Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 09 - Under Fire

It was also possible that Tokchok-kundo was on a list, to be investigated, and if necessary-from their point of view- neutralized and pacified after Taemuui-do, Yonghung-do, and Taebu-do.

And it was also possible that one, or two, or a half-dozen of the friendly local fishermen who had been sell-ing Kim information-or giving it to him-had also sold-or given-to the NKs the information that not only were there a bunch of Americans on Tokchok-kundo, but that they had a boat, and were, among other things, using the island as a temporary holding pen for North Korean prisoners.

McCoy made a joke of it, always smiling when he said, with great pomposity, "I devoutly believe that bad things in-evitably happen, and when they happen, happen at the worst possible time, and therefore, we have to do thus and so."

But the truth was, he devoutly believed just that.

The bad that was inevitably going to happen was a North Korean investigation of the island of Tokchok-kundo, and the worst possible time for that to happen was right now.

So far, they had been lucky. Luck runs out.

The D Minus 1 assault of the islands was apparently on for first thing in the morning. If it wasn't on, there would have been word from General Pickering. The USS Mount McKinley had as good a commo center aboard as-proba-bly better than-the one in the Dai Ichi Building. If he had something to say to them, George Hart would have heard it.

In this case, no news was bad news.

There was only one slim chance to avoid the gunfire: When the warships steamed up to the Flying Fish Channel in the early hours of tomorrow morning, the lighthouse had to be showing light.

The lighthouse keeper that Kim had talked about had not been on Tokchok-kundo when McCoy and Taylor arrived, so to get it up and running the way it should be was out of the question, but there was plenty of diesel fuel available, and diesel fuel burns.

Captain McCoy called an Officers' Call of his staff. It convened in the captain's cabin of the Wind of Good For-tune. Present were Lieutenant Taylor, Captain Hart, and Master Gunner Zimmerman.

"I have reason to believe the North Koreans may come into port tonight, probably just before dark," McCoy began.

"Where'd you get that, Killer?" Zimmerman asked, cu-riously.

My worst-thing-at-the-worst-time theory, Ernie.

"I thought you knew, Mr. Zimmerman," McCoy said. "God tells me things."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, McCoy!" Taylor said, half in disgust, half laughing.

"And there have been two changes of plan," McCoy said. "The first is that if they do come in, we're going to have to kill everybody on board, or sink the launch, prefer-ably both."

"Not just run them off, to come back and play later?" Taylor asked.

"The minute they come in the harbor, they're going to see the boat," McCoy said. "So the first thing we shoot on the boat is wherever the radio is likely to be, and anybody who looks like he has a microphone."

"Why are they going to see the boat?" Hart asked.

"Because the camouflage will be off it."

"Oh?"

"Because you and me, Hart, the moment we finish with the NKs, are going to go to the lighthouse. Maybe, just maybe, if that's lit up in the wee hours of the morning, they won't lay naval gunfire on the islands."

"No, you're not," Zimmerman said.

"What did you say, Mr. Zimmerman?" McCoy snapped icily.

"Hart and me'll go to the lighthouse," Zimmerman said. "We'll take two of the guys with us." He paused, then went on: "Who do you want to be here if the general gets on the radio?" Zimmerman said. "You or me?"

"Taylor will be here."

"He's right, Ken," Taylor said. "You can't leave here. But I don't think Ernie should, either. Hart and I can han-dle the lighthouse if you give us two men, and Ernie can work the radio."

"For what it's worth, I vote with the Navy," Hart said. "I'm a little uncomfortable with the idea of Killer steering me around in the boat in the dark."

"Okay," Taylor said. "That's settled. We just had a vote."

"A vote?" McCoy said. "What does this look like, Con-gress?"

"What I'd like to know, Ken," Taylor said, ignoring him, "is how you can be so sure the NKs are going to suddenly show up."

"I've got a gut feeling," McCoy admitted. "That's all."

"That's good enough for me, Killer," Zimmerman said, matter-of-factly. "I will go alert the troops to prepare to re-pel boarders."

He got up and walked out of the cabin.

Hart and McCoy looked at each other.

"You stick by the radio, George," McCoy ordered. `Tell Kim to turn the engine on and leave it running. Maybe, with a little luck, we'll hear from the general, and none of this John Wayne business will be necessary."

Hart nodded, and then said, "Aye, aye, sir."

The John Wayne business proved to be necessary. Twenty minutes later, as Technical Sergeant Jennings was hauling the camouflage netting off the boat, the lookout posted on the end of the wharf suddenly started to run down the wharf toward the shore.

Jennings waved at him to stay where he was, and after another half-dozen steps, the lookout jumped to one side of the wharf and concealed himself in the rocks.

Jennings dropped the camouflage net and jumped ashore, and, bent double, ran into the alley between the closest two houses. He ran behind the houses until he came to the one where he thought Captain McCoy would be.

He wasn't.

He ran to the next house.

McCoy was there, taking up the squatting firing position with his Garand as if he were on the range at Camp LeJeune.

"Captain!"

"I see them, Jennings," McCoy said.

Jennings looked through the window, and for the first time saw the boat, and the North Korean soldiers in then-cotton uniforms manning what looked like an air-cooled.50 on her bow.

The partially uncovered boat caught their attention, and they fired a short burst at it.

"Shit," McCoy said. "I was hoping they'd try to capture it intact!"

Then his Garand went off, and then again, and then again, and Jennings saw the two Koreans on the machine gun fall, one backward, as if something had pushed him, and the other just collapse straight downward.

"If you remember how to use that rifle, Sergeant," Mc-Coy said, "now would be a good time."

[TWO]

ABOARD LST-450

37 DEGREES 11 MINUTES NORTH LATITUDE,

125 DEGREES 58 MINUTES EAST LONGITUDE

THE YELLOW SEA

1615 13 SEPTEMBER 1950

LST-450 was now hobbling in a wide circle in the Yellow Sea about fifty miles off the lighthouse marking the en-trance to the Flying Fish Channel. She was alone, in the sense that she was not escorted by-under the protection of-a destroyer or any other kind of warship, but there had always been some sort of aircraft more or less overhead since she had sailed from Sasebo, and the farther north they had moved, there seemed to be more ships just visible on all sides of her.

Not a convoy, Captain Howard Dunwood, USMCR, had reasoned, although there certainly was a convoy out there someplace, surrounded by men-of-war. What he was looking at were ships of the invasion fleet who someone had judged did not need protection as much as some other ships-an LST was not as valuable as an air-craft carrier or an assault transport, obviously-and had been placed, for the time being, far enough from where the action was likely to occur to keep them reasonably safe.

After reviewing with his men for the umpteenth time the role Baker Company was to play in the Inchon invasion, Dunwood turned them over to the first sergeant and went to the bridge. He would have a cup of coffee with the captain before the evening meal was called.

The major sent to Sasebo from Division G-3 had been- as Dunwood expected he would be-a bullshitter, but the more Dunwood thought about what Baker Company was going to be expected to do, the more he came to believe the major had been right about one thing. Baker Company's role in the invasion was going to be critical.