W.E.B. Griffin - Retreat, Hell!

"Jade, I'm on the ground and holding on the threshold."

"Four zero zero three, I have you in sight. You will be met."

McCoy pointed out the cockpit window. Two jeeps, each with a pedestal-mounted .30-caliber air-cooled Browning, were racing down the runway to­ward them.

Both stopped twenty yards from the Big Black Bird. The .30s were now trained on the cockpit.

A lieutenant colonel got out of one of the jeeps, drew his pistol, and marched somewhat warily up to the helicopter.

Donald put his head and both of his arms out his window and waved.

"Sir, it's Donald," he called from the window.

The lieutenant colonel almost certainly couldn't hear over the roar of the engine, but he recognized the face.

Neither could Donald nor McCoy hear the lieutenant colonel mutter, in ei­ther disbelief or disgust, "Jesus H. Christ!"

But they saw him holster his pistol, make arm signals to both the machine-gunners in the jeeps and in the multiple-fifty half-track, telling them there was no hazard and to deflect their weapons. Then he made a. follow me gesture to the Big Black Bird and got in his jeep and started back down the runway.

Donald waited until the jeeps were halfway down the runway, then taxied the H-19 down it after them.

They stopped before an obviously hastily built corrugated tin building on which was a sign: OPERATIONS.

McCoy very carefully climbed down from the cockpit and went inside the fuselage. Donald climbed down far more agilely and went to the lieutenant colonel, who shook his hand and gestured unbelievingly at the Big Black Bird.

When McCoy came out of the fuselage, everybody saw that not only was he wearing what looked like black pajamas but that he was carrying a wire hanger over his shoulder. Its white paper wrapping read NAVY EXCHANGE SER­VICE SASEBO.

"Colonel, this is Major McCoy," Donald said.

"That's an interesting uniform you're wearing, Major," the lieutenant colonel said. "And what is that, somebody's laundry?"

"Yes, sir. That's just what it is," McCoy said. "It belongs to Captain Haig. And I'd really like to get him on the phone as soon as I can."

"You want to tell me what's going on here?"

"Respectfully, sir, no, I don't," McCoy said. "May I use the phone, please, sir?"

"Of course," the lieutenant colonel said. He waved McCoy ahead of him into the tin building and handed him a field telephone, then cranked it for him. "Haig's number is Jade Seven," he said.

"Jade Seven," McCoy told the operator, and a moment later Al Haig's voice came over the line.

"Haig, this is McCoy. I'd really like to talk to the general."

"That can very easily be arranged, sir," Captain Haig said. "My last orders in that area were 'If that's who I think it is, get him up here. The airstrip'll give you a jeep.'"

"Thank you," McCoy said. He handed the telephone back to the lieutenant colonel. "Sir, could we get a ride to the CP?"

"I'll take you myself," the lieutenant colonel said.

The X Corps Command Post was a dirt-floored Quonset hut. Captain Al Haig was standing in front of it waiting for McCoy.

"I thought you were in the hospital," Haig said in greeting.

"I was," McCoy said, and handed him the hanger. "Your uniform. Thanks for the loan."

"You actually had this stuff dry-cleaned?" Haig said.

"It seemed like the thing to do," McCoy said.

"Well, thank you very much," Haig said. "The general is waiting for you. In his mess."

The Jade Room, the General's Mess, was another dirt-floored Quonset hut a few yards from the Command Post. One end of it was partitioned off to pro­vide privacy for the half-dozen general officers of Headquarters, X United States Corps.

Only one of them, the Corps Commander, was in the mess. He was sitting on a folding metal chair before a rough-appearing wooden table. There was a tablecloth, however, and white china.

"Hello, McCoy," Major General Edward M. Almond said. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Good morning, sir," McCoy replied. "No, sir, I have not."

"Sit down," Almond ordered, and then saw what Captain Haig had in his hand. "What's that, Al?"

"Major McCoy returned the uniform he borrowed, sir," Haig said.

Almond shook his head.

"There were some real eggs from the Mount McKinley" Almond said. "But they never got up here. I'm sure there's some left in the sergeant's mess, but what I can offer is powdered eggs with a lot of Tabasco."

"Anything is fine, sir," McCoy said.

"I watched your helicopter come in," Almond said. "Does that mean the secret is compromised?'

"We'll have to go on that premise, sir," McCoy said. "All we can do is hope they won't be able to figure out right away what we're doing with them."

"Which is?"

"We're leaving overnight observation teams where we hope they'll be able to learn something about the Chinese."

"Hence the black pajamas? I'm surprised you're up to doing something like that."

"I hadn't planned to stay overnight, sir. They're a precaution."

"How's the leg?"

"Getting better every day, thank you, sir."

"We've had an interesting development, McCoy," Almond said as he but­tered a piece of toast.

"Yes, sir?"

"The 3d ROK Division, which had been advancing toward—and was close to—the Chosin Reservoir, has encountered unusually strong resistance. They have, in fact, been turned, and are in a retrograde movement."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir."

"They have reported they came under attack by what they estimate to be three regiments of the enemy, supported by artillery and tanks."

"That's a good deal more North Korean strength than I would have thought 'they had in that area, sir," McCoy replied.

"I was a little surprised myself, McCoy," Almond said. "The 3d ROK is tak­ing up—has taken up—a defensive position south of the reservoir. As soon as I finish my breakfast, I'm going to helicopter up there and have a personal look at the situation."

"Yes, sir."

"And one of the things I hope to do when I'm there is be able to put to rest a rumor circulating that this division-sized enemy force is not North Korean but rather Chinese."

"There's a rumor like that, sir?"

"Now, you and I both know that's highly unlikely, if not outright impossi­ble, don't we? General Willoughby has assured us there is virtually no chance of, and certainly no intelligence suggesting, Chinese intervention, hasn't he?"

"Yes, sir. He certainly has."

"I thought you might find that interesting, Major McCoy," General Almond said. "If I had a means to do so, I'd suggest you come along with me. But un­fortunately, I have only two operational helicopters, H-13s, and so there is room only for me and one of my Korean interpreters, who speaks Chinese. I can't even take Al Haig with me."

"General, I wonder how you and your interpreter and Captain Haig would feel about going with me in my Big Black Bird? The problem there is that it doesn't have any markings on it. ..."

"Major, I would think that would fall under what is known as 'an exigency of the military service.' It's regretful that you were unable to fully comply with the Rules of Land Warfare by applying the required identification markings to your helicopter, but I don't think that should keep us from using it, do you?"

"Sir, my concern was friendly fire from the 3d ROK. They've never seen a helicopter like this."

"Al," Almond ordered, "before we go, have someone get in touch with 3d ROK and tell them they are not, repeat not, to engage any aerial target until I personally give orders to the contrary. If necessary, send an L-19, and drop a written order."

"Yes, sir."

"On second thought, both communicate with and send an L-19," Almond ordered.

"I'll get right on it, sir," Captain Haig said.