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

"The captain has the conn!" the officer of the deck announced.

"Bring us alongside the Badoeng Strait," Matthews ordered the helmsman, describing with his finger how he wanted the Mansfield to move and where.

He turned to the officer of the deck and nodded.

The officer of the deck went to the control panel, depressed the announce lever, and said, "Attention all hands. Make all preparations for underway per­sonnel transfer."

[THREE]

USS Badoeng Strait (CVE 116)

37.54 Degrees North Latitude

13O.O5 Degrees East Longitude

The Sea of Japan

1515 16 October 195O

Lieutenant Bruce D. Patterson, MC, USNR, wearing foul-weather gear and an inflated life jacket, was sitting in a bosun's chair. The chair—an item of Navy gear evolved from a sort of canvas seat that hauled sailors aloft to work on masts and sails, and thus was probably as old as the anchor—was suspended under a cable that had been rigged between one of the higher decks of the USS Mansfield and an interior strong point in the USS Badoeng Strait that was ac­cessible through a square port in her side.

"All things considered, Major Pickering," Lieutenant Patterson said, "I very much regret ever having met you."

Major Malcolm S. Pickering, USMCR, who was also wearing foul-weather gear and an inflated life jacket, and was strapped into a second bosun's chair, smiled, shrugged, held out both hands in front of him, and said, "Jeez, Doc, I thought you liked me."

There was laughter from the dozen Marine aviators who were on hand to watch Good Ol' Pick get transferred to the destroyer.

Another Marine aviator in a flight suit walked up to them.

"I don't suppose it occurred to any of you guys that you might be in the way down here," Lieutenant Colonel William C. Dunn, USMC, said.

Lieutenant Colonel Dunn was not in a very good mood. He had just fin­ished what he considered the most unpleasant duty laid upon a commanding officer.

And it was still painfully fresh in his mind:

USS BADOENG STRAIT (CVE-116)

MARINE AIR GROUP 33

AT SEA

16 OCTOBER 1950

MRS. BARBARA C. MITCHELL

APARTMENT 12-D, "OCEANVIEW"

1005 OCEAN DRIVE

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

DEAR BABS:

BY NOW, I'M SURE THAT YOU HAVE BEEN OFFICIALLY NOTIFIED OF DICK'S DEATH.

I THOUGHT THAT YOU WOULD BE INTERESTED IN WHAT I CAN TELL YOU OF WHAT HAPPENED.

WE WERE IN A SIX-CORSAIR FLIGHT OVER NORTH KOREA, NEAR HUNGNAM, ON THE EAST COAST OF THE KOREAN PENIN­SULA. OUR MISSION WAS IN SUPPORT OF THE I REPUBLIC OF KOREA CORPS, WHICH IS IN PURSUIT OF RETREATING NORTH KOREAN ARMY FORCES.

WHAT WE WERE CHARGED WITH DOING WAS INTERDICTING NORTH KOREA TROOPS TO BOTH SLOW THEIR RETREAT AND HIT THEM AS HARD AS WE CAN. WHEN THE SOUTH KOREANS DID NOT HAVE A TARGET FOR US, WE MADE SWEEPS OVER THE AREA, LOOKING FOR SUITABLE TARGETS OURSELVES.

ON THE AFTERNOON OF 14 OCTOBER, I DIVIDED THE FLIGHT INTO THREE TWO-CORSAIR ELEMENTS, WITH MYSELF AND MY WINGMAN, LIEUTENANT STAN SUPROWSKI, IN THE LEAD AND FIVE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE SECOND ELEMENT, WHICH WAS CAPTAIN JACK DERWINSKI, WHOM I KNOW YOU KNOW, AND WHO WAS A CLOSE FRIEND OF DICK'S. LIEUTENANT SAM WILLIAMS WAS FLYING AS JACK'S WINGMAN. THEY WERE FIVE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE THIRD ELEMENT, WHICH WAS DICK, WITH CAPTAIN LESTER STEPPES FLYING ON HIS WING.

A LITTLE AFTER TWO-THIRTY, FROM MY GREATER ALTITUDE, I WAS ABLE TO SEE A COLUMN OF TROOPS MIXED WITH SOME TRUCKS AND OTHER VEHICLES. TO MAKE SURE THEY WERE NOT FRIENDLY FORCES, I PASSED THE WORD THAT I WOULD MAKE A PASS OVER THEM, AND THAT IF THEY WERE INDEED THE ENEMY, THE OTHERS WERE TO ATTACK, STARTING WITH SUPROWSKI, WHO WAS NOW A THOUSAND FEET BEHIND ME, AND THEN THE OTHER TWO ELEMENTS.

I MADE THE PASS, AND RECEIVED SOME SMALL-CALIBER FIRE, WHEREUPON I GAVE THE ORDER FOR THE OTHERS TO ATTACK.

I THEN PULLED UP, MADE A 180-DEGREE TURN, AND SHORTLY THEREAFTER WAS FLYING A THOUSAND FEET OR SO BEHIND DICK AND CAPTAIN STEPPES AT NO MORE THAN TWO HUNDRED FEET OFF THE DECK. I COULD SEE DICK AND LESTER'S TRACER AMMUNITION STRIKING THE ENEMY COLUMN.

AND THEN, TO MY HORROR, I SAW DICK GO IN. ACTUALLY, IT HAPPENED SO QUICKLY THAT THE FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE I SAW WAS THE FIREBALL OF DICK'S AIRCRAFT.

THERE IS NO QUESTION WHATEVER IN MY MIND THAT HE DIED INSTANTLY, AND IT IS ENTIRELY LIKELY THAT DICK WAS STRUCK AND KILLED BY ANTIAIRCRAFT MACHINE-GUN FIRE BEFORE HIS CORSAIR CRASHED.

ON MY FIRST PASS OVER THE CRASH SITE—SECONDS LATER— THERE WAS NOTHING TO BE SEEN BUT THE FIREBALL. ON SUBSEQUENT PASSES, AFTER THE FIRE HAD BURNED ITSELF OUT, I WAS FORCED TO CONCLUDE THAT NO ONE COULD HAVE SURVIVED THE CRASH.

ON RETURNING TO THE BADOENG STRAIT, I WAS ABLE TO MAKE CONTACT WITH A MARINE UNIT ON SHORE WHICH HAS ACCESS TO AN H-19 HELICOPTER, AND THEY ARE AS THIS IS WRITTEN IN THE PROCESS OF GETTING DICK'S REMAINS. I KNOW THEY WILL DO THEIR VERY BEST, NOT ONLY AS FELLOW MARINES, BUT BECAUSE AMONG THEM IS A MASTER GUNNER WHO KNEW DICK IN NORTH CAROLINA, AND HELD HIM IN BOTH HIGH ESTEEM AND AFFECTION.

AS SOON AS I LEARN ANYTHING ABOUT THIS, I WILL IMMEDIATELY LET YOU KNOW.

I DON'T THINK I HAVE TO TELL YOU HOW ALL THE. MARINES IN MAG33 FELT ABOUT DICK. HE WAS A SUPERB PILOT, AND A FINE MARINE OFFICER, AND WE SHALL ALL MISS HIM VERY MUCH.

THIS WILL PROBABLY OFFER LITTLE IN THE WAY OF CONSOLATION, BUT I HAVE JUST BEEN NOTIFIED THAT MY RECOMMENDATION FOR THE AWARD OF THE DISTINGUISHED FLYING CROSS HAS BEEN APPROVED. THAT WILL BE HIS THIRD AWARD OF THE DFC.

IF THERE IS ANYTHING I CAN DO TO BE OF SERVICE AT ANY TIME, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

SINCERELY,

William C. Dunn

WILLIAM C. DUNN

LIEUTENANT COLONEL, USMC

COMMANDING

Dunn walked up to Pickering.

"Jesus, Billy," Pickering said. "How about cutting a little slack? The guys just came to see me off."

Dunn didn't respond directly. He thrust a large oilskin envelope at Picker­ing. "Can I rely on you to get this in the mail as soon as you get to Japan?" he asked.

"Depends on what's in it," Pick said.

"My condolence letter to Babs Mitchell."

Pick's smile faded. "Sure," he said, and took the envelope and stuffed it in­side the foul-weather gear.

Dunn walked to the open door and peered out.

He saw that while weather conditions could not—yet—be accurately de­scribed as a storm, there were strong winds, five- to eight-foot swells, and it was raining, sometimes in gusts.

He saw that as the Mansfield and Badoeng Strait moved through the sea, with an intended space of fifty feet between them, they did not move up and down in unison. Only when the Mansfield, moving upward, for example, was exactly on a level with the Badoeng Strait, moving downward, was the cable stretched between them fairly level.

At all other times, it formed a loop, with one of the vessels at the top of the loop and the other at the bottom.

In addition, if the seas caused one vessel to lean to port and the other to starboard, the cable would be subject to a stress capable of snapping it as they moved apart unless additional cable was released from the winch. Conversely, if the vessels leaned toward each other, the lower part of the loop tended to go into the water, unless the cable was quickly winched in.

Dunn pulled his head in and looked at Chief Petty Officer Felix J. Orlovski, who had been in the Navy longer than many of his sailors were old.

"How are we doing with this, Chief?"

"We're about to make a test run, sir," the chief said, and pointed upward to the cable. A third bosun's chair was hooked to it.

"What's that strapped inside?" Dunn asked.