by Unknown
Major Peterson is not a bad leader, Hufham thought. He made good decisions and worked with the men to get the job done. Best of all he listened to his NCOs who had been the ones to dream up the plan in the first place. Hufham watched as the men completed the camouflage around the positions. Instead of just draping the nets around, the men had pulled up shrubs and other undergrowth from the other side of the hill to weave into it. By the time it was finished, no one from the ground or the air would be able to see any of the positions. Peterson made his way up the hill toward Hufham.
“Looks good from down the hill. Are the people spaced out enough?” he asked not wanting to increase the likelihood of losing too many to return fire.
“Should be no problem, Major. The ammunition is under cover and the whole place is ringed with field telephones so we can communicate. I checked the line to the next position over on Hill 419. Good comms, and the way is clear for us to back off when we need to,” Hufham said.
The Major nodded. The sound of gunfire could be heard not far away. Heavy thuds of artillery and mortars accentuated the staccato of the rifle fire. “Okay look. I want everyone to get to their positions and stand by. Eat a good meal, but no fires or smoke of any kind, including cigarettes. Pass the word. No one opens up until I say so. We may have one hour, possibly two before all hell breaks loose. When the people from hill 432 come around, have the guys meet them on the other side of this hill and send them back to 419. We don’t need them getting in the way or giving away our positions. I told Captain Washburn to stay on the far side. Lieutenants Harvey and Donnelly are already placed. Just make sure no one runs out into the open. I don’t want to give away anything,” he repeated sternly. It was clear he thought it all through and was worried about getting the job done. Then he smiled. “And keep your head down Top. I may want a ride in that Jeep of yours when this is done,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I got it hid. The keys are in the ignition, sir.”
“Damn, I like an efficient man,” he grinned. He turned serious again. “If we have to leave, get as many of the guys down that hill and back to 419 as possible. Blow up anything left, but above all, get these guys home, Top,” he said.
“Will do, sir. You know where I’ll be,” Hufham said. The Major turned and blended back into the side of the hill. Hufham scanned the compound. Not a soul was stirring. That was good – exactly what they wanted. Hufham walked to each position along the line and told the men to eat a meal and stand ready. By the time he got to his position his stomach was churning, both from hunger and in anticipation of things to come. Ricks sat back from his binoculars and pointed to an MRE already in its cooker. The chemical heater had the water boiling.
“I made you some beef stew. Have a seat and relax before they come over the hill,” he said. Another explosion was heard and some black smoke billowed up two hills over. Ricks scanned the area and sat back again. “That ought to shut Davis up a while. He’s been bitching and moaning all day about having to set all this up. I finally had to tell him I was going to put my size 11s up his ass if he didn’t get hot,” he said. Ricks had matured quickly since that first night at the DMZ. He developed a focused approach to his job and the ability to get others to toe the line. Most of all, although encouraging, he didn’t mind kicking a few butts to get the job done. He and Hufham had developed a close, strong working relationship. He took another look around. Almost no traffic on the road was going toward the front. Most of it was heading away from it. “Won’t be long now,” he said.
Hufham wolfed down his meal and ate the dessert supplied. Then he threw the box and other leavings into a plastic bag. He doubted they would be policing the area up when they left, but it was good to at least think about it. The noise of gunfire was stronger now and more wounded were being brought back from the front, either in some sort of truck or by foot. Hufham made a call to each position reminding his people not to make a move until the order was given. He had thrown a few expletives in just to get his point across. He was actually pleased with their actions so far. This group had been thrown together from the huddling masses of military refugees who fled the northern part of the country when North Korea invaded. They were harassed all the way toward Pusan and reformed to help meet the needs of a controlled retreat along the front. But the men were not defeated. They pulled together and learned from what happened before. When the Major and Master Sergeant told them the plan, they responded with enthusiasm. This was their chance to get back at the people who started this war. It may not be the best situation, but they would give better than they got.
Ricks was watching the men and machines as they moved back along the road. It wasn’t a rout, but it was close. Lots of people were now trying to save what they had while not getting killed. A few mortar rounds landed at the curve along the far hill. They were here.
A couple of jets flew overhead. Hufham noticed them through the camouflage. They were not carrying bombs, as far as he could see, and the hills restricted what they could do in strafing runs. They passed across the area several times before moving to the north. Hufham pointed as they left. “Reconning from what I see,” Hufham said. “I bet they were checking out the hills along the road.”
Ricks nodded and turned to the other five in the hurriedly dug emplacement. “That’s why we said stay under cover. With all this shit on top of us, those planes have no idea we’re down here. Just stay loose,” he said to the men. He turned to Hufham. “There’s activity on the next hill,” he said. Hufham picked up his field telephone to alert the others and the Major reminded everyone to stay low and hold fire.
The men in the emplacement stared through the camouflage netting to watch a number of men scurry across the top of the adjacent hill. They mostly carried small arms, though a mortar and a couple of machine guns were seen being set up. Down on the road, the allies were carrying out a delaying movement, stopping to shoot and slow the enemy’s approach. It was deliberate work, dashing from place to place, firing at the enemy then moving again. A crossfire had been set up and some of the allied soldiers were drawing the North into the trap. Additional North Korean soldiers scrambled to the top of a hill across the road. It was the same as before, mostly small arms, a mortar and machine guns. More and more soldiers began to appear on the top of the adjacent hill and Hufham watched as an officer directed a part of the group to start moving along the ridge toward his own hill.
Hufham picked up the telephone and gave it a spin. “Emplacement two to command post. We have a couple squads of DPRs heading our way, Major,” he said.
“I see them,” came the reply. “Unit four, stand by, do not engage until I give the word.”
“Unit four roger,” came the voice of Captain Washburn.
“Attention all units, this is command post. Mortar one target hill one. Mortar two target hill two. Machine gun posts no targets at this time. Artillery positions hold; however, if we start to see armor, target the armor and hold. Remember, we don’t want to give away our true positions,” the Major reminded them.
Along the ridge of the hill the North Korean squad made its way through the brush. If they could get around the back of the Americans, it would be a slaughter. The brush was thick, but not too difficult to get through. Comrade Lieutenant Ho pushed his men forward. They had been walking almost since the war began and needed a break. But the Political Officer told them emphatically they could all rest after the war. It was politically imperative that this campaign get over with quickly. The Political Officer joined them in this push. After carefully surveying the adjacent hill by air and on the ground, it was determined that no one had considered it important enough to fortify, even though it was strategically situated along this major road. The soldiers pulled out their knives to slash away at the undergrowth as they proceeded. It slowed their progress to a crawl. The Political Officer went into another of his tirades, but nature was not something to be overcome through political will. Ho had to laugh at the man. He was typical. Almost every political officer
he met thought that things would become fact simply by pronouncing it. Ho helped him out on several occasions when he found himself caught in some brush or dangerous situation. They were coming up on a rocky outcropping that would make easy transit.
Peterson watched the slow progress through the undergrowth. He also watched as the two hills completed their preparations for attacking the retreating troops. It would be just about right. The Claymores were positioned just behind the rocky outcropping so the ricocheting fragments could cause more damage. Once the Claymores went off, everything would go.
The Political Officer climbed up over the rocks and began walking along a path down the other side. His men were following behind. This campaign was sure to help him make a name for himself in the government. Any successful operation, no matter how small, looked good in a record. He silently held Lieutenant Ho in contempt. The man was weak politically, but his men followed his instructions and so he served his purpose – at least that is how it would read in his report. As he walked along, he never questioned why a path lay along the rocks. He was curious when he came up on some metal looking things stuck in the ground. He stopped a moment, bending down to get a better look.
The Claymores went off in unison wiping the entire squad of North Koreans off the side of the hill. At the same time, small sections of the netting were pulled back and the mortar rounds began dropping all along the ridge of both hills almost at once. North Korean men and equipment went flying as the rounds burst inside the tightly packed groups and their hastily dug positions. The machine guns and mortars never even had the chance to respond. The Americans used their mortars with great skill, clearing the top and walking the rounds down the opposite side of the hill. American mortar crews worked feverishly making sure every square inch of the North Korean positions had been neutralized. Within ten minutes the Major called a cease fire. The netting was pulled back in place.
The North Korean commander watched in horror as both hills seemed to disintegrate before him. He called for more troops to ascend the hill, but they were met by frantic troops coming down trying to escape the carnage. As the last of the American troops crossed the junction between the two hills, both sides seemed to explode at once, showering the roadway with debris and boulders. Then more explosives went off leaving the road unmanageable.
The Korean Commander cursed the Americans for denying him his planned route. There was pressure from above to meet the planned objectives at whatever cost. He immediately ordered the engineers forward to clear and rebuild the road. Then he began peering through his glasses to find out where the attack came from. But there was nothing. No smoke, no fallen trees, no evidence of an emplacement on any of the surrounding hills. He gazed back at the place of the first explosion. He could see where the Claymores had done their work, so he expected that emplacements were there. He next ordered artillery brought up to fire on that position and the surrounding area.
From a hidden site above the bend in the road, the spotter watched the activities out of sight from the rest of the company. Using the field telephone, he told the mortar crews exactly where everything was being brought up. Waiting until as many enemy soldiers were in the area as possible, Major Peterson gave the order to commence firing. The mortars spat out their deadly cargo at an alarming rate; raining down on the narrow roadway between the hills, killing troops, damaging the guns and other equipment, and more importantly, igniting the ready service ammunition that had been brought up to service the guns. When that happened, the high walls surrounding the roadway began to be peppered with ordnance. In a few seconds, the dirt and rock face gave way on both sides of the steep hills and slid down into the narrow road; making it narrower still. After using a rocking ladder type movement with the mortar rounds for the next 15 minutes, all fell quiet again.
“Move the mortars and equipment to position bravo, I say again, position bravo,” Major Peterson ordered into the telephone. Quickly and quietly, the mortars were dismantled and moved to a new covered position nearly 100 yards away from their previous positions. The entire move was accomplished under the natural canopy or the camouflage netting, giving nothing away.
“There isn’t much moving down there, Major,” the spotter said into his telephone. “I see all the guns overturned, a couple of trucks burning, and a shit load of soldiers dead,” he said. “They moved the rest of the equipment back behind the next bend. I would bet that road is all clogged up now, sir.”
“Just keep your eyes open,” the Major told him. “Now that we’ve pissed them off, they’ll be back.” He turned and walked up to Hufham’s new position. The men were putting the finishing touches on the emplacements and reinstalling the field telephone.
Hufham nodded. “All set, Major,” he said. “How far back did we knock them?”
The Major glanced back toward the road. “I figure about half a klick. They’ll regroup and start coming over those hills to get at us, or they’ll bring up some armor. Either way it will be a hot night,” he said gruffly. “I doubt they were able to get a good fix on where we were shooting from, but I’m being cautious. Have your men get some rest after they re-supply. I have a feeling they won’t come till later this evening when it gets dark.”
Hufham nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they’d be sitting ducks down there,” he said pointing to the road. “I’ll have some of the decoys set off towards dusk to let ‘em know where we aren’t,” he said with a grin.
“Good. That will last long enough for us to drop ‘em. Just make sure no one lets the cat out of the bag. I’ll do a walk through later on,” the Major said.
Hufham made his own rounds of the positions, reassuring the people and reinforcing the Major’s ideas. Whoever came up on their positions was going to learn a really hard lesson.
Washington D.C.
Hammond rode the elevator up from his basement abode and stopped on the main floor. He took a quick look outside just so he could say he had seen daylight for the day, even though it was 5:30 am. Just the hint of a dawn was good enough for him. He walked briskly down the corridors and out the west wing toward the offices surrounding the Oval Office. He stopped by communications and picked up the “Early Bird,” the daily newspaper clippings sheets. The top sheet was always colored yellow and had the words “Early Bird” across the top. He glanced across the front sheet where the most important stories were. As he was about to leave, a Marine captain stopped him. “Captain, the Chief of Staff was looking for you, sir. He said to have you come in and see him right away.”
Hammond grunted. “Another minor crisis no doubt,” he said with a faint smile. He retraced his steps a few yards and turned down another corridor near the Oval Office. Butler’s door was open and Hammond saw Butler reading the Washington Post, sipping on some black coffee. Another Navy captain was in the office. Hammond knocked slightly on the door.
“Come on in, Roger,” Butler said with a grin. He pointed to the other captain who was now getting out of his chair. “Roger, meet Eric Matthews,” he said. The two men shook hands. “Eric is your relief.”
That stopped Hammond in his tracks. He looked at his friend. “My relief?”
Butler laughed. “Yeah, the President and I have been getting tired of looking at your ugly face,” he said. Then he handed Hammond a sheet of paper.
Hammond read the message slowly. “…proceed immediately to San Diego, CA and report aboard USS (name withheld) and assume the duties of commanding officer….” Hammond’s face broke into a grin. “My god, I never would have believed it,” he said slowly. “What ship? It’s been removed from the orders.”
Butler was beaming. The President and Admiral Johnson both had come up with this idea. He wasn’t about to blow it. “Roger, the boss wants that kept a secret for now. You are to proceed this morning to San Diego and take command. Some people will meet you at the airport and take you to her.”
“Yeah, but is it a destroyer, a cruiser, some barge – what is it?”
“Probably some supply ship. The
boss knows you really wanted to go to sea, but you’ve made a few enemies around here. He did the best he could. Just get out there and command again,” Butler said. “In the mean time, Eric and I have a little work to do. So get back to your hole and pack up. Your plane leaves in about four hours. Just be happy you get to leave this funny farm,” he said extending his hand. Hammond shook it warmly. “Thanks, Jim. Can I drop by and thank the boss?”
“You can try, but he’s on the Hill all morning. Don’t worry. We’ll be in touch. Besides, if this guy doesn’t work out, I may recall you,” he joked winking at Matthews.
Hammond shook their hands again. “Tell the President I said thanks.”
“Get out of here, squid.”
Hammond walked out of the office and back down the corridor. Several of the people stepped out to congratulate him on his new command. No one could say what it was, but they knew it was something he wanted. Back at his quarters, he was surprised to see several staff members packing up the last of his belongings. The staff arranged for his things to be sent up and a car brought around. Hammond stopped briefly by the command center where he picked up his records and his orders along with the transportation documents. Being from the White House, everything had already been arranged.
