbrand. 'Why are you up here?'

Gulbrand closed his eyes. 'It's a long story.'

Tanner was about to ask him more when Lieutenant Larsen appeared. He had found a seter, a mountain hut used by herdsmen and shepherds during the summer, not far away. It would offer them shelter.

'We'll help get you there,' said Tanner, 'but then my men and I must push on. Put your arm round my neck,' he told the colonel. He glanced once more at the strange civilian. The man was gazing out through the trees, seemingly in a world of his own. Tanner called over to Sykes. 'Here, Stan, give me a hand, will you?' They lifted Gulbrand. 'Can you walk?' Tanner asked.

'With your help, I'm sure.'

The civilian now awkwardly got to his feet and with enormous effort, slung his pack on to his back, and then staggered a pace or two, so that Tanner thought he might fall over backwards. 'Does he speak English?' Tanner asked Gulbrand, he was conscious he had not heard the man utter a word.

'Yes. Almost everyone does in Oslo and the coastal cities. It's only inland that you will struggle to be understood.'

Tanner turned to the man. 'Carry the colonel's pack, will you? Come on, we need all the help we can get.'

The man smiled sheepishly then pulled it on to his shoulder, faltering as he did so.

Reichsamtsleiter Hans-Wilhelm Scheidt sat at his desk in his rooms at the Continental Hotel, the black telephone receiver to his ear. Anger surged through him as he listened to Sturmbannfuhrer Paul Kurz's latest report - rage fuelled, he knew, by his mounting fear of failure. Damn it, Terboven was not a man to mess with, and only a couple of hours after his meeting with the new Reichskommissar, Kurz was on the line telling him that the most important man in his life had narrowly missed getting a 20mm cannon shell through his guts.

'For God's sake, Kurz, that's the second time one of those flyboys has nearly killed him. We were fortunate he survived the last one. It might be third time lucky for those idiots and then where will we be? We need him alive, Kurz, not spread over some bastard mountain.'

'Calm down, Scheidt,' said Kurz, from his newly requisitioned office in Lillehammer. 'We've just heard. They got the colonel, and seriously too. Even if he doesn't die of his wound - and the odds are that he will - he's out of the picture, as far as they're concerned. Odin is as good as in our hands already.'

'Only if the Allies haven't got him before you reach him,' snarled Scheidt. 'Now, do what you're supposed to do, Kurz, and tell that idiot Geisler to stop his pilots attacking those men.'

Scheidt had heard the panic in his voice and so had Kurz. 'Don't try to tell me my job, Herr Schcidt.' Kurz told him flatly.

'Listen,' fumed Scheidt, 'you do your job and you won't hear me complaining. But if anything happens to Odin before we've had the chance to get the information from him neither you nor I will have a career, let alone a life. Now, you're the SD man here - start using your influence and get Geisler's boys to keep away from them.'

'Stop worrying,' said Kurz. 'We'll find them soon enough. They're not going to get very far up there.'

'That's just not good enough!' Scheidt exploded. 'For Christ's sake, so far you've let them slip through your hands once, and twice nearly had them shot to smithereens by the Luftwaffe. Don't tell me to calm down - tell me what you're doing to find Odin. What troops have you got for the operation? Tell me they're already tracking them down. Damn it, Sturmbannfuhrer, why the hell am I having to ask you all this? Tell me something that gives me confidence - something that makes me believe you're actually trying to get to this man.'

'You politicians,' said Kurz, 'always the same. I'm sure it seems very straightforward to you from where you're sitting on your arse in Oslo, but up here Engelbrecht's division are facing the British and Norwegians - there's been heavy fighting all day. The SD don't have the authority to tell generals to hand over their troops for an operation they know nothing about.'

Scheidt pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Give me patience. He'd always thought the Sicherheitsdienst were an unintelligent and idle lot. 'Then tell them Terboven orders it.'

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. 'Jesus, Scheidt, of course. That's exactly what I have done, but the entire Army is not at our beck and call. And you're forgetting that we only learnt of Odin's whereabouts this morning, and that's pretty vague - and it was only earlier today that Lillehammer fell. As it happens, I've got a company of reconnaissance troops from Dietl's Gebirgsjager Division, and I've had to pull a lot of strings to get them. They're attached to Engelbrecht's division. They're setting off to hunt for them now.' He paused. 'And they'll get Odin because Gulbrand's out of the picture and those Norwegians aren't going to get far, up on that mountain. Tomorrow morning, Herr Reichsamtsleiter, we'll have an altogether more pleasant conversation.'

It was Scheidt's turn to sigh. 'Just get him, Kurz. Get men up into those mountains, find Odin and bring him to me in one piece.' He slammed down the telephone and slumped back in his chair. A cigarette and a drink, that was what he needed. He leant forward, opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of cognac. Having poured himself a generous measure, he lit a cigarette. The smoke danced in front of him, curling towards the ceiling. The brandy stung his lips and tongue, then pleasurably burnt the back of his throat. Argh, but that was good.

He stood up, walked to the window and gazed out over the city. It seemed so quiet, so peaceful. Perhaps Kurz was right. Perhaps he was just sitting on his arse. Was there really any need to remain in Oslo for the rest of the month? Quisling's pride might have been wounded, but he was busy with his new role as Commissioner for Demobilization and, in any case, still had Hagelin, Aall and the other leading National Party members around him. Quisling, Scheidt realized, could do without him for a few days.

He drained his tumbler. Yes, damn it, he would get out of Oslo, head to Lillehammer and oversee the operation to capture Odin. That would shake up that idler Kurz. Scheidt smiled. Already, his mood was lightening.

Another aircraft overhead, higher this time and slightly away towards the valley. It hummed gutturally, then, as the pilot throttled back, the engines seemed to catch and change tone. No firing of guns, no bombs dropped; a reconnaissance aircraft, then. Tanner followed its route until it disappeared from sight. Had any of the crew spotted them? He couldn't know, but he felt as though he was being watched. It unnerved him.

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 dozen 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

Hening Sandvold. The King wanted Gulbrand to go back to Oslo and fetch him. 'I'm afraid I still cannot tell why he is so important,' said Gulbrand. 'I made a solemn vow to the King and Prince Olav and I am not prepared to break it. Not even now. But I will tell you this: if Sandvold fell into the hands of the Nazis, it could have catastrophic consequences, not only for Norway but for Great Britain and all of the free world too.'

Tanner looked over towards Sandvold, now standing by the door, a lost and wistful expression on his face. Whoever he was, whatever he did, it was clear he was a fish out of water up here in the mountains with these soldiers.

He turned back to Gulbrand. 'How did you get him then, sir?'

'By keeping it simple,' the colonel replied. 'The King told me to take whatever men I needed but I decided to take just three others: Larsen, Nielssen and Lieutenant Stunde.' He trusted them, and each had different skills. Stunde spoke fluent German, Nielssen was strong, an excellent athlete and experienced mountaineer. Larsen was clever and good at thinking on his feet. All were first- class shots. They had left their uniforms in Elverum and headed to Oslo. The city was calm, and although the sight of swastikas was hard to stomach, they were surprised by how few German troops were there. They found Sandvold easily enough and although he was initially reluctant to leave, when they showed him the King's personal letter to him, he eventually conceded. 'We all have to do things we wish we didn't have to.'

Getting back to Elverum had been more difficult.

They had driven whenever they could, stealing cars and ditching them whenever they drew near a roadblock. They had walked many miles too. When they eventually reached Elverum, the King and the Government had long since gone, but the monarch had warned him this might be so. His instructions had been to catch him up if he could, otherwise to find the British and get Sandvold safely across the sea to England.

Having retrieved their uniforms, and with the Germans never far behind, they had headed north from Elverum, had nearly been caught hiding in a barn and soon after shot at by aircraft. They had been forced to abandon their transport again and cross the mountains. It had been a difficult four-day journey. On the second day, Lieutenant Stunde had broken his leg. They couldn't carry him so had been forced to leave him. 'It was,' said Gulbrand, weakly, 'the worst decision I have ever had to make. We found a seter, and hoped someone would find him, but we knew there was little chance of that. Poor Roald. It would have been kinder to put a bullet in his head. So, you see, I couldn't ask Nielssen or Larsen to make an exception for me. And, in any case, I couldn't allow the enemy to catch me. What if I told them something when I was delirious?'

Gulbrand's teeth were chattering now. Beads of sweat ran down his face. His skin looked sallow, his eyes hollow, even in the dim light. 'I have entrusted Larsen and Nielssen with the jewels and papers, but what I ask of you now is of far greater importance. You must get Sandvold to safety somehow. To the coast and Britain.'

'All right,' said Tanner, 'you have my word. I'll try. But why me? Why aren't you saying this to Larsen or Nielssen?'

Gulbrand coughed, which evidently caused him further agonies. Eventually he sank down again. 'They are officers, yes, second lieutenants, or fenriks, as we call them, but Nielssen should be a sergeant or less. The Norwegian Army did away with non-commissioned officers a few years ago. Now men train as NCOs for a couple of years, then spend a year as a sergeant before being promoted. Larsen is different, but he is not the leader you are. I've watched you, Sergeant. You are in command of these men, not Henrik Larsen. And I think you have more experience than the rest of us put together.' He smiled weakly. 'Yes, Sergeant tanner, and you are already a decorated soldier.'

Tanner was embarrassed. 'Thank you, sir.'

'Don't thank me,' said Gulbrand. 'It is a thankless task I have given you. But you will have the eternal thanks of my king and country if you succeed, and I suspect your own as well.' He closed his eyes, grimaced, then said, 'One last thing. Trust no one. And kill Sandvold rather than let him fall into enemy hands. Kill him and destroy any papers he may be carrying. If the others try to stop you, kill them too. Do you think you can do that?'

'Yes,' said Tanner. 'One thing, though, sir. Do the Germans know about him? Are you being followed?'

Gulbrand gasped. 'I don't think so. Why would those planes have tried to kill us? Sandvold's no use to them dead. But they mustn't get him, d'you hear?' He gripped Tanner's sleeve. 'They mustn't get him.'

Tanner left Gulbrand. What a mess, he thought. The whole bloody show. He thought of Captain Cartwright and Lieutenant Dingwall, prisoners now along with many others. He wondered if anything remained of the company; or even anything of the battalion. It was hard to accept. A damned stupid waste of lives. And now he had the extra burden of Hening Sandvold. He had no idea what was so special about him. A scientist, he supposed. What those boffins knew was beyond him; the world was changing so fast. He just hoped that in Sandvold's case it would be worth it.

It was after eleven and he stepped outside to find the snow falling heavily now. Christ, this was all he needed. He wanted to get going, move off this God-forsaken mountain, try to catch up with the Allies while they still had a chance. He prayed it was snowing in the valley too - at least then the front would be held up as they were.

'We can't move in this.' It was Sykes, taking his turn as sentry. 'Just in case you were thinking of it, Sarge.' Tanner said nothing, so Sykes added, 'They're only scrawny tykes. They're probably not as fit as you are, Sarge.'

Tanner breathed out heavily. 'Yes, all right, Stan. I've got the message.'

'Christ, it's dark out here,' Sykes said, banging his helmet against the side of the seter to knock off the snow. 'You were having a long chinwag with the colonel, Sarge.'

'We've got to take the Norwegians with us,' said Tanner. 'That civvy - he's special. A boffin or something. Anyway, we've got to get him to safety. Preferably back to Britain.'

'Where's the front?'

'Not at Oyer.'

Sykes tutted. There's a surprise. 'So where are our boys?'

In the hands of the Jerries, thought Tanner. 'Not so far. A few miles. It's so bloody frustrating. I just want to get going. Sodding Norwegians.'

'Well, we can't go anywhere in this,' said Sykes again.

'It's my only consolation.'

But it was at that moment that Sykes heard something moving between the trees not forty yards ahead. Then Tanner heard it too. Footsteps. In the faint glow of the snow they saw the dark shape of troops approaching.