"The guard down the road says there is a pile-up of civilian cars that demand to go across."
Lowary looked up. "Send some of the reserve platoon down and force them back. You know the orders!"
"Look, Captain. We've got maybe ten ... fifteen minutes left. What harm will it do?"
Lowary felt weary. Meyers hadn't failed to see the bomber, neither had the people in the cars. They knew it was the beginning of the end. Meyers and Tudor, and the others were wearing him down. He felt like giving them their damn bridge. It would be easy, so final.
He took the yellow paper out of his pocket and glanced at the pasted letters again. When he was finished he knew what he had to do. He had no choice.
Lowary handed the paper to Meyers. "I'll take care of things down the road. Perhaps you might like to read this while I'm gone," he said. The Lieutenant looked puzzled when Lowary drove away.
The traffic was jammed just as Meyers said it was. The Sergeant in command of the squad had set up a small road block. A machine-gunner, Morgan, was sitting behind a .50 Cal. looking down the barrel. Lowary drove past them, up to the lead car.
As he threw his legs out over the side of the jeep he looked up quickly. The single multi-engine bomber was overhead, still heading South. In the distance he could see new vapor streams, much smaller, much faster. The Interceptor Command was giving chase. Lowary could see that they would be too late to save the City.
"Please let us through, Captain!" a woman near him asked. She was slender, she had been crying.