Hanging on

ten miles closer while you two were strolling around, holding hands, mooning over each other! Move your ass!"
        The labor strike came at four o'clock that afternoon.
        Major Kelly was up in the framing beams of what would soon be the second level of the rectory, inspecting the joists and the angle braces. Most of the men around him were his own, for this job required nearly all skilled labor. He was not, therefore, immediately aware of the cessation of work noises in the rest of the camp.
        Lyle Fark brought the news. "Major!" he called from the bridge road in front of the would-be rectory. "Major Kelly!"
        Kelly crawled along the grid of wooden beams and looked down at Fark. "What is it, Private?"
        The Tennessean was unnaturally agitated. "You've got to come down. That Maurice is losing his mind. He's called a labor strike!"
        Kelly just leaned out over the skeleton of the rectory and stared at Fark, unmoving, unable to speak.
        "Do you understand, sir?" Fark shuffled his feet. Dust rose around him.
        "A strike," Kelly said. "A work stoppage."
        "Yes, sir. He says his people aren't getting paid enough."
        "My people are not getting paid enough," Maurice said.
        He had gathered all one hundred French workers at the bridge. They were climbing onto the three flatbed German trucks which they now used to shuttle to and from Eisenhower. They were jabbering and laughing.
        "They've taken everything we've got. You've milked us dry already!" Kelly said, pulling on a pair of imaginary udders.
        "Not at all," Maurice said. "You still have a great deal which my people could use." He made a long face. "I have just realized how much you and your men have, and how little you are paying my poor people to save your skins. It seems I must now reopen negotiations if work on the village is to continue."
        "But what can you want?" Kelly asked. He was ready to give up anything, even the clothes on his back. "I'll even save my shit and package it as manure," he told The Frog. "Anything!" That imaginary thunder of Panzer-tread grew even louder, the thump of marching feet close behind…
        "If you can't see what is left for you to pay us with," Maurice said, scratching his hairy, bloated stomach which peeped out between halves of his shirt, "then perhaps you need some time to think." He turned toward the trucks, then back to the major. "And there is one other thing. Besides an increase in pay for my people, I want you to obtain for me a written guarantee from this Lieutenant Beame of yours. I want him to swear in writing that he will not attempt to court my daughter." Maurice hunched his shoulders and balled his fists at his sides. "I will not have my daughter used by a soldier."
        As the last of the Frenchmen got onto the trucks, Kelly said. "This is ridiculous. Look, can't you wait until we can talk-"
        Maurice was adamant. "I do not believe you will negotiate in good faith until you realize I am serious about this work stoppage."
        "You're wrong!" Kelly declared, throwing his hands up. "I'll negotiate in the very best of faith. I'll do anything! You can have my teeth for piano keys!"
        "I do not want your teeth," Maurice said. "You have much more to offer."
        "But what?" Kelly asked. "You've got two hundred bucks from each of us. And you're going to get a toll-booth-"
        "The very fact that you cannot imagine what to give us is proof that you will not bargain seriously at this time," The Frog said, turning, walking away, climbing into the cab of the first track.
        The three vehicles started up. Smoke plumed from the tail pipes.
        As the first track started for the bridge, Nathalie Jobert jumped off the bed of the last one and ran the few steps to Kelly. She grabbed his hands and held them tightly. "Monsieur, please do not hate my people because of my father. Do not even hate him. He is more bluff than fight. He will be back tomorrow, and he will help you build your village if you'll only give him the bulldozer and the shortwave radio. That is all he wants. In fact, he will not even hold put for that written guarantee from David."
        "He can have the shortwave radio," Kelly said. "But I don't see how I can give him the dozer. That's Danny Dew's virility symbol, and he won't take kindly to my giving it away. You know, I need Danny. I can't finish the village without