Rifleman Dodd

The Zezere appears impassible. Dodd may have to detour far into the mountains to get across it. First, though, he performs a routine reconnaissance, scrambling down the ravine and following the foaming rapids to reach the road below. The ravine flattens, and Dodd peers above its lip to find that the bridge builders are right below him, pontoons and road planks and cord neatly stacked, a roof under construction above the materials.

All day he observes, memorizing the camp’s layout—boiling cauldrons, piles of timber, a rope-walk—and noting bushes and other landmarks between him and the camp that he will rely on when creeping forward in the dark. That night, under a full moon, he observes a two-person guard, posted mainly to prevent thefts of wood for campfires, and notes how the sentries behave.

The next day, he continues his observations and makes his plan. When night falls, he makes the difficult decision to leave behind his rifle, and, armed only with a tinderbox and a bayonet, creeps toward the bridge factory. At one point, the clouds clear and the moon shines down, and he freezes in place for an hour. Clouds and rain follow, giving him good cover, and he crawls to within 20 yards of the target.