She couldn’t have dismissed him more thoroughly if she’d been a general. Tom climbed up into the vehicle commander’s seat and leaned against the coaming. At the bridges, the troops were forcing their way across, making good on Colonel Lessem’s orders to secure the crossing. Clumps of prisoners were being escorted back toward the Pentagon perimeter and the field command post straddling Army-Navy Drive, just below his position. They were a ragtag, unintimidating bunch, most looking as though they could use a good meal. They marched along dejectedly. Some few looked up at the command car and gave Tom the finger. One looked up and shouted.