The Odin Mission (15 page)

'Ah, Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt,' he said, with a broad smile. 'Here in
person!'

'Have you got him?' Scheidt asked.

'Alas, no.' He stretched forward, tapped a cigarette from a paper
packet and offered it to Scheidt. 'Cigarette? We might even be able to stretch
to coffee. Or perhaps you'd care for something stronger after your drive. I
take it you did drive here?'

Ignoring Kurz's small-talk, Scheidt said, 'So? Tell me. Are your
mountain troops closing in?'

'My dear Scheidt,' said Kurz, the bad-tempered words of their previous
conversation apparently a matter of the past, 'please, sit down.' He motioned
to a chair in front of the desk. Scheidt did as he was told. How he disliked
men like Kurz. Still young, and with the kind of arrogant insouciance Scheidt
knew he had once perfected in himself but which he despised in others. Typical
arsehole SD man. 'There was a heavy snowstorm last night,' Kurz continued, 'not
so much down here in the valley but up on the mountains. A complete white-out.
Not even mountain troops can operate in such conditions. But then again, Odin
and his friends would not have got far either. Relax. We will get him.'

'And now?'

'We have reconnaissance aircraft looking for them.'

Someone knocked lightly on the door. 'Yes?' said Kurz.

'A Luftwaffe message just in, sir,' said a junior SD officer, passing
Kurz a scribbled signal. Kurz took it, read it, smiled, then passed it to
Scheidt. 'They've been spotted. And they've got some followers now - what looks
like a British patrol. Most considerate of them. Much easier to find twenty men
than three.' Kurz unrolled a map and spread it on the desk. 'Let me see,' he
said. 'Yes, here they are. Heading for Tretten, by the look of it. The fools are
crossing this high open ground here.' He chuckled. 'No cover, just deep snow.'

Impatiently Scheidt grabbed the map and turned it so that it was facing
him. 'Where are the mountain troops now? They should be able to cut them off as
they descend towards Tretten.'

'Exactly,' said Kurz, standing now and clapping his hands. 'You and I
will go together to Engelbrecht's headquarters.' He picked up his cap and
placed it on his head at a jaunty angle. Smirking, he opened the door and, with
a flourish, ushered Scheidt out.

They took Kurz's car and drove through Lillehammer. A number of houses
had been destroyed by bomb and battle damage; piles of stones, rubble and
charred wood were evidence of the conflict that had taken place the previous
day. They passed the station where the remains of a large warehouse still
smoked and where debris littered the yard in front of it. At the far side, the
blackened remains of a German tank still stood.

'My God, what happened here?' asked Scheidt.

'A British ammunition and supply dump,' Kurz told him. 'Unfortunately
it was blown up by a couple of Tommies as our boys entered the yard.'

'I thought the enemy were rolling over?'

'Oh, they are. Of course, what do I know of military matters?' He turned
to Scheidt and grinned. 'But I do know they've no guns and, it seems, no air
force to speak of. Which is why I keep telling you you've nothing to worry
about. The Tommies are beaten and so are the Norwegians. It's really not a
question of
if we
catch Odin but
when.''

As Kurz had promised, General Engelbrecht confirmed that he had a
detachment of mountain troops ready for the task, and waved away Scheidt's
attempt to show him Terboven's written instructions. They drove on to Oyer
where they found troops preparing to attack the Allied lines at Tretten later
that afternoon. By the church and along the main village street a number of
horses were pulling artillery pieces, some standing still, their tails whisking
away flies, while others slowly hauled howitzers and Pak 38 anti-tank guns
through the village. There were trucks, too, and other vehicles - even one of
the huge Panzer VI heavy tanks, the 'land battleships', that had been brought
to Norway. As Kurz threaded his way through the milling soldiers and past the
tank, it suddenly burst into life, a dark cloud of exhaust erupting from its
rear. Scheidt started.

Kurz laughed. 'Don't worry, we'll soon be safely out of the battle
zone.'

Scheidt ignored the comment; in any case, he was too absorbed in watching
the activity - men, horses, machines: a German division on the move. Leaving
the village, his gaze fell on two teams of six horses pulling a pair of 105mm
field guns, the howitzers lurching forward with every stride of the animals.
Alongside the gun carriages, solemn troops, grey greatcoats tightly buttoned,
stared back at him. Some farm workers were in the fields nearby and Scheidt
realized they were the first civilians he'd noticed since leaving Lillehammer.

A little further on, they reached a farmstead. Patchy fields spread up
the slopes towards the treeline, and Scheidt gazed up the mountainside to the
white-topped plateau beyond. He wondered whether Odin and his escort were up
there, peering down at the activity in the valley. Kurz pulled into the farmyard,
stopped by a timber barn and yanked on the handbrake with a loud grating sound.
Mountain troops milled about, smoking and laughing. On the ramp of the large
barn, a group of soldiers played cards, their packs and rifles stacked
together. Another group stood round a small fire, evidently made from some old
farm equipment, now burning warmly; a mess tin of coffee was brewing on it.

'Come on,' said Kurz, leading him into the farmhouse.

It was dark, but
warm with another fire burning, this time the stove in the kitchen. Several
junior officers stood up as they entered, but Kurz, with a casual flick of his
hand, waved at them to sit down again. 'Where I can find Major von Poncets?' he
asked.

A lieutenant showed them through to another room where clerks were
tapping at coding machines and typewriters. Perched on a table, was Major von
Poncets, commander of the 4th Battalion, 138th Mountain Regiment, talking
animatedly with one of his staff officers.

'Sturmbannfuhrer Kurz and Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt?' he said, sliding
off the table and extending a hand. 'I was told you'd be coming.'

'You seem busy here, Major,' said Scheidt.

Von Poncets laughed. 'My men are going to be attacking the enemy lines
at Tretten later. Fortunately the Tommies don't seem to have either mountain
troops or aircraft, so outflanking their positions is proving easier than we'd
hoped.'

'The men certainly seem in good heart,' said Scheidt.

'Of course,' von Poncets said. 'We're winning!' He clapped his hands
together, then said, 'I've got some men for you from the Reconnaissance
Battalion of the 6th Mountain Regiment.' He turned to one of his staff officers
and asked him to fetch Hauptmann Zellner. 'He's commander of 1 Company and his
men are here,' he said, turning back to Kurz and Scheidt. 'He'll be with us
shortly.'

'And a company is how many?' Scheidt asked. 'A hundred?'

Von Poncets smiled. 'I take it you're not a military man, Herr
Reichsamtsleiter.'

Scheidt noticed Kurz smirk. 'No,' he said. 'I wasn't quite old enough
for the last war. I've been fortunate enough to serve the Reich in other ways.'

'And, of course, we need people like you,' said von Poncets, slapping
him convivially on the arm. He added, 'No, Zellner's company is nearer two
hundred, although I'm afraid I've told the battalion commander I need most of
his men for the fight here. But one platoon of fifty or so should be more than
enough and you do have a company commander to lead them. Don't forget these men
are trained for operations in the mountains. As I said, the Tommies have no
such troops, while the Norwegians - well, they haven't had any training at
all.' He laughed. 'We're attacking again this afternoon with the outflanking
manoeuvre following our initial assault, so unless these fellows reach Tretten
within—' he consulted his watch '— the next hour, I would say they're as good
as in the bag.'

'Aerial reconnaissance suggested that was likely,' added Kurz.

'Ah, here he is now,' said von Poncets, as a young officer entered the
room and saluted crisply. He was dressed differently from the troops outside:
although he wore the long grey trousers, puttees and studded brown ankle boots
that marked out these units, over his field tunic he had on a thick green-grey
cotton wind-jacket, into which was tucked a wool scarf, and a mountain cap,
with an embroidered
Edelweiss
on the left side. A pair of tinted round lenses rested on the
peak. Hauptmann Wolf Zellner stared ahead implacably.

'Stand easy, Zellner,' said von Poncets. 'I've told these gentlemen
that you are taking just one of your platoons.'

'Yes, sir. The rest of the company, under Lieutenant Biermann, will be
taking part in the attack on Tretten.'

'And you're sure that will be enough men?' Scheidt asked.

Zellner glanced at von Poncets. 'Yes, sir. I think that will be plenty.
I don't wish to sound arrogant, Herr Reichsamtsleiter, but one platoon of my
men will be more than enough for a few fugitives like these.'

'And the Reconnaissance Battalion is particularly well suited to high
mountain operations,' added von Poncets, 'having trained extensively in the
Bavarian Alps. Hauptmann Zellner has been fully briefed - but if there's
anything else you'd like to add, Herr Reichsamtsleiter? Sturmbannfuhrer?'

'I want to underline how important this man Odin is, Hauptmann,' said
Scheidt. 'He could be of vital - and I mean vital - importance to Germany. He
must be captured alive. Whether you kill the others or take them prisoner is of
no consequence to me. But Odin I must see in person. You have his photograph?'

'Yes, sir,' Zellner replied. 'You can depend on me and my men, sir.
We'll find him for you.'

Von Poncets had lit a cigar, and now a puff of smoke swirled lazily
into the room. 'Good,' he said. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen .. .' He
smiled once more. 'I've a battle to win.'

Zellner saluted again, then left.

Outside, the sky
was clouding over, but the air was still crisp and cold. His boots sounded
loud, the metal studs clicking through the thin slick of mud caused by too many
vehicles, carts and men trampling across it. He would have preferred to be
taking part in the attack on Tretten, leading his company into battle, yet von
Poncets, apparently, had insisted. Well, he now knew where that had come from -
the politician, he was certain. But at least this mission gave him a chance for
revenge. These were the men he'd so nearly caught five days ago north of
Elverum. There had been no mention of anyone called 'Odin' then. All they had
been told was that the Norwegians were carrying important documents and even
Crown Jewels - but now he'd read the briefing sent by the SD and there could be
no mistake. They were the same men. And this time he was not going to fail.

By noon the
mixed column of British, Norwegian and French, twenty-two strong, was still some
miles southeast of Tretten. Even though the French scouts had led them off the
mountain plateau and into the treeline, the going had been tough. The stretch
of the valley west of Oyer, before it snaked north into the Tretten gorge, was
wider and the slopes gentler. Here, fields spread high above the wide Lagen
river, and even where there was forest, it was far less dense than it had been.
The high fields had forced them to stay well above the farmland, where the snow
was deeper - not just because of the altitude but because the slopes were less
precipitous and cover from the trees not so great. Even the Chasseurs Alpins
struggled, the men frequently losing their footing, or taking a stride forward
only to find themselves buried to their waists in drifts. Tanner had been
forced to admit to himself that his claim that they would cover seven miles in
three hours had been over-optimistic. Still, if he had been at fault in his
calculations, he laid the blame for their slow progress with Chevannes. If they
had left the
seter
whe
                     
n
he had suggested, they would have had more than six hours' start.

It had been shortly after noon that the tell-tale sounds of battle had
begun in the valley below. More aircraft had droned over, while the dull thud
of artillery fire, although intermittent, had resounded ominously. The
unwavering German battle plan Chevannes, it seemed, had judged that about
right.

A little more than four hours later, they were nearing Tretten, the
valley sides steeper once more. The wide farmland to the south had gone, the
forest thickened and the snow thinned, and progress had improved. Below them,
the shelling had increased, the medium howitzers booming more insistently now.
The whistle of the missiles' flight could occasionally be heard, and the
reports of the ensuing explosions echoed through the valley. A flight of
bombers arrived, dropping their loads with a rip of detonations. Occasional
small-arms chatter drifted to them on the afternoon breeze.

Chevannes called a halt. The men were exhausted, Tanner included. Once
again, hunger was gnawing at him, as he knew it must be at the others. Their
faces were drawn and blank with fatigue. Several of his men, Hepworth among
them, fell asleep where they sat on rocks or against a tree stump.