"What's that, Lieutenant?" Lowary asked.
"Are we supposed to shoot our own people?"
Lowary's face grew hard. "If we have to, Lieutenant," he said. "If we have to." The tone of his voice told them that he wanted to avoid any discussion on the subject.
There was silence. Finally Lowary said, "That's it, then. Let's move."
The Officers saluted and began to move off. Tudor took two steps, then halted and returned. "How much time do you think is left, Captain?" he asked.
Lowary took in the man's square face, the set of his jaw. Tudor was ex-combat, infantry during the last war.
"Who knows, Lieutenant! Minutes ... or hours. It all depends on how strong the enemy is, how fast they're moving, if they are sending a boy to do a man's job."
Tudor looked down the river in the direction of the City some thirty miles away. He seemed to have difficulty finding words. Lowary knew what he was thinking and it made him feel weak and inadequate.
Lowary said softly, "We knew it would come some day, didn't we, Tudor?"
Tudor faced him. "I guess we did ..." he hesitated.