That response seemed to confuse them, and they conferred noisily for a moment.
“Hurry up, for Christ’s sake. We’re carrying important dispatches,” said Von Leinsdorf.
“The Krauts are right on our ass,” said Bernie.
“Hold your horses.” They finished talking among themselves. “Is it ‘smoke’?”
“That’s right,” said Von Leinsdorf. “Now get the fuck out of the way.”
Another one of the soldiers stepped forward to ask: “What’s the capital of Illinois?”
“Springfield,” said Bernie.
“That’s the wrong answer, search ’em.”
The other soldiers moved toward the jeep. Von Leinsdorf stood up and pulled his pistol.
“It’s Springfield, for Christ’s sake, what the fuck’s the matter with you?” shouted Bernie.
“The capital of Illinois is Chicago.”
“Who says it is?” asked Bernie.
The corporal pointed to one of his other men. “He does.”
“Is he from Illinois?”
They asked the man. He shook his head.
“He’s a fucking moron, it’s not Chicago, it’s Springfield.”
The soldiers discussed it heatedly among themselves, and couldn’t reach a decision, but didn’t move out of the road.
“God damn it, we don’t have time for this shit,” said Von Leinsdorf, pulling his pistol. “You’re grilling us? You didn’t even know the countersign. What are you fuckups doing here? Is that your bivouac we just passed?”
“Yes, sir, we’re the last company out. We got orders to blow this bridge. The Krauts are supposed to break through any minute.”
“No shit, Einstein, I just told you they’re on our ass,” said Bernie.
“We can help,” said Von Leinsdorf. “We’re engineers.”
“That wouldn’t be up to us, sir. Ask over there,” said the corporal, pointing to the far side of the bridge.
“Then get out of the fucking way,” said Von Leinsdorf.
The soldiers finally stood aside.
“It’s Springfield, I’m telling you, anybody else comes through and you’re gonna ask ’em that,” said Bernie, as they drove past them.
When Bernie reached the far side of the bridge, Von Leinsdorf pointed to three other Allied vehicles and ordered him to pull over.
“What the hell for?” asked Bernie.
“Because I told you to,” said Von Leinsdorf. “Come with me and keep your mouth shut.”
Bernie followed Von Leinsdorf down a steep path that ran along the base of the bridge to the edge of the river below. Half a dozen American engineers worked underneath, planting M85 satchel charges, stringing fuses to the western shore beneath the single span.
“How can we help?” Von Leinsdorf shouted.
“You guys techs?” asked the sergeant in charge.
“That’s right.”
“You can rig those last two charges,” he said, pointing them toward a pile of demolition supplies stacked against the stone.
Von Leinsdorf opened one of the boxes and handed Bernie two twenty-pound satchels, packed tight with block charges. They hammered two spikes in between the stones in the base of the rampart and suspended the satchels on them. Looking across the river, Bernie could see six other satchels strung under the bridge, connected by fuses leading back toward the western approach.
“What are we doing here?” whispered Bernie.
“Give me the priming assembly,” said Von Leinsdorf.
Bernie watched as he appeared to attach the detonating cord clip to the booster charge running from the satchel, but at the last moment folded the connector underneath the clip with a pair of pliers, concealing it inside a fold of canvas. He then ran the fuse out to the main line running toward the shore.
“Here they come!” shouted one of the GIs on the far side of the bridge.
Moments later they heard the last patrol retreating over the bridge overhead. Bernie stepped out from under the span and looked east, but he was too far below the bank to see anything.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.
“Hold your horses,” said Von Leinsdorf, working calmly.
He repeated the procedure on the second satchel. The other engineers had finished their work, running lines behind them as they backed toward the eastern shore. Von Leinsdorf tossed their fuse line to the sergeant who was making fast all the connections. Bernie turned to follow the engineers up to the road, looked back across the river, and saw a line of gray German scout cars advancing down the road, less than a mile away.
Instead of hooking their line to the main fuse, the sergeant stopped to check the connections on their satchels. Von Leinsdorf, who had started after Bernie, hesitated when he saw the man stop. He waved at Bernie to keep going. Bernie could see that the sergeant was about to come across their unconnected detonating cord. Von Leinsdorf pulled his knife, held it along his leg, and advanced toward the sergeant’s back.
“Sarge, come on, they’re closing in on the bridge,” called Bernie.
The sergeant looked up and saw Von Leinsdorf ten feet away with the knife in his hand. Von Leinsdorf kept walking, trying not to appear threatening.
“I double-checked everything, Sarge,” said Von Leinsdorf.
“Stop right where you are,” said the sergeant.
The sergeant pulled a handgun on Von Leinsdorf. Von Leinsdorf turned to glance at Bernie, expecting him to react. Bernie slowly raised his rifle, unsure where to point it.
“Sarge, the Krauts are coming, what’s the problem?” asked Bernie.
“Drop that knife, Lieutenant,” said the sergeant. “Right now.”
“Come on, Brooklyn,” said Von Leinsdorf, glancing back at him. “What are you waiting for?”
“I’m counting to three, then I shoot,” said the sergeant. “One, two-”
Von Leinsdorf dropped the knife and raised his hands. “Jesus, what are you so jumpy for, Sarge? Did I fuck up the connections? I didn’t mean to-”
“Turn around and start walking.”
“Brooklyn?”
“Drop the rifle, kid, or I’ll fire. I’m not fucking around.”
Bernie lowered the rifle, holding it to the side as he stepped toward them. “We lied, okay? So we’re not engineers, we were driving past and saw the situation. He didn’t mean to fuck up the fuse. We’re just trying to give you a hand.”
The sergeant hesitated, blinking his eyes, exhausted and anxious, trying to decide.
“For Christ’s sake, what you gonna do, shoot one of your own?” asked Bernie. “With the fuckin’ Krauts on top of us?”
“I’ll fix it if you show me how,” said Von Leinsdorf.
“I said stay where you are.”
Bernie glanced back up toward the road and saw the engineers on the road hustling to attach the charge line to a detonator.
“We’re running out of time-”
The whistle of an incoming tank shell split the air. It slammed into the surface of the bridge above them, clouding the air with dust. The blast staggered the sergeant, knocking him against the base of the bridge. Von Leinsdorf picked up his knife and was on him in two steps. He grabbed the sergeant’s gun arm and bent it back against the rocks until the pistol fell. He brought up his knife with the other hand, planted it in the sergeant’s chest, and rode him down into the dirt, covering his mouth, holding him there until he stopped moving.
Bernie kept the rifle trained on the tangle of their bodies. He was unable to draw a clear target as they wrestled, until the sergeant went still and he had a clean shot at Von Leinsdorf. His finger found the trigger, the second time he’d had Von Leinsdorf in his sights.
The way he cut that rifleman’s throat in the cabin.
Bernie had made excuses for him after Von Leinsdorf saved his life. Telling himself Von Leinsdorf had only killed because war or their survival demanded it.
But not that one. Not that poor terrified kid in the cabin.
You need to know what the mission is first, thought Bernie. Kill him now, there’s still others out there trying to pull it off, with no way to stop them-