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

"You have anything to substantiate that belief? Something hard?"

"No, sir."

"Nothing that would get General Willoughby to reconsider his analysis?"

"No, sir."

"Inasmuch as General Walker is about to, or already has, taken Pyongyang, the initial purpose of X Corps landing at Wonsan and striking across the penin­sula is no longer valid. Under those circumstances, I suspect that I will get or­ders to strike with all possible speed toward the border. You think there will be Chinese intervention when we get close?"

"Yes, sir. That's what I think they'll do."

"Who have you told of your analysis?"

"I will tell General Pickering when I see him at Sasebo, sir."

"What's he doing at Sasebo?"

"I don't know, sir. Captain Dunwood just told me he's on his way there. It probably has to do with Major Pickering, sir. I think they moved him to the Navy hospital there."

"Who's Captain Dunwood?"

"He commands the Marines we borrowed from First MarDiv, sir. He's at a little base we have at Socho-Ri, on the coast."

"What was that business about a lady?"

"I didn't pick up much more than Major Pickering's girlfriend, the war cor­respondent, Jeanette Priestly? ..."

"I know her."

"... was killed in a plane crash on her way to Wonsan. One of my officers— Master Gunner Zimmerman, 'Fat Kraut'—was somehow involved in finding that out, and went to Sasebo to tell Major Pickering."

"That's tragic," Almond said. "The poor fellow. All that time . . . and when he's finally out of it, they have to tell him . . ."

"Yes, sir. It's a bitch." He paused, then added: "I suspect—I don't know— that's why General Pickering is headed for Sasebo."

"And why does he want you there?"

"I don't know, sir. But he wouldn't have sent for me unless he thought it was important." He reached for Al Haig's trousers and shirt. "Which means, sir, I have to get back aboard the Wind of Good Fortune."

"That's that powered junk?"

"Yes, sir. And head for Wonsan. We have a Beaver that will pick me up at the Capital ROK Division airstrip and take me to Seoul. I'll catch a plane there. Maybe a direct flight to Sasebo, if not through Tokyo."

McCoy pushed himself off the surgical table. There was pain, and he winced. He turned his back to Almond and slid the black pajama trousers down, and then, with effort, put his leg into the Army trousers.

"What happened this morning, McCoy? How did you take the hit?"

"Bad luck, sir. We had just gotten aboard the Wind of Good Fortune when all of a sudden there was a floodlight on us, and a North Korean—or maybe a Russian—patrol boat out there. We had .50 Brownings fore and aft, and we shot it up pretty quickly. But not until after they got their machine gun—and the damned mortar that got me—into action."

McCoy put on Captain Haig's shirt, then tucked it into the trousers.

"Tell Al thanks, please, sir," he said. "I really didn't want to have to go find a uniform somewhere."

"He will be pleased he could help," Almond said. "You're sure you're all right to get back on the junk?"

"Once I get aboard, I'll be all right, General. I was thinking maybe they could rig a bosun's chair and lower me into her."

"I'm sure they can," Almond said. "Thank you, McCoy."

"No thanks necessary, sir," McCoy said. "I'm just glad they don't shoot the messenger with the bad news anymore."

Ten minutes later, McCoy was lowered without incident in a bosun's chair onto the forecastle of the Wind of Good Fortune. As soon as he was aboard and out of the chair, she turned away from the Mount McKinley and headed west­ward toward Wonsan.

"Admiral, how much trouble is it going to be to get a message to the com­manding officer of the hospital at Sasebo?" General Almond asked of Rear Ad­miral Feeney.

"No problem at all. What's the message?"

Almond handed him a sheet of paper fresh from Captain Al Haig's portable typewriter.

URGENT UNCLASSIFIED

COMMANDING OFFICER, NAVY HOSPITAL, SASEBO

TO BE DELIVERED TO BRIGADIER GENERAL FLEMING PICKERING, USMC, AS SOON AS POSSIBLE

PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM MAJOR GENERAL ALMOND, X CORPS PERSONAL MESSAGE BEGINS

DEAR FLEMING,

YOU KNOW WHERE I AM. I HAVE JUST MET WITH MAJOR MCCOY, WHO IS EN ROUTE TO SASEBO PER YOUR ORDERS.

HE GAVE ME SOME DISTRESSING INFORMATION WHICH I AM SURE HE WILL SHARE WITH YOU. IT IS A GREAT PITY THAT HE HAS NOTHING SOLID ENOUGH TO BACK IT UP TO FORCE A CHANGE OF ANALYSIS BY THOSE WHO HAVE TO BE CONVINCED. I AM CONVINCED HE IS RIGHT, BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER, DOES IT?

MAJOR MCCOY IS TRAVELING AGAINST MEDICAL ADVICE, HAVING SUFFERED WOUNDS IN AN EARLY MORNING ENGAGEMENT TODAY. HE DID THE NEXT THING TO REFUSING MEDICAL TREATMENT IN ORDER TO COMPLETE HIS MISSION AND COMPLY WITH YOUR ORDER THAT HE GO TO SASEBO.

INASMUCH AS I STRONGLY SUSPECT THAT HE WILL NOT MENTION THIS TO YOU, AND THUS IT WILL NOT BECOME A MATTER OF OFFICIAL RECORD, I TELL YOU SO THAT HE MAY AT LEAST BE AWARDED THE PURPLE HEART.

IT SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING THAT I AM DELIGHTED THAT YOUR SON IS BACK FROM HIS UNIMAGINABLE ORDEAL.

WHERE DO THESE FINE YOUNG MEN COME FROM? I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU SOON.

BEST PERSONAL REGARDS.

NED

END PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM GEN ALMOND TO GEN PICKERING

Chapter Fourteen

[ONE]

Fishbase Communications Hootch

Socho-Ri, South Korea

O747 19 October 19SO

"Cancel Bail Out, sir?" Staff Sergeant Al Preston, USMC, asked just as soon as Captain Dunwood had taken off his headset and turned from the radio.

Staff Sergeant Preston was wearing black pajamas and a black headband, and his face was smeared with black and dark brown grease. He had a Thompson .45-ACP-caliber submachine gun slung from his right shoulder. A canvas bag bulging with spare Thompson magazines and hand grenades hung from his left shoulder.

"Bail Out will not be necessary. Major McCoy is aboard 'a Navy vessel at sea,' " Dunwood said. "He couldn't say which one in the clear, but more than likely one of the ships carrying First MarDiv to Wonsan."

"What did they do, lose their radio?" Preston asked.

I really can't tell, Dunwood thought, if Preston is relieved that Bail Out has been canceled, or disappointed.

"That, too, I'm sure. Something went wrong," Dunwood said. "Major McCoy didn't say what, but he said there are two KIA and three WIA. We're to send a replacement crew for the Wind of Good Fortune to Wonsan. On the Beaver."

"Sir, is there any reason I couldn't get in on that?"

"You surprise me, Preston,' Dunwood said. "Here you are, a Marine with over six years' combat experience, and a staff sergeant. You're supposed to be bright enough to know that volunteering is something smart Marines just don't do."

"Sir, this is different," Preston said a little uncomfortably.

"How so?" Dunwood asked.

"This isn't like the regular Corps, sir. You know?"

Preston gestured around the communications hootch.

"You mean because of the refrigerator?" Dunwood asked innocently.

The hootch—because of the generator powering the radios, and because there was always an officer or senior noncom on duty—also housed a bright white Kenmore refrigerator that they had flown in on the Beaver from The House in Seoul.

"The refrigerator?" Preston asked, confused.

"You're right," Dunwood said. "I don't think even the commanding general of First MarDiv has a refrigerator full of Asahi beer."

"I wasn't talking about the refrigerator, sir," Preston said. "Jesus!"

"I'm a little confused, Preston. What are you talking about?"

"Sir, this isn't the Pusan Perimeter, is it?"