particles curled. One of the doors was also ajar, revealing a bright sliver of deep blue already bathed in sunshine. Gentle and not so gentle snores rose from some of the men, all of whom seemed to be still fast asleep. Next to him Sykes was sleeping peacefully, a contented smile on his face. Tanner grinned to himself.
It was only then that he noticed the wounded men were no longer there; neither was Lieutenant Larsen. Grabbing his rifle, he quietly left the barn, went out into the yard and crossed to the farmhouse. Anna and her mother were there, as was Larsen, drinking coffee. The smell of fresh bread and chicken filled the room.
'Good morning, Sergeant,' said Anna. 'You slept well?'
'Too well, thanks, Miss. Where are the wounded men?'
'We moved them in the night,' said Anna. 'They were in too much pain and crying out.'
'They were keeping some of the men awake,' added Larsen. 'I felt the first priority was to make sure the fit and healthy stayed that way.'
'Christ, I didn't hear a thing. And how are they now?'
'We gave them more brandy. Riggs is not good, though.'
Anna's mother passed him some bread and chicken and gave him a mug of coffee. Ah, that's good, he thought. How could something so simple taste so delicious? Sleep and food had made him feel a different man; his mind was clear and his limbs no longer ached.
'We need to post guards,' he said to Larsen, and then to Anna, 'When will you take the wounded into Tretten?'
'My father is tending the animals. Then we will go.'
'I'll come with you some of the way,' said Tanner, suddenly. He'd not thought of it before, but it now occurred to him that reconnaissance, however crude, would greatly improve their chances of success.
'Isn't that an unnecessary risk?' asked Larsen.
'We need someone to recce Tretten,' Tanner replied. He pushed back his chair, stood up, and took his rifle. 'Thank you for breakfast. I'll be outside. Call me when you want help with the wounded.'
Outside, the air seemed so still, and across the valley, the morning sun shone gold, casting long blue shadows over the mountains beyond. Behind him he could already hear melting snow dripping from the pines.
His mind was whirring now, thinking of the many possible scenarios that could unfold that day They were now down to seventeen men, still a cumbersome number. He wondered whether Zellner and his men had escaped, whether Luftwaffe reconnaissance planes would spot them, if and when more German troops would be sent to search for them. And he wondered how he could best manage Chevannes. He was conscious that he had perhaps antagonized him too much the previous night, yet despite that he still felt certain that his plan to cross the valley was the right one. Getting back to the Allies would not be easy - far from it - and he knew their chance of success was slight. Even so, they had to give themselves the best possible opportunity. For Tanner it was a simple equation: if they continued north, they would fail; if they crossed the valley, they had a sliver of a chance. He had to persuade Chevannes of that.
He had let his men rest, mindful that they had endured much since their arrival in Norway, but now, at nearly half past six, it was time for them to be up and alert. Guards should be posted, weapons cleaned. Stomachs needed to be filled and the plan of action explained. Damn it, he thought, it must be made and agreed upon. He hurried back towards the barn as Larsen emerged from the house.
'Sergeant,' Larsen called to him.
'Are they ready to take the wounded now?' Tanner asked, walking over to meet him.
'Very soon, yes.'
'Have you seen Lieutenant Chevannes? Is he up?'
'Not yet.'
'Well, he should be. He's got fifteen men to command and one civilian to look after.'
Larsen offered Tanner a German cigarette, which the sergeant accepted. 'You know,' said Larsen, as he struck a match, 'you should try to patch things up with Chevannes.'
The comment surprised him. 'Have you, sir?' he replied, then immediately regretted it. He had sounded churlish, he knew.
'After yesterday, you mean? I don't blame him for that. I would probably have responded in the same way, had I been in his position. He had no personal reason to think I’ll of that German.'
'With respect, sir, his judgement is terrible. He makes bad decisions and he undermines my authority with my men.'
Larsen smiled. 'He is a proud man. He feels threatened by you - by your greater experience. None of us is very experienced in war. We are not experienced at all. No doubt he did well at St Cyr, but as we are all finding out, what is taught in peacetime bears little relation to what we discover in war. We are not warned, for example, about the sometimes very difficult decisions we are forced to make. Decisions that affect lives. Is it, I wonder, better that we save one life even though that might cause us to lose another?'
'That's the nature of command, sir,' said Fanner. 'Those difficult choices are part of the deal. We should have left the seter two nights ago when it stopped snowing. If we had we would be with the Allies by now.'
'And quite possibly prisoners-of-war.'
'But not Sandvold. He would have been whisked away to safety.' Tanner sighed. 'I know what I promised Gulbrand, and I'm sticking to that - not from a warped sense of honour but because of what he told me about the professor. If Sandvold is as important as the colonel made out, I have a duty - we all do - to see him safe. Then I have a duty to my men. If I keep quiet, Chevannes will lead us to disaster.'
'How can you be so sure? What if he's right? What if we head north instead?'
Tanner shook his head. 'Why are you saying this, sir?'
'Because I am not sure I know what to do.'
'Listen, sir, there's no road this side - other than that in the valley - for more than twenty miles and that leads away from the coast. Then there is nothing for a further fifty miles or more. Think about our progress these past days. We have neither the time nor the strength to catch up with the Allies. Our only chance is by finding transport and using roads as much as we possibly can. That means we have to cross the valley.'
'Yes,' said Larsen. 'You are probably right. But it feels as though we are heading into the lion's den, and I have my duty too: to the King and the mission he entrusted to us. Sandvold cannot be taken by the enemy.'
'He won't be,' said Tanner grimly. 'I won't let that happen.' He flicked away his cigarette. 'Perhaps, sir, you should talk to Chevannes. He's more likely to listen to you than me. And it would be useful to have Anna Rostad with us too. It's about survival, not about honour and decorum.'
Larsen smiled. 'All right, Sergeant. Yes, I will do that.'
Tanner nodded, then turned towards the barn.
'And, Sergeant?'
Tanner stopped.
'I am glad we have had this talk.'
'Me too, sir,' said Tanner. But now, he thought, it was time to stop worrying about people's feelings and get on with the bloody mission.
That morning, Tanner and Lieutenant Chevannes avoided each other as far as possible. Certainly there was no need for Tanner further to argue his case because, with the men roused, Chevannes stood at the entrance to the
