'You can't speak to me like that!' Scheidt retorted. He was taller than the general by a couple of inches yet somehow felt as though he was looking up at him. 'I'm going to speak to Terboven about this. I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear about your attitude.'
'Save yourself the bother, Herr Reichsamtsleiter. I've already spoken with him.'
'You have?' Scheidt was incredulous.
'Yes, and believe me, Herr Reichsamtsleiter, he's not very happy. Not very happy at all. Now get out! Go on! Get out of my sight!'
Scheidt was speechless. He turned, twisting his foot as he did so, then hobbled from the room.
Chapter 23
Sergeant Tanner and his men, under Sykes's imperturbable supervision, had blown the road and the railway line three times with fifty yards between each crater. They had also felled a series of trees and linked a web of booby traps among them so that the moment anyone tried to move the barriers one or more cartridges of Nobel's finest No. 808 desensitized gelignite would explode in their faces. In addition, they made liberal use of grenades and safety fuse, preparing a variety of trip-wires between trees further up the slopes away from the road.
Since midday, two more waves of bombers had headed over, dropping loads at either end of the tunnel, then going on to paste Andalsnes, but the tunnel had not been blocked, Lieutenant Lindsay had confirmed, and the tiny port was still open for business. A number of Junkers 88s had swept low down the valley, half-heartedly strafing the Marines' position, but no one had been injured; men dug in and spread out were a far harder target than a lone convoy on a narrow road.
There had been no sign of the enemy on the ground, which had given Tanner and his men the chance to put some finishing touches to their devil's nest of explosives and booby traps. At well-spaced intervals, they were now placing single cartridges of gelignite, some propped up on rocks, others wedged atop mounds of earth and pebbles. All, however, were visible from a number of vantage-points along the Marines' positions.
'A bloody good idea of yours, this, Sarge,' said Sykes, as he handed over his last cartridge.
'Waste not, want not, Stan. Got the box?'
Sykes handed it to him.
'I can't resist this.' Tanner grinned. He upended the wooden box in the middle of the road, then placed the last cartridge on top. 'Now, where's Hep? I need some tracer rounds. Hep?'
Hepworth hurried over from one of the other jelly- mounds - as the men had christened them - and gave him a handful. Placing them in his haversack on his hip, Tanner strode forward and, binoculars to his eyes, gazed down the valley.
Sun glinting on glass, a few miles away. 'They're coming,' he muttered, under his breath, and glanced at his watch: 19.35. His heart began to beat faster, but this time with exhilaration rather than fear. 'They're coming!' he yelled. He felt in his haversack, took out his Aldis scope, unravelled the cloth in which it was wrapped and screwed it on to his rifle.
Sykes hurried over to him. 'How many, Sarge?'
Tanner peered through his binoculars again. 'Eight trucks - company strength, I suppose.' He watched as the trail of vehicles drew ever closer. Then, when he judged them to be a little over four hundred yards away, he pulled back the bolt of his rifle, pushed it into place and said to Sykes, 'Right, Stan. Keep still.' Resting the rifle on Sykes's shoulder he took careful aim, inhaled gently, held his breath and squeezed the trigger.
Five rounds slammed into the leading truck, which swerved off the road, rolled down the side of the hill and crashed into the river. Tanner's men cheered. They could hear the screams of the enemy troops. Raising his binoculars once more, Tanner watched men pour out of the remaining trucks and spread out in a wide arc.
'Time to go,' said Tanner.
They ran back to the Marines' lines and watched as the enemy cautiously approached. Germans shouted as they reached the gaps in the road, then pressed on, spreading out through the trees. Soon after, as Tanner and his men wove their way through the Marines' positions, they heard a small explosion and another scream.
McAllister grinned. 'That's one trip they didn't notice.'
Crouching beside one of the Marines' Bren crews, Tanner took a bead on one of the jelly-mounds. A short distance beyond he could make out some enemy troops darting from tree to tree. 'Come on, Jerry,' he muttered, 'a bit closer.' Now. As he squeezed the trigger, the tracer round hurtled down the rifle's barrel at a little under two and a half thousand feet per second, smacked straight into the cartridge of gelignite and exploded instantly. Several men disintegrated with the blast, while others were flung through the air, limbs torn from them. A half- minute later, Tanner had detonated a second. Trees caught fire, enemy troops cried out and then, as the first Germans came into range of the Marines' Lewis and Bren guns, the chatter of small-arms rang out around the valley.
A tank was now squeaking and scraping its way forward, trundling at a steep angle round the side of the trucks. It was huge, larger than any Tanner had seen before. Pausing to watch, he followed it as it edged its way towards the first of the fallen trees.
'Come on, my lovely,' said Tanner. 'A bit closer.' He glanced round and saw that his men were crouching beside him, watching too.
The tank drew within twenty yards of the first of the felled trees, then opened fire at point-blank range. Immediately a huge ball of flame erupted into the sky followed by a second explosion as the tank's magazine detonated. The dark shape of the turret was silhouetted against the flames as it was propelled into the air. Thick black smoke engulfed the road and railway line and swept across the river, and then, as indistinct figures emerged through the smoke, the machine guns opened fire again. But the enemy infantry pressed on. Half a dozen ran straight down the road towards them, shouting as they came.
'The mad bastards,' said Tanner, carefully drawing his rifle to his shoulder and taking aim at the lone gelignite box now directly in front of the advancing soldiers. He fired, the gelignite exploded, and when the smoke cleared, the six men were gone. So, too, were the rest of the attackers, who had slipped back behind the cover of the smoke.
The attack had been stopped dead.
The small band of Marines and Rangers now waited. Pacing up and down through the trees, Tanner peered ahead through the smoke and haze, straining his eyes for any sign of the enemy. The tank still burned, thick black smoke pitching high into the valley. 'Where are those bastards?' he muttered. An eerie quiet had descended across the valley. A cough from someone beside him, a chink of metal, but no one spoke. He saw the exhausted and tense expressions on the faces of his men and on those of the Marines nearby.
Minutes ticked past. Sykes passed round a packet of cigarettes. Tanner smoked, looked at his watch for the twentieth time in as many minutes, then said, 'Damn it,' and strode towards Lieutenant Lindsay's sangar.
'Any news, sir?' he asked.
'None, Sergeant, I'm afraid. Perhaps Jerry's called it off for the night.'
'Maybe,' said Tanner. 'I just wish that damned train would leave.' He looked at his watch: 20.21. He walked back to his men, and as he approached Sykes, he stopped suddenly and cocked his ear.
'What is it, Sarge?' asked Sykes.