The Last Bridge

Chapter Twenty-two 1005 Hours

Up front, Nhu Van Sun’s foot was reaching for the brake, and Tyreen pitched forward with the abrupt stop. He heard J. D. Hooker’s “Jesus H. Christ!” All Tyreen could see was dark jungle on both sides of the road. No one was in sight. Tyreen flapped back the tarpaulin.

Corporal Smith leaned out of the seat. “Almost missed it,” he said. “Sorry we shook it up, Colonel. This is where we get off the road. End of the line. Chutrang’s just over the ridge, there.”

Tyreen said, “All right. Let’s pull off the road.”

The truck backed and jockeyed and rammed into the rain forest. They stopped after thirty feet of travel, and when he looked back Tyreen could not see the road.

Corporal Smith got down and said, “Hang on a minute, sir.” He cupped his hands to his mouth and spoke rapidly in a singsong tongue, calling toward the south.

Tyreen got out of the truck. “Everybody out.”

A handful of figures appeared in the forest, a knot of men in white Oriental pajamas. Corporal Smith’s talk rattled at them. Saville muttered at Tyreen, “Must be a Montagnard dialect, hey?”

A soft, light voice uttered a command, and the white costumes flapped a little in the rain. One figure moved forward — a woman, slight and supple. Her voice was young. “Les Américains?”

Smith talked quickly, using his hands. Tyreen heard his own name. Saville said, “What the hell?”

The young woman advanced, carrying a carbine. Her face was shaded by a conical hat of woven straw. “I am Lin Thao. It is all right, Colonel. I speak English.”

She did not smile. Tyreen wished he could make out her features. What did a name mean? The rain was slow and cold. Tyreen said, “Corporal.”

“Yes, sir. Her brother’s Ngo Kuy Thao. He runs the village.”

The young woman said, “My brother is dead, Corporal.”

Tyreen heard Smith’s slow intake of breath. Under Lin Thao’s loose blouse the shoulders lifted and fell, a tired gesture. “The Vietminh...”

“Your brother was killed?”

“Eventually.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyreen said. He felt awkward and irritable.

“We found him in the jungle. This morning. He had been beaten. He was returning from Chutrang to tell us about Captain Kreizler.”

Tyreen put his submachine gun over his shoulder on its sling. He scraped a hand across his mouth. “You’ve been expecting us, Miss?”

“Yes. I have come to meet you because there is no one else. The village has not yet elected a new leader. I will tell you what my brother would have told you, and try to do what he would do.”

“Do you think they made your brother talk?”

Saville cleared his throat. The girl’s face was invisible under the hat. Tyreen said, “I’m sorry. We ought to know. If he was made to talk, then they’ll be expecting us.”

“My brother did not talk.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am quite sure, Colonel. My brother was their prisoner twice before, and he did not talk then.”

“All right,” Tyreen said.

The girl turned. “Please follow me.” She walked into the rain forest.

There was the odor of food cooking in the jungle clearing. Boiling rice steamed in big pots over open fires sizzling in the rain. A dark, humped water buffalo stood in an open shed beside a hut thatched with rushes. There were three small huts and a pagoda. A tribesman stood outside the pagoda, armed with a semiautomatic rifle. He wore khaki pants and a loose black Oriental shirt. Crossed ammunition bandoliers hung from his shoulders. Tyreen caught the smell of burning joss sticks in the pagoda. Under a shelter two old people sat crosslegged: an old woman smoking a cigar, and an old man, scrawny with a potbelly. By them on a platform lay the shape of a human body wrapped in a sheet, the face covered by white paper. Incense smoldered in pots. The young woman spoke quietly, and the two old people got to their feet. They placed their palms together and bowed slowly toward the covered corpse and then toward Tyreen’s party. Lin Thao said, “These are my father and my mother, and that is my brother.”

Corporal Smith spoke very low into Tyreen’s ear:

“Her brother’s lucky. The last village chief here was tied up to a stake in front of the pagoda. The Vietminh ripped his belly open and left him hang there with his guts spilled out.”

Theodore Saville’s face was wet with rain. He blotted his face into the crook of his elbow. Tyreen said, “Let’s have a look at the map of Chutrang, Theodore.”

Saville had been watching the girl. He flashed angry eyes at Tyreen. “It’s a bad thing about your brother, Miss.”

She said, “He has nothing to fear now.”

J. D. Hooker’s eyes were hooded. “You act real busted up, don’t you? What’s with you people?”

She answered coolly. “Haven’t you heard of the stoic Oriental, Sergeant? We do not cry.” Presently Hooker looked away.

Tyreen said, “Theodore.”

Saville wheeled on him. “Just hold your Goddamn horses, David.”

“Tell that to Eddie Kreizler,” Tyreen said bleakly.

Saville said to Corporal Smith, “Where can we get out of the rain for a minute?”

“I will take you,” said Lin Thao. She made a gesture and walked toward a hut thatched with rushes.

It was like an Indian jacal Tyreen had seen in New Mexico. The girl turned up an oil lantern. The flame wavered on low oil, filling the hut with flat yellow light. Tyreen’s attention lay wholly against the girl.

She looked at him as she might look at a man under sentence of death. Her face was small and fragile. She was brown and oval-eyed; she appeared very young, but not frightened. Her mouth had a strange shape, as though she had been biting the lips. Tyreen locked eyes with her for a studied interval, but there was no break in her composure; she did not blink.

A narrow, bony man entered, a graceless tribesman with voracious eyes. He carried several bowls of stew. The girl apologized: “It is not our best, but you must eat.”

“Nuoc mam,” said Corporal Smith.

Theodore Saville said, “Thank you, Miss.” He sat down and began to eat.

Tyreen said, “Let’s see that map, Theodore.”

Saville’s eyes came up slowly. He drew the oilskin map pouch from his jacket and spread the map on the floor. Tyreen squatted beside it, deep in study. “That’s the guardhouse?”

“Eat,” said Lin Thao. “One of our people watched the city with glasses. He saw them take Captain Kreizler out of the jail and into the headquarters.”

“How long ago?”

“It has not been an hour.” She waved a small brown hand at him. “Is the food bad?”

Tyreen tasted it. “It’s fine. What about Lieutenant Chinh?”

“The guards killed him outside the jail. But they did not shoot Captain Kreizler.”

“Sure,” murmured Theodore Saville through a mouthful of stew.

Tyreen tasted the fermented sauce and bolted the food while his eyes traveled around the map. Saville said, “Figure to slog it, or use the truck?”

“The truck, I think.” Tyreen’s eyes were sunken and fiery. He put his bowl aside. “Lin Thao. How many men with weapons have you got?”

“We have fifty in the village, but only eight are here now.”

“Smith, what kind of weapons have they got?”

“Small arms and grenades, sir. One light mortar.”

Tyreen examined the girl like a man studying the entrails of an oracular goat. He put his finger on the map. “How long would it take your people to walk from here to the electric power station?”

“Thirty minutes, if there are no patrols on the path.” Her answer was quick and positive.

“Is there a heavy guard on the power station?”

Smith spoke up: “One machine gun squad. Three guns.”

The girl said, “You would have us sabotage the electric station?”

“To draw the army out of Chutrang.” Tyreen rubbed his eyes with forefinger and thumb. “Can your people do that?”

“If it will help Captain Kreizler, we can try, Colonel.”

Tyreen cut off a curse. “I feel like a fool talking to a woman like this.”

“There is no one else. The people will listen to me.”

He looked cross and sulky. “Make a lot of noise. Throw grenades and do a lot of shooting. Try to knock out the city power cables. Make as much noise as you can, but tell your people not to take risks. They don’t have to be brave. It won’t help for anybody to get killed.”

Lin Thao said, “The army will come up from the city.”

“When they do, your people disappear.”

She spoke to Corporal Smith. Smith answered in the Montagnard dialect, and Lin Thao said to Tyreen, “We shall do as you say.”

He looked at her feet. Her sandals were cut from automobile tires. She probably did not weigh one hundred pounds. She offered him a jar and said, “Rice whisky,” and Tyreen shook his head. J. D. Hooker reached for the jar, and Tyreen said, “No.” The girl withdrew the whisky. Hooker straightened, but did not speak, and the girl said:

“There is an alley near the soldiers’ compound.” She touched the map. “If you wish to use the truck again, you should hide it in the old garage where tractors and wagons were repaired. The garage is not used now. The mechanies are in jail. Go with care, because there are many patrols. They move their stations all the time. Watch for them in the shadows. They are frightened of the light.”

“Like rats,” said Theodore Saville.

“No,” Lin Thao said, “they are poor men with families. They only earn their food and try to keep alive.”

Tyreen stirred; his eyes were intolerant. “Death is the same whether you fear it or not.” He picked up the map and got to his feet; he was not steady and fought briefly for balance. He resented the way the girl looked at him, with sudden concern; she had no right to it.

But all she said was, “They have an electric alarm fence around the jail. It has its own generator, and if we cut off the main power cables that will not turn the alarm off. I tell you this because they may move Captain Kreizler back into the jail.”

“Thank you,” Tyreen said with reserved courtesy. He passed the map to Saville and went toward the door; he stood there with his back to them and clasped his hands behind his neck and tipped his head back, closing his eyes briefly.

Saville said, “We’re all zombies, David. We ought to get an hour’s rest, at least.”

“No,” Tyreen said. He touched his jaw; the sound of scraping stubble was loud in the hut. He marked the blank, unnatural calm of Saville’s expression, and put it away in his head as something worth remembering. And J. D. Hooker lifted his head alertly:

“What’s that?”

Corporal Smith said, “Nothing. I don’t hear nothing. You’re getting the spooks, Sarge.”

Tyreen said, “Check it out,” and nodded to Sergeant Khang. Khang ducked out of the building. Tyreen spoke to the girl: “It’s ten-twenty. Get your people moving. I’ll expect the power to be cut off at eleven. Can do?”

“I think so.” She gave him a sober glance and went out, and Theodore Saville said:

“She’s not a line lieutenant. Quit treating her like one. What do you expect out of these people, David?”

Tyreen only looked at him. Saville said, “I wouldn’t want to get stuck with the blame for it if she got herself killed up there. It wouldn’t feel too red-hot.”

“Only the commanding officer can take blame or credit, Theodore,” Tyreen said. “That’s the way you wanted it, remember?”

It was not like Saville to air his grievances in the presence of noncoms; it was a measure of the strain on him. But now Saville swung past Tyreen and went outside, and after a moment Tyreen followed him. Saville was waiting by the corner of the hut. “What in hell happened to your conscience, David?”

“Maybe old age has a few advantages.”

“You don’t care what happens to anybody, do you?”

“If you don’t want to get burned, Theodore, you ought to stay away from fires.”

Saville shook his head ponderously. “We’re riding on a tiger’s back, David. I’m not kidding. But where does the Goddamn ride end?”

Across the clearing a Montagnard appeared on the edge of the trees. The girl Lin Thao was over there with a group of men. She spoke to the Montagnard; his hands moved in gestures. Tyreen heard the faint clatter of a vehicle, a jeep or an old car. Tyreen drew back to the doorway. The girl stood where she was until the noise died away; she came across the clearing and said, “A police patrol on the road. They did not see your truck — but they may return.”

Saville came up, and Tyreen said, “That’s what was bothering you.”

“I couldn’t hear it, but I knew something was there.”

“Hooker heard it. Hooker’s got damn good ears.”

The air was sharp with a damp chill. The girl folded her hands and said, “We will leave now.”

Tyreen lifted his hand and opened his mouth to speak to her. She said, “I shall see you again.”

“Good luck,” he said lamely.

“Afterward,” the girl said, “I shall meet you at the garage in Chutrang to guide you out of the city. Wait for me there.”

“Don’t risk that,” said Saville.

She made no answer. Tyreen said again, “Good luck to you.”

“The world must be made of our hopes,” she said to him. She went away with proud strides. Tyreen’s regard came around toward Saville. Above the high bones of his cheeks, Saville’s powerful eyes were two symmetrical slits. “I wonder what makes these Montagnards fight on our side. What’ve we ever given them?”

“Hope,” Tyreen answered. “All the Ho Chi Minh crowd ever does for them is march up here once a year and confiscate most of their opium crop.” He shook his head, as if it were unimportant. “Let’s get back to the truck and get this thing organized.”

Sergeant Khang came into the clearing. “Jeep,” he said. “Light machine gun on the back. I don’t guess they were looking for us.”

Saville poked his head into the hut to talk to the others inside. The dark bulk of his body loomed in the lamplit door and made a strange, wavering shadow. Nguyen Khang said, “Getting late.”

They walked through the woods to the truck. Tyreen said, “I wonder where that girl learned English.”

Saville grinned briefly. “Ah so, you ah surplised.” His face turned angry. “Damn it.”

“What?”

“We’ve all got to die, David. But first you’ve got to live. I feel like we’re just — throwing it away.”

Tyreen stepped immediately off the path and waited for the others to go by. Saville stopped by him. When they were alone in the jungle Tyreen said, “I don’t have to explain this to you, but it ought to make sense. I’ve got orders, Theodore.”

“Nothing’s impossible on a piece of paper,” said Saville. “But sometimes a set of orders just won’t do the job. You’ve got dynamite sticks in both hands. Maybe you don’t care what happens to you. But I’ve got to protect myself and the rest of this crew. Even against you, if I have to.” Saville had remarkable hands. They lifted and splayed. “You can’t rescue Eddie Kreizler with a crew of men walking in their sleep.”

“In this business you sleep when you can. You know that.” He had been looking toward the truck; now he faced Saville squarely. “It’s supposed to be a commander’s duty to train the men under him for fitness to command. Did I fail with you, Theodore?”

“I’ll take over if I have to.”

“Think about that. I was born a few minutes ahead of you, Theodore.”

“I mean what I said.”

“All right,” Tyreen said. “If you think you have to tie me up and assume command, then you do it. Do it. But be damned sure you know you have to. And between now and then, Captain, you will follow my orders to the letter, and you will keep your complaints to yourself. Now let’s quit wasting time here.”

Saville murmured, “You have a special kind of hell, don’t you, David?”

“Come on.”