game, Lovejoy.’ He was telling me our orders were the tunnel, so the tunnel it had to be.
He sent two of the lads, both riflemen, back to the ridge to hold it for us. The corporal was to wait just below them and to radio independently as soon as the tunnel blew. The spare rifleman was to stay on the safe end of the bridge, watching with Leckie’s glasses, to report back should things go awry. I helped Leckie. He wouldn’t let me come into the tunnel while he laid the charge up.
‘Some other time, perhaps,’ he joked, smiling. I’d tried to smile confidently back, but my teeth chattered and he finally had to untangle the wires for me. Thank Christ the other lads hadn’t seen my hands shake.
By now the mountain was making incessant noises. It sounded like a distant orchestra tuning up. Cymbals crashed and instruments ravaged scales. Once the rock actually screamed, a real living scream which chilled my spine. Even Leckie looked down the tunnel as that terrible scream echoed and echoed. ‘My word,’ he murmured. ‘Do you think it knows what we’re up to?’ I was pouring sweat. My fingers were too slippery to be any use. Leckie did it all, occasionally sussing out the surrounding hillsides with a rapid glance. As I scooped the instruments into my pack I dropped the pliers. They hurtled into the void below. For the life of me I couldn’t take my horrified eyes off them – until Leckie pulled my arm and jerked me back.
‘Off you go, Lovejoy,’ he said amicably, as if nothing had happened. ‘All set. Oh’. He pulled out a sealed envelope. ‘Could you hold this for me?’
I stuffed it into my battledress.
‘Er, am I not supposed to stay?’ It took three swallows to get the words out. It’s the hardest sentence I’ve ever said in my life.
‘Not just now, Lovejoy.’ He nodded towards the far side of the bridge. ‘Scoot over there. We might need a third go and you’ll have to do it.’
There’d be no chance of a third go. We both knew that. I nodded anyway and crossed over, drenched with sweat, trying to walk like Leckie, but all the wrong muscles kept going tight. The blast came as I crouched beside the bridge’s five splayed holding struts where our first rifleman was lying beside a small overgrown outcrop of rock.
You could see nothing over there except dust. The narrow-gauge railway lines ran into a haze of suspended dust where the tunnel mouth had been. Leckie’s end of the bridge was obscured by a brownish cloud. Rocks tumbled and crashed in the gorge below. The bridge was switching from side to side like a twitched rope under the impact of the blast. To my horror I found myself running and stumbling along between the iron rails across the bridge towards the tunnel, several times having to scramble upright from catching my boots on the sleepers. I must have had some daft idea about seeing what had happened to Leckie, maybe helping him back. Small rocks spattered about me as I ran. It couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds. As I reached the cloud, Leckie came hurtling out of the dust at me, choking and spluttering as he came. His white eyes peered from his blackened face.
‘Get back, Lovejoy!’ he yelled, floundering towards me. ‘Get back.
The bridge is going!
’
I dithered for a split second, abruptly realizedwhere I was and the lunatic thing I was doing, and tore back the way I had just come, wondering what the hell I was playing at. Leckie was on the safe mountainside nearly as quickly as I was.
‘Come on, you two,’ he said, waving us. ‘Run.’ The rifleman was off like a Derby starter, scrabbling up the hillside ahead of me. Leckie brought up the rear. We made the ridge, where the radio man waited with the other pair, having done his stuff. I halted and looked back then. The bridge hadn’t gone after all but the tunnel was filled solid and part of the mountain face to one side of it had been stripped clean away in a miniature landslide.
‘Settle down, chaps,’
He sent two of the lads, both riflemen, back to the ridge to hold it for us. The corporal was to wait just below them and to radio independently as soon as the tunnel blew. The spare rifleman was to stay on the safe end of the bridge, watching with Leckie’s glasses, to report back should things go awry. I helped Leckie. He wouldn’t let me come into the tunnel while he laid the charge up.
‘Some other time, perhaps,’ he joked, smiling. I’d tried to smile confidently back, but my teeth chattered and he finally had to untangle the wires for me. Thank Christ the other lads hadn’t seen my hands shake.
By now the mountain was making incessant noises. It sounded like a distant orchestra tuning up. Cymbals crashed and instruments ravaged scales. Once the rock actually screamed, a real living scream which chilled my spine. Even Leckie looked down the tunnel as that terrible scream echoed and echoed. ‘My word,’ he murmured. ‘Do you think it knows what we’re up to?’ I was pouring sweat. My fingers were too slippery to be any use. Leckie did it all, occasionally sussing out the surrounding hillsides with a rapid glance. As I scooped the instruments into my pack I dropped the pliers. They hurtled into the void below. For the life of me I couldn’t take my horrified eyes off them – until Leckie pulled my arm and jerked me back.
‘Off you go, Lovejoy,’ he said amicably, as if nothing had happened. ‘All set. Oh’. He pulled out a sealed envelope. ‘Could you hold this for me?’
I stuffed it into my battledress.
‘Er, am I not supposed to stay?’ It took three swallows to get the words out. It’s the hardest sentence I’ve ever said in my life.
‘Not just now, Lovejoy.’ He nodded towards the far side of the bridge. ‘Scoot over there. We might need a third go and you’ll have to do it.’
There’d be no chance of a third go. We both knew that. I nodded anyway and crossed over, drenched with sweat, trying to walk like Leckie, but all the wrong muscles kept going tight. The blast came as I crouched beside the bridge’s five splayed holding struts where our first rifleman was lying beside a small overgrown outcrop of rock.
You could see nothing over there except dust. The narrow-gauge railway lines ran into a haze of suspended dust where the tunnel mouth had been. Leckie’s end of the bridge was obscured by a brownish cloud. Rocks tumbled and crashed in the gorge below. The bridge was switching from side to side like a twitched rope under the impact of the blast. To my horror I found myself running and stumbling along between the iron rails across the bridge towards the tunnel, several times having to scramble upright from catching my boots on the sleepers. I must have had some daft idea about seeing what had happened to Leckie, maybe helping him back. Small rocks spattered about me as I ran. It couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds. As I reached the cloud, Leckie came hurtling out of the dust at me, choking and spluttering as he came. His white eyes peered from his blackened face.
‘Get back, Lovejoy!’ he yelled, floundering towards me. ‘Get back.
The bridge is going!
’
I dithered for a split second, abruptly realizedwhere I was and the lunatic thing I was doing, and tore back the way I had just come, wondering what the hell I was playing at. Leckie was on the safe mountainside nearly as quickly as I was.
‘Come on, you two,’ he said, waving us. ‘Run.’ The rifleman was off like a Derby starter, scrabbling up the hillside ahead of me. Leckie brought up the rear. We made the ridge, where the radio man waited with the other pair, having done his stuff. I halted and looked back then. The bridge hadn’t gone after all but the tunnel was filled solid and part of the mountain face to one side of it had been stripped clean away in a miniature landslide.
‘Settle down, chaps,’
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