set up every mile. With every attack, Blue Company would be whittled down just a little more, until the force that reached the bridge would not be strong enough to do anything. “Skiff, take a look at the map,” she said urgently. “We can cut cross-country-”
“Mr. Skiffington!” Sgt. Kaelin bellowed. “You have a mission to accomplish! Take that bridge!”
Skiffington smiled sardonically. “Their playin’ our song, Tuttle. Time to move.” He put his map back into its pouch. “Everybody on the trucks!” Skiffington shouted. “You, too, Tuttle.”
Emily walked back to her truck, her face red and lips pressed together. “Got a problem, Tuttle?” Sgt. Kaelin asked her. She wheeled on him angrily.
“You’re supposed to be an observer here, Sergeant! Why are you egging him on like that?” she demanded.
The Sergeant shrugged eloquently. “Always somebody egging you on, Tuttle. Get used to it.”
They reached the river road, turned north, and promptly hit an ambush in force. Emily guessed there must have been thirty or more soldiers shooting at them. Skiffington tried to organize a sharp counter-attack, but everyone was so pinned down it took time. They finally drove off the ambushers, who were forced to leave behind one smiling recruit. She blinked a cheerful orange and waved at them. All told it cost Blue Company five dead, seven wounded and delayed them for three hours.
Emily again implored Skiffington to leave the road. “They are going to nibble us to death if we stay on the road! When we make it – if we make it – we won’t have enough troops left to take the bridge.”
Skiffington paused, dug out his field map and inspected it. Emily pointed out an alternate route, cutting across country. “This is not an easy walk,” she said, “but we’ll be hard for them to find in these hills, away from this damn road. With a little luck, we might surprise them.”
Sgt. Kaelin frowned and looked at his watch. “Time’s running out, Mr. Skiffington. You are the commanding officer. You’ve got a mission to accomplish and a lot of ground to cover before you can do it. What are you going to do?” he demanded.
Skiffington pointed down the road. “That’s where the enemy is, Tuttle. We can’t kill them if we don’t fight them.” He raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Everybody on the trucks! We are moving out!”
Sgt. Kaelin sighed and shook his head. “Wrong answer, recruit.” As Skiffington blinked in confusion, Sgt. Kaelin took out a small box and pushed a button. Skiffington’s uniform began to blink fluorescent orange. “Your commanding officer had just been killed by a sniper!” Kaelin turned to Emily. “Tuttle, you are now in charge.” He looked at his watch. “You have twenty-one hours and twenty minutes left to complete your mission.” And while Emily stared at him, open mouthed, he winked at her and walked away.
Fighting back a sudden rush of panic, Emily took stock. She had ninety-four men left, seven of whom were wounded. Only thirty had food, water and extra batteries for their rifles. She quickly stripped the extra batteries from the “dead” soldiers, including the Red Company soldier who had been involved in the ambush. The soldier from Red Company had two water bottles. Emily took them both, along with four packets of field rations. The dead soldier stuck out her hand. “I’m Susan Matt,” she said. “This should be very interesting. Good luck.”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me where the rest of Red Company is?” Emily asked.
Matt gestured to her blinking uniform. “Dead men tell no tales,” she intoned solemnly, then ruined it by giggling.
Emily divided the Company into five platoons. She considered who to make platoon leaders. One choice was easy: Cookie Sanchez. She took Hiram Brill by the arm and pulled him aside. “Do you want to be a platoon leader, Hiram?” she asked out of hearing of the others.
Fresh beads of sweat appeared
“Mr. Skiffington!” Sgt. Kaelin bellowed. “You have a mission to accomplish! Take that bridge!”
Skiffington smiled sardonically. “Their playin’ our song, Tuttle. Time to move.” He put his map back into its pouch. “Everybody on the trucks!” Skiffington shouted. “You, too, Tuttle.”
Emily walked back to her truck, her face red and lips pressed together. “Got a problem, Tuttle?” Sgt. Kaelin asked her. She wheeled on him angrily.
“You’re supposed to be an observer here, Sergeant! Why are you egging him on like that?” she demanded.
The Sergeant shrugged eloquently. “Always somebody egging you on, Tuttle. Get used to it.”
They reached the river road, turned north, and promptly hit an ambush in force. Emily guessed there must have been thirty or more soldiers shooting at them. Skiffington tried to organize a sharp counter-attack, but everyone was so pinned down it took time. They finally drove off the ambushers, who were forced to leave behind one smiling recruit. She blinked a cheerful orange and waved at them. All told it cost Blue Company five dead, seven wounded and delayed them for three hours.
Emily again implored Skiffington to leave the road. “They are going to nibble us to death if we stay on the road! When we make it – if we make it – we won’t have enough troops left to take the bridge.”
Skiffington paused, dug out his field map and inspected it. Emily pointed out an alternate route, cutting across country. “This is not an easy walk,” she said, “but we’ll be hard for them to find in these hills, away from this damn road. With a little luck, we might surprise them.”
Sgt. Kaelin frowned and looked at his watch. “Time’s running out, Mr. Skiffington. You are the commanding officer. You’ve got a mission to accomplish and a lot of ground to cover before you can do it. What are you going to do?” he demanded.
Skiffington pointed down the road. “That’s where the enemy is, Tuttle. We can’t kill them if we don’t fight them.” He raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Everybody on the trucks! We are moving out!”
Sgt. Kaelin sighed and shook his head. “Wrong answer, recruit.” As Skiffington blinked in confusion, Sgt. Kaelin took out a small box and pushed a button. Skiffington’s uniform began to blink fluorescent orange. “Your commanding officer had just been killed by a sniper!” Kaelin turned to Emily. “Tuttle, you are now in charge.” He looked at his watch. “You have twenty-one hours and twenty minutes left to complete your mission.” And while Emily stared at him, open mouthed, he winked at her and walked away.
Fighting back a sudden rush of panic, Emily took stock. She had ninety-four men left, seven of whom were wounded. Only thirty had food, water and extra batteries for their rifles. She quickly stripped the extra batteries from the “dead” soldiers, including the Red Company soldier who had been involved in the ambush. The soldier from Red Company had two water bottles. Emily took them both, along with four packets of field rations. The dead soldier stuck out her hand. “I’m Susan Matt,” she said. “This should be very interesting. Good luck.”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me where the rest of Red Company is?” Emily asked.
Matt gestured to her blinking uniform. “Dead men tell no tales,” she intoned solemnly, then ruined it by giggling.
Emily divided the Company into five platoons. She considered who to make platoon leaders. One choice was easy: Cookie Sanchez. She took Hiram Brill by the arm and pulled him aside. “Do you want to be a platoon leader, Hiram?” she asked out of hearing of the others.
Fresh beads of sweat appeared
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