'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
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
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