The Black Baroness (16 page)

There was a deafening crash as the thirty-odd rifles of the clubmen flashed at the German column. The cars were a bare twenty yards away, the attack was totally unexpected and the fusillade created absolute havoc among them. It was as though
the drivers of the first eight cars had suddenly been struck with madness. From an orderly, fast-moving procession the leading half of the column was instantly thrown into the utmost confusion. Cars swerved, skidded and crashed into one another. Two of them plunged headlong down the bank on the far side of the road; one was caught sideways-on by a tree, while the other, rocketing from side to side, plunged into the water. A third came roaring towards the club-house but hit a telegraph-pole, which it tried to climb and became stuck with its front wheels eight feet in the air. A fourth charged a petrol pump and, turning over, burst into flames.

Above the din could be heard the screaming of brakes as the drivers in the latter half of the column tried to pull up. They bunched in an almost solid jam, swivelled in all directions across the roadway, and the Norwegians sent a second volley into them. Gregory took in the general scene with grim satisfaction, then his glance ran swiftly along to the leading car—the Rolls—and remained fixed there. One of the back tyres had been exploded by a bullet and the car had run up the bank about fifty yards past the club-house.

As he watched he saw von Ziegler, Major Helder and another German officer climb out of it. Helder staggered a few paces then fell, either dead or wounded. The other officer turned and sent a stream of bullets out of his automatic towards the clubhouse, but von Ziegler, with his head low, was running hard towards the town. Suddenly he halted and shouted an order to the officer. The officer yelled something to two other men, who had just scrambled from the third car, and all three of them abandoned the fight to pelt after von Ziegler.

Somebody in the club-house drew a bead on one of the men and he was hit in the back as he ran. Flinging up his arms he pitched forward on his face, but von Ziegler, the officer and the other man managed to reach cover before the marksman could fire again.

Gregory cursed softly to himself. It was the German Air Attaché who was the brains of the party and he had got away with two armed comrades. He was not the sort of man to have fled from the fight on account of cowardice, and the fact that he had drawn two others off with him showed that, although he might consider the ambush into which his party had fallen as an infuriating setback, he was still unshaken in his determination to capture or kill King Haakon.

However, von Ziegler was without a car for the moment, and even with two armed men to help him, both of whom were in uniform and so likely to prove a target for the revolvers of the Norwegian police or the brickbats of the population, he would probably have considerable difficulty in getting another; so Gregory did not feel that he was called on to risk his life by giving chase immediately.

To have left the shelter of the club-house would certainly have been to do so, for, in spite of the devastating surprise attack, the Germans were now fighting back with determination and ferocity. Those who had escaped death or serious injury had climbed out of their cars and taken refuge behind them or in the ditch at the far side of the road and were blazing away with their tommy-guns at the club-house windows.

The Germans lost over thirty men before the Norwegians sustained a single casualty, but after that it became more or less tit-for-tat. Allowing for the many casualties which the Germans had suffered in the first few minutes after the attack opened, their numbers were now about even with those of the Norwegians; and although the soldiers had enormous fire superiority, that was largely offset by the fact that every one of the clubmen was a trained marksman.

Drum after drum of machine-gun bullets spattered into the club-house, annihilating any marksman who was rash enough to expose himself for more than a quarter of a minute, but every German who showed a limb was an instant target for half a dozen well-aimed rifles. Several of the Germans attempted to throw hand-grenades, but two of them were shot down in the act so that the grenades rolled away and exploded near them, causing further casualties, after which the others desisted, as they could not lob the bombs far enough while lying down.

Gregory and Langdon-Forbes had had no time to get rifles before the attack but immediately it had been launched and Gregory had had a chance to assess its results they dashed inside and collected a couple of weapons from the armoury; then for the next ten minutes they did their share by firing alternately out of the narrow window of the wash-place.

It was Gussy who spotted three Germans behind an overturned car who were fitting together the parts of one of their miniature howitzers. Gregory popped up his head for a second to get a glimpse of them and he knew that if once the gun were allowed to come into action the club-house would very soon
be rendered untenable by shell-fire. With a swift word he sent Gussy along a passage to tell the others what was happening, so that the gun’s crew might be put out of action by fire from different angles.

Gussy returned to say that he had found a Norwegian ex-Army Colonel who had volunteered to take half a dozen good men out through the back of the premises; they were to make their way along behind the rifle butts, which would give them cover from the road until they reached a point where they could enfilade the men with the howitzer. For another five minutes the battle raged with undiminished fury. The air was now thick with smoke and the acrid smell of cordite, but the Germans had not gained a foot of ground and as the clubmen were now exercising greater care they were sustaining fewer casualties.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash from behind the overturned car; it was followed instantly by the roar of an explosion. The first miniature shell had fallen just behind the clubhouse and the tinkling of glass could be heard as the panes fell from the shattered windows. There was another flash and the club-house seemed to rock as a second shell pierced its low roof and exploded there, making a gaping hole in the ceiling above the lounge. A third shell followed, pitching right into the long room and causing many casualties; but at that moment the party that the Norwegian ex-Colonel had taken out came into action. Seven good men and true, all first-class shots, emptied the magazines of their rifles into the crouching group of Germans and the gun’s crew was annihilated.

A second later a whistle blew and the fire of the Germans slackened. The officer who was commanding what remained of the enemy force evidently considered that they had had enough and was drawing his men off. In several cases as the Germans retreated they had to expose themselves for a few seconds while wriggling back from one piece of cover to another, and during the process the Norwegians got four more of them; so Gregory estimated that there could be only about twenty Germans now left uninjured out of the seventy-odd who had made up the original force. Soon afterwards the firing ceased altogether and the Norwegians were able to assess their own casualties. They had lost five dead and nine wounded; half that number having been accounted for by the single shell which had burst in the lounge. Gregory, Langdon-Forbes, the President of the club and the ex-Colonel then held a brief council of war.

Through Gussy, Gregory explained that a second party of Germans, over seventy strong, were approaching the town on the far side of the water and that, if possible, these also must be ambushed and held off. He added that the leader of the expedition, who was in civil clothes, and two other Germans had succeeded in getting through and were now, presumably, already in the town. It was to be hoped that by this time the Royal party had got away, but von Ziegler would certainly attempt to follow them and, as he seemed to have German agents all over the place, he would probably endeavour to bring up another force of parachutists or send an SOS for bombers to attack the King. In consequence, it was of the utmost importance that he should be caught before he could plot further mischief.

As Gregory knew von Ziegler by sight it was agreed that it would be best for him to go after the airman, with Langdon-Forbes to help him and act as interpreter, while the ex-Colonel took command of the clubmen and did his utmost to hold the town so as to give the King as long a start as possible before the Germans entered it.

On checking up they found that there were twenty-one clubmen still uninjured, three who were only slightly wounded, and six male members of the staff, all of whom were capable of handling a rifle. It was considered unlikely that the surviving Germans from the motorised columns would attack again for some little time and providing they could be prevented from advancing towards the town that was all that was required. In consequence, it was decided to evacuate the club-house and leave it to be shelled by the Germans. With the President in charge, the six members of the staff and the three slightly wounded men took up a position among the trees on the slope at the right of the road, so that they could fire down on the Germans when they proceeded to advance along it after having pounded the club-house to pieces. All the unwounded members, with the Colonel in command, were to make their way through the trees into the town and occupy houses along the shore so that they could ambush the second German force when it came across the water in its rubber boats. They were also to carry as many rifles and as much ammunition as possible, since they knew that they would find plenty of men in the town only too willing to join them, and with these reinforcements the Colonel hoped to hold the Lillehammer waterfront
for some considerable time, if not indefinitely.

There was not a moment to be lost, as it would be touch and go as to whether the Colonel could get his men down to the waterfront in time to prevent the Germans landing. Immediately these decisions had been made everyone set about collecting such arms and ammunition as they could carry. The staff took charge of the seriously wounded and made preparations to take them out into the woods, while the main body of clubmen hurried off through the trees. They entered the town from its east side and as soon as they reached the main street Gregory and Gussy took leave of the Colonel and the others, wishing them the best of luck and congratulating them upon the splendid show which they had put up in defence of their King.

The two Englishmen then set about making inquiries for von Ziegler and the soldiers who were with him. They soon learnt that the three Germans had entered the town by way of its main street about half an hour before and, threatening the crowd through which they passed with their tommy-guns, had entered the only store in the place, which contained a men’s outfitting department. As soon as they had gone inside a section of the crowd had rushed off to get the police; but as almost the entire police force of Lillehammer was out at the suburb of Maihaug, where they had been protecting the King, only two policemen could be found. Very gallantly they had entered the store armed only with revolvers. Rumour said that they had found the two German soldiers changing into civilian clothes, but the third man was standing by them holding a tommy-gun and with a single blast of fire he had cut the two wretched policemen practically in half.

About five minutes later, by leaving the store through its back entrance the three Germans had evaded the crowd which had collected in the main street, but they had soon been spotted and a hue and cry ensued. One sportsman had fired at them with a shot-gun from a first-floor window, slightly wounding one of them in the leg, and they had been driven back to the main square of the town. There they had fired a couple of bursts which had killed and wounded a number of people and had forced back the crowd; they had then piled into a stationary car and driven across the square towards the north.

By this time, however, as nearly every Norwegian shoots by way of recreation, and there is some sort of firearm in practically every house, a number of citizens were arriving on the
scene with guns, having either heard that there were Germans in the town or been attracted by the sound of shooting. They had sent a ragged volley after the car which had punctured one of the tyres and, it was thought, killed one of the Germans, who was standing up with his tommy-gun thrust out of the back window, as he had dropped his gun and been seen to collapse in a heap; but the car had got away.

Although accounts varied a little, Gregory gathered that von Ziegler had been gone only five or ten minutes, and it was obvious that he would not be able to get far with one of his back tyres flat. The Germans would have to stop and put on the spare wheel as soon as they were clear of the town, so there appeared to be every chance of catching them if immediate action were taken. A tall, fair young farmer, who had given the most coherent account of the affair, had his car handy and offered it for the pursuit; so with the two Englishmen beside him he thrust his way through the crowd and they piled into his ancient, open Ford. The Ford looked a ramshackle affair and its back seat was occupied with crates of live chickens, but the engine had plenty of go in it and to the cheers of the assembled multitude the car bucketed out of the town.

They had hardly reached the open road when they heard fresh sounds of firing, and turning to peer back over the chicken crates Gregory saw that the new battle for Lillehammer had started. The narrow, forty-mile-long arm of the Mjose Lake merged just below the town into the Gudbrandsdal River, which ran twisting and curving up the whole length of the hundred-mile-long valley ahead, ending in a chain of lakes which almost connected with the fjords on the Atlantic coast fifty miles south-west of Trondheim. At Lillehammer the river was a good hundred and fifty yards wide, and the Germans were now endeavouring to cross it in their rubber boats. As the car sped up the steep road that ran along the cliff face of the mountains the little figures down on the river grew more distant, but before the car rounded the first bend Gregory saw several of them tumble into the water, and, knowing the folk of this rural town to be so well equipped with weapons and with men who knew how to use them, he had every confidence that the old ex-Colonel would manage to prevent the Germans crossing, at least until night came and they were able to do so under cover of darkness.