[ WP ] You are a guard on a bridge isolated in the middle of nowhere , despite the weather and conditions you still guard diligently . After a great deal of time someone comes and you realize , you do n't know what to do .

Corporal Gundarson jumped up and down in place in a futile attempt to warm himself. His worn-out combat boots sounded like horse hooves when the struck the frozen ground. He had pulled his arms inside his overcoat and jammed both hands under his armpits, but he thought they would never feel warm again. `` Daggummit,'' he muttered to himself for the thousandth time. `` They'll send you to the South Pacific for sure, that rotten recruiter said. It'll be like a sea cruise, islands like paradise, what a bunch of malarkey. And I took it, hook, line and sinker. Lied to the government, faked my age to get out of another miserable Wisconsin winter, so here I end up stuck in an even more miserable French winter instead. Or Belgian, wherever the heck this Godforsaken place is.'' An image of mom giving him the eye came to mind immediately. `` Sorry, Father, I know I should n't ought to say stuff like that. Please, please, please, let me get to someplace with a fire tonight, I swear I wo n't do it again.'' 
 
 Gundarson tried to shake the snow off his helmet and shoulders. It was coming down heavy now; huge, wet, white flakes so thick you could n't see more than a few yards. Or meters, they went by meters here. The mist created by his breath blinded him completely until it drifted away and broke up among the close-set trees. `` Why'd that darned major have to be on the road today at that moment anyway?'' He asked himself, also for the thousandth time. `` If it'd been the sergeant telling me to stay here by this dang bridge, why, I would have told him where he could stick it. But the sarge would've picked one of the repls, one of the new guys we do n't even hardly know. But no, that stupid confounded major just had to single ME out. Why me, I look just like everybody else? Corporal, this is your post from now until I tell you otherwise,'' he imitated sarcastically. 
 
 He ran the rest of the major's words through his head silently. `` That bridge is blown out at the other end but nobody on this side knows it. It's a hazard, and we've got a confused bunch of broken platoons streaming back this way from the front. The colonel says they are retreating, I say they're running away from the fight. I'll deal with them later. It's your job to make sure they stay off the Clerve bridge at all costs. They all go on down the Weizerstrooss here to the south and take the next bridge. Got it Corporal?'' The major had n't waited for Gundarson to salute before he bellowed for his driver to get it in gear and his jeep sped off toward the fighting. 
 
 Sarge had given Gundarson a sorrowful glance. `` How many bullets you got, Gundy?'' 
 
 `` Couple clips, Sarge, that's about what everyone's got left.'' 
 
 Sarge nodded and fished in his coat pocket. He tossed Gundarson another clip, then a pack of smokes and some matches. `` Keep moving to stay warm, Gundy. If you see any Krauts, make sure they get one of my love letters,'' he said, pointing to the ammo clip in Gundarson's hand. His squadmates moved out, following the road south. None of them would make eye contact with him as they filed past. This was the absolute pits. 
 
 After the sounds of their footsteps had faded, all Gundarson could hear was the distant pounding of artillery. It seemed like it would never stop. No aircraft overhead, the weather kept the flyboys grounded. At least it kept the Germans grounded too. His squad had n't been at the very front when the attack started three days ago, but the shells had found them sure enough. Someone said they must've made nice with the Russians and sent every Kraut in the world to this little corner of the woods. That sure was what it seemed like. The shells had finally forced them to abandon their thin line of foxholes, and the ground was too hard to dig more. Even grenades would n't make much of a dent. And then they'd seen the Germans advancing with their own eyes. Not infantry, but tanks, whole long columns of tanks firing machine guns off in every direction. They did n't have anything that could deal with tanks. Sarge had n't waited for orders. With the lieutenant gone, he was in charge; he said apparently the radio had mysteriously accidentally got broke somehow, so we're gon na bug the hell out, and nobody argued. 
 
 Now here it was, almost Christmas; and here he was, a 17-year-old farmboy who'd never seen a town bigger than Sheboygan, standing in ankle-deep French snow ( or Belgian, or whatever ), guarding a busted bridge while the hours dragged on and sounds of death and devastation slowly came nearer and nearer. `` Daggummit all,'' he muttered, unable to think of any better way to put it. 
 
 Gundarson was very seriously considering running off after his squad and trying to think up a convincing lie as to why he was n't where the major had left him when he heard an engine. He looked up, filled with hope that is was the major coming back to relieve him of guard duty. A vehicle hurtled out of the whirling snow and barely managed to skid to a stop before running him down. It was n't a jeep at all. It was more squared-off like and the windshield was different. Then he saw the insignia painted on the side. 
 
 `` Krauts!'' He shouted to nobody in particular. In his frantic struggle to tug his arms through his overcoat sleeves, he managed to knock his rifle down into the deep snow. He shouted some other words that he was sure his mother had never heard him say and was on his knees scrabbling for the weapon when a shot rang out from the German vehicle. A voice called out `` Halt!'' 
 
 Oh boy I'm in it now, Gundarson thought. Oh boy oh boy. He raised himself up on his knees and put his hands as high in the air as he could. `` I surrender!'' Was the only thing he could think to say. 
 
 He heard muttering from the open vehicle. It was like a jeep, but longer with four doors. The voice called out again in badly-accented English, `` Soldier, where is your unit?'' 
 
 `` Uh...'' Gundarson had no idea what to say. He remembered his pastor telling him during one of his frequent counseling sessions, `` When you do n't know what to say, just tell the truth. It's the only way to live, son.'' He knew that was what he had to do. `` They went that way,'' he said, pointing south along the road and then hurriedly putting his hand back up in the air. He did n't want to give his buddies away, but his lying days were over and that was that. 
 
 `` And this bridge, it goes where? Your comrades are that way, ja?'' 
 
 `` Uh... well... yes, um, that is, um, yes...'' 
 
 `` And you tell me the cowards ran that way instead?'' The man in the vehicle laughed. `` Always to friends you Yanks run, we know this.'' Then he rattled off what sounded like commands in German, and the driver put the vehicle in reverse. `` We will come back for you after we finish with your friends, little soldier!'' The driver pointed the vehicle at the bridge, which even its headlamps could not illuminate fully in the thick snowfall, and spun its tires until they dug in and hurtled it forward. 
 
 Gundarson heard more engines approaching over the increasing sounds of exploding shells. There were troop carriers behind the lead vehicle; huge, armored halftracks with the sinister shapes of Kraut helmets showing over the rails in the back. Panzer grenadiers, Gundarson thought to himself in wonder. He was so awestruck that he did n't move from the place where he knelt by the road as the monsters ground past him in high gear. One, two, three, almost as quick as that. All of them sped up onto the bridge and out of sight. 
 
 Gundarson wondered briefly if the bridge was actually intact. He could never adequately describe what he heard next; a string of groaning, crashing, twisting, snapping, splashing, and shouting like the world was being torn apart at its foundations and all of mankind with it. When the sounds of destruction had faded away into one voice wailing and moaning, Gundarson finally regained enough sense to put his arms down. He blew into his hands to try and warm them. It was just unbelievable. He said a quick prayer of thanks and tried to figure out what to do next. If someone was alive in that mess, he could n't jsut leave him there. But if he left his post, what would happen to any Americans who came that way? 
 
 He stood up to get his legs out of the snow and was stamping around, trying to figure out what to do, when he heard another engine approaching. `` Please let it be the major this time,'' he whispered. He left his rifle where it lay. If more Germans were coming, the truth would be his weapon now.
