“You’ve got five hours to accomplish your mission, Tuttle,” a voice suddenly said into her ear. “You better get your ass in gear and take this bridge!” Emily turned and saw Sgt. Kaelin lying prone just behind her. Cookie and Hiram had discretely withdrawn.
“Well, well, Sergeant Kaelin, and just as I thought you had taken a vow of silence.” She turned back to the river. No doubt about it, the summer’s drought had left the river running much lower than normal.
“Are you paying attention, recruit?” Kaelin demanded.
“Are you egging me on, Sergeant?” she asked mildly, still scanning the river. “Trying to panic me into charging the bridge and getting us all killed?” She looked up at him. “You wouldn’t do that now, would you, Sergeant Kaelin?”
Sergeant Kaelin frowned. “You are running out of time, recruit. If you don’t-” Suddenly Emily, in a surprisingly intimate gesture, leaned forward and put a finger on his lips, silencing him. He blinked in surprise. She leaned in close to his ear.
“You are here as an observer, Sergeant, remember?” she whispered softly. “Just observe. I know what I need to do.” She rolled to her feet and walked away. Kaelin was shocked. If any other recruit had done that, he would have bitten off their head. He watched her go, his surprise gradually giving way to a jumbled stew of mild annoyance and bemusement. Well, by God, he had put her in this situation because he wanted to see what she could do. This had better be good, he mentally warned her.
“What do you see?” Emily asked the platoon leaders. The sun was just creeping up and Killarney Bridge was still deep in the shadow of the hill. They all had binoculars trained on the bridge.
“Heavy defenses,” said Lee.
“A lot of targets concentrated in a very small area,” replied Skiffington with relish. “Once we pin ‘em down, they won’t be able to move worth shit.”
“Static defenses,” Kimball said thoughtfully. “We can put a platoon over the river and attack from the flank. They’ll be caught in cross-fire from the side and this hill.”
“Take us hours to pry them out of there,” complained Kara Zavareei, “and we don’t have too many hours left.”
Cookie was counting. “They got most of their men right here, Em, camped out by the bridge. If we can pin them down…”
“And go around!” Emily confirmed. “The river is low. We need to get upriver and find a spot to take the trucks across. Push a feint at them here and cross someplace else.”
Skiffington laughed. “My platoon will go across and attack the bridge from the flank. This will be fun.”
Now, wondered Emily, where was Gold Company with the convoy?
Odackal supplied the answer as soon as the platoon leaders had slithered back from the crest of the hill. “Gold Company just called in. They are four miles away. The Company commander wants to hear from you as soon as you’re free.”
Emily radioed immediately. The Gold Company commander was Rafael Eitan. “Are you on the river road?” she asked. “Oh, yes,” he replied. “It took us a while to get here, but now we are making good time. I still have all the trucks, but I am down to seventy three men.”
“Now listen carefully,” Emily said slowly. “I need to know your exact orders.” There was a pause as Eitan considered this.
“Well, I have a convoy of ten trucks, with cargo. I have to get the cargo to a location on the map called ‘Four Corners’ by noon today.”
“And what do you orders say about the Killarney Bridge?”
“Well, it is the only bridge across the river, isn’t it?”
Emily grinned wolfishly. She was right. Kaelin, you are a devious sonofabitch. “Okay, Rafael, I want you to drive exactly three miles, then stop. Do you understand? Three miles, no more. And Rafael, do any of your trucks have a winch?”
She left Skiffington and Kimball with their platoons and strict orders to wait for her signal before attacking. “Once you start, you have to keep them occupied for at least three hours.” She looked hard at Skiffington. “No heroic charges, Skiff, you understand? If you get your platoon wiped out, they’ll be able to mob Kimball’s platoon, and then wonder just where the rest of us might be. You need to keep them occupied.”
Skiffington gave her his best devil-may-care grin. “Don’t worry, Tuttle. ‘Prudence’ and ‘caution’ are my middle names.”
“Kick your ass you screw this up, Skiffington,” Cookie said.
Careful to stay out of view of the bridge, Emily led the rest of the Company to the River Road. Cookie’s platoon shucked most of their gear and went ahead at a fast trot, looking for the convoy and keeping an eye out for a shallow crossing. As Emily led her group, Hiram Brill gave her a piece of paper torn from his notebook. “A list of everyone in these three platoons with any engineering or construction experience. We’ll need it to get the trucks across the river.”
At the bridge, the Green Company commander nervously looked at his watch. Where was the damn convoy? He knew the ambush had not gotten them, and all the surviving ambushers were now back at the bridge. He wheeled to the Red Company commander. “I don’t like this,” he said worriedly. They should have been here by now. They’re up to something. We need to send out some more patrols.”
The Red commander yawned. “Take it easy. We’ve got the hill and we’ve got the bridge. They have to come over this bridge to reach the Four Corners. Relax and let them come to us.” She looked at her watch. “Only three hours left.”
The Green commander picked up his radio. “This is Messina on the bridge, calling the observation detail. Do you have anything to report?”
On top of the hill they labeled Sunflower, Kimball picked up some pebbles and shook them in his hand, making a scratchy, rough noise. While still shaking the pebbles, he thumbed the radio they had taken from the Red Company lookouts.
“Nothing to report,” he said, praying the background noise would adequately disguise his voice
“See?” said the Red leader. “They’re not within two miles of here or the lookouts would have seen them.”
Emily shook sweaty hands with Rafael Eitan. “Boy am I glad to see you!” she said fervently. Eitan was medium height, stocky and sported a thick black mustache. He smiled in return and bobbed his head. “And I you. It has been a very long day, yes?”
His accent told her he came from Refuge. His uniform was torn and filthy. Emily wondered if he had spent the day driving a truck or rolling around in the dirt. From the corner of her eye she could see Sergeant Kaelin join Drill Instructor Johnson, who had climbed out of one of the trucks. They stood to the side, conferring quietly. DI Johnson looked at his watch and shrugged.
A radio buzzed. Kara Zavareei trotted over. “Our patrol on the flank reports all is clear.”
“How far is the bridge?” Eitan wanted to know.
“Forget the bridge,” Emily told him. “We are taking the trucks across the river just up past that stand of trees. We found a sand bar that is only three feet deep.” She didn’t mention that it stopped thirty feet short of the far bank and the water there was deeper and faster. One thing at a time.
Eitan looked doubtful, but had the good grace not to say anything. Emily’s curiosity finally got the better of her. “Just what is this precious cargo you’ve been carrying?”
Eitan shrugged. “Boxes. One per truck, but I don’t know what’s in them.” Emily followed him to the back of the truck. Eitan swept back the tarp. The floor was cluttered with tools, pry bars, a coil of rope and a square wooden box measuring roughly two feet per side. She hoisted herself into the truck and gave the box an experimental push. Heavy, but two men could carry it. She eyed the tools scattered around the floor.
“What is all this?” she asked.
“I think these are the trucks used by the grounds crews to clear brush and trees back at Camp Gettysburg,” Eitan said. He frowned. “Don’t we have to hurry?”