Juggernaut

'A DUKW!'

Bailey patted its hood lovingly.

'Meet Auntie Bess. Named for the most adaptable lady I've ever known. Nothing ever stopped her. I've found the keys and she's ready to go.'

We gathered round the thing, fascinated and intrigued. It was a low-profiled, topless vehicle some thirty feet in length, one set of tyres in front and two more pairs not quite at the rear, where dropping curved metal plates protected a propeller. It had a protruding, faintly boat-shaped front and was hung about with tyres lashed around what in a boat would be called the gunwale. The body was made of tough, reinforced metal, flanged down the sides, and the headlamps were set behind heavy mesh grilles. An old-fashioned windscreen provided all the cover the driver would get on land or water, though there were points along the sides where a framework could be inserted to carry a canvas awning.

Odds and ends of equipment for both elements on which it could travel were strapped about it; an anchor and line, a life belt, a couple of fuel cans, a tyre jack, shovel and spare tyres. Like the Katie Lou it was rusty but seemed in good repair.

Bailey swung himself in and the engine came to life with a healthy rattle as it slid into the sunlight. He slapped its side with heavy-handed self-approval.

'I did think of calling her Molly Brown,' he said, 'but after all she might sink one of these days. She's got a tendency to ship a little water. But she's crossed this pond often enough and she'll do it once more for you, I promise.'

It could carry so many men that to bring off a dozen or so would be no problem. 'How hard is she to drive?' I asked.

Zimmerman said, 'I handled one on land once. Nothing to it. Don't know about the performance on water, though.'

Bailey said, 'Come on, let's go for a swim. I'll show you.'

Zimmerman swung himself on board and in front of an admiring audience the DUKW pounded down the causeway into the water. Pete Bailey was careful with Katie Lou but with his DUKW he was a bit of a cowboy. It chugged away throwing up an erratic bow wave to make a big circle on the lake.

The rig was arriving as we walked up the curving spur road from the ferry yard. Kemp and Hammond brought it to a stop on the main road that overlooked Kanjali. We got busy transferring the invalids into trucks to take them on board the ferry. Bailey and Sperrini came to see the rig and get medical attention.

The rig was as impressive as ever, its massive cargo still hulking down between the two trailers. The tractors coupled up fore and aft added power to its bulk. The modifications we had imposed made it look quite outlandish. By now the thatching had been blown away and renovated so often that it appeared piebald as the palm fronds weathered. A workmanlike canvas wall framed the operating theatre but the canvas itself was mildewed so that it looked like the camouflaging used during war to disguise gun emplacements. Sturdy rope ladders hung from every level and the faces of the patients peered out from their straw beds.

'Well, I'll be damned,' Bailey marvelled. 'Worth going a mile to see, that is — good as a circus any day. Hello, who's this?'

'This' was the Nyalan escort still following their fetish, overflowing the road and looked down at the ferry yard with curiosity. Sperrini put into words what we had been feeling about this strange parade for so long.

'It is a processions sacra,' he said solemnly. 'As is done to honour a saint.'

I told Kemp and Hammond about Auntie Bess. Hammond was delighted and regretted that he would probably have no time to play with the DUKW himself.

'We may have to use it as a getaway craft,' I said.

'What about the raft and Dufour's truck?'

'We might need it yet, if there's trouble,' I said. 'Ben, you and Harry and Kirilenko could slope off and bring the raft downriver closer to Kanjali. Still out of sight but where we can fetch it up bloody fast if we have to. This is strictly a volunteer assignment, though — what do you think?'

Hammond said, 'I'll do it. It would be a shame not to have a weapon like that handy should we need it.'

Zimmerman spoke rapidly to Kirilenko, then said, 'We're both on.'

'Off you go then. I'll cover for you. Try and make it quick.'

'Very funny, Neil,' Zimmerman said. I grinned and left them.

Unloading had begun. Wingstead and the rest had heard of the taking of Kanjali from Kemp; but none were ready for the sight of the ferry resting majestically on the causeway, the ramp down to form a welcome mat. Bishop and Bing were on board handing out food and water. The invalids were laid on straw mattresses.

Dr Kat was strict about rations. 'They can feed for a month on the other side,' he said. 'But too much too soon is dangerous. Nurse, tell them that the crossing will be less bumpy than the rig and not dangerous; some of them have never been on water before. And say there will be proper food and beds for them in Manzu. Sister Mary! What are you doing carrying that child! Put her down at once. Helen, take over there, please.' His eyes were everywhere, considering a hundred details. The excitement in the air and the prospect of salvation so close made him more cheerful than I'd ever seen him.

'How do you feel, leaving Nyala?' I asked during a lull. He regarded me with astonishment.

'How do you think I feel? Only relief, Mister Mannix. At last I see a hope of saving these poor people. I am tired, sad at our losses, infuriated by this senseless wasteful war and what is happening to my country. But I will come back soon enough. I intend to rebuild the hospital at Kodowa.'

He was a man dedicated and inspired. I said, 'You'll get all the help I can muster, and that's not peanuts.'

He hesitated, then said, 'Mister Lang is not going to live, I fear.'

'But we're so close to safety.'

He shook his head.

Impulsively I took his hand. 'We're all deeply in your debt, Doctor Katabisirua. I hope that will be recognized officially one day.'

He seemed pleased by my words as he went off to supervise the rest of the changeover with vigour.

Sister Ursula upbraided me for allowing Bing to go into battle, and for letting Bert Proctor so neglect his bullet-grazed leg as to risk a major infection. There was no pleasing that woman. She was efficient over Sperrini's face but couldn't get near enough to Bailey to administer to his arm. He was jovial but dismissive and I wondered why she let him get away with it.

By now all the invalids and the Land Rover were on board. The last of the Nyalans who wanted to cross were hurrying on, full of excitement. Those who were familiar with the ferry were explaining it to others.

Hammond, Thorpe and Kemp remained, as well as McGrath, Zimmerman, Kirilenko and Dufour. Bishop and Bing went with the first shipment. So did Pitman and Athebridge and Proctor, to act as crew and help unload at the far end. Only two need have stayed, to drive on the trucks, but there was some reluctance to leave the rig until necessary.

The bow ramp of the Katie Lou lifted, and we watched as she backed off the causeway, her temporary crewmen warping her out to her stern anchor, aided by a gentle reverse thrust of engines. As the anchor came up the current swung her round and the engines carried on the momentum. She pirouetted lazily to face away from us. Bailey waved from the bridge and the Katie Lou moved steadily into midstream, bearing its cargo of refugees away from us and the danger zone to freedom, we hoped, on the other side.

A burden lifted from us. Whatever happened to us now we were responsible for nobody but ourselves. We gave vent to our feelings with cheers of relief.

And then the air exploded. There was a whistling roar and a missile plummeted into the water well astern of the Katie Lou. A fountain of water jetted high into the air, followed by a second which was no closer. A dull thump followed as another missile slammed into the earth just behind the causeway, flinging debris and dust into the air. There was the staccato rattle of machine-gun fire from behind us, and a scream from the roadway.