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

"Major McCoy, sir," Haig said.

McCoy saluted.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked.

"What happened to your pajamas?" Almond asked.

"I've been interrogating prisoners, sir," McCoy said. "They seem to be more impressed with a Marine than by someone in pajamas."

Almond chuckled, and shook his head as he opened the long flap of his leather map case, came out with a sheet of paper, and handed it wordlessly to McCoy.

TOP SECRET

URGENT

SUPREME HEADQUARTERS UNITED NATIONS COMMAND TOKYO 0730 31 OCTOBER 1950

EYES ONLY COMMANDING GENERAL X CORPS

PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM GENARMY MACARTHUR TO MAJ~GEN ALMOND BEGINS

MY DEAR NED,

I HAVE CAREFULLY CONSIDERED YOUR URGENT OF 101.5 30 OCTOBER.

GENERAL WILLOUGHBY, WHO HAS ABSOLUTELY NO INTELLIGENCE DATA WHICH EVEN SUGGESTS THERE ARE CHINESE COMMUNIST FORCES OF ANY SIGNIFICANCE IN NORTH KOREA, THEREFORE BELIEVES THE SIZE OF THE CHINESE FORCE, IF INDEED IT WAS A CHINESE FORCE, WHICH ATTACKED THE INFANTRY REGIMENT OF THE 3RD ROK DIVISION 29 OCTOBER, WAS NOT AS LARGE AS REPORTED TO YOU.

HE POINTS OUT THAT MAJGEN LEE DO WAS SHORT MONTHS AGO A LIEUTENANT COLONEL, MAY NOT HAVE PROVEN CAPABLE OF COMMANDING A DIVISION-SIZE FORCE, AND WHEN HIS DIVISION FAILED TO REPEL WHAT WILLOUGHBY FEELS WAS PROBABLY A REGIMENTAL-SIZE ATTACK, AT MOST, EXAGGERATED THE ATTACKING STRENGTH TO JUSTIFY HIS LOSS OF THE BATTLE.

HOWEVER, SINCE YOU OBVIOUSLY FEEL SO STRONGLY ABOUT THIS, AND BECAUSE OF MY OWN PROFOUND FAITH IN YOUR JUDGMENT AND BATTLEFIELD SKILL, I HAVE DIRECTED WILLOUGHBY TO PROCEED TO YOUR HEADQUARTERS TO CONFER WITH YOU AND SEE FOR HIMSELF.

THE BATAAN IS BEING PREPARED FOR THE FLIGHT AS THIS IS WRITTEN.

VICTORY IS WITHIN OUR GRASP, MY DEAR NED. WITH PERSONAL REGARDS,

MACARTHUR

GENERAL OF THE ARMY

SUPREME COMMANDER

END PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM GENARMY MACARTHUR TO MAJGEN ALMOND

TOP SECRET

McCoy muttered "Jesus Christ!" and raised his eyes to General Almond.

Almond put up his hand to silence him.

"Jerry," he called. "Do not list Major McCoy's visit in the diary, and go deaf. You understand?"

"Can't hear you, sir," the master sergeant said.

"He's sending Willoughby here?" McCoy asked.

"General Willoughby visited Wonsan yesterday," Almond said. "And stayed there long enough—probably forty-five minutes—to see and hear enough so that he could get on the Bataan and return to Tokyo to assure General MacArthur that he has nothing to worry about; there are no ChiCom forces in North Korea to speak of."

"What do we have to do to convince that sonofabitch?" McCoy exploded.

"It's a good thing Sergeant Youngman is deaf," Almond said. "Otherwise he would be shocked at such vulgar and disrespectful language coming from a Ma­rine officer."

"Sorry, sir."

"However much justified," Almond said. "McCoy, did you ... uh ... send the intelligence I had the feeling you were going to send?"

"Yes, sir. And I said when I had further confirmation from my stay-behinds, I would send it, and I sent that confirmation. This time it was a lieutenant colonel with the same message."

"I thought you probably had," Almond said.

"Sonofabitch!" McCoy said, and put his hand to his forehead and wiped it.

"You just staggered, McCoy," Almond said. "Are you all right? Jerry, get Major McCoy a chair."

Master Sergeant Youngman jumped to carry his chair to McCoy.

McCoy eased himself into it.

"Thank you, Sergeant," he said.

"Can I get you anything, McCoy?" Captain Haig asked.

McCoy raised his head and looked at him.

"I honest to God could use a drink," he said.

Almond pulled open a desk drawer and came out with a bottle of Old For­rester bourbon.

"Is this a good idea?" Almond asked. "You look feverish. Do you have a fever?'

He didn't wait for an answer, but instead came around the desk and put his fingers to McCoy's forehead.

"You have a fever," he announced. "Is this whiskey a good idea?"

"I'll be all right, sir," McCoy said.

Almond signaled Haig to hand over the glass Haig had in his hand. He poured whiskey into it and McCoy drank it down.

"Thank you," he said. He looked at Almond. "I had a bad early morn­ing, sir."

"Did you?"

"We were exfiltrating stay-behinds," he said. "One of the teams was over­run. We brought the bodies back with us."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"They were ... uh ... pretty badly mutilated," McCoy said softly. "And we didn't think to take ponchos with us. So ... uh ... the reason I'm not in my pajamas is ... uh ... that they really needed to be washed."

"How many men?" Almond asked softly.

"Four, sir. It was their first time out—they were some of the Marines that you borrowed to guard the hangar at Kimpo, and who I asked to volunteer for this stay-behind exercise."

He held his hand to his head for a moment.

"And that sonofabitch says there are no Chinese? Who does he think is running the ridges, looking for my stay-behinds? The North Koreans? They left their dead behind, too, so that there could be no question who did the .. . god­damn fucking butchery."

"Take it easy, Major," Almond said.

"Sorry, sir," McCoy said.

"You want some more of this?" Almond said, touching the bottle of Old Forrester.

McCoy looked at the bottle and then at Almond, and then reached for the bottle.

"I should say, 'No, thank you, sir,' " he said. "But with one more drink in me, maybe I'll have the courage to offer a really off-the-wall suggestion."

"What?" Almond asked.

McCoy tossed down another drink and shook his head, as if to clear it.

"If you dismiss this out of hand, sir," he said, "I'll understand."

"Dismiss what?"

"Why don't we march some prisoners into the goddamn Dai Ichi Building? Twenty, twenty-five ordinary Chinese Red Army soldiers, right into Willoughby's office."

"Christ," Haig said disparagingly.

"Could you get the Bataan back here?" McCoy pursued.

Almond looked at McCoy for a long moment.

"I suppose I could get an Air Force plane," McCoy said. "But that would take time, and if this is going to happen, it has to happen now. And if I used the Bataan, it would mean you were involved, and proof that I hadn't borrowed the Chinese from Chiang Kai-shek."

Almond didn't say anything at all.

"Sir, my orders state that I am to get any assistance I need from any mili­tary organization," McCoy said.

"Such as the X United States Corps?" Almond asked.

"Yes, sir. I don't have the orders with me. But you've seen them, sir."

"What I think you need, McCoy ..." Haig began, and stopped when Al­mond raised his hand.

"You do have some imaginative ideas, don't you, Major McCoy?" Almond asked thoughtfully. "And you try to cover all the possibilities, don't you? I sup­pose that's very useful in your line of work."

"General, if I hadn't proposed that, I'd have regretted it, really regretted it, later," McCoy said. He turned to Haig. "And that wasn't the booze speaking, Al. I owed it to those Marines I brought back in pieces this morning."

"I understand," Haig said. "I wasn't—"

"Jerry," General Almond interrupted him. "Get your pad."

"Yes, sir."

Master Sergeant Youngman went quickly to his desk and returned with a stenographer's notebook. "Ready, sir," he said.

"Classification, Top Secret, Priority, Operational Immediate. To Supreme Headquarters, UNC, Tokyo. Unless the Supreme Commander personally, re­peat personally, rescinds this order, the Bataan will be immediately, repeat im­mediately, dispatched to Hamhung. I will be advised of departure time and ETA. The signature block, Jerry, is Edward M. Almond, Major General, USA, Chief of Staff, Supreme Headquarters, United Nations Command."