The Odin Mission

ill-equipped for mountain operations, short of sleep and food. His men, in contrast, were fit, healthy and, he was certain, a match for anyone. In any case, failure a second time would be too bitter a pill to swallow. They would go after those men and capture Odin. Then he would find the men with the sniper rifles and kill them.

Sergeant Tanner regarded the seter ahead. In appearance it was much like the one they had sheltered in the previous evening - a rough wooden hut perhaps fifteen feet long. It was slightly further up the mountain, in a clearing, and beyond it, a mountain stream ran from a narrow ravine above into a shallower one below. Across the brook, however, there were plenty of large stones, while yet more pines overlooked the shallow ravine above the seter.

'Do you see what I see, Stan?' Tanner said to Sykes.

'Another hut, Sarge,' said Sykes.

'Correct,' said Tanner. 'And a stream.' He rubbed

his chin. 'Nice place to set up a juicy ambush, I reckon.'

Sykes looked at him doubtfully. Like Chambers, he had been impressed by Tanner's cool-headed shooting earlier. Indeed, his respect for his sergeant had grown steadily, but he couldn't see how a run-down shack could be a good place for an ambush. In fact, he wasn't sure any kind of ambush was a good idea.

'Not sure about that, Sarge,' he said. 'Wouldn't it be better if we just hurried up a bit? Don't want to invite trouble, do we?'

'Of course not - but listen, Stan. Those buggers are going to catch us up soon enough, so we've got no choice but to stand and face them.' He spoke quickly, his eyes constantly darting to the trees behind them. 'I know they're Nazi bastards but they're not going to leave their wounded to die, are they? That means there'll probably be only twenty of them - maybe twenty-five at most. And if we're ready and waiting, we can beat them.' Sykes still seemed doubtful. 'Look, we all walk into the hut, then jump out the back and into the stream. No more footprints. By going up and down the stream we can get the men into position without Jerry seeing where we've gone. A few can clamber up on to that small cliff - it'll give a perfect line of fire. Others can go down the stream and hide behind trees and rocks.'

Sykes was smiling now.

'Jerry's going to see the tracks going into the hut and none coming out,' Tanner continued. 'And he'll see a bit of Riggs's blood. If he's not very clever he'll come forward - and we've got them in the bag. On the other hand, if he's got any sense he'll smell a rat. If it's Mr

Sandvold he's after, he's not going to risk spraying the hut with machine-gun fire, is he? Which means he's got to send some men forward to investigate.'

'And we shoot them.'

'I reckon so. Then he's got even fewer men, and he'll know we've got him covered. So he won't be able to move unless he goes backwards, or tries working round the sides. In any case, we'll still have him covered.' He looked back again. 'First we've got to persuade Chevannes, though. That stupid bugger won't listen to me. Maybe you should suggest it. He'll take it from you.'

To Tanner's surprise, Chevannes was receptive to the idea, as explained by Sykes. 'Yes, Corporal, I think there is something in what you say.' He turned to Tanner. 'You are lucky to have such a clever corporal, Sergeant. You could learn something from him, you know.'

The French lieutenant ordered the men to walk quickly to the seter, while Sykes and Tanner unwrapped the bandages from Riggs's head once more. The rifleman was indignant. 'If I faint from loss of blood, I'm blaming you, Sarge,' he said.

'Stop being such a baby, Riggs,' Tanner told him. 'You've got eight pints of the stuff. Losing a few spots won't make much difference.' With droplets of blood from Riggs's cut dripping and spreading in the snow, they followed the rest of the men into the hut. To his relief, there was a shuttered glassless window at the back, leading straight to the stream. Chevannes divided the men, posting his Chasseurs Alpins on top of the shallow cliff above the seter, and ordering Tanner to disperse his men south of the hut. 'Sandvold, Nielssen, Larsen and I will take up positions over there,' he said, pointing to a rise in the ground below the ravine and further back from the stream. 'And no one will fire until I do so. You take my lead, you understand? Now, let us get into position - vite. We don't have much time.'

Chevannes' men clambered out first, followed by their officer and the Norwegians. As his own men were about to follow, Tanner stopped them. 'Listen, lads,' he said, 'make sure you position yourselves with decent cover, all right? Remember what you've been taught. Make sure your ammo's near to hand. Have your rifles ready. Use the trees and the larger rocks along the edge of the stream. And don't fire until Lieutenant Chevannes gives the order, all right? Once he fires the first shot, you can fire at will. You see any Jerry-wallahs, shoot the buggers.' They were frightened, but exhilarated, too, he knew. 'And, finally, make sure you don't leave any footprints until you're well clear of this basha. Don't you worry about getting wet feet because when we've got these bastards beat, we can pinch their boots. Now, off you go, quickly - but carefully.'

He patted them on the back as they squeezed out of the window, one by one, then noticed Sykes pulling at the straps of his pack.

Sykes caught his eye and grinned. 'We could always give him an even bigger 'eadache, Sarge.'

'What did you have in mind?'

Sykes winked, licked his thumb, then opened his haversack. 'I lifted a few bits of HE, didn't I?'

'You crafty begger!' said Tanner.

'Well, no point leaving it all at that train depot for Jerry, was there?'

Tanner smiled. 'No, Corporal. What do you think I'm carrying in these?' He pointed to his respirator satchel and pack.

Sykes chuckled. 'Bloody 'ell, Sarge, and there was me thinkin' I was the only sneaky bastard round 'ere.' He looked around conspiratorially, then said, 'In any case, I was thinking we could string something up to the door. Might give 'em a nasty shock.'

'Have we got time?' Tanner peered through a narrow slit in the timber along the wall by the door. 'Can't see them yet.' He had another look through his scope. Nothing, but he was certain it wouldn't be long.

Ignoring the sergeant's concerns, Sykes was already taking a length of safety fuse from a round metal tin in his haversack. 'It's good stuff, this,' he said. 'Perfectly strong enough for what we need.' He cut a short strip with his clasp knife, then tied one end round the latch on the door frame and threaded it through the handle. He took out a hand grenade, loosened the pin and tied the other end of the fuse, so that the grenade hung gently against the door.

For a moment neither man spoke. The hut smelt musty - damp wood and dust: probably unused since the previous summer. Tanner watched Sykes with mounting unease. 'I hope that pin's not going to slip out, Stan.'

'It'll need more pressure than the grenade's weight to pull it out.' He felt in his pack again. 'Now for a little extra something. A nice packet of Mr Nobel's finest, I think.' He produced a cardboard packet of gelignite and tied it to the door handle with more safety fuse.

'Bloody hell - careful, Stan!'

Sykes grinned. 'You know what your problem is? You worry too much.'

'Sod you, Corporal. I just don't want to be blown to smithereens.' Tanner watched Sykes put away his knife. 'Ready now?'

Sykes winked.

'Good. Let's get out of here, quick.'