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Title: The Bridge
Author: G.G. Revelle
Release Date: September 15, 2019 [EBook #60303]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRIDGE ***
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THE BRIDGE
BY G. G. REVELLE
_His orders were final. And
how could these terrified souls
know their fate was his own?_
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Two low flying interceptor jets screamed overhead, climbing
for much needed altitude as they headed out to sea. The Captain took
off his steel helmet and looked up at the thunderous roar just before
he leaped from the still moving jeep. When his feet touched the ground
he moved quickly, shouting orders at the olive-drab truck convoy he
had been leading. He pointed his finger at the side of the road where
he wanted the small stuff. The "duce and a half's" he directed to the
opposite side of the road. Then he put his helmet back on.
He watched as the troops quickly dismounted and assembled. He lighted a
cigarette while he waited for his three officers. Only then did he look
at the Bridge.
The massive steel structure spanning the river was six lanes wide,
cantilever style with curved upper and lower cords. The Bridge looked
trim and new. It was the Captain's responsibility to see that it stayed
that way.
He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and reached inside the rear of
the jeep and checked his radio set. It was set on K channel, 29.2. He
expected no messages, except in an emergency.
While he had the time he took a yellow sheet of paper out of his pocket
and read the words pasted on it for the fourth time. Somehow they never
changed; they always read the same. And each time he got a sinking
sensation in his stomach when he read them.
Captain Alfred Lowary put the yellow paper away quickly when the three
junior officers of the Battery reported. He returned their salutes in a
lazy sort of way. He took off his helmet again.
"The orders are the same as briefing," he said. "Lieutenant Kastner
will take the third platoon across the river to the West side. The
second platoon, Lieutenant Tudor, will move North of the entrance on
this side and take up position in reserve. Lieutenant Meyers will set
up defense on this side." He inhaled on the cigarette and looked at
Tudor. "Place your machine guns carefully. I want a cross-fire on that
slight bend on the road down there."
Tudor nodded.
The Captain pinpointed Meyers with his eyes. "You've got the
'hot-spot'.... Just remember.... No one gets on the Bridge!"
"But--" Meyers began.
"No buts. I said no one. Understand?"
Meyers' "Yes, sir," was barely audible.
"Any questions?" the Captain asked.
They shook their heads negative, except Meyers. He said, "Just one
thing, Captain."
"What's that, Lieutenant?" Lowary asked.
"Are we supposed to shoot our own people?"
Lowary's face grew hard. "If we have to, Lieutenant," he said. "If we
have to." The tone of his voice told them that he wanted to avoid any
discussion on the subject.
There was silence. Finally Lowary said, "That's it, then. Let's move."
The Officers saluted and began to move off. Tudor took two steps, then
halted and returned. "How much time do you think is left, Captain?" he
asked.
Lowary took in the man's square face, the set of his jaw. Tudor was
ex-combat, infantry during the last war.
"Who knows, Lieutenant! Minutes ... or hours. It all depends on how
strong the enemy is, how fast they're moving, if they are sending a boy
to do a man's job."
Tudor looked down the river in the direction of the City some thirty
miles away. He seemed to have difficulty finding words. Lowary knew
what he was thinking and it made him feel weak and inadequate.
Lowary said softly, "We knew it would come some day, didn't we, Tudor?"
Tudor faced him. "I guess we did ..." he hesitated.
"Well?"
"I just didn't think I would draw this kind of duty. I don't mind
fighting, I've had my share. But I guess I feel as Meyers does. This
will be something new for me, shooting my own people."
"Perhaps we won't have to," Lowary said.
Tudor stepped back a pace and gave him a salute. "You don't believe
that any more than I do, Captain." He began to walk away swiftly.
Lowary watched him go and he wondered how many men in the Battery were
thinking the same thing? It could create a serious psychological block.
Damn it. It was bothering him too. But he could do it if he had to. He
knew he could.
He climbed into his jeep and adjusted the radio squelch button,
cutting down on the steady crackling noise. He found himself repeating
under his breath. _I can do it because I know I have to. I can do it
because...._ He jammed down on the starter and shoved the gearshift
into first. He had to force the thoughts from his mind. He had orders
to follow; orders left no room for personal feelings. Yet he knew the
yellow paper in his pocket was mocking him.
* * * * *
The jeep was opposite the bridge entrance when he halted it
momentarily. Lieutenant Meyers was busy talking to a machine-gunner
named Morgan. As Lowary recalled, from what little he had seen during
the three weeks he had been commanding the outfit since his transfer
from the middle west, Morgan was a conscientious type of soldier.
Meyers was making a good choice for such a delicate position. He moved
on.
The tires made a low singing sound when he rolled on the bridge, heavy
tread pounding on steel grating.
A sign attached to an upright girder caught his eye. He smiled
sardonically and he wondered what the author had in mind when he
phrased it.
It said: IN EVENT OF AIR ATTACK--DRIVE OFF THE BRIDGE.
The Captain shook his head.
When he got to the center of the bridge he halted the jeep. He got out
and crossed over the lanes to the south railing and looked down at the
gray water. It looks muddy, he thought. A wide, muddy snake winding its
way down to the City. He looked at the horizon. He couldn't see the
City but he knew it was there. He wondered for how long!
It will light up like a torch, he thought. One huge sheet of red and
orange flame a mile high, like the gates of hell swinging open. Then
there would be nothing but a towering mushroom of black smoke to mark
the spot of the largest City in the world.
He found his hand clutching something in his pocket. He took it out and
looked at it. Then, bitterly, he put it away. It was the yellow sheet
of paper again. To read it would be torture.
Lowary ran the zipper up on his loose fitting green field jacket as
a sudden chill took him. He blamed it on the nonexistent wind as he
lighted another cigarette.
The sound of a motor caused him to look up. He narrowed his eyes,
looking at the far end of the bridge. It was Lieutenant Kastner; he
could tell by the foot resting carelessly on the outside fender.
Kastner drove as though he were resting in an easy chair with his feet
nestled on a hassock.
Kastner swung out of the jeep loosely, with the grace of a well
coordinated athlete. A wide grin split his face.
"Just on my way to report to you, Captain. Everything is set up on my
side."
Lowary smiled. He had been on his way to check Kastner. Lowary took in
the blond man's well proportioned body. Kastner looked like the recruit
ad on a "wild-blue-yonder" poster.
Kastner's eyes left Lowary's face. The Captain followed the other's
gaze upward. Two long, white vapor trails were cutting across the blue
sky.
"They're ours," Kastner said. "They're heading North by East, toward
the ocean." He looked at Lowary. "Maybe they can stop it before it
starts!"
"Maybe," the Captain said softly. In his heart he knew it was only a
faint hope. The Air Force never tried to conceal the fact that some of
the enemy could be expected to sneak through in the event of attack.
"I don't think we'll have much trouble at our end of the bridge,
Captain. I don't think anyone will be fighting to go in that
direction," he nodded down the river, in the direction of the City.
"I guess not," Lowary said absently.
"This waiting can be murder," Kastner said. "It just doesn't seem
right, waiting to be clobbered. Sitting here until they drop one down
our throats before we can fight back."
Lowary smiled bitterly. "It's always been that way, Kastner. I suppose
it always will be." Lowary squashed the cigarette butt with his heel.
"How's Meyers taking all this?" Kastner asked. Lowary raised his
eyebrows. "His sister works in the City," Kastner went on. "They're
pretty close."
"I didn't know," Lowary replied. He thought, perhaps I should change
assignments. Kastner wouldn't picture every woman who might try to
break through as his sister. It would make it easier on Meyers.
"You're from Dakota, aren't you, Captain?"
"I was stationed there for three years before this assignment. This is
my first trip East."
"Married?"
"Wife ... son and daughter. The girl is eight, the boy twelve." The
picture of blond, thin, lovable little Susan came to his mind. And
Ronnie, with the freshly found sense of humor, who wanted to be a
writer when he grew up ... if he grew up. He hadn't seen them or Dot
since the transfer came unexpectedly. He missed them, badly. He hadn't
realized how much until just this minute.
"Did you bring your family with you?" Kastner asked.
Lowary shook his head. "No. Dot stayed behind to sell some of the
furniture, and to let the children finish school. It's no good changing
schools in the middle of a semester."
"I guess it isn't. I wouldn't know though. I'm single."
The sound of rubber pounding on the steel grating caused them both to
turn. The Captain expected to see an Army 2-1/2 ton truck. The truck
wasn't olive-drab, it was white. BAKERY was stenciled on the side of
the closed cabin in red letters.
Kastner moved to the opposite lane on a fast run. He waved his arms.
"What are you doing on the bridge?" he shouted. "It's closed to
civilians."
The driver stuck his balding head out of the window. His face was dirty
and tired. "The Lieutenant back there said it was O.K." He looked at
Lowary. "I'm only going to Kingston, Captain."
Lowary turned to Kastner. "Check this guy. I'll be back." He jumped
into his jeep and wheeled it around. This time he kept the accelerator
to the floor. Meyers was a fool!
He found the tall, thin officer leaning on the rail, looking down the
river toward the City. He leaped from the jeep, reached Meyers with two
strides.
"If you have to do that, Lieutenant, do it where the troops can't see
you. It's bad for morale," he said bitterly.
Meyers spun around quickly.
"You had orders to keep this bridge closed, Lieutenant. Why didn't you?"
Meyers opened his mouth, then shut it without saying a word. "Speak
up," Lowary raised his voice. Meyers' eyes met his. "You wouldn't
understand, Captain," Meyers said evenly.
"Try me," Lowary fought to keep his voice down.
"You seem to forget that these are our people ... not the enemy. He was
just a poor working slob who wanted to get home to be with his wife
and kids. To him it might be his last day on earth. Who are we to deny
that?"
Lowary said nothing.
Meyers said, "You're not worrying, your family is safe out in the
Middle West. We know people around here. They aren't just shadows. We
should be helping them."
The Captain took off his helmet. He reached for another cigarette.
Finally he said, "Do you realize how important this bridge is if there
is an attack? It connects one of the routes designated for the relief
of the City if it is hit. You were too young for the last war so you
probably don't realize what happens when wanderers, escapees hit the
road. They can tie it up like a knot so that no one moves. They have
other routes they can use. This one is closed. We've got to keep it for
emergency use."
"What's one truck?" Meyers said.
"One truck, loaded with explosives could park in the middle of this
huge erector set and blow it sky high. All the Reds aren't in those
planes the Coastal Defense sighted. We have some right here, waiting."
"But he wasn't a Red. He lives in Kingston!" Meyers protested.
"How do you know?" Lowary said simply. He didn't wait for Meyers'
answer, he turned and began to walk away.
"Captain!"
Lowary turned at the sound of Tudor's heavy voice. The stocky officer
was waving at him from up the road, pumping his arm with clenched fist
up and down, the signal for double time. Lowary took off on the run. He
could hear Meyers' feet pounding behind him.
Tudor was standing beside a young corporal looking down the steep,
rocky embankment at one of the concrete piers supporting the bridge. A
small figure was making its way toward it.
"It looks like one of our boy's decided to go over the hill," Tudor
said tersely.
Lowary faced the young corporal. "Unsling that rifle, son, and see if
you can pick him off."
Lowary felt Tudor's hand on his arm. "There's no need for that,
Captain. I'll send a squad down to pick him up."
Lowary glanced down at the hand. Tudor removed it. He spoke directly
to the corporal, "I said see if you can pick him off!" The soldier
hesitated. Lowary knew why. The figure down there was in uniform,
probably a friend.
The Captain snatched the rifle from the corporal's frozen fingers. He
slapped the stock against his own shoulder.
"He's probably just a scared, bewildered kid," Meyers cut in quickly.
"If I'm wrong, I'll apologize," Lowary said as he sighted down the
barrel. He planted his feet firmly and squeezed. The stock slammed
him in the shoulder. He cursed, then he squeezed again. This time
he remembered to hold his breath. The figure slumped, fell off the
concrete, into the water.
Lowary juggled the gun once by its balance, then he handed it back to
the corporal who was staring dully at the small figure floating and
bobbing in the water. "You can send that squad down to get him now, if
you want, Lieutenant Tudor," he said before he turned away.
* * * * *
He walked slowly. He could have explained, but there wasn't time.
Decisions had to be made quickly, right or wrong. Perhaps the kid
down there _was_ afraid, just running away. But he couldn't take that
chance. There was no reason to believe that the military didn't have
some subversive elements within; the Reds had infiltered everywhere
else. And what better time for the rats to come out of their nests,
then now, when the country was on their target list! One man could be
as dangerous as a Red Division.
Lowary climbed into his jeep conscious of how tired he felt. I'm
getting old, he thought. He leaned back and took off his helmet and
looked up at the clear blue sky, letting the breeze fan his face. A
high, distant speck caught his eye. It was trailed by a four-forked
stream of white. He felt his stomach grow cold, as he stared in
fascination at the four vapor streams that could only be one thing; a
multi-engine bomber. It was coming in from the Northwest, heading for
the City. The enemy had slipped one through the defense.
He tore his eyes from the sky. Perhaps no one else had seen it. It
would be better if they never did.
And so it comes, he thought. The end of an age ... back to the sticks
and stones for good. He drew in on a new cigarette, thinking of Dorothy
and Susan and Ronnie. He became conscious of Meyers standing beside
him. He wished he would go away, there was so little time left to
daydream. He wanted to be alone.
"The guard down the road says there is a pile-up of civilian cars that
demand to go across."
Lowary looked up. "Send some of the reserve platoon down and force them
back. You know the orders!"
"Look, Captain. We've got maybe ten ... fifteen minutes left. What
harm will it do?"
Lowary felt weary. Meyers hadn't failed to see the bomber, neither had
the people in the cars. They knew it was the beginning of the end.
Meyers and Tudor, and the others were wearing him down. He felt like
giving them their damn bridge. It would be easy, so final.
He took the yellow paper out of his pocket and glanced at the pasted
letters again. When he was finished he knew what he had to do. He had
no choice.
Lowary handed the paper to Meyers. "I'll take care of things down the
road. Perhaps you might like to read this while I'm gone," he said. The
Lieutenant looked puzzled when Lowary drove away.
* * * * *
The traffic was jammed just as Meyers said it was. The Sergeant in
command of the squad had set up a small road block. A machine-gunner,
Morgan, was sitting behind a .50 Cal. looking down the barrel. Lowary
drove past them, up to the lead car.
As he threw his legs out over the side of the jeep he looked up
quickly. The single multi-engine bomber was overhead, still heading
South. In the distance he could see new vapor streams, much smaller,
much faster. The Interceptor Command was giving chase. Lowary could see
that they would be too late to save the City.
"Please let us through, Captain!" a woman near him asked. She was
slender, she had been crying.
Lowary felt so helpless. He said, "There is nothing I can do. This
bridge must be kept open for relief purposes. It is out of my hands."
"You're a murderer. You're keeping us here to be killed."
"There were other routes open. You should have taken--" The woman flung
herself at him, beating at his chest with her thin hands. "I want to go
home," she screamed.
Lowary took her by the wrists and held her off gently. God give me
strength, he prayed. It would be so easy to let her through, along
with the others. They would be safe, perhaps. But he would be running
the risk of losing the bridge. Everyone in the City wouldn't die,
some would survive the hell blast. They would need medical attention,
supplies, food and water. They deserved that chance.
A man's heavy voice carried above the shouts. "We can get through if we
all try it at the same time. He can't shoot us ... he's in the line of
fire."
Lowary hadn't realized it, but it was true. The machine-gunners were
sighting down his back. He shouted above the rising din, "It makes no
difference, they'll shoot if they have to."
"It's a lie," a woman shouted. Lowary heard the whine of a powerful
motor start up. "Well, I'm for giving it a try," he heard someone far
back say.
Lowary turned and faced the gunners. He could see Morgan's strained
face. The kid looked so young, yet he was the only one Lowary felt he
could depend on. "If anything moves down here I want you to open fire,"
he called to Morgan. "Understand?"
Morgan's helmet nodded slowly.
Lowary turned around. The woman seemed undecided. Lowary spoke softly.
"Why don't you get down off the road, into that gully? You'll be safe
there."
The woman's mouth worked up and down but no words came out. Her face
was white and haggard.
The radio in Lowary's jeep began a familiar crackling sound as someone
on the same frequency pressed a button on a handset.
Lowary was afraid to move. He could easily start a stampede if the
civilians thought he was making the move just to get out of the line of
sight of the machine gunners. Slowly, he raised his hand until it was
near the .45 resting in the holster clipped to his web belt.
He waited.
"LARGO ONE--THIS IS LARGO NINE--OVER."
Lowary edged backwards, still facing the crowd. The woman was crying
now. Down the line of cars he could hear the high powered motor being
gunned as it was being maneuvered out of the line. Soon it would make
the attempt of running down Morgan and the others. It wouldn't stand a
chance, but the others might succeed in the confusion that would follow.
He made the decision then. Deliberately, he turned his back on the
crowd and walked to the jeep.
"Don't let him turn on that radio," a man's voice called. "He will warn
the rest of the troops to be waiting for us."
Lowary picked up the hand-mike. "This is Largo One," he said.
"THIS IS LARGO NINE," the voice on the radio said. "ALL CLEAR. REPEAT.
ALL CLEAR. BOOGIES CLAIM THEY WERE ON A PEACEFUL TRAINING MANEUVER AND
GOT OFF COURSE," the sender's low laugh contained no humor. "RESUME
TRAFFIC ON THE BRIDGE."
Lowary's hand trembled as he laid the 'mike' on the seat. He looked up
at the sky. The jet bomber had veered left, was heading out to sea,
heavily escorted. Lowary took off his helmet and signaled Morgan to let
the civilians through. He knew Meyers and the others had heard on their
own sets.
The enemy had been testing the defenses, he knew. Another calculated
move in the cold war. They were probing, hitting hard with psychology.
While everyone was relaxing, enjoying the reprieve, they could very
well come back. That would be their way.
Lowary was lighting another cigarette when the soldier came up to him,
saluted. "Lieutenant Meyers said to give this to you, sir, and to say
that he was sorry if he didn't understand before." He handed Lowary the
yellow sheet of paper.
Lowary opened the wrinkled telegram and read it again for the tenth
time since that morning. CHILDREN AND I ARRIVED CITY THIS MORNING--WILL
SPEND DAY SHOPPING--SEE YOU TONIGHT DARLING--LOVE--DOT.
Lowary put the telegram in his pocket carefully. "Hop in, son. I'll
give you a lift," he said to the soldier. He looked over his shoulder,
down the river. Then his eyes settled on the bridge. Finally, he said
softly, "We're going home." His heart quickened when he said it.
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