Jeff Shaara - The Frozen Hours

Orlov looked at the map, a finger pointing down. “East of the reservoir. One battalion of the American Seventh Infantry Division. They are surrounded, except for their one flank that rests on the reservoir itself.”

“I am aware of that. Am I to be impressed you can read a map? We have already engaged those troops. It would seem your analysis of the enemy here is not correct after all. Those troops are very different from the Marines, an entirely different command.”

Orlov kept the smile. “Yes, they are. At least for now. General MacArthur’s people in Tokyo are extremely concerned about those troops. It seems they climbed out a bit far on their limb. No fault of their field officers. It was orders, you know. Just like the American Eighth Army, those people who now flee from General Lin, this lone battalion was terribly excited about participating in a race to reach the Yalu River. The Americans do like their competitions. Now they are in something of a bind, wouldn’t you say?”

Sung wanted to ask yet again: How do you know these things? But he knew that Orlov would evade him again, as he had so many times before.

“If you wish me to be impressed, Major, very well. I am. One day we shall have to discuss Soviet intelligence, and your skill at communications.”

“One day.” Orlov focused again on the map. “General, I understand your frustration. You may treat me with disrespect, if it helps you. But I am not your problem. I am here to observe, as you said.”

Sung felt a helplessness, could not deny that Orlov had a firm grasp on the entire campaign. “Major, are you suggesting it is a mistake to attempt another assault on Hagaru-ri?”

“I am suggesting that you not make the same assault. You have faced supreme stubbornness at Yudam-ni, at Toktong Pass, at Koto-ri, and at Hagaru-ri. Your primary mission is to destroy the enemy. Why not give your army some red meat?”

“What do you mean?”

“They are hungry for a victory. So give them the best chance they might have. The army battalion is not as well trained as the Marines. Their artillery is not as strong. If you crush the Americans east of the reservoir, you will have an open door to strike at Hagaru-ri from three directions. You have two full divisions facing those army troops, yes?”

“The Seventy-ninth and Eightieth, yes. Another in reserve.”

“I doubt you will require your reserves.”

“Do I simply ignore the Marines at Yudam-ni, at Toktong Pass?”

Orlov shrugged. “Why not? You have them boxed in, so it is unlikely they are going anywhere. And this weather is your ally. Every day they sit in their foxholes, they die just a bit more.”

“As do we, Major. My men are from a part of China that does not feel this kind of cold.”

“And yet, you would make them walk home?”

Sung felt a wave of frustration again. “What am I to do? I need every man to be capable. I have limited food, limited supplies of every kind, including ammunition. If they march toward China, there is hope for them. Patrols from the border will be sent south, assisting them. I have ordered it.”

Orlov looked down, seemed to absorb the horror of what Sung was explaining to him. “I do not envy you that responsibility, General. I would only advise that you complete your primary mission. That you destroy the enemy with all haste.”

Sung turned away, moved again to the window, saw a thicket of small trees buffeted by the wind. His eye was caught by a photograph on the wall, unusual, a Korean family, dressed in city clothes. “Look how they smile. A family outing, an adventure, perhaps to Pyongyang. A happier time. They did not bring this war, and we are here to liberate them. Yet they only fear us.”

“Yes, I saw the photograph. Charming. General, you are using that man’s home as your quarters. Your soldiers are spread out in whatever tiny kingdom that man’s family holds dear. If he had any food or livestock, you have taken it. If he protests to you, very likely your officers would harm him, or his family. He has fled because he has no choice. It is no different here than it was in Russia. If you care so much, then do what you must to end this. Perhaps then your pleasant reports to Peking will be accurate, a victory that will provide you a triumphant return, bathing you in the glory of the revolution.”

Sung looked at him. “You are mocking me, Major.”

“I am mocking us all. If you do not succeed here, your career will end in disgrace, a deadly outcome, yes? If you do succeed, they will find one more command for you, another war, another foe, until you fail. Or die. I have always wondered which is better, dying for your revolution or dying as an old man in some hospital.”

“The revolution, of course.”

“That’s what they expect us both to believe, certainly. Either way, you’re just as dead.”

He saw a crack in the major’s arrogance, a surprise.

“We have no alternative, Major. It is the path we have chosen. It is the path assigned to us.”

“Then choose your next move wisely, General. I can promise you, your enemies are making their choices as well. And regardless of what you tell Peking, it is their stubbornness that is winning this fight.”

HE ABSORBED THEIR DESPERATION, understood their urgency, could feel the sadness infecting both men now, the inevitability of what could become a disaster. Their anxiety was contagious, the kind of helplessness no commanding officer hoped to feel.

“I am truly sorry, gentlemen. But I anticipate another assault tonight, and as you have seen, we are only secured here by a thin line. The fight for the east hill has been ongoing and costly, though I am pleased to say that we have taken a hard toll on the enemy.”

He regretted the words, thought, It’s not the time for boasting, not even about that.

The two men sat glumly, a glance between them. It was Barr who spoke first, the senior man offering Smith a painful smile.

“General, we appreciate all you are doing here, all you have done throughout this campaign. General Hodes and I both were pleased when General Almond appointed you to overall command here. It certainly made sense. I had thought…forgive me. I had hoped that events would play out differently. I was not aware that the Chinese had so thoroughly enveloped my battalion, cutting their communication with your people here.”

Hodes nodded now, the same grim expression, said to Barr, “As you know, sir, we made every effort to drive a rescue force through to Colonel McLean’s command. Even with the power of the armor, it just wasn’t possible to make a breakthrough.”

Smith watched them both, curious how they felt about the string of orders given them by Ned Almond. He tried to keep his own feelings to himself, but he knew that Barr had suffered through so many of the same meetings, had reacted with discreet exasperation to Almond’s utter lack of comprehension, and more, his amazing optimism that all was as he willed it to be.

After a silent moment, Smith said, “I appreciate the gravity of this situation. Had General Almond made the effort to understand just what was happening here…” No, he thought. Don’t do that. They’re army men. Somewhere, in some part of both men, they respect Almond as their commander. They have to.

Barr looked at him, a hard stare, said, “I believe you and I have always understood our combined situation, more so than Tenth Corps. There will be time for recrimination later. Right now I have most of two battalions of my command in a serious state. I saw General Almond this morning, before I flew up here.” Barr paused, weighed his words carefully. “I was ordered to extricate Colonel McLean’s command with all haste.”