“You’re so strong,” she said.
“And you’re so light,” he said. “Save your charm for Jacques. But make sure you answer only to the name Bry.”
She laughed. She was enjoying this adventure, heedless of the inconvenience to others. She kicked her feet against the metal below her.
“I wouldn’t,” he said. “That’s high explosive.”
The feet stopped. “It must really be fun, here in these tunnels all day.”
“It’s dull.” But now, seeing it through her eyes, he realized that the scene was remarkable. The train was following its tracks down the lighted tunnel, which was six meters high and seven meters wide, with a power line running along its ceiling. The half-circle dome of concrete was bleak and dirty, but for a young person, surely thrilling.
“Ooooh—a turnoff!” she exclaimed.
“That leads to the main magazine of the ouvrage, the main fort,” Sam explained. “But this load is going farther down the line.”
“How deep down are we?”
“About fifty meters.”
She laughed. “Fancy a whole train going through the ground!”
“It’s to ensure that German bombs can’t interfere with our communications.”
The tunnel narrowed. “Are we there?”
“No, just passing through a section where the tunnel can be closed off by a seventeen ton blast door.”
“Ooooh,” she repeated, suitably awed.
Beyond the narrowing, the tunnels split again. “That goes to the barracks,” Sam explained. “But we have to go on to Jacques’s block, some distance down the line. He is stationed at one of the smaller casemates.”
“Jacques,” she breathed, her eyes shining.
Sam thought again of Snow. How could be begrudge that delight to his little sister?
The train slowed. It was reaching its exit to the surface. “We’ll have to get off here,” Sam said. “And walk on down. It’s not far.”
He helped her down to the base of the car. Then as the train emerged into the light of day, they both jumped off. Sam waved to the engineer as the engine disappeared into the landscape.
“There’s an incomplete shunt going in that direction,” Sam said. “We can follow that a way, if you like the tunnels.”
“I love them. Besides, it’s cold out here in the wind.”
So they turned back into the tunnel, and took the turnoff that led in the right direction. The isolated casemates were not connected in the way the major forts were; there was simply too much terrain to cover. Sam would have liked to show off one of the cannons that could rise to the surface to fire, and descend into the depths at other times, but the authorities would never allow such a breach of security.
They moved on down the passage. Lynn walked along a rail, spreading her arms for balance. She got little joys from everything.
“By the way, Hugh knows Guillaume,” she remarked.
Sam was lost by this non sequitur. “Who knows whom?”
“Hugh, the musician with the lovely dancing wife.” She paused, giving Sam time to make the connection. He did remember that wife. “He knows Guillaume—Jacques’s commanding officer. That’s how Ned got clearance for Bry’s visit to the block.”
“But what about a girl?”
“That would be more complicated.”
To be sure.
Then they came to another turnoff. “What a labyrinth!” Lynn remarked, loving it.
“It’s less complicated than it seems. The tunnels connect the magazines where the ammunition is stored, the main barracks, the cannons—”
“It’s still fun to explore.”
They followed the tracks through an airlock. It was open at the moment, but the massive panels could be seen. “That’s so that nothing can get at the defenders,” Sam explained. “Especially not poison gas.”
“Poison gas! Would they do that?”
“They might. We can’t presume too much on the good graces of an enemy.”
Then they came to a region where water dripped from the ceiling. “This shouldn’t be,” Sam said, disgusted. “How can it be airtight, if it’s not watertight?”
“Somebody’s going to get in trouble!” Lynn said in a naughty sing-song.
“No, we’ll just have to get it fixed. Meanwhile, this is our only way through. We’ll just have to avoid the drips.”
But the drips got worse. At one point there was a veritable sheet of water coming down, and the floor of the tunnel was flooding. Sam tramped through, his boots protecting his feet. But Lynn, walking on the rail, lost her balance and fell full length into a puddle. There was a great splash.
Sam leaped to help her. “Are you hurt? Oh, Lynn—”
“Bry,” she said wryly. “No, I’m all right. The water cushioned my fall. But I’m all wet.”
“We’ll have to get you changed. It’s cold in here.”
“I know.” She was turning blue.
“The block barracks is right ahead. They’ll have clothing.”
“Sam.” Her tone made him stop. “I can’t change here.”
Oh. Of course. She would be revealed as a girl.
Sam pondered, but couldn’t think of an alternative. “You need to strip, to get dry, and put on new clothes. And get warm. I might bring some clothing out here, but—”
“Someone might come,” she agreed. “I guess I better not change.”
But her teeth were chattering. If she caught cold, and it led to pneumonia, and—what would Flo say? “We must get you warm,” he said.
“No, I’ll get by. It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have come.”
How could he blame her, when she blamed herself? “Come on. There has to be a way.”
“Let’s just hurry there.”
They climbed endless stairs to the surface, where a guard checked Sam’s credentials and let them out. Now they were beside an ordinary road, with a path leading through hills to the rear of an almost buried bunker. Sam wished their destination were closer, but at least the fast walk helped warm her.
He led her the rest of the way to the casemate, which was the combat block where Jacques was stationed. It had fifteen men and a lieutenant, with barely room for them and the supplies. They entered it from behind. Sam had to get permission to enter from the officer in charge before a metal grate dropped across a deep ditch and the armored door opened to admit them.
Sam saluted. “Sam and Bry reporting, sir.”
“This is highly irregular,” the lieutenant said, returning the salute. “We are on alert; no visitors are permitted.”
But he had admitted them. “The musician sends his appreciation,” Sam murmured.
The lieutenant nodded curtly. Evidently he was repaying a favor, but was not completely comfortable with the matter. Then he saw Lynn. “But the boy’s soaking wet!”
“There is a leak in the transport tunnel,” Sam said. “We must notify the command post.”
“We already have. They say they will get to it in due course.” The lieutenant grimaced. “It seems that there are many such leaks. No one noticed, until the alert came.” He looked again at Lynn. “He is shivering and blue; he must be changed immediately.”
“He—prefers not,” Sam said. “He has no other clothes.”
“We have supplies. I will have a man attend to it.” The lieutenant turned, about to give an order.
“Please, sir, no,” Sam said quickly.
The man frowned. Officers did not like hearing the word “no” from enlisted personnel. “No?”
Sam wished he had Ned’s ready mind. He couldn’t think of a suitable explanation. “He—he is uncomfortable changing in the presence of others.”
“But he will have to. We have no privacy here, no spare space at all.”
“Still, sir,” Sam said awkwardly.
The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. “What are you concealing?” Then, as Sam hesitated: “That is an order, sergeant.”
Worse and worse! But what could he do? Sa
m leaned forward and whispered, “He’s a girl. Lynn. Bry’s sister.”
The lieutenant’s look of astonishment was abruptly replaced by a cold mask. “Come with me.” He made a military turn and descended a curving flight of steps.
They followed him to the basement, where the troops bunked. The lieutenant led them into his tiny separate room and closed the door. “Explain.”
Sam looked helplessly at Lynn.
“I just had to see Jacques,” she said. “I love him! I didn’t know I was going to get wet.” Her face was wet with more than the puddle; she was crying.
The lieutenant reacted in the classic French manner. “Ah, love.” He faced Sam. “I will fix this. But there will be no word of it outside.”
“No word,” Sam agreed. No one wanted a scandal, least of all the officer who would be held responsible.
The lieutenant spoke into his phone. “Jacques—bring a complete change of clothing to the CO’s room. Small size.”
“Jacques!” Lynn echoed, brightening.
In a moment there was a knock on the door. The lieutenant opened it. A smartly uniformed young man was there. “Jacques, you will have precisely ten minutes to handle this matter in complete privacy before we return.” Then he stepped out, his eyes signaling Sam to follow.
Jacques looked confused. Then he saw Lynn. “Yes sir!”
Sam exited, and Jacques entered, limping, and the lieutenant closed the door behind them. “Perhaps you can return with a personal report, possibly eliciting some action on the flooding tunnel,” the lieutenant said, showing the way into the adjacent barracks, where several soldiers were sleeping. Because the block had to be vigilant twenty-four hours a day, the troops worked in three shifts. One soldier was awake, but studiously ignored them; Sam suspected that standing orders were to pay no attention to the commanding officer unless he asked for it. “It isn’t simply the leaks; supplies are incomplete, so that we could withstand a genuine siege of only a few days. Our block is inadequately heated, as your little brother has noted. Lighting is sparse, and no provision has been made for decoration.” He gestured at the triple-decker metal frame that held fifteen bunks. “No paint on ceiling or walls, no pictures, no decent floor covering. No privacy. This is bleak indeed. We are patriotic, but I believe we are entitled to at least minimal amenities while we serve our country.”
“Yes sir,” Sam said with feeling. “I will tell them.”
“And Hugh—you have seen him recently?”
“Actually, Bry is the one of us who knows him best. Bry stayed with their family for some time, when he was young. But I think I would know Anne anywhere, by Bry’s description.”
“You would,” the lieutenant agreed. “It has been some time for me also. We were neighbors, and our children mingled. Perhaps we shall meet again, in due course.”
“I think Bry was somewhat smitten with her, though he was only eleven at the time.”
“She is that type of woman. And her daughter Mina is even more so, despite being adopted. A truly winsome girl.”
Sam had not met the lieutenant before, but found himself liking the man. There was a certain aura of intelligence about him that Ned would have related to.
“And I understand that in addition to your brother Bry, you also have a little sister, said to be a similarly lovely creature,” the lieutenant continued after a moment. He spoke obliquely, because they could be overheard.
“Yes.”
“Understand, I have no wish to intrude on the affairs of your family. But my men are a personal concern to me, and I wish to see none of them hurt, other than in the line of duty.” He smiled briefly, indicating the fleeting humor; of course he didn’t want anyone hurt in the line of duty either. “This little sister has an interest in someone?”
“Yes.”
“Even if someone has an infirmity?”
“Yes.”
“Not just because he is the son of a general?”
“No. She understands. She has her own infirmity.”
“I am glad to hear it, no offense intended.”
“I am glad you have an interest in the welfare of your men, sir.”
The lieutenant shrugged. “I have an interest in surviving an attack. Every man must be at optimum performance. The Germans are devising horrors we little anticipate.”
“My brother Ned believes that we are preparing to fight the last war, while the Germans are preparing for the next war.”
“Precisely. Therefore I hope it never comes to war.”
In ten minutes they returned to the lieutenant’s office. Lynn had changed, and was now in a baggy but dry uniform, seeming happy. She looked like a twelve year old boy rather than a sixteen year old girl.
“Now that your friend has taken so much trouble to visit you, Jacques, why don’t you give him a tour of the block?” the lieutenant inquired. “Let’s see how much you really know of our business.”
“Yes, sir!” Jacques agreed eagerly. “But my station—”
“I will cover for you. I could use the practice.”
“Yes, sir,” Jacques repeated. Then, to Lynn, “I will show you everything.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” the lieutenant murmured so that only Sam could hear. “He has already seen everything his friend possesses.”
Sam had to smile. Lynn was a beautiful girl, with one exception, and in the course of changing and drying she had surely showed all of it off.
They went to the firing chamber on the upper floor. This was right above the crew room. A soldier stood there with a two barrel machine gun pointing out an armored window.
Sam saw that he had a good view of the terrain outside; he would be able to riddle anything approaching on this side of the block. Except a tank.
“I read your thought, sergeant.” The lieutenant spoke to the man. “I am substituting for Jacques at the moment. What would we do if we saw a tank charging us?”
The man immediately swung his machine gun away to the right, clearing the window. Meanwhile the lieutenant unstrapped and pushed forward a larger gun suspended from a rail on the ceiling. “This is our forty-seven millimeter anti-tank gun,” he said, looking along its sights. “I think it would be a bold tank that charged directly into this field of fire.”
Sam had to agree. Tanks were deadly, but the gun was designed to take them out.
Jacques and Lynn appeared. “And this is my station,” the young man said. “We have a twin machine gun, which is our main anti-personnel weapon, and an anti-tank gun. So if the enemy tries to flank us, avoiding our weapons turrets, we can mow him down. No one will get past this post.”
The lieutenant turned to Sam. “Makes it all seem worthwhile, doesn’t it,” he remarked wryly.
Sam had to agree. “But my brother Ned wonders what will happen if the enemy goes around the line.”
The lieutenant nodded soberly. “I hope your brother has the ear of the higher authorities. We shall do our part, here, but will they do theirs?”
The question gave Sam a chill, as it always did.
Indeed, the French were completely unready for the German blitzkrieg in 1939, the highly mobile tactics that bypassed the Maginot Line with its underground cannon, formidable anti-aircraft guns, and well secured bunkers. The German forces came through the supposedly impenetrable Belgian forest and spread out too rapidly to stop. France was effectively conquered in days, the Maginot Line largely untouched. It is now thought of as folly, but it would have served well enough if made complete.
Later, of course, weapons like the atomic bomb made all such defenses obsolete. But for its time, the Maginot Line concept was worthwhile as a stop-gap measure. It was the implementation that was inadequate.
Chapter 19
DREAMS AND BONES
As population increased, and resources decreased, the squeeze affected human societies in at first subtle, then more obvious ways. The third world nations suffered waves of starvation and illness; the first world nations suffered financial and economic d
isruptions. Politics became turbulent, and elections were supplemented by assassinations. The hearts of the cities became arenas for increasingly random violence by ever-younger gangs. It was clear to some that the end of the current way of life was approaching, but the majority refused to recognize the deadly underlying trends. What, then, were those few to do? The setting is eastern America; the time is 1995.
“LOOK AT THAT,” BRY SAID. “They’ve got that new game on CD. Let’s get it.”
“No you don’t,” Lin protested. “We’ve got a budget.”
“I’ll buy it,” Jack offered.
Now Bry backed off. “No. She’s right. We don’t need to sponge off you.”
“Wildflower’s at the checkout,” Lin said.
They walked to join her, and Bry took the bag as she cleared the cash register. They went out of the store and out of the mall, walking home at a leisurely pace so as not to embarrass Jack. It was a nice summer afternoon in Washington, D.C:
But as they neared the housing project, a group of youths appeared. “Hey, bitch!” one yelled at Wildflower. “You trying to play white?”
Bry felt a chill. The gangs were getting worse. They were ranging out farther, and looking more constantly for trouble. These boys evidently took Wildflower for black, and wanted to make something of it. She was a Moslem from Egypt, and her skin was darker than some. So the gang was trying to reserve this territory for whites only.
“Just keep moving,” Bry said. “Maybe they’re just passing by.”
“Routine insults,” Lin agreed. “But we’d better hurry, just in case.”
But when they picked up their speed, Jack’s limp showed. The gang members turned to follow. “Hey, gimpy—what you want with that black slut? How much you paying her?”
“Don’t respond,” Bry advised. “Just keep walking.”
But it did no good. With two targets, the gang kids had enough to interest them for a while. They followed more closely, hooting, and some ran ahead to block off the entrance to the project. “Hey, doll!” one called to Lin. “Wanna make it with a real man?” He was evidently the leader, though he could not be more than sixteen.
They came to the intersection and tried to make the turn, but the gang kids stood squarely in the way. “Pay the toll, troll,” one said, reaching for the bag Bry carried.
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