Jeff Shaara - The Frozen Hours

“Colonel, you are wounded.”

Drysdale ignored the ripped shirtsleeve, the caked blood soaking through his uniform. “Appears so, yes, sir. Not a problem. You have medical people here, yes? They should be able to fix me up, good as new.”

Smith glanced at Bowser, who kept his stare on Drysdale. “Yes, by all means. My aide will escort you to the medical tent. You may report to me when you’re up to it.”

Drysdale seemed disappointed. “Oh, sir, I’d rather lay out the details now, if you don’t mind.”

Smith couldn’t avoid looking at the man’s wounded arm. “Are you quite certain you’re up to it?”

Drysdale attempted a small laugh. “Oh, I assure you, sir, I’ve endured much worse. Never run into an Oriental yet who could pull the starch from a British Marine.”

Smith thought, Not the time for this sort of thing. But he seems to mean it. “Very well, Colonel. I am gravely concerned about the condition of your column. Colonel Puller radioed that some of the men and equipment returned to Koto-ri. I suppose we should be grateful for that.”

“If you say so, sir. I regret that we could not maintain contact. The enemy was bloody eager to chop us to bits, and with most of the armor gathered in the vanguard, there was little to protect the soft vehicles. I would hope that those who did not accompany me here were successful in escaping the enemy’s grasp. I suspect there were losses, sir.” He paused, a crack showing in the stern demeanor. “Considerable losses, I’m afraid.”

Smith had already received a ragged estimate from Puller, though no one yet could know just what was still happening along the narrow winding road.

“We will do what we can for anyone still out there, Colonel. My greater concern is right here. If Hagaru-ri falls into the enemy’s hands, it will jeopardize the entire force we have employed to the north of here. How many men made it through with you?”

“Near three hundred, I am happy to say.”

“I would be happier still if your entire force had reached here.”

Drysdale seemed subdued now, said, “Yes, of course. As would I, sir. I will bear the responsibility for our losses, General.”

“No, you won’t. That responsibility falls upon me.” He looked again at Drysdale’s wounds. “When you are able, you will report to Colonel Ridge. He commands the perimeter here. We will make the best use of your men as we can, I assure you. I am grateful for your efforts.”

The compliment rolled out of Smith with no enthusiasm, as though he were greeting the man at a formal dinner party. He was uncomfortable now, still eyed the man’s arm. “Really, Colonel, I insist you go to the medical tent. Colonel Bowser, will you ask one of the aides to show him the way?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Drysdale saluted Smith again, said, “I shan’t be long, sir. I should see to my men, at least for the evening. They have had one devil of a day, as it were.”

Smith returned the salute, motioned toward the door, Drysdale moving out with the young aide. Smith waited for Drysdale to leave, felt a chill, the stove not quite adequate to heat both rooms. Bowser stood out in the larger room, said, “He dripped blood all over the place. I’ll have it cleaned up, sir.”

“Let it go, Alpha.” Smith pulled the pipe from his shirt pocket. “What do you make of that fellow?”

“He’s British, no doubt about that. He’d rather pass out from loss of blood than admit he might be in pain. We colonists should never observe such weakness in one of His Majesty’s troops.”

Smith had no use for the kind of rivalries that always seemed to rise up. “It was a very bad day, Colonel. Lewie says he counted three hundred men who made it back to Koto-ri. Three hundred made it here. Nothing complicated about the math. Three hundred men are either dead, or grabbed by the Chinese. All of that stiff-upper-lip business. It’s their way, for sure. But he knows what I ordered him to do, and he’s not likely to forget that. And no matter what kind of foolishness you or anyone else wants to toss around about the Brits, there’s nobody on this earth I’d rather have next to me in a foxhole.”

HAGARU-RI—NOVEMBER 29, 10:30 P.M.

He sat alone, enjoying the pipe, another letter to Esther forming itself in his mind. You’ll read about this one, I’m afraid. I had no choice. No one ever wants to hear that excuse, but it’s what I believe. There have been decisions made by others, handed to me this entire campaign, most of them incredible, ridiculous. This one was mine. Did I truly believe we could open that road, that the Chinese weren’t as strong there, or that they might just back away? Someone will ask those questions one day. Drysdale is asking them right now, as he wonders if he’s going to lose his arm.

The outer door burst open, the guard making way for the wrapped bundle of a man, another behind him. Smith couldn’t avoid a nagging dread, rapped the pipe against the chair, stuffed it in his pocket. He waited, saw Bowser’s head emerge from the coat, the man red-faced, out of breath, the aide waiting for Bowser to remove the coat.

“Have you two been out doing maneuvers in this cold, Colonel?”

Bowser kept the coat on, was breathing heavily still, tore through a pocket, pulled out a piece of paper. “Sir, this is momentous. Finally, somebody up there is thinking straight.”

“Up there. Heaven?”

Bowser seemed to miss the joke, said, “Tokyo, sir. MacArthur’s HQ. This just came from Tenth Corps. Shall I read it?”

Smith could see Bowser’s excitement. “Give it here. You might rip it to pieces.”

Smith took the paper, felt the cold on the man and the paper, moved to a lantern.

Effective at once, all elements Seventh Infantry Division…are attached to First Marine Division. First Marine Division redeploy one regiment without delay from Yudam-ni area to Hagaru-ri area, gain contact with elements of Seventh Infantry Division east of Chosin Reservoir; coordinate all forces in and north of Hagaru-ri in a defense based on Hagaru-ri; open and secure Hagaru-ri and Koto-ri main supply road….

Bowser waited impatiently, said, “Does that mean what it sounds like it means?”

Smith lowered the paper, absorbed the order. “Someone has determined that they require a single command to dig Tenth Corps out of its hole.”

“MacArthur, you think?”

Smith shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, does it? I’ve been handed the results of someone else’s idiotic decisions. There’s still a finger stirring the pot, though. The middle section…Almond is ordering that we rescue the army units. He also insists we return at least one of our regiments from Yudam-ni. I would assume he will allow us to do the latter before the former. We have no one here now we can spare to go driving up the east side of the reservoir. The army’s own tanks can’t push through. I’m not going to tell Colonel Drysdale that the next duty for his Marines might be the most hopeless task we face.”

Bowser seemed frustrated, pointed to the paper. “Sir, they’ve given you command of the entire situation. Seventh Division included. The whole show.”

“Careful, Alpha. Read between the lines. Yes, I am now in command of those troops who, from all we can determine, are presently surrounded by overwhelming numbers of Chinese forces. The most obvious conclusion here is that General Almond has had his mind changed about pushing us on to the Yalu. He can’t figure out what to do next, so he’s tossing it to me.”

Bowser smiled now. “I’m sorry, sir. But that seems to me to be a positive thing.”

Smith had the sudden aching need for a cup of coffee, looked out to the waiting aide. “Sergeant, there’s a coffeepot in that corner. Will you do what you can to put it to work?”