Jeff Shaara - The Frozen Hours

“I don’t need a report, Colonel. I visited the hospitals myself. My orders are being carried out even now. Any man who cannot fight, but who can walk, will march northward. We cannot continue to feed men who cannot fight.”

Wang lowered his voice, as though the small house had an audience. “I had not thought it would become necessary. Is there no transportation for them?”

Sung turned to him, angrier now. “No, Colonel, there is not. How would you handle this? We are unable to bring supply convoys south. The enemy has destroyed the bridges over the Yalu and continues to intercept any vehicles that show themselves on the roads. So, yes, we can move at night. But now there are no adequate supplies of gasoline and spare parts for the few trucks that still operate. Even if we had gasoline, we cannot overcome the cold. Batteries and lubricants do not function in this weather, Colonel. In this part of Korea, there are no supplies of rice or meat for this army to gather, no bounty to be found on farms in these hills. The North Koreans are useless. They despise us as deeply as they despise the Americans.” He paused, tried not to be angry at his aide. “Our weapons are no match for what the Americans bring to the fight. Every soldier knows the challenges of fighting an offensive campaign. The Americans fight on the defensive, from holes in the ground, and we have no artillery to drive them out. How many more men must we send into their guns before we exhaust him? I have seen his cargo planes, Colonel. They drop endless supplies of everything he needs to continue the fight. Here, we are running out of every kind of supply.”

He stopped, angry at himself, his heart pounding, short, heavy breaths. I do not need to speak this way, he thought. My superiors would not approve.

Wang seemed to wait for an opening, said, “We still have great advantage in numbers, sir. As you said to Peking—”

“What I said to Peking is what Peking requires me to say. They do not entertain reports of our discomfort. They will not hear of our problems . There is no counsel for me, Colonel. No one can offer me advice. I have been granted this position, and I will succeed, or I will be…removed. I am not yet willing to accept that outcome.”

Colonel Liu returned now, a gust of icy wind chasing him through the door. He moved quickly, shivering, spread the map out on the lone table. Sung stepped that way, heard a light rap from outside the door. Liu said, “My apologies, General. Major Orlov requested to know what I was bringing you. I was told not to keep any information from him.”

Sung looked toward the door, the anger draining away his energy. “Bring the major inside. I do not need him suffering in this cold any more than the rest of us. Our situation is plain for all to see, even the Soviets.”

Liu moved to the door, Orlov moving inside quickly, his fur coat dusted with snow.

“Ah, General. Fine morning. No colder than usual, if you are camped at the South Pole. I understand you are in need of some counsel. Advice, perhaps. I am always at your service.”

Sung had long accepted that Orlov seemed capable of reading minds.

“Major, what I require is wisdom. I am confronting an enemy who has proven far more stubborn than I expected. What, may I ask, did you expect?”

Orlov shed the fur coat, laid it on one of the small chairs. He rubbed his hands together, moved to the map, scanned the details. Sung was used to the man’s theatrics, could feel the drama playing out. After a long moment, Orlov said, “I read over your report to Peking. You are most optimistic. I applaud you.”

Sung closed his eyes for a brief moment, thought, No secrets indeed. “I spoke the truth. Chairman Mao expects nothing less.”

Orlov looked at him, winked. “He demands nothing less. I am quite certain that General Lin’s reports are magnificent. Victory upon victory. An enemy who flees before his sword. All very romantic stuff, yes? He is fortunate to have drawn the card he has.”

“What card? What do you mean?”

“I mean that the Eighth Army Lin Biao has been successful against is a United Nations force, a combination of commands, a mongrel army, if you will. You, however, are fighting a monolith. Every general in the last war, and the one before that, preferred to fight an enemy of many nations, many cultures. Napoleon said he always preferred fighting allies .”

“Are you suggesting that because we are engaged with only the Americans, we are at a disadvantage?”

“Aren’t you? Look at these Marines who are giving you such trouble. They are trained as a single force. They fight for a single commanding general. They are supported by their own artillery units, and most often, they are supported by their own fighter planes. Is there any place on this map where you have driven the Marines off the ground they have chosen to defend?”

Sung felt himself sagging, looked at the two staff officers, said, “Leave us.”

Both men hesitated, but Sung gave each a hard stare, the message understood. They moved out, the door clattering behind them. Orlov moved to a chair, sat heavily.

“General Sung, I am telling you what you already know. Your staff knows it as well. Your army knows it. It is your choice of course, to keep Peking from knowing it. A wise precaution, to be sure.”

“What is it that I know so well, that is so obvious to everyone here?”

“You will not defeat these Marines with the tactics you are now using. There is a better way. There is always a better way when one is being defeated.”

Sung felt the anger returning. “Defeated? You will not insult me, Major, with your speculations. We control every piece of ground, we have the enemy trapped, encircled, and in short order he will either die or surrender. It is only a matter of time. I thought you were here to observe, so that you might convince your superiors to give us more weapons. Instead I hear meaningless lectures. Rather than offer such pessimism, perhaps you can find me a battery of antiaircraft guns, yes? Would your Chairman Stalin be so generous?”

Orlov raised both arms out to the side. “No antiaircraft guns with me today. Sorry. Perhaps next week.” He smiled now. “General, I am not your enemy. Yes, I observe. I see difficulties for you. You are losing men at a drastic rate, either to bullets or frostbite. Or is that merely speculation?”

“No one in this army dares speak to me as you do. I tolerate it because I must.”

“Are you better off by surrounding yourself with those so eager to please that they would only bow down to you, or speak soft compliments for all you do here? Are you helped by having officers who believe what you tell Peking even as their men die by the score?”

“You offer the obvious, Major. I am doing what I can to inflict greater damage on the enemy. He cannot survive this much longer.”

“Can you?”

Sung felt his hands curl into tight fists, closed his eyes. He tried to calm himself, said, “If there is nothing else you wish to say, I must end this conversation. I must communicate with my commanders. We must make ready to continue our assaults against Hagaru-ri. Even now, we are pushing the enemy inward.”

“Again.”

“Yes. Again. The Marines there are weak, undermanned. It is the most important target.”

“Yes, yes. So, why would this assault be different than any before? You left a considerable number of casualties there. Do you anticipate a change from that?” Orlov stood, moved closer to the map. “General, you have not even been able to drive a single company of Marines from Toktong Pass. How many casualties have you left out there? How many more are spread over the ground around Yudam-ni?”

“It is war, Major. Can you advise me where there might be an enemy who is unarmed ?”