"Sorry, Conlon," Blake clipped. "I didn't do that in anger. I merely wanted to snap you back to your senses! You're still in the Army, and I'm still your commanding officer. As far as the Army is concerned, none of us have any relatives."
Jerry got to his feet. There was no question that the Lieutenant was right. The Army was the big boss, and soldiers were not supposed to have personal feelings. There were several million soldiers protecting many millions of people and the only way that Mildred and Billy could be protected was through the combined and strategic effort of these soldiers. There were soldiers in the interior risking their lives to protect people like Mildred and Billy—soldiers with relatives in the city that Jerry was supposed to protect. It would be a sorry plight if, at the first sign of trouble, all the men would run home to their own little families.
It all seemed like a crazy nightmare to Jerry. No matter how big the catastrophe, human beings still worried about the little problems along with the big. It was a strange feeling to look over the top of the bulwark and see nothing but the dirty gray sky where the forms of big buildings should be. The shock was less horrible to him because by the time his sight returned, he was accepting the awful scene of destruction as an unchangeable fact.
It was several hours later before a small contingent of radiation clothed soldiers arrived in several jeeps. A Colonel of the Army stepped out. Blake and Conlon stood at attention as the officers introduced themselves. The Colonel's name was Harrison.
"I'm trying to find out what we have to work with. Not much, I'm afraid," the Colonel said. "The Government's gone. Communication is disrupted."
"Did you say there was no more government, Colonel?" Jerry asked.
The Colonel nodded. "That's what I said."
"Then there's no hope—nothing left to fight for any more?"
"Nothing to fight for?" the Colonel snorted. "Soldier, as long as we have our hills and valleys we'll have something to fight for!"