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

With slow and gentle, even graceful, movements the seaman signaled the winch operators on the deck of the Captain J.C. Buffett to begin to very slowly haul aboard what the White Manufacturing Company called a Wrecker, Spe­cial, Heavy Duty and the U.S. Army called a Vehicle, Heavy Vehicle Recovery 6x6 Mark III A2.

The Army and the White Manufacturing Company were agreed that the truck was heavy. It had been heavy when built for civilian use, designed to be able to pick up a broken-down tractor for eighteen-wheeler rigs. The Army had demanded a number of modifications to the basic design. The front (steering) wheels of the basic model had not been powered. The Army demanded that their version have all-wheel drive. The frame and body had been reinforced to take both the weight of the more powerful lifting arm and the additional weight it was intended to lift. And there were lifting hooks welded to the frame in places determined to be the best places to put them so the weight would be evenly distributed when it had to be loaded aboard a ship.

There was the whining hum of an electric motor and the limp cables at­tached to the lifting hooks on the front of the wrecker grew taut, and then the hum of another electric motor and the cables attached three quarters of the way down the frame began to draw taut.

Well, screw you, Colonel Kennedy thought, just as soon as you get that wrecker loaded aboard, at least just as soon as I can have a word with the captain, you'll just have to take it back off.

Kennedy saw Captain Francis P. MacNamara, commanding officer of the 8023d Transportation Company (Depot, Forward), standing by his jeep on the other side of the seaman supervising the loading and walked over to him. MacNamara saluted. "Good afternoon, sir," he said. "How are you, MacNamara?" Kennedy replied.

"We've just started to load, sir," MacNamara said. "I thought it best to arrange the vehicles so they could be loaded according to the last on/first off schedule before we actually started the procedure."

"Good thinking, MacNamara," Kennedy said. "There's been some changes to that schedule. I'll want to talk to you about them, but I think we might as well wait until we can talk to the captain at the same time." "Yes, sir."

There was a screeching sound of unknown origin, which lasted about fif­teen seconds, then the sound of the seaman's voice.

"Jesus H. Fucking Christ!"

He sounded disgusted, or frustrated, or both.

The Vehicle, Heavy Vehicle Recovery 6x6 Mark III A2 was now sus­pended five feet in the air, swinging slowly back and forth.

"I said slowly, you dumb sonofabitch!" the seaman called to someone on deck. His voice did not need amplification.

The seaman then made very small, very gentle upward movements of his hands. There was another electric motor hum, and, just perceptibly, the Vehi­cle, Heavy Vehicle Recovery 6x6 Mark III A2 began to inch upward again.

Then there was another screeching noise, this time lasting no more than ten seconds.

The wrecker continued to rise very slowly until it was about level with the deck.

The seaman made a cutting motion across his throat.

The wrecker stopped rising and swung back and forth on the cables.

Very slowly the seaman, the palms of his hands now vertical, made a push­ing motion with his left hand. There was the sound of an electric motor, and very slowly the boom holding the rear of the wrecker moved inward. When the wrecker was perpendicular to the wharf, the seaman made a cutting motion with his left hand and then a pushing motion with his right. The boom holding the cables attached to the front of the wrecker began to swing inward. After thirty seconds—which seemed longer—the truck was completely inboard and again aligned with the keel of the Captain ]. C. Buffett.

"Okay!" the seaman shouted. "For the love of Christ, don't let that heavy sonofabitch get away from you! Slowly, fucking slowly\"

Very slowly, the wrecker began to descend into a hold of the Captain J. C. Buffett. In thirty seconds or so it was out of sight, but the seaman continued to stand on the wharf, his hands on his hips, looking upward until the hum of the electric motors died.

A moment after that there was another electrical hum, a lesser sound this time. And then one of the booms swung outward.

Colonel Kennedy and Captain MacNamara were both surprised to see an­other seaman standing on the hook at the end of the cable being lowered to the wharf. The seaman stepped casually off the hook, then engaged in a short con­versation with the seaman in charge of the operation.

Both shook their heads, and then the seaman who had ridden down on the hook shrugged, as the seaman who'd been on the wharf threw up his hands in a gesture of resignation, or frustration, or both.

The seaman who had been on the hook stepped back onto it, made a take me up gesture with his hand, and immediately began to rise into the air.

It reminded Colonel Kennedy of how a circus high-wire performer rises to the high wire.

The seaman walked over to Colonel Kennedy and Captain MacNamara. He addressed Captain MacNamara.

"That's it, pal," he announced. "That's the last of the big fuckers I'm going to try to take aboard."

"I beg your pardon?" Colonel Kennedy said.

"I said that's the last of those heavy fucking trucks that goes aboard the Cap­tain J.C. Buffett."

"That's simply not acceptable," Colonel Kennedy said.

" Acceptable'?" the seaman parroted. "Who the fuck are you to tell me what goes aboard the Captain J.C. Buffet?"

"I think I had better discuss this with one of the ship's officers," Kennedy said. "Preferably with her captain. Presumably I can find him aboard?"

"You are discussing this with her captain," the seaman said. "Who the fuck did you think you were talking to?"

"You're the captain?"

"Captain John F. X. Moran at your service, Colonel."

"Captain, obviously I owe you an apology—"

"Not yet," Captain Moran interrupted.

"Thank you," Kennedy said. "Captain, the vehicles we're trying to load aboard your ship are essential to an operation. . . ."

"Putting the X Corps ashore at Wonsan," Moran offered helpfully.

Colonel Kennedy found that helpfulness disturbing. For one thing, that the invasion force was headed for Wonsan was classified Top Secret. Colonel Kennedy wasn't at all sure that Captain Moran had that kind of a security clearance, much less the Need to Know, at this point, the destination. He was sure that he was not supposed to casually introduce it into conversation the way he had.

"Wonsan?" Kennedy asked. "Who said anything about Wonsan?"

"Jesus Christ!" Moran said disgustedly. "If you really don't know about Wonsan, Colonel, what's going on here is the reloading of X Corps, which will then be transported around to the other side of the Korean Peninsula and landed at Wonsan."

Colonel Kennedy decided not to respond directly.

"The X Corps Operations Officer sent me here to see that the heavy vehicles, such as the wrecker you just loaded aboard, were loaded aboard last, so they may be unloaded first when you reach your destination."

"Colonel, let me try to explain this to you. When I off-loaded those vehi­cles when we came here, I just about completely fucked up the motors, booms, winches, and other equipment aboard. I knew it would. My gear is not designed to handle such heavy loads. But I figured, what the hell, the important thing is to get these vehicles ashore—I can get the gear repaired when I'm back in San Diego. But now I'm told I'm going to Wonsan, not 'Diego, and I have to load all this stuff back aboard, and then unload it again at Wonsan—where I understand there will be no functioning shoreside equipment to unload me." He paused, then went on: "Still with me, Colonel?"