Free Alarm of War by Kennedy Hudner

moment. “Yes, in the third truck. Maybe half a dozen. Some saws, too.”
    Emily clapped her hands in delight, startling him. She scrambled down off the tuck, shouting a flurry of orders. “Not much time! Move your asses!”
    • • • • •
    On the bridge, a soldier suddenly pointed to a bend where the river road turned toward the bridge. “See, right there, just sticking out a little past that big rock. That is the front of a truck!”
    The Green commander lifted his binoculars and adjusted the focus. By God, it was the front of a truck! The Gold team had finally made it. He glanced at his watch. Too late, too damn late. Blue and Gold had less than two hours to make it to Four Corners. He looked at the bunkers squatting on the bridge like three shabby trolls. No way in hell they were going to get past that, he thought with satisfaction. He lifted the binoculars again. But why weren’t they attacking?
    In answer to his question, eight men on the bridge suddenly screamed and fell to the ground. Arms and legs flashed orange. Two men just stood there, not quite understanding they were already FOF.
    “Where the hell are they?” someone shouted. “I can’t see them.”
    “On the hill! Snipers on the hill!”
    The Green commander threw himself behind one of the bunkers, out of the line of fire from the hilltop. More shots, and he was shocked to see the two men with him blink orange. Another shot nicked his shoulder and pain lanced through him. Dammit! “They’re behind us!” he shouted. “Take cover! They’ve sent troops across the river.” Well, he had a surprise for them. He spoke urgently into his radio. He had a team of fifty men hiding in the forest just to deal with this possibility, and they would come in from behind and crush the enemy against the river.
    But as the troops hiding in the forest came forward to crush the attackers, they came within reach of the attackers on the hill. More Red and Green soldiers fell. The Red commander ordered fire from the bridge, but to get a decent firing angle the soldiers had to leave the protection of the bunkers. FOFs began to pile up.
    “Fall back!” the Green commander ordered disgustedly. “Get back into the forest and the bunkers. Make them come to us.” He shook his head in frustration: fifteen dead after only ten minutes of fighting. He looked at his watch. Not much longer.
    • • • • •
    “Pull, dammit! Pull!” Emily shouted. Fifty men pulled on the rope and the first truck lurched off the sand bar. Its nose started to sink into the water, then the two tree trunks jammed behind its front tires gave it some buoyancy. Five of the miners from Christchurch thrust more logs under the back of the truck just as the rear wheels reached the end of the shallows. Then the truck was floating – precariously, perhaps, but floating. The men on the far side of the river pulled, the rope tightened and the truck jerked forward, bobbing toward the far shore.
    Emily laughed out loud. It was working! One of the men from Christchurch called to her: “Give us more time, Little Sister, we build you a proper bridge, eh?” The others laughed with him. And Emily looked at the scene; dozens of men splashing through the river, men pulling on the tow rope, trucks being readied for the crossing.
We’re going to do this,
she thought.
And I am their commander!
    • • • • •
    Once the first truck was across, Emily sent two platoons led by Cookie and Sandra Lee ahead to take the Four Corners. She was taking a risk that Green and Red had it heavily defended, but she was betting they had thrown everything into securing the bridge.
    They used the first truck to tow the second truck, and the pace picked up. The miners waded waist deep in the river, stuffing logs under each truck as it was dragged off the sand bar. Crews on the far shore received the trucks, pulled the logs out and swam them back across to use with the next truck. Emily had already taken the precaution of