Брайан Гарфилд - The Last Bridge

Tyreen looked at him. Kreizler said, “The Colonel wants to stand like an oasis of honor and courage and strength. You’d be all right, David, if you didn’t have such a big conscience breathing down your neck.”

Tyreen looked at Sergeant Khang. “Let’s have a little security.”

Khang walked forward along the trail. Hooker, without expression, got up and walked back the way they had come, and sat down facing away from the rest of them.

Kreizler said, “Old Ironbutt didn’t know you were going to head this thing up yourself, did he?”

“No,” Tyreen said.

“Even the old man’s not that crazy.” Kreizler’s head was tilted speculatively. “You still don’t know what this is all about, do you, David? Your honest little brain hasn’t got it figured out yet.”

“Got what figured out?”

“The whole thing. It’s a puppet show, you and me and the rest of us. General Jaynshill’s been pulling the strings on the whole damned show. This was set up. It had to be. I was in a position where it was more than likely I’d fall into enemy hands. Knowing that, the General still saw fit to convey important strategic information to me by radio. Information that turned out to be false — information the enemy would be bound to get out of me if they captured me. Does it start to become clear yet, David?”

Tyreen said, “You’re wrong, Eddie.”

“Then quit frowning.”

Tyreen hunched his knees up and took off his boots. His feet smelled as acrid as strong vinegar. His heel was raw; a blister was starting to come up.

Kreizler said, “And you’re busting your ass trying to do a good job for Old Ironbutt. He’s shafted you, David. Screwed the whole lot of us.”

Tyreen said, “What would you do, Eddie?”

“Quit humoring me.”

“All right. Just tell me. What would you do?”

Kreizler said in a level tone, “I’d make it count. I’d take those damned explosives in that sack and I’d smuggle myself into Hanoi and blow up the Goddamn premier’s palace. To hell with a crummy railroad bridge. Who gives a shit? They’ll rebuild the thing in a little while. Just give me one crack at old Uncle Ho — and then watch the fur fly.”

Kreizler smiled weakly. “But you won’t do that. You won’t even think about that. You’ve got your orders and your Goddamn conscience. It comes with a colonel’s eagles.”

Tyreen said nothing. Kreizler said, “What about you, Theodore? What do you think?”

Tyreen slipped his boot on. “It doesn’t matter what Theodore thinks. I’ll give the orders a while longer yet. Eddie, when the manager says sacrifice, you bunt — you don’t make wild swings hoping for a home run.”

There was a trick he had learned from a truck driver. He let his cigarette burn down to a stub and sear his fingers. The pain, a new pain, would wake him up. He felt jittery, the result of too many quinines and Benzedrines and too much sickness. And, perhaps, fear.

Kreizler said, “We’ve been used, David. All of us.”

“No,” Tyreen said. “If you were a gift to the enemy, Eddie, the General wouldn’t have been so anxious to break you out and get you home. They don’t do this kind of thing for every P.O.W.”

Kreizler said, “Exactly, David. They don’t. That’s just my point. There’s only one reason you were sent up here to bust me out. It was to tell the enemy how important I am. How valuable I am. How much my information means. When you busted me loose, it was the final straw, for them. It convinced them my information was worth acting on. The information they had to torture out of me because I didn’t know it was a Goddamn puking lie.”

He added more quietly, “If this wasn’t premeditated, David, then why did the General make plans two weeks ago to shift the positions of all our teams up here?”

Tyreen’s eyes lay fixed on the implacable dark jungle. Kreizler murmured, “Maybe it comes as a shock to you, though God knows why it should. We are no better than they are. We are no different from them , David. We—”

“Shut up, Eddie.”

“Never interrupt a dying man, David.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I’m in limbo, right now. David, if you weren’t so pathetic, I’d laugh at you. We’ve taken a patient with a wooden leg, two blind eyes, arthritis, cancer, heart disease, and athlete’s foot. We’ve cured the athlete’s foot. Hell, we haven’t accomplished a thing. And how many got killed? How many got hurt?”

Tyreen said, “You’ll feel better, Eddie.”

Kreizler said huskily, “I’m dying, David. Because that’s the way I want it. Dying only means one thing to me right now. Not being tired anymore. Not feeling like a bastard. I remember when I was a kid, we used to go to church, and we had a real Fundamentalist preacher in those days. According to him the Devil’s ultimate goal was to take a man’s soul and give him nothing at all in exchange. The Devil has got to all of us. Do you remember I asked you if you’d ever heard of a Judas goat? A Judas goat’s what they use to lead sheep into the slaughterhouse, because sheep are dumb enough to follow any animal with gumption enough to lead the way. And a goat is just dumb enough to lead the way. That’s me, David. That by God is me. And I’ll be grateful to you if you keep your damned hands off me and let me die.”

Kreizler’s voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper. Saville made a gesture; he was about to get up. Tyreen stopped him. “You can’t mess with a man’s fear, Theodore. You’ve got to let him do that for himself.”

Saville said, in his considered way, “I don’t think he’s afraid, David. I don’t think that’s it.”

Kreizler looked at Tyreen with a crooked grin. “David, you’re a one-of-a-kind original. You go around like a character trying to kill fleas with a shovel. You’ll never have a thing to show for your Goddamn honor and guts except some threads on your shoulders where your insignia used to hang. You and your puking paralyzed upper lip.” His head turned away, and he said absently, “I wish I had some G.I. soap right now. I’d like to wash off some of this dirt before I have to start paying real-estate taxes on it.”

Saville regarded him dismally. Tyreen said, “He’ll think a different way when he gets well. He’s pretty sick right now.”

Kreizler turned around angrily. “I hope I’m sick, David. I hope to God I’m sick. Because I’d hate like hell to feel this way if I was well. But that doesn’t change anything. You come banging up here with your Goddamn worthless dignity and your principles like Genghis Khan. You let yourself get euchred into this stunt because you thought you were doing a good thing. If you’d known what it was really all about, you’d have told the General to go diddle himself. Which is exactly why he lied to you. Am I right, Colonel? You bet I am right. Dead right. You’d do anything at all if it was orders, but this was a volunteer job, wasn’t it? You can’t even use a war criminal’s excuse. You didn’t even have to come. David, you’ve got loose brains. You’ve got your left foot and your right foot, and you don’t need any other enemies.”

Kreizler seemed to sag. He touched a bandaged fist to his chest. “I’ve got a sour lump right here,” he said. “It won’t go up, and it won’t go down.”

“So,” he said after a little while, unable to think of anything to add.

Tyreen sat brooding across the path. He said, “Maybe we all deserve better than what we get.”

Kreizler said, “Sentiment is an amateur’s weakness, David.” He lay frowning, earnestly scratching one buttock with stubborn determination. He said, “I never trusted Old Ironbutt. Even when I was his exec, back in Korea. He’s got too many teeth in that alligator smile of his. I should’ve figured him for something like this. Just as sure as there’s a hole in your ass. He likes these jobs. He gets his kicks that way — vicarious. I guess he’s like most of us. Everybody likes to be a killer, but it’s unfashionable to admit it.” He cackled harshly, like a hen. “Okay. You throw the dice, they come up crap-out. But if you get back, David, do one thing for me. Remember Old Ironbutt. He’s the heavy.”