by Larry Bond
He looked at his watch: 0535. The sun should be up in twenty minutes or so. He could see the sky outside growing grayer.
Pierce stuck his head in the door a few minutes later. “I think it’s light enough to take a quick walk around now, Lieutenant.”
Kevin sat up sharply. It was growing orange outside now. The sun must be coming up over the horizon. Oh, crap. He’d fallen asleep, just nodded right off on his first tour of duty up at the DMZ. He blinked and staggered to his feet, barely stopping himself from trying to stand full upright under the CP’s low roof.
He followed Pierce out into a connecting trench dug from the CP out to the edge of the hill. It tied into the main trench running completely around the outpost. Rhee joined them there for the inspection of their home for the next week.
Malibu West was laid out in a rough oval with a six-foot-deep trench connecting twelve reinforced log bunkers large enough to shelter four men during an enemy air or artillery attack. Each bunker was separated by about fifteen yards of trench. Firing steps along the trench made it possible for troops to use their weapons against a ground assault. Two belts of barbed wire and a minefield completed the defenses.
As an outpost, Malibu West and its defenders were expected to fight pretty much on their own, though with liberal artillery support. Malibu and the other strongpoints like it scattered along the DMZ were intended to make an enemy assault force deploy for an attack before it reached the main allied line. It was hoped they would delay an assault long enough to allow the UN command to bring American and South Korean air and artillery power into play and to move reserves to the right places. In essence, the men holding the outposts were expected to buy time with their lives.
“I’ve put our two MG’s in the far left and far right bunkers on the forward slope. That should give us good coverage to the front. And we’ve inherited another MG with the position. Lieutenant Miller had it set up to cover the rear slope, and I figured that was a pretty good place for it so I left it there.” Pierce paused.
“Sounds good to me.” Kevin yawned. Damn, he’d have to start waking up. “Any comments, Lieutenant Rhee?”
The South Korean looked wide-awake. Naturally. “No. It sounds like a reasonable deployment to me. But what about our Dragon teams?” That was a good question. The Dragon teams with their wire-guided missiles were the 2nd Platoon’s best defense against enemy tanks and APCs.
“I’ve got ’em spread out along the forward slope. If the balloon goes up and NK tanks start getting around behind us, we may have to move ’em. But they’ve got good fields of fire where they are right now.”
Kevin nodded. “All right, Sergeant. Good work.” He worked his tongue around inside his mouth, trying to clear out the gritty taste he’d acquired during his short, unintentional nap. He looked at Rhee. “I understand there’s a South Korean platoon holding the next outpost over from us. Why don’t you go over to the CP and make contact with them. Let them know we’re here. Okay?”
Rhee smiled and sketched a salute. “No problem, Lieutenant.”
“Great. Oh, and then get some sleep. I thought we’d pull three watches until we get settled in. I’ll take the first, Sergeant Pierce here can take the second, and you’ll take the third. Sound all right to you?”
Rhee smiled even more broadly. “Certainly, Lieutenant. I’m always glad to hear that I’ll get some uninterrupted sleep.” He saluted again and moved back down the trench toward the CP.
Kevin yawned again and stretched. He’d have to get Zelinsky to make some coffee. In the meantime he could get a look at the terrain around Malibu. He’d studied the map, but you couldn’t always trust maps. There was that time he’d gotten lost on a night training march near Fort Lewis … it had just been damn lucky that he’d found a gas station where he could ask for directions.
Kevin shook his head to clear the memory. He’d learned his lesson that time. Never trust maps. He clambered up onto the firing step and lifted his binoculars. Let’s see. Hill 640, Malibu West, fell sharply away down a rocky slope into a narrow, brush-filled valley. There were gullies running through the valley and up toward a ridgeline to the north. He could just make out what might be some camouflaged bunkers on that ridge.
A hand grabbed his combat webbing and yanked him down off the firing step.
“What the fuck?” Kevin wheeled in fury as Pierce let go of his webbing.
“Sorry, sir.” Pierce didn’t sound very sorry. “But part of what they pay me for is to make sure that my lieutenants don’t get shot on their first day up at the Z.”
“And what does that have to do with grabbing me from behind just now?” Kevin was breathing hard. He’d been startled. Christ, he hadn’t even heard Pierce come up behind him. The man must move like a ghost.
“Snipers, Lieutenant. The North Koreans take a special pride in potting people staring at ’em with shiny binoculars. You want to look around up at the Z, you use the ’scopes.” Pierce jerked a thumb toward a periscope that could be raised above the trench parapet.
“Oh, bullshit. I know that the North Koreans are lunatics, but they can’t just go around shooting people. There is an armistice on, you know.”
“You know it and I know it, Lieutenant. But I ain’t too sure the gooks know it or give a damn.” Pierce had his voice pitched low. “Look, sir. This isn’t peacetime up here. This is damn close to the real thing. Back when I was just a green PFC, before Vietnam, I was stationed at a place pretty much like this.” He paused.
“So things haven’t changed much in more than twenty years. What’s the point?” Kevin was impatient. It was starting to warm up, the sun was in his eyes, and he wanted some coffee.
“Well, sir, this rear-area general came up for an inspection one day. Now, the lieutenant gave him a pretty good tour of the bunkers, trenches, and all, but this general wanted to see the commies for himself. And he wouldn’t hear of using anything like that ’scope over there. So he just jumped up on the firing step and wouldn’t listen to the lieutenant asking him to get down. He didn’t listen until some commie sniper put a round through his head.” Pierce laid a finger on the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. “Right there, Lieutenant. Knocked that dumbshit general off the firing step and blew what little brains he had out through the back of his head.”
“Christ!” Kevin was shocked. “How come I never read anything about that?”
“Hell, I suppose they hushed it up. Damned embarrassing way to lose a general, I guess.”
“Well, what happened to your lieutenant?”
“They weren’t too happy with him. Wasn’t his fault, so they couldn’t send him to Leavenworth, but they did shove his ass out of the Army in a godawful hurry.”
Kevin thought about that for a moment and then smiled ruefully. “Okay, Sergeant. You’ve made your point. You won’t lose this dumbshit lieutenant the same way.”
Pierce grinned back at him, “That’s the spirit, Lieutenant. It’s just a question of experience. And there’s one thing you can say for the Z — you get experienced real quick.”
OCTOBER 1 — MALIBU WEST, ALONG THE DMZ
After six days Kevin had had enough of Malibu West. Six days of solid boredom. Of not being able to move freely during daylight. Of lousy food and not enough sleep. Six days that were too hot and six nights that were too cold.
The only high points were the daily poker games with Rhee, Pierce, and a couple of the other noncoms. Playing cards with his NCOs might not be regulation, but it helped pass the time. Table stakes were low because it wouldn’t do to have officers winning too much money from their subordinates. Still, he’d won more than he’d lost. And it had been nice to see a look of genuine respect on Sergeant Pierce’s face for once.
But that had been it. Other than a series of meaningless, routine daily reports and a single, quick inspection by Captain Matuchek, who’d seemed pleasantly surprised to find the outpost still intact, their tour at Malibu West had been about as exciting as guarding a convent somew
here in the Midwest.
That made the call even more shocking when it came.
“Sir!” The hand that was shaking him shook even harder. “Sir!”
Kevin groaned and tried to roll over. It was still dark out and he’d been up past midnight filling out useless paperwork.
“Sir!” It was Jones, his radioman. “Captain’s on the phone, sir. Says it’s urgent.”
Shit. Now what the hell did he want. Probably wanted to bitch about some goddamned form he’d filled in wrong. Kevin threw the blankets off his cot and stumbled over to the phone.
“Alfa Echo Five Six, this is Alfa Echo Five Two. Go ahead.”
“Five Two, this is Five Six. Wait one.” Great, they woke him up and now they were going to make him wait. But the line came alive again in seconds, and something in Matuchek’s voice brought Kevin up straight. “Five Two, this is Five Six. Go to full alert. Say again, go to full alert. We have a general stand-to all along the Z.”
Oh, Christ. Kevin could feel his heart starting to pound and he was having trouble catching his breath. “Six, this is Two. Is this a drill? Over.”
Matuchek’s wrath came over the phone loud and clear. “I don’t fucking know. And right now I don’t fucking care! Just get your men out on the firing line and clear the goddamned phone. Six out.”
Kevin handed the phone back to Jones and looked around for his M16, flak jacket, and helmet. They were in the corner of the CP, right where he’d left them. Rhee was already up and buckling on his gear.
Kevin turned back to Jones. “Okay, get Pierce in here. On the double.” He took a deep breath, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. Shit, shit, calm down. He grabbed his flak jacket and started to put it on, then realized he had it backward. He flipped the bulky jacket around and slipped into it. Rhee handed him his helmet.
“What’s up, Lieutenant?” Pierce was in the door to the CP, rifle in hand and looking as awake as if he’d already been up for hours.
“We’ve got an alert. All along the DMZ. I don’t know if it’s for real or not, but you’d better get the men up and in position anyway.” Kevin grabbed his rifle and map case.
Pierce backed out of the CP and vanished down the shadow-filled connecting trench, moving toward the nearest bunker. Rhee headed out the other door. Kevin followed him as far as the main trench, accompanied by Jones, lugging the platoon’s commo gear.
The moon was up and nearly full, casting an eerie mix of orangish light and pitch-black shadows across the valley below. Gusts of a cold north wind stirred the brush back and forth and whined through the coils of barbed wire covering the approaches to Malibu West.
Kevin fumbled with the focus on the periscope. Damn it. For all he could make out, the valley down there could be filled with a thousand enemy soldiers. Or it could be empty.
The eleven troopers of 2nd Squad jogged past him, equipment rattling as they fanned out down the length of the trench and clambered up onto firing steps.
“Sir!” Jones’s hoarse whisper pulled Kevin’s eyes away from the periscope and back down into the trench. “Sergeant Pierce says everybody’s up and in position. Nothing else to report.”
“Tell Pierce to get back here pronto. And check with Company to see if they’ve got anything more.”
Pierce was there almost before he finished speaking. “We’re set, Lieutenant. One of the Dragon launchers is acting up a bit, but Ramos is working on it. Should have it up in a couple of minutes.”
“Well, he goddamned well better. Christ, what if we get hit by tanks in the next couple of minutes!” Kevin realized he was starting to sound like he’d lost it and tried to calm down. He got down off the parapet and squatted in the trench next to Pierce. “Look, are we picking anything up on our motion sensors or starlight scopes?”
“Negative. There doesn’t seem to be anything moving or warm out there.”
“Then this could all be just a false alarm.”
Pierce shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Could be a long night, though, whichever way it goes.”
A shout from down the line brought them both to their feet. “Flares! Flares to the east!”
Kevin whipped his periscope around to stare down to the right. There, about five miles away, he could see two magnesium flares swaying away south on their parachutes. He found himself praying under his breath. God, oh God, please don’t let this be real. Don’t let there be a war. Please, God.
“Could be an attack down that way.” Pierce still sounded calm. “Might just be an infiltration attempt though.” He cupped a hand to an ear. “I don’t hear any shooting.”
Rhee’s voice drifted down the line, high and excited. “Those flares are coming from a point just over Azure Dragon. That’s the ROK post on our right.”
Kevin yelled back, “Well, get on the horn and ask them what the hell’s going on.”
“Lieutenant?” Pierce coughed lightly to catch his attention. “Next time you and Lieutenant Rhee want to have a conversation, you might not want to yell it all over creation. If there are gooks down there, I figure they probably know we’re awake and ready for ’em now.”
Kevin felt his ears burning. Pierce was right and there wasn’t any way around it. He’d make a stupid mistake. The kind that Major Donaldson had warned could get his men killed. He looked down at Corporal Jones. “Uh, pass the word to Lieutenant Rhee that he’s to report here after he’s talked to that Korean outpost.”
They waited for several more minutes, but no more flares popped up to light the night sky, and everything stayed quiet. Rhee came jogging down the trench and jumped up beside Kevin and Pierce.
“I talked to the CO over at Azure Dragon. It seems that one of their new conscripts got overexcited and fired off a pair of flares. He’ll be disciplined, of course.”
Kevin knew that meant the poor little sod was probably getting the living crap beat out of him. And just at this moment, he didn’t care a bit.
Then Jones was grabbing for his elbow again. “Sir! It’s the captain!”
Kevin picked up the phone with a feeling of dread. Was this it? Was the balloon going up? “Alfa Echo Five Six, this is Five Two.”
“Alfa Echo Five Two, this is Alfa Echo Five Six. Stand down. I repeat, stand down. Resume normal schedule. That was a drill, Lieutenant, a real McLaren Special.”
“Acknowledged, Five Six.” He tried to sound cool and collected, but he knew that Matuchek had to be able to hear the immense relief in his voice. He could see Pierce and Rhee visibly relaxing at what they could hear of the conversation.
“Well, Lieutenant. Are your britches full of brown organic matter?” Matuchek didn’t sound quite as pissed off as he usually did, despite the words.
“Not quite, Five Six. Close, but not quite.” Pray God that Matuchek didn’t ever find out just how close to the truth that was.
“Well, Lieutenant. If that McLaren Special didn’t fill ’em up, I guess we might make a soldier of you yet. See you back at camp tomorrow morning. Echo Five Six out.”
Kevin hung up, feeling drained and shaky. But relieved, too. He’d screwed up, but it hadn’t been for real. And he still had time to learn.
CHAPTER 10
Revelations
OCTOBER 1 — INSIDE THE GREAT LEADER BUNKER, NORTH KOREA
“Comrade General. COMRADE GENERAL!”
Lieutenant General Cho Hyun-Jae opened his eyes. The lights were on, revealing Colonel Chung, his aide, bending over the bed. He came fully awake.
“What is it, Chung?” He automatically started getting dressed. Whatever it was, if it was important enough to wake him, it was important enough to get dressed for.
“Sir, the enemy has just gone on alert. We’ve seen movement into emplacements …”
Cho headed out the door, buttoning his tunic as he ran, with the colonel jogging along behind. The bunker had been constructed so that his quarters were only moments away from the II Corps operations center.
The door was open. Cho slowed down, too
k a deep breath, and entered an organized pandemonium. Officers and enlisted men were streaming into the room, taking positions at map boards, teletypes, and desks. A huge map occupied one side of the room, detailing the sector of the front around Kaesong, his responsibility. General Chyong Dal-Joong, his second-in-command, stood nearby discussing some point on it with the staff. He saw Cho come into the room and saluted. The rest scattered to their stations.
“Report, General. Another drill?” Cho finished buttoning his tunic collar while studying the array of painted wooden blocks used to show enemy units on the big map.
“Probably, sir. We’ve seen no movement behind the front line, but all of the imperialist troops have manned their combat positions. It would not be an auspicious time to start the liberation.” The left side of Chyong’s mouth creased upward in a lopsided smile.
Cho idly wondered how long it would be before his second-in-command’s sense of humor landed him in a State Political Security Department detention camp.
He yawned. “I think they know when I am up late and do this just to ruin my sleep. Major Ko!” He beckoned the slim, narrow-faced intelligence officer over to him.
“Major, your observations, please.”
“Yes, sir. I believe that this is an exercise. The enemy rotates the troops manning the perimeter on a regular weekly cycle. About once every two weeks he holds an alert. The alert is always in the early morning, and late in the week. Thursday is the most frequently selected day. Only troops in place are ordered to stand to. No additional units are staged forward. That is what has happened this time.”
“As far as we know,” Cho corrected.
Ko looked a little crestfallen. “Yes, sir. As far as we know.”
Cho quoted, “‘Revolution in military thought is built on a base of knowledge, not assumptions.’ ”
“Yes, sir.” Ko bowed sharply, accepting the correction.
