“Funny thing, lieutenant,” the Marine announced. “There was a bridge over this stream last night but it ain’t there now.”
“A washout?” questioned the medical man.
“Or else Sandino came down and busted it up for firewood,” the Marine speculated. “But don’t worry, we’ll get it across. The water is pretty shallow up this way. Some of the boys went over on horseback and didn’t even wet their shoe tops.”
“Yes, but a heavy truck—that’s another thing,” one of the nurses added. “If the river bed is all sand, we’re liable to get stuck.”
“You just let me attend to that, sister,” the Marine replied with a broad grin, then stepping on the gas as he shifted his gears, the big car responded with a snort and leaped forward, jolting its occupants.
No sooner had they reached the center of the stream, than the car stopped suddenly, throwing its passengers forward as the rear wheels kept spinning, splashing mud and water but not budging an inch.
Gradually the truck sunk lower and lower in the dirty waters of the river bed as the terrified female occupants clung to each other with fright, crying for help.
“Pipe down,” the sergeant yelled. “You’ll scare the fishes.”
The Medical Corps lieutenant rose and vainly attempted to quiet his charges with an assurance that everything would be all right, then turning to the man at the wheel, inquired as to what would be done.
“There’s a lot of things we can do,” the Marine drawled indifferently. “If you’re in a hurry, you might try walking.”