A corporal came down the bank at a jog.
"Ms Tiernan, Mr Ward. The brigadier's doing an update. East-Two and unit reps. Now, please. And you two," to James and Finn. "The assessment's put back."
The brigadier's office was a prefab with the partitions taken out. Brigadier General Aisling Byrne was at a table at the far end with a major on one side of her and a stack of paper on the other. She was small and grey-haired, in her fifties, going through casualty returns, and didn't stop when they came in.
"Ma'am, Alpha Company's replacements won't be at Knockbridge till first light," said the major. "The road's—"
"Then who's on Knockbridge tonight?"
"Nobody, as it stands."
"Charlie can stretch to it if they pull their reserve platoon up. Tell them. And the Monaghan contingent?"
A captain answered. "They lost three, ma'am. They're asking for forty-eight hours."
"They'll have it. Put the independents from Drogheda in their place till then."
She looked up.
