Lowary's face grew hard. "If we have to, Lieutenant," he said. "If we have to." The tone of his voice told them that he wanted to avoid any discussion on the subject. There was silence. Finally Lowary said, "That's it, then. Let's move." The Officers saluted and began to move off. Tudor took two steps, then halted and returned. "How much time do you think is left, Captain?" he asked. Lowary took in the man's square face, the set of his jaw. Tudor was ex-combat, infantry during the last war. "Who knows, Lieutenant! Minutes ... or hours. It all depends on how strong the enemy is, how fast they're moving, if they are sending a boy to do a man's job." Tudor looked down the river in the direction of the City some thirty miles away. He seemed to have difficulty finding words. Lowary knew what he was thinking and it made him feel weak and inadequate. Lowary said softly, "We knew it would come some day, didn't we, Tudor?" Tudor faced him. "I guess we did ..." he hesitated. "Well?" "I just didn't think I would draw this kind of duty. I don't mind fighting, I've had my share. But I guess I feel as Meyers does. This will be something new for me, shooting my own people." "Perhaps we won't have to," Lowary said. Tudor stepped back a pace and gave him a salute. "You don't believe that any more than I do, Captain." He began to walk away swiftly. Lowary watched him go and he wondered how many men in the Battery were thinking the same thing? It could create a serious psychological block. Damn it. It was bothering him too. But he could do it if he had to. He knew he could. He climbed into his jeep and adjusted the radio squelch button, cutting down on the steady crackling noise. He found himself repeating under his breath. _I can do it because I know I have to. I can do it because...._ He jammed down on the starter and shoved the gearshift into first. He had to force the thoughts from his mind. He had orders to follow; orders left no room for personal feelings. Yet he knew the yellow paper in his pocket was mocking him. * * * * * The jeep was opposite the bridge entrance when he halted it momentarily. Lieutenant Meyers was busy talking to a machine-gunner named Morgan. As Lowary recalled, from what little he had seen during the three weeks he had been commanding the outfit since his transfer from the middle west, Morgan was a conscientious type of soldier. Meyers was making a good choice for such a delicate position. He moved on. The tires made a low singing sound when he rolled on the bridge, heavy tread pounding on steel grating. A sign attached to an upright girder caught his eye. He smiled sardonically and he wondered what the author had in mind when he phrased it. It said: IN EVENT OF AIR ATTACK--DRIVE OFF THE BRIDGE. The Captain shook his head.