They were nearing the edge of the town. A few frightened civilians were peering from their houses, but the streets were still empty. He had hoped to come across a car, a motorbike or even bicycles, but there had been nothing and no time in which to look more thoroughly. The houses thinned and then they were in the open, running along a cleared road, patchy snow at either side and yellowed grass showing through. Of the rest of the platoon there was no sign. How much of a head start had they had? he wondered. Fifteen minutes? No wonder he couldn't see them.
'How much further, Sarge?' gasped Hepworth.
'A mile. Not much more.' Tanner could see the mass of the Balberg strutting imperiously above them. German field guns continued booming behind them. They could see the dark shells as they hurtled across the sky and exploded among the Allied positions, the sound of the detonation always arriving a moment after the flash. 'Keep going, Hep,' urged Tanner. 'Soon be there.'
Then, behind them, they heard the sound of gears grinding and the chugging drone of vehicles. Turning, they saw a column of trucks emerging from Lillehammer some half a mile away. Tanner's heart sank. Coming round a bend in the open road he could see at least half a dozen, filled with troops, each pulling an anti-tank gun.
'What are we going to do now, Sarge?' said Hepworth. 'We'll never be able to stop them.' Hepworth was a small lad, barely nineteen, his face pale and his brows knotted in despair. Tanner eyed him, then glanced around. The land was open, but about fifty yards ahead, a short way back from the road, there was a farmhouse.
'Keep calm, Hep,' he said. 'First we're going to head to that house where we can get a bit of cover.'
'And then what, Sarge?'
'If you asked a few less questions, Hep, I might be able to think a bit more clearly,' Tanner snapped. He was trying to weigh up a couple of options in his mind. 'Bloody hell,' he mumbled, as he tried to catch his breath. 'What a mess.' No matter what he decided, the reality was that he and Hepworth were now caught between the new Allied lines and the vanguard of the German attack. He had a good mind to floor Captain Webb if and when he ever saw him again.
Chapter 3
Tanner noticed that a large barn extended out at right angles from the house. Good, he thought, grateful for whatever cover he could get. The twitch of a curtain showed the place was still occupied, but it appeared that the owners preferred not to show themselves. He crouched beside the stone ramp that led up to the barn's first floor and opened the haversack slung behind his left hip. He felt inside, pulled out an old piece of oily cloth and carefully unwrapped it.
'What's that, Sarge?' asked Hepworth, crouching beside him.
'It's a telescopic sight,' said Tanner. 'An Aldis.' It had once belonged to his father, and Tanner had carried it with him throughout his army career. Most gunsmiths could modify the Enfield rifle easily enough by milling and fitting two scope mounts and pads to the action body - alterations that were sufficiently discreet to enable a platoon sergeant to have his rifle adapted without his superiors noticing. Consequently, having joined the 5th Battalion in Leeds, he had wasted no time in taking his newly issued SMLE No. 1 Mk III rifle to a gunsmith in the Royal Armoury to have it adapted and his scope sighted. It was a good scope and his father had sworn by it; certainly Tanner had found that on the rare occasions he had used it, the Aldis had never lost its zero.
'There's someone in the house,' said Tanner. 'Go and find out whether they've got any transport.'
Hepworth hurried up to the front door.
Screwing the scope into place, Tanner stood behind the ramp leading up to the barn and, using it as a rest, peered through the sight. The column was now about seven hundred yards away, and his sight zeroed at four hundred. He had found that allowing a foot's drop for every fifty yards beyond the zero usually did the trick, but this was going to be a long shot even with the scope; as it was, he could only just see the driver of the lead vehicle. Tanner reminded himself that all he needed to do was delay the column, cause a bit of confusion. He lowered his aim to the bottom of the truck, then lifted it again by, he guessed, about six foot. The truck was moving slowly - under fifteen miles per hour, he reckoned - and almost directly towards him. Half exhaling as he pulled back the bolt, he held his breath and squeezed the trigger.
The truck lurched and ploughed off the road, so that the vehicle immediately behind quickly emerged around it. This time Tanner aimed at the indistinct figure of the driver, then made a generous adjustment for the bullet's falling trajectory, and fired again. The man was hit - Tanner could see him thrown backwards. 'Damn,' he mouthed, pulled back the bolt again and fired once more. This time he saw the driver punched back in his seat, then slump forward. The man next to him grabbed at the steering-wheel, but it was too late and the truck struck the first, which came to a halt spread across the width of the road. Men were pouring out of the vehicles now and taking cover. Tanner smiled to himself with satisfaction, then turned towards the front of the farm, where Hepworth was still banging on the door.
'What the hell are you playing at?' shouted Tanner.
'They're not answering,' said Hepworth.
'For God's sake, Hepworth,' snarled Tanner. 'Forget 'em. Don't waste bloody time on niceties. A quick dekko in the barns and sheds. We need to get out of here - fast.'
There were several ageing carts in a barn but two bicycles in one of the sheds adjoining the house. One had a flat tyre and was covered with dust and cobwebs, but the two infantrymen grabbed them. 'Right, let's go,' said Tanner. 'Come on, quick.'
German artillery shells were whistling overhead with greater regularity now, bombarding the Allied positions just half a mile ahead. Tanner wove back and forth across the road, hoping to make himself a more elusive target should the Germans attempt to fire at them. His flat rear wheel was sliding badly, but he managed to keep his balance. Hepworth, making faster progress, repeatedly looked back until Tanner urged him to press on. Suddenly he became aware of an eerie silence - no birds singing, no blast of shells exploding. In the next moment there came a faint whirr and Tanner yelled at Hepworth, then flung down his bicycle and leapt into the snow by the side of the road, just as a stream of bullets spat up a line along the road followed by four Messerschmitt 110s thundering over.
He stood up and saw them strafing the Allies ahead, then shouted to Hepworth. To his relief, the private got up, dusted off the snow, hitched his rifle onto his shoulder and waved.
Soon after, they reached the Allied forward positions, waved in through the hastily prepared roadblock by a corporal from the Sherwood Foresters.
'Where're our lot?' Tanner asked.
'Behind. Two hundred yards, on the right of the road under the Balberkamp.'
A subaltern approached Tanner. 'Anyone behind you, Sergeant?'
'Only a column of enemy infantry.'
'How many?'
'Hard to say, sir. I counted at least a dozen trucks. They were all towing guns - about the size of our two- pounders, I reckon. And they've got tanks.'
'Good God,' muttered the lieutenant. 'You'd better report to HQ right away.'
'Yes, sir. Where is it, sir?'
'It's the only brick building around, a few hundred yards behind by the road. And it's a Joint HQ for all three battalions. The bastards have been dropping incendiaries to smoke them out, so follow the line of charred houses.'
Another shell hurtled over and they fell flat on the ground again. It exploded seventy yards further on, the noise deafening as the report echoed off the imposing Balberkamp. Tanner thanked the officer and then, with Hepworth, hurried forward. Men were still trying frantically to dig holes in the thin soil, officers and NCOs were shouting orders, while others were hastily laying down wire and building makeshift sangars. The early-afternoon air was still, heavy with the smell of cordite and smoke.