Away to the left, Tanner spotted a clearing in the trees and what seemed like a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. 'Stan, keep an eye on Sandvold, will you?'
'Where you goin', Sarge?'
'To have a quick look round. I'll catch you up. He moved through the trees until he could see Tretten nestling just up the valley, then felt in his haversack and pulled out his scope. He squatted by a jutting rock and peered through the lens. A shell exploded near the village, the mass of smoke and debris mushrooming, into the sky several seconds before any sound reached him. He looked south. Troops and vehicles were on the road, emerging round a bend in the gorge. He lowered his scope to clean the lens. Suddenly, movement caught his eye in the trees below to his left and he brought the scope back to his eye. Nothing. He scanned the trees, then there it was - men moving. A mass of German troops, just a few hundred yards below and no more than a quarter of a mile to the south.
'Bloody hell,' he muttered. 'We're bloody running out of time here.' He scrambled to his feet and soon caught up with the others, then strode on towards Lieutenant Chevannes.
'What is it, Sergeant?' The tone was impatient, weary.
'German troops, sir, on the slopes below, not far behind.'
'Who would have caught us out if we had done as you suggested.'
Tanner clenched his fist. Just one blow, he thought - that was all it would take to silence the man. 'No, sir,' he said slowly, 'because, as I explained at the time, it was a chance worth taking. The moment we saw them we would either have altered course or hurried onwards.'
'You can't ever admit it when you are wrong, can you, Sergeant Tanner? Your insolence is really wearing very thin. Do remember that you are speaking to a senior officer.'
'I don't give a damn,' said Tanner, his fury mounting. 'If we'd left last night when I said we should, we'd have been in Tretten by now.'
'I've had just about enough—'
'Please,' said Sandvold, speaking up for the first time. 'No more arguing. Let's just keep going. We still have a chance of reaching safety.'
Chevannes glared at Tanner. 'We must push on beyond the village. There is little we can do to stop the Germans outflanking Tretten now.'
Tanner thought of the gelignite and TNT in his pack. Actually, he realized, there was quite a lot they could do with a sackload of explosives and the twin advantage of height and steep, rocky slopes. Had it not been for Sandvold, he would have peeled his men away from Chevannes and had some fun. Instead he said, 'I'll tell my men to keep at it, sir,' then fell back towards Sykes and the others.
'What's going on, Sarge?' Sykes asked, as Tanner rejoined him.
'Jerries,' said Tanner. 'Down below.'
Sykes whistled softly. 'Cunning sods,' he said.
'Listen, we need to keep our wits about us,' Tanner told him. 'We don't want to get caught napping. We've got to watch our arses up here. Make sure we keep looking around.'
Sykes nodded, then repeated the sergeant's instructions to each of the men. Tanner walked on. He needed to think, but fatigue had settled over him, as though it was sucking out the remnant of energy he had left. Come on, he told himself.Keep going. Think. Gulbrand had said the Germans were not following them, but what if he had been wrong? The Norwegians had been strafed twice, nearly caught during a German search, and the reconnaissance planes must have spotted them that morning. Coincidence, perhaps, maybe these things had happened because there was a war on and they were near the fighting. Maybe the enemy didn't know about Sandvold but were aware that they were carrying something important. He rubbed his eyes and his brow. Tiredness was putting ideas into his head.
At least they were among the trees, rather than out in the open. The canopy provided by forest - the closeness of the environment, the sharpness of sound - was something he always found reassuring, even though these were high mountain forests of dark conifers, rather than the broadleaf woodland of southern Wiltshire. As a boy he had spent much of his time in woods, helping his father or on his own. He knew the smells of the changing seasons, the dry, cool shade of summer, the damp, earthy mustiness of winter. He knew the different songs of birds, from the nightingale to the wood warbler. From his father, he had learnt which mushrooms and fungi could be eaten and which would play havoc with your guts. He knew stoat from weasel, fox dung from badger, hawthorn from blackthorn.
He remembered taking a boy from the village one night to see the badger cubs; the other lad had been frightened of the dark and the night shadows; of strange beasts that might lurk. Tanner had been mystified - what was there to be scared about? - then angry when the boy had insisted on going home before they had got anywhere near the sett. 'It's the unknown that people are afraid of,' his father had told him. 'You and I have always roamed the woods. They're a second home to us.'
Home. What wouldn't he do to see it again - yet wasn't the Army his home now? Certainly it had been all his adult life. Or, rather, the 2nd Battalion had been; but now, a little more than twelve hours since Chevannes and his men had stumbled on them, he felt new warmth for these Territorial lads of the 5th Battalion.
'Sarge! Sarge!'
Tanner was startled from his thoughts.
'You'd better come, Sarge. Looks like we're being followed,' Sykes gasped.
Adrenalin coursed through his blood and in an instant his mind cleared. He reached the end of their column where Riggs and Chambers were each crouched behind a pine, looking backwards, rifles ready.
'How far?' said Tanner, as he pulled out his scope once more.
'Couldn't say, Sarge,' said Riggs, 'but maybe a third of a mile.'
Tanner peered through the scope. Yes, there they were, still some way off but climbing in their direction. He could see the lead men advancing through the pines. Silently he passed the scope to Sykes.
'They're wearing caps and goggles,' said Sykes.
'Mountain troops,' said Tanner. 'How many can you see now?'
'Hard to say. A platoon, is my guess. God knows whether there are more behind, though, Sarge. They can't really be after us, can they?'
Tanner shrugged, and put his scope into his trouser pocket. 'Right,' he said. 'Let's get out of here.' He hurried his men forward, Sykes chivvying them too, until they caught up with Chevannes and the Norwegians.
'Mon dieu,' muttered Chevannes, when Tanner told him what they had seen.
'We need to find out exactly how many there are,' said Tanner. His mind was alert once more, his heart thumping.
'Yes,' said Chevannes.
'I'll take Sykes here and two of my men and head back for a dekko,' Tanner continued. 'You keep going and we'll catch you up shortly.'
Chevannes nodded, his face taut.
Tanner hurried over to Lance Corporal Erwood, the Bren leader. 'Dan, I want you to take charge of the rest of the lads, and I need you to do one other thing. See that Norwegian civvy up ahead with the Frog officer?'
'Sarge.'
'Don't let him out of your sight.'
