The Bridge (Based on a true story)
A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place when a train crossed.
One evening, as the switchman was waiting for the light of the day to com, he looked off into the distance through the dim twilight and caught sight of the train lights. He stepped to the controls and waited until the train was within a prescribed distance within the bridge. He turned the bridge into position, but to his horror, found out that the locking control did not work. If the bridge was not securely in position, it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came on to it, causing the train to jump the track and crash into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard.
He then hurried across the bridge to the other side of the river where there was a lever switch that could manually operate the lock to hold the bridge stable but he would have to hold the switch firmly as the train crossed.
He could hear the rumble of the train now. He took hold of the lever and kept applying pressure to keep mechanism locked. Many lives depended on this man's strength.
Then, coming across the bridge from the direction of his control room, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold.
"Daddy, where are you?"
His four year old son was crossing the bridge to look for him.
His first impulse was to cry out to the child, "Run! Run!"
But the train was close; the tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time.
He almost left his lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him but he realised that he would not be able to get back to the lever in time. Either the people on the train or his little son must die.
Hr took a moment to make his decision. The train sped safely about, on its way, and no one abroad was even aware of the tiny broken body, thrown mercilessly into the river by the onrushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of the sobbing man, still clinging tightly to the locking lever long after the train had passed. They did not see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked: to tell his wife how his child had brutally died.
One evening, as the switchman was waiting for the light of the day to com, he looked off into the distance through the dim twilight and caught sight of the train lights. He stepped to the controls and waited until the train was within a prescribed distance within the bridge. He turned the bridge into position, but to his horror, found out that the locking control did not work. If the bridge was not securely in position, it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came on to it, causing the train to jump the track and crash into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard.
He then hurried across the bridge to the other side of the river where there was a lever switch that could manually operate the lock to hold the bridge stable but he would have to hold the switch firmly as the train crossed.
He could hear the rumble of the train now. He took hold of the lever and kept applying pressure to keep mechanism locked. Many lives depended on this man's strength.
Then, coming across the bridge from the direction of his control room, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold.
"Daddy, where are you?"
His four year old son was crossing the bridge to look for him.
His first impulse was to cry out to the child, "Run! Run!"
But the train was close; the tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time.
He almost left his lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him but he realised that he would not be able to get back to the lever in time. Either the people on the train or his little son must die.
Hr took a moment to make his decision. The train sped safely about, on its way, and no one abroad was even aware of the tiny broken body, thrown mercilessly into the river by the onrushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of the sobbing man, still clinging tightly to the locking lever long after the train had passed. They did not see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked: to tell his wife how his child had brutally died.
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