The Bridge on the River Kwai

by Pierre Boulle

  At this point in his summary Colonel Green felt in good form again and almost grinned with pleasure. He went on:

  ‘The Siamese people are extremely discontented with the “liberators”, who have requisitioned all the rice and whose troops behave as though they were in occupied territory. The peasants in the railway area in particular are showing signs of unrest. Several senior officers of the Siamese army, and even some members of the royal family, have recently established contact with the Allies and are prepared to launch an anti-Japanese underground movement, for which countless peasants have volunteered. They request both weapons and instructors.’

  ‘No doubt about it,’ Colonel Green decided, ‘I’ll have to send a team into the railway area.’

  Having made his decision, he pondered for some time on the various qualities that would be required by the leader of such an expedition. After ruling out a number of possible candidates, he called for Major Shears, an ex-cavalry officer who had been transferred to Force 316 at the time that special unit had been formed and was, in fact, one of its founder-members. This private army had only seen the light of day thanks to the persistent efforts of a few individualists and the reluctant support of a handful of military experts. Shears had only just arrived from Europe, where he had successfully completed several tricky missions, when he had his lengthy interview with Colonel Green. The Colonel gave him all the information available and outlined the general purpose of his mission.

  ‘You’ll take only a few stores in with you,’ he said, ‘the rest will be dropped to you as and when you need them. About the actual operation, you’ll be able to see for yourself on the spot, but don’t be in too much of a hurry. I think it’ll be best to wait till the railway’s finished and deliver a single powerful blow rather than risk giving the whole show away by a series of minor attacks.’

  There was no need to specify what form the ‘operation’ would take or what type of stores would be used. The raison d’être of ‘The Plastic and Destructions Co., Ltd.’ made a fuller explanation superfluous.

  Meanwhile, Shears was to get in touch with the Siamese, make sure of their good intentions and loyalty, then start training the partisans.

  ‘As I see it, you’ll need to be a team of three,’ said Colonel Green, ‘for the moment at any rate. How does that strike you?’

  ‘That seems quite reasonable, sir,’ Shears agreed. ‘We need at least a nucleus of three Europeans. Any more, and we might present too big a target.’

  ‘That’s settled, then. Who do you plan to take in with you?’

  ‘I suggest Warden, sir.’

  ‘Captain Warden? Professor Warden? You certainly don’t believe in half-measures, Shears. With you, that’ll make two of our best agents.’

  ‘I understood it was an important mission, sir,’ was Shears’s non-committal reply.

  ‘It is. It’s a very important mission, from the political as well as the operational point of view.’

  ‘Warden’s just the man for that, sir. An ex-professor of Oriental languages. He speaks Siamese and will be able to get on with the natives. He’s a level-headed sort of chap and doesn’t get the wind up – at least not more than most of us.’

  ‘You can have Warden. Now what about the third?’

  ‘I’ll think it over, sir. Probably one of the youngsters who’ve been through the course. I’ve seen several who look quite promising. I’ll let you know tomorrow.’

  Force 316 had established a school in Calcutta where the young volunteers were trained.

  ‘Right. Here’s the map. I’ve marked the possible DZs and hide-outs where the Siamese say you’ll be able to lie up without any risk of being discovered. We’ve already done the air reconnaissance.’

  Shears bent over the map and the aerial photographs. He carefully studied the area which Force 316 had chosen as his theatre of unorthodox activity in the wilds of Siam. He felt the thrill which seized him each time he embarked on a new expedition into unknown territory. There was something exciting about any Force 316 mission, but this time the attraction was intensified by the wild nature of the jungle-clad mountains inhabited by lawless tribes of hunters.

  ‘There seem to be several suitable spots,’ Colonel Green went on. ‘For instance, this isolated little hamlet not far from the Burmese border, about two or three days’ march from the railway, apparently. According to the sketch-map, the railway there crosses a river – the River Kwai, if the map’s right. The bridge there will probably be one of the longest on the line.’

  Shears smiled, as his CO had done, at the thought of the number of bridges across the river.

  ‘I’ll have to study the question more closely, of course; but for the moment, sir, I should think that place would make a perfect HQ.’

  ‘Right. Now all we’ve got to do is arrange for the drop. That’ll be in three or four weeks, I should think, if the Siamese agree. Ever done a jump?’

  ‘Never, sir. Parachuting wasn’t included in the course until after I’d left Europe. I don’t think Warden has, either.’

  ‘Hang on a moment. I’ll see if the experts can put you through a few training jumps.’

  Colonel Green seized the telephone, asked for a certain RAF office and told them what he wanted. He listened for some time and did not seem at all pleased with what he heard. Shears, who kept his eyes on him throughout the conversation, could see how his mood changed.

  ‘That’s really your considered opinion, then?’ Colonel Green asked.

  He frowned as he listened to the reply, then hung up the receiver. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally made up his mind and said:

  ‘Do you want to know the experts’ opinion? It’s this. They just said: “If you absolutely insist on your chaps doing some training jumps, we’ll make the necessary arrangements. But we honestly wouldn’t advise it – not unless they can spare six months for a proper course. Our experience of missions dropping into this sort of country can be summed up as follows: if they do only one jump, you know, there’s a fifty per cent chance of an injury. Two jumps, it’s eighty per cent. The third time, it’s dead certain they won’t get off scot free. You see? It’s not a question of training, but the law of averages. The wisest thing would be for them to do just the one jump – and hope for the best.” Well, that’s what they said. Now it’s up to you.’

  ‘One of the great advantages of the modern army, sir,’ Shears calmly replied, ‘is that there are experts to solve all the problems for us. It’s no good thinking that we know better than them. What they’ve said obviously shows common sense as well. I’m sure it will appeal to Warden’s logical mind; he’s bound to agree with it. We’ll take the advice and do the one jump – and hope for the best.’

  2

  ‘You don’t look altogether happy, Reeves,’ said Colonel Nicholson to the RE captain, whose face showed every sign of suppressed anger. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘What’s wrong! We simply can’t go on like this, sir! I tell you, it’s hopeless! I’d already decided to approach you on the subject today. And here’s Major Hughes who’ll back me up.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ the Colonel repeated with a frown.

  ‘I agree with Reeves completely, sir,’ said Hughes, who had left the building-yards to join the CO. ‘I also wanted to tell you this simply can’t go on.’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘It’s utter chaos, sir. Never in the whole of my career have I seen such carelessness and lack of system. We’re getting nowhere like this, just marking time. Everyone gives contradictory orders. These fellows, the Japs, haven’t the vaguest idea of man-management. If they insist on interfering with the work, there’s not a hope of ever getting it done.’

  The situation had certainly improved since the British officers had been put in charge of the squads, but although there were noticeable signs of progress in the quality as well as the quantity of the work, it was quite clear that things were far from perfect.

  ‘Explain yourselves. You first, Reeves.’
>
  ‘Sir,’ said the captain, taking a sheet of paper out of his pocket, ‘I’ve only made a note of the more glaring blunders; otherwise the list would go on for ever.’

  ‘Go ahead. I’m here to listen to any reasonable complaint, and to consider any suggestion. I can see there’s something wrong. It’s up to you to tell me what.’

  ‘Well, in the first place, sir, it’s utter folly to build the bridge on this bit of ground.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a quagmire, sir. Who ever heard of a railway bridge being built on shifting soil? Only savages like these would ever think of it. I’m willing to bet, sir, that the bridge will collapse the first time a train goes over it.’

  ‘That’s rather serious, Reeves,’ said the Colonel, keeping his light blue eyes fixed on the junior officer.

  ‘Very serious, sir. And I’ve tried to point that out to the Japanese engineer. Engineer indeed! God, what a hopeless bungler! You can’t get any sense from a chap who’s never even heard of soil resistance, who gapes when you mention pressure tables and who can’t even talk the King’s English. Yet I’ve been pretty patient, sir. I’ve tried everything to make him understand. I even arranged a little demonstration for him, in the hope that he couldn’t fail to believe what he saw with his own eyes. Just a waste of time. He still insists on building his bridge in this swamp.’

  ‘A demonstration, Reeves?’ asked Colonel Nicholson, whose interest was always aroused at the sound of this word.

  ‘Quite a simple one, sir. A child could have understood it. You see that pile in the water, near the bank? I put that in myself with a sledgehammer. Well, it’s gone quite far down already, but it hasn’t yet found solid bottom. It’s still sinking, sir, just as all the other piles will sink under the weight of a train, I’m sure of it. What we ought to do is lay down a concrete foundation, but we haven’t got the materials.’

  The Colonel gazed with interest at the pile and asked Reeves if he could repeat the demonstration for his benefit. Reeves gave the necessary orders. Some of the prisoners gathered round and began to heave on a rope. A heavy weight, slung from a scaffolding, dropped once or twice on to the top of the pile, which at once sank visibly deeper.

  ‘You see, sir,’ Reeves shouted triumphantly. ‘We could go on hammering away till doomsday, it would just go on sinking. And soon it’ll be under water.’

  ‘I see,’ said the Colonel. ‘How far down is it at the moment?’

  Reeves gave him the exact figure, which he had noted and added that the tallest trees in the jungle wouldn’t be long enough to reach solid bottom.

  ‘Right,’ said the Colonel with every sign of satisfaction. ‘That’s quite clear. As you say, even a child could understand. That’s the sort of demonstration I like. The engineer wasn’t impressed? Well, I am – and that’s the main thing, I assure you. Now what solution do you suggest?’

  ‘Shift the whole bridge, sir. I think there’s a good spot about a mile away. Of course, I’d have to check on it—’

  ‘You must do so then,’ the Colonel calmly replied, ‘and give me the facts and figures for me to put before them.’

  He made a note of this first point and asked:

  ‘Anything else, Reeves?’

  ‘The material they’re using on the bridge, sir. Cutting down these trees! That was a fine thing our men started, wasn’t it? But at least they knew what they were doing. Well, this hopeless engineer isn’t doing much better, sir. He just lets any old thing be cut down, without bothering if the wood’s hard or soft, rigid or flexible, or whether it will stand up to any stress laid on it. It’s an absolute disgrace, sir.’

  Colonel Nicholson made a second entry on the bit of paper which served as a note-book.

  ‘What else, Reeves?’

  ‘I’ve kept this for the last, sir, because I think it’s the most important. You can see for yourself: the river’s well over a hundred yards across. It’s got high banks. The platform will be over a hundred feet above the water – that’s quite a proposition, isn’t it? Not child’s play. Well, I’ve asked the engineer several times to show me his working-plans. He shook his head in the usual way, as they all do when they don’t know what to say. Well, believe it or not, sir, there isn’t a plan! He hasn’t made one! And he doesn’t intend to! Didn’t seem to know what it was all about! So what it boils down to is this: he thinks building a bridge is as easy as throwing a plank across a ditch – some bits of wood here and there, and a few piles underneath! It’ll never stand up, sir. I’m absolutely ashamed to be taking part in such sabotage.’

  His indignation was so genuine that Colonel Nicholson felt obliged to offer a few words of consolation.

  ‘Don’t worry, Reeves. It’s a good thing you’ve got it off your chest. I can quite understand how you feel about it. Everyone has his pride, after all.’

  ‘Exactly, sir. Frankly, I’d rather have another dose of punishment than help to give birth to this monstrosity.’

  ‘I agree with you entirely,’ said the Colonel, making a note of this last point. ‘It’s obviously rather serious, all this, and we can’t let things go on as they are. I’ll take the necessary steps, I promise you. Your turn now, Hughes.’

  Major Hughes was as worked up as his colleague. This was a strange state for him to be in, for by nature he was cool and collected.

  ‘Sir, we’ll never get any discipline in the building-yards, or any serious work out of the men, so long as the Japanese guards interfere with our orders – just look at them, sir, absolute oafs. Only this morning I’d split up the squads working on the embankment into three sections each: one for digging, another for carting off the earth, and the third for spreading it and levelling the mound. I’d taken the trouble to arrange the relative strength of each section myself and to organize the various tasks so as to synchronize them properly.’

  ‘I see,’ said the Colonel, his interest once more roused. ‘A sort of specialization system?’

  ‘Exactly, sir. After all, I do know something about earthworks. I was a works manager before being a director. I’ve dug wells over three hundred feet deep. Well, anyway, this morning my teams began working according to this system. Everything was going fine. They were well ahead of the schedule laid down by the Japs. Splendid! Then up comes one of these apes and starts chucking his weight about, shrieking and yelling for the three sections to re-form as one. Easier to keep an eye on them, I suppose – the idiot! What’s the result? A complete mess-up, utter chaos. They’re all on top of each other and can’t get a move on. It’s enough to make you sick, sir. Just look at them.’

  ‘You’re right, I can see that,’ Colonel Nicholson agreed after carefully watching the men at work. ‘I’d already noticed the lack of organization.’

  ‘But that’s not all, sir. These idiots have fixed a quota of a cubic yard of earth per man, without realizing that our chaps under proper supervision could do much more. Between you and me, sir, it’s a soft job. When they think each man has dug, shifted and spread his cubic yard, they call it a day. That’s why I say they’re idiots. If there are still a few clods of earth left to be carted away so as to connect two isolated stretches, do you think they ask for an extra effort? Not a bit of it! They simply order the squad to down tools. In that case, how can I order them to carry on? What would the men think of me if I did?’

  ‘So you think it’s a really poor show?’ said Colonel Nicholson.

  ‘It’s an absolutely rotten show, sir,’ Reeves broke in. ‘In India, where the climate’s just as bad as this, and the ground’s much harder, the coolies get through one and a half cubic yards quite easily.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ the Colonel murmured. ‘I was once in charge of a job like this myself, building a road in Africa. My men used to work much faster than this. One thing’s quite clear,’ he concluded decisively, ‘we can’t go on like this. You were quite right to let me know about it.’

  He went through his notes again and, after a moment’s reflection, turn
ed once more to his two officers:

  ‘Now listen, both of you. Do you know what I think of all this? Practically the whole trouble can be traced back to one simple cause: complete lack of organization. I’m the first to blame, I know; I should have seen to it in the first place. That’s the worst of rushing things, you always waste time in the end. Organization, plain and simple – that’s what we need more than anything else.’

  ‘You’ve said it, sir,’ Hughes agreed. ‘A job like this is doomed to failure if it’s not properly worked out in advance.’

  ‘I think we’d better call a conference,’ said Colonel Nicholson. ‘I should have thought of that before. Between the Japanese and us. A discussion between both sides is what we need to determine each man’s duties and responsibilities. That’s it, a conference. I’ll go and have a word with Saito right away.’

  3

  The conference was held a few days later. Saito did not understand what it was all about, but he had agreed to be present, not daring to ask for an explanation for fear of losing face by appearing ignorant of the customs of a civilization which he hated but which impressed him in spite of himself.

  Colonel Nicholson had drafted an agenda, and waited with his officers in the long hut which served as a dining-room. Saito arrived accompanied by his engineer, some of his bodyguard and three captains, whom he had brought along to swell the numbers in his escort although they could not speak a word of English. The British officers stood up and snapped to attention. The Colonel gave a regimental salute. Saito looked quite startled. He had arrived with the intention of asserting his authority, and here he was, already visibly conscious of his inferiority when faced with this ritual performed with a traditional and majestic sense of propriety.

  There was quite a long silence, during which Colonel Nicholson shot a glance of enquiry at the Jap commandant, whom he naturally expected to take the chair. The conference could not be held without a chairman. Out of common courtesy the Colonel felt obliged to wait for the other to declare the meeting open. But Saito felt more and more ill at ease and could hardly bear the idea of being the focal point of this gathering. The manners and customs of the civilized world made him feel small. But he could not allow his subordinates to see that he was unfamiliar with them, and he was paralysed with the fearful thought that he might be committing himself by taking the chair. The little Japanese engineer looked even less self-assured.