Retreat, Hell! tc-10

by W. E. B Griffin

  Howe nodded. "And I think if anybody can get young Pickering back, McCoy can," he said.

  Smith grunted.

  "In terrain like that of northeast Korea, General," Smith said, "cohesion of your forces is critical. You can't string them out, and, worse, you can't outrun your logistics."

  "I know. I had a division in Italy. It's hard to get ammunition—not to men­tion hot rations—up the side of a mountain in a snowstorm."

  "So, I understand General Almond had a division in Italy," Smith said. "And in the presumption that General Almond learned what you did there, and will not issue orders requiring me to separate elements of the division, or order me to move so far or so fast that my ration and ammo trains will be strained, I have no objection to the Marines going ashore at Wonsan. Or anywhere else they think we can do the job."

  "Thank you," Howe said. "That will not go further than Pickering and the President."

  "God, I hate canned peaches," Smith said, holding a peach half aloft on his fork.

  "I hate to admit this, but I'm getting to like the Salisbury steak," Howe said.

  "You've been here too long, General," Smith said, chuckling.

  "You ever see McCoy?" Smith asked.

  "Frequently."

  "When you see him, ask him, please—tell him I told you to ask—what, if anything, I can do to help him."

  "I will, of course, but he will say, 'Thank you, sir, I have everything I need.' "

  Smith looked at him for a moment. "Why do I think something went un­said, General?" he asked.

  "General, does Baker Company, 5th Marines, ring a bell?" Howe asked.

  "Yes. They're the people who were the reserve for the clandestine operation on the Flying Fish Channel Islands."

  "They're now at K-16, guarding a couple of secret Army helicopters."

  "Secret Army helicopters?" Smith parroted incredulously. "Almond asked me if he could have them for a couple of days. I said, 'Yes, sir.' I didn't know what they would be doing."

  "McCoy doesn't have enough people," Howe said.

  "Is that what he's doing now, guarding secret Army helicopters?"

  "I meant for his intelligence activities, and looking for Major Pickering."

  "He tell you that?"

  "That's my opinion."

  "And he asked for these people?"

  "No."

  Smith grunted, then raised his voice. "Gunny!"

  Master Gunnery Sergeant Macey came through the canvas flap.

  "Sir?"

  "Baker Company, 5th Marines," Smith said.

  "They're in Division Special Reserve, sir. They're the people who were de­tached when we left the Perimeter—"

  "I know," Smith cut him off. "Tell the G-3 they are to remain in Special Reserve until released by me, personally."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  "And send a messenger to the company commander. . . Where did you say they were, General Howe?'

  "In a hangar across from base operations at K-16," Howe furnished.

  "... that, until further orders from me to the contrary, he will take his or­ders from Major McCoy. He knows who he is."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  [FOUR]

  The House

  Seoul, South Korea

  1625 3O September 19SO

  Major Alex Donald, who was in the act of extending his hand to take a crys­tal whiskey glass full of beer from a tray extended to him by a middle-aged Korean woman, was surprised when Majors McCoy and Dunston, Master Gunner Zimmerman, and Technical Sergeant Jennings suddenly rose to their feet and stood to attention as military men do when a senior officer suddenly appears.

  This—"mansion" was the only word that fit—did not seem to be a bastion of the fine points of military courtesy and the customs of the service. And nei­ther did its inhabitants. Technical sergeants do not normally sit around drink­ing with officers.

  He took the glass of beer, then glanced at the door. A graying master sergeant in fatigues was coming through it. Then another man in fatigues came through, and there were two silver stars on each of his collar points.

  Donald popped somewhat awkwardly to attention, the glass of beer in his hand.

  "Stand at ease, gentlemen," General Ralph Howe said. He smiled and added: "We'd hoped to arrive at the cocktail hour."

  "Or at least before you drank everything," Master Sergeant Charley Rogers said.

  He smiled at the Korean woman and held up two fingers. She bowed and left the room.

  Howe looked curiously at Major Donald.

  "General, this is Major Donald," McCoy said.

  "I think we've met, haven't we, Major?" Howe asked.

  "Yes, sir," Donald said. "Yesterday, at Kimpo."

  "Right," Howe said, as if remembering. "You're the man with the new helicopters."

  "Yes, sir."

  Howe looked at McCoy for an explanation.

  "General," McCoy said, "those helicopters—and Major Donald and his people—have been assigned to us."

  Howe pursed his lips thoughtfully.

  "Interesting," he said. He looked at Donald. "How did that happen?"

  Donald looked at McCoy, remembering what McCoy had said about telling anyone anything.

  "You can tell General Howe, Donald. You can—and you'd better—answer anything and everything he asks."

  "Sir, at Kimpo, General Almond told me that, at the direction of General MacArthur, the helicopters and everyone associated with them were transferred to Major McCoy."

  "He said, 'Transferred to Major McCoy'?"

  "No, sir," Donald said. "He said the CIA. And that someone would con­tact me with further orders. And then Major McCoy, and these other officers, came to Kimpo."

  "But he didn't say 'to Major McCoy'?"

  "No, sir. I misspoke. General Almond said 'to the CIA.' "

  "Interesting," Howe said. "I wonder what General MacArthur had in mind. You know anything about this, Ken? Dunston?"

  Dunston said, "No, sir."

  McCoy said, "Not a hint, sir."

  "I presume by now, Major," Howe said to Donald, "that you have received from Major McCoy, or Major Dunston, the speech about what happens to peo­ple who talk too much?"

  "Yes, sir, I have."

  The Korean woman came back into the room with two crystal whiskey glasses of beer. Howe took one and raised it to Donald.

  "Well, in that case, Major, welcome to the CIA and McCoy's private army."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

  Howe and Master Sergeant Charley Rogers exchanged glances, and both thought just about the same thing: Good. McCoy has no idea that it was arranged by Major General Ralph Howe, NGUS.

  "Can you use these aircraft, Ken?" Howe asked. "Have you given that any thought?"

  "We already have, General," Zimmerman said happily. "We made a very successful raid on supply depots at Inchon in them."

  McCoy flashed him a dirty look.

  "And then we went looking for Pickering," McCoy said.

  "Oh? How did that go?"

  "We didn't find him, or any sign of him, but if we had had these helos just a week ago, I think we'd have him back. They're going to be very useful. I've already got some other ideas. Actually, sir, that's what we were about to get into when you came in. We just got back."

  "I'd like to sit in on that," Howe said. "But before you get started, two im­portant things. I've got to get a message off. General Almond told me MacArthur ordered him to reembark X Corps 'as soon as possible after Eighth Army makes it up the peninsula to Seoul.' He wants to land them on the East Coast, probably at Wonsan, and cut off the North Korean retreat northward." He paused. "I want to make sure the President knows about that."

  "Sir, wouldn't General Pickering have heard about that, and sent that intel?"

  "I don't know if he knows, Ken, and it's better not to assume that he does. I presume you know he's on his way to Washington?"

  "No, sir, I didn't," McCoy said, and looked at Dunston, who shook his head no.
>
  "Give Charley time to get that message off, and for the both of us to have a shower, and then we can talk about how you're planning to use the heli­copters."

  "Yes, sir," McCoy said.

  Everyone was sitting around the table waiting for Master Sergeant Rogers to fin­ish his shower when the Korean woman who was in charge of the radio room came in and handed McCoy a sheet of typewriter paper. He read it, then slid it across the table to General Howe.

  "From Billy Dunn," he explained to the others. "No sign, either visual or from aerial photographs, of our wanderer."

  "Which does not mean he's not out there, right?" Howe said.

  "No, sir, it doesn't."

  "And, from what you've seen, these helicopters MacArthur gave you are going to be useful in getting him back?"

  "Absolutely, sir."

  Master Sergeant Rogers came into the room.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I thought that was important enough to wait for an acknowledgment."

  "And you got one?" Howe asked.

  "Keller must have been sitting on his radio," Rogers said. "He acknowl­edged, told us to Hold One, and then sent, 'I have acknowledgment from Camp Pendleton.' "

  "Good man, Charley," Howe said. "And I'm sure Colonel Banning will make sure General Pickering sees it before he leaves the coast for Washington." He turned to McCoy.

  "Okay, Ken, tell us how you're going to use General MacArthur's heli­copters."

  "Aside from looking for Pickering, the first thing that comes to mind is using them to insert and extract people behind the NK lines. Maybe even other places, too. ..."

  When he sensed Howe was about to say something, McCoy stopped. Howe paused, his mouth open, and then said nothing.

  "... But before I can start seriously thinking about any of this, there's a lot I have to know."

  "For example?" Howe asked.

  McCoy looked at Donald.

  "What should I call you? Donald or Alex?"

  "Either's fine."

  "My name is Ken," McCoy said. "Dunston's is Bill."

  "Okay," Donald said.

  "Let me give you the problem, and then you give me the solution."

  "Okay."

  "When the helos first came to K-16,1 presume they went through the same kind of radio chatter—'Kimpo, this is Army six six six or whatever, request land­ing instructions,' et cetera—that you went through when you brought us back?"

  "Yes, they did."

  "We have to presume NK agents saw the helos flying over Inchon to come here. And it's a given that somewhere within range of the Kimpo tower is an NK agent with a radio. So they heard that radio chatter. So they now know there are two H-19s in Korea. And didn't you give them a number?"

  "What they call the 'tail number,' " Donald said. "You use that to identify yourself when you call the tower."

  "And when the other chopper went back to Kimpo, alone, he used his tail number?"

  Donald nodded.

  "So now they know we have two helos, and even know their tail numbers." He paused, smiled, and went on: "What all the secrecy, all the Marines guard­ing the hangar, has done is keep the H-19s a secret from everybody but the enemy."

  "That's a problem, Ken?" Howe asked. "What's the difference? The enemy will see them eventually."

  "Yes, sir. But if we're going to use the helos to insert and extract agents across the line, I don't want to telegraph our intentions. They now know we have helos. They'll figure out in a hurry that we're using them to do the insertions and ex­tractions. That's not a problem. The problem is if we have to go on the radio every time we take off, that's when they'll start looking for helicopters."

  "I get it."

  "Another thing I don't know is when General Pickering is coming back here," McCoy said. "Can you tell me, sir?"

  "All I know is that he was sent for," Howe said. "What do you need from him?"

  "I was going to ask him to ask General Smith if we could keep at least some of the Flying Fish Marines," McCoy said. "They're at the hangar with the helos. General Almond had them guarding them."

  "I saw them," General Howe said.

  He exchanged glances with Master Sergeant Rogers, who knew about his luncheon conversation with General Smith.

  "Would you like me to ask General Smith for those men, Ken? To at least loan them to you for a while?"

  "I hate to ask you to do that, sir. And for all I know, the 1st MarDiv may need them."

  "All he can say is no," Howe said. "I'll ask him when I see him in the morning."

  "If you think it would be all right, sir."

  "I have a feeling it will be," Howe said. "Okay, Ken. Presuming you can keep the Flying Fish Channel Marines for a while, what are you going to do with them?"

  "These helos are supposed to be able to carry ten men. That would be twelve, if we got rid of the copilot and the crew chief. I figure that's about the same weight as a pretty heavily armed eight-man fire team. I'd like to train maybe six or eight teams to get carried somewhere—for example, if we find Pick, or to pick up an agent the NKs have discovered on their side of the line."

  "You think that can be done?"

  "We won't know until we try it, sir."

  "It sounds like a pretty good idea to me."

  "That still leaves us with the problem of how to get the helos into the air without going on the radio and announcing, 'Here we come.' "

  "Is there any way, Major," Howe asked Donald, "not to use the radios?"

  "Not on an airfield, sir. It's a question of being clear to land or take off—I mean, so there's no midair collisions."

  "You'd need, in other words, your own airfield?" Howe asked.

  "Where would we get our own airfield?" McCoy asked.

  "Killer," Zimmerman said. "You don't need an airfield for these things. You saw where we landed at Inchon. All we need is a good-sized parking lot, far enough away from an airfield so airplanes don't run into them."

  "He's right, McCoy," Donald said.

  "Okay. Shoot this down, please," McCoy said. "We find a large enough parking lot someplace, preferably with a building we can hide the helos in in the daytime—"

  "You get me some canvas and some camouflage netting, and I'll hide them," Zimmerman said.

  "—Okay. And we paint them black, so they can't be seen at night."

  "Black or not, they make a hell of a racket," Zimmerman said.

  "But they would be harder to see," McCoy said.

  It was not an argument, Major Donald understood. The almost new, very expensive, glossy olive-drab paint scheme on the H-19s was about to be cov­ered with flat black paint.

  "What do we do now?" Zimmerman asked. "Start looking for a park­ing lot?"

  "That would seem logical, Mr. Zimmerman," McCoy said, lightly sar­castic.

  "It would be easier if we knew where to look for a parking lot."

  "Ken, do you know Socho-Ri?" Dunston asked.

  McCoy shook his head no.

  "It's on the east coast, close to the 38th Parallel," Dunston went on.

  "And?" McCoy asked.

  Dunston looked at Donald. It was obvious that he was deciding whether to go on in the presence of someone who was not in the CIA.

  McCoy picked up on this.

  "He has to know, Bill," he said.

  "Before the war, I used it as a base for the Wind of Good Fortune" Dun­ston said. "There is—was—a dozen or so thatch-roofed hootches and sort of a wharf, and a—"

  "I don't understand," Donald said, and parroted, "Wind of good fortune?"

  "You don't know what's there now?" McCoy asked, ignoring Donald's ques­tion, and then, before Dunston could reply, asked, "Is there room for the helos?"

  "I had them clear a landing strip for an L-19," Dunston said, "to take the wounded out if necessary. I never had to use it. And when the war started, the NKs were there before I could get an L-19 or anything else over there to try to evacuate them. I lost some good men there."

  "And you don't know
what's there now?"

  "I'm not even sure the ROKs have gone that far north yet," Dunston said.

  "But there was a landing strip?" Zimmerman said, and went on without waiting for a response. "If there was a landing strip, there's room to oper­ate helos."

  "I think we should have a look at this place as soon as we can," McCoy said. He turned to Donald. "Two questions. I don't want to use helos if I don't re­ally have to. So, Question One: What's the chances—without calling a lot of attention to it—of getting an L-l9 from the X Corps Air Section long enough for us to fly over there? Question Two: If you had an L-19, could you find Socho-Ri if Dunston marked it on a map?"

  "I think we could get an L-19 without any trouble, particularly if you showed Colonel Jamison, the X Corps Army Aviation officer, your creden­tials," Donald said. "And sure, I could find it using a map."

  "I noticed, Major," General Howe said, "that you said, ' We could get an L-19.' That's the attitude Major McCoy needs from you. Whether you like it or not, you're part of this now." "Yes, sir," Donald said.

  "Maybe, with a little bit of luck, we could do that at first light," McCoy said. "And maybe we can get around flashing credentials at this colonel."

  "Maybe we can," Donald said.

  "Where's the X Corps airstrip?" McCoy asked.

  "At what used to be the Seoul racetrack," Donald said.

  "Jennings, how are we fixed for black paint?" McCoy said.

  "There must be fifty gallons of it, sir, over the garage. There's also some white, and some red. I guess the NKs missed it when they were here."

  "Or booby-trapped it," McCoy said. "After supper, I want you to load twenty gallons of paint, a generator, and the spray gun in a weapons carrier. Take it to the hangar. What I'm going to do is drive Major Donald over there so that he can tell them the helos will be painted, and then bring him back here so that we can get an early start in the morning. Any problem with that, Donald?"

  "None," Donald said.

  "I wonder, Bill," McCoy said, "how much the X Corps G-2 and/or G-3 would know about how far the South Koreans have moved up the east coast?"

  "Probably very little," Dunston said. "The impression I get is that Eighth Army doesn't talk to X Corps unless absolutely necessary, and vice versa."

  "Well, give it a shot anyway, will you? Maybe we'll get lucky. We really need to know where they are."