Free The Odin Mission by James Holland

Reichskommissar.'
    Scheidt felt the
tight grip of the Reichskommissar's hand and the narrow eyes boring into his,
then he was out of the room, walking down the corridor and being escorted into
the lift. My God ,
he thought, a week. But I must be able to find him. How hard could it be? For God's sake, didn't he have them cornered already? He
just prayed his hand was as good as he hoped.
    After a steep
climb through thick pines and birch, having passed numerous false summits, Sergeant
Jack Tanner and his patrol had reached the mountain plateau some two thousand
feet above the valley. Here, the air was noticeably colder, but so long as the
sun shone through the gauze of thin cloud, Tanner knew they had nothing to fear
from the temperature. More of a concern was the depth of the snow, which in
places, where there was a hidden hollow or it had drifted, was waist deep or
more. The difficulty was that these patches were hard to spot. Some of the men
found themselves taking a step forward only to sink. It was exhausting and
progress slowed. Then Sykes spotted what appeared to be a drover's track where
the snow had been compacted quite recently so Tanner directed the men towards
it. Although it was not on Lieutenant Dingwall's map, he guessed it ran over
the Balberkamp to the south and along the lip of the valley sides to the north.
    'All right, we'll head southwards for a bit,' he told them. It meant
they could no longer spread out in the wide arrowhead formation he preferred,
but he reasoned that it was best to able to move easily. Ordering Privates Bell
and Chambers to walk ahead as scouts, he directed the rest to move in staggered
threes at either side of the track, so that the entire group was spread out
over almost a hundred yards.
    The trees were thinner, and offered less cover, but Tanner was
surprised by how much they could see. The plateau now rose only gently; the
shallow summit of the Balberkamp was less than a mile ahead, while to the east,
the land fell away again only to climb gradually once more. Tanner paused to
scan the landscape around him. It was so still. Nothing stirred up there. He
thought of home, his village in the south of Wiltshire. The birds were
cacophonic at this time of year. And in India, even Palestine, they were always
singing, with a multitude of other noises: insects, cattle, sheep, men
shouting, the exotic wail of the imam calling the faithful to prayer. But here, high on
the mountains of Norway, nothing. Just the occasional explosion down in the
valley.
    He could see no sign of the enemy. Lieutenant Dingwall had been unable
to tell him whether German mountain troops would be wearing special snow
uniforms, or even if they would be using skis. He was certainly conscious,
however, of how ill-suited their own uniforms were to the task in hand. The new
battle dress might have been created by clever ministry boffins, but it had not
been designed for snow-covered mountain warfare. Tanner sighed. Everything
about this campaign had been badly planned by the top brass, it seemed. Surely
someone had thought about the conditions they were likely to face in Norway.
And if so, why hadn't they organized white overalls and jackets? It was obvious
they should have been given such kit. He circled as he walked, his trusted Enfield
ready in his hands, and checked the line of men strung out along the rough
track, all in khaki and some, like himself, in tan jerkins. It would offer
camouflage of sorts if they were hiding behind trees, but against bright white
snow, they stood out horribly, easy targets for an enemy trained to operate in
such an environment.
    Perhaps it wouldn't come to that. The mountain seemed so empty. They
hadn't even seen the Chasseurs Alpins. He began to think the rumour of enemy
mountain troops must have been just that; and although explosions and the
sounds of battle continued from the valley, they were sporadic. He had no
impression that their lines were about to be overrun. As he thought of