magazine was empty. Surely no machine-gunner would wander around with an unloaded weapon while the battle still had a chance of continuing. In any case, it was his only hope of getting out of his current predicament alive.
Tanner was glad he had kept Zellner talking long enough to take all of this in, but accepted that the moment had arrived to act. Holding Zellner's stare, he brought up his left hand quickly and knocked away the German's arm. Zellner fired harmlessly into the air as Tanner rammed his stronger right fist straight into the man's mouth and nose. As the unconscious Zellner fell backwards, blood spraying in a mist round his head, Tanner lunged for the machine-gun and slid it down the stunned soldier's arm. Pulling back the breech, he fired.
The recoil of the machine-gun nearly knocked him backwards - it was heavier than the Bren - but a rapid burst of bullets emerged from the barrel at a rate of fifteen rounds per second, neatly scything through the six men so that only Zellner, who had slumped backwards, escaped being nearly sliced in two. Seconds - that was all he had. Firing another quick burst at the startled men behind, he grabbed a rack of two-drum magazines, then spotted his rifle lying on the ground a few yards above him. He snatched it and raced for the trees. Act decisively, act quickly, his first sergeant had told him some years before. It was an adage Tanner had not forgotten.
It took the shocked German troops a few seconds more to recover their composure, take their weapons from their shoulders and fire after him. Bullets pinged and zipped either side of him, smacking into trees and kicking up snow, but although one passed clean through a loose part of his trousers, the trees were closing protectively round him.
On he ran, heart pumping furiously, driven by instinct alone, until an explosion shook the ground and made him stop, lungs almost bursting. Below and away to his left, he could hear the blast of rock. Screams followed and as he stared wild-eyed, uncomprehending, through the pines he heard someone call: 'Sarge! Sarge!'
Startled, he swung round and saw Corporal Sykes scrambling towards him.
'Stan, you're alive!' Tanner grinned and held out a hand, which was shaken gratefully. 'I thought you'd been killed back there.'
'And me you!'
They hurried on without any more talk, preserving what energy they had for their climb. At last the gradient began to ease and as they reached the plateau and the edge of the treeline, they emerged into a wide expanse of snow.
'Look!' said Sykes. 'The others! All of them! We made it!'
Away to their right, a peak emerged magisterially from the snow. 'Olasfjellet,' said Tanner. 'That's the first of two that Anna mentioned. Christ, we need to watch our backs up here. It's bloody exposed, Stan.'
'And bloody hard going.'
'You're not wrong.'
One of the others turned and waved. Moments later Tanner and Sykes had caught up with them.
'Come on, lads, get a bloody move on,' said Tanner, as he reached them. 'Dan, what's the damage?'
'It just nicked me, Sarge. Took a bit of my forearm out, but didn't break anything.'
'Good,' said Tanner. 'Any sign of the others?'
'Only tracks. Easy enough to follow,' said McAllister. 'Do you think Jerry's coming after us, Sarge?'
'I don't know. We need to catch up with the rest, then get the hell out of this snow.'
'I'm about done in,' said Hepworth.
'Me too,' said Bell. 'Tell me it's not much further, Sarge.'
'Stop bloody bellyaching,' said Tanner. 'We're all sodding tired, but we've got two, maybe three miles of this, and then we should be among the trees again, so it's not far. Come on, boys, keep fighting. We've done the hard part - seen off those Jerries. We can't let ourselves down now.'
He said this for his own benefit as much as his men's, for exhaustion had swamped him too. Fighting was tiring, especially when it was followed by a steep running climb weighed down by a leaden load. The instinctive desire to survive seemed to make part of his brain shut down so that an adrenalin-fuelled primal capacity to keep going took over. Once the immediate danger was past, though, his mind returned to normal and told him he was physically and mentally all but spent.
The snow was crisp and hard, so walking on it was not as difficult as it had been, but even so, each footstep seemed ever harder. On his shoulders, he still carried his rifle and the German machine-gun, as well as the drum magazines, his pack, gas-mask case and haversack. The weight now seemed agonizingly oppressive. Keep going. Keep bloody going.
And what of the enemy? There was still no sign. He thought of Zellner and reckoned he'd judged the punch about right. A broken nose, probably a broken jaw, and it would take him a while to wake up. Whether they followed now or regrouped depended, he guessed, on whether other officers and NCOs were present and still fit. By God, he was tired. He now realized he was hungry and thirsty too. He leant over to pick up some snow and stumbled, falling to his knees. McAllister was now beside him, grabbing his arm, but Tanner shook him off. 'I tripped,' he snarled.
'Only trying to help, Sarge.'
Tanner got to his feet again, using his rifle as a staff, and put the snow in his mouth. Numbingly cold, it offered some relief from the cloying dryness. He fumbled in his pack and found a piece of bread the Sulheims had given him. Slowly chewing it, he tramped onwards, his men following. At least, he thought, it was nearly May. These mountains would be deadly during the depths of winter, but with a high, warm sun, they presented less danger and although it was cold, it was not debilitatingly so. In any case, he now felt well dressed for the task in hand. His stout German boots were warm, his clothes dry. The leather jerkin, with his belt and packs binding it to his body, offered perfect insulation, while the snow goggles protected his eyes from the worst of the glare; the rim of his helmet worked well as a sun visor. No one would succumb to exposure.
Exhaustion was their main enemy now, but already Tanner could see the second peak Anna had mentioned and then he heard - they all heard - the distant boom of guns. His spirits rose. The battle at Kvam - the Allies were still there! New reserves of energy found their way into his legs. 'Lads!' he said, grinning. 'Hear those guns? We're nearly there. We've nearly bloody well gone and made it!'
McAllister cheered. 'Hoo-bloody-ray, Sarge!' he exclaimed. 'Come on, boys, let's get a move on. What's that you say, Sarge? Iggery!'
Tanner glanced back: still no sign of the enemy, but they had to remain watchful. The horizon behind them was shortening now that they had crested the highest point of the mountain ridge and had begun to climb down the reverse slope of the plateau. Ahead, he could see the treeline, still masking the view beyond, but marking the crest of the valley sides.
Ahead, a figure emerged from the darkness of the trees. Bloody hell, thought Tanner, those pines offered good cover - the man could not be seen until he was well clear and standing in the snow. Tanner put his binoculars to his eyes. 'Lieutenant Nielssen,' he said, and waved.
'You made it!' said Nielssen, grinning as they reached him. Over the past few days his beard had grown, and without his kepi, his flaxen hair was tousled and unkempt.
'They don't seem to be following us,' said Tanner. 'Where are the others?'
'Sheltering in a seter, but we wanted to be below the snowline, so I've been waiting, keeping watch, to guide you there.' He patted Tanner's back. 'It's good to see you safe.'
He led them through a finger of dense pine until they emerged into open snow once more, then reached the crest of the next valley. When they came into a small clearing a vast view stood before them.
'The Gudbrandsdalen once again,' said Nielssen.
Guns were booming dully, shells still exploding, and away to the right beneath them, a thick pall of smoke hid the valley and the Lagen river. Above, they heard the faint drone of aircraft.
'Heavy fighting, Sarge,' said Hepworth.
