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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