Retreat, Hell! tc-10
Page 31
When it reached the bridge, on the superstructure called "the island," both the captain and Colonel Dunn could see the men in the cockpit. And vice versa. Major McCoy recognized Colonel Dunn and waved and smiled at him.
"Jesus H. Christ!" the captain said.
Colonel Dunn nevertheless waved back.
The H-19A continued its slow passage over the flight deck.
"I think I have this fucking oversized ferry figured out, Ken," Donald's voice said. "What's happening is that the deck is moving faster than we are."
"So?"
"Not much faster," Donald said, thoughtfully. "So if I went right up to the front. . . and sat down very carefully, what would happen? All we would do is maybe roll back a little. Shall I give it a shot?"
"Why not?"
The captain grabbed his microphone and opened his mouth. And then closed it.
The captain, an experienced aviator himself, realized that the pilot of the helicopter had condensed the essentials of carrier landing to one sentence: Sit down very carefully. In the time available, the captain realized he had nothing to add to that.
The H-19A was now at the forward end of the landing deck, where, very slowly, it inched downward toward the deck. One wheel touched down, and then, very quickly, the other three.
"I'll be a sonofabitch," the captain said softly. "He's down!" Then he raised his voice. "Mr. Clanton, you have the conn!"
To which Lieutenant Commander Clanton, a stern-faced thirty-five-year-old, replied, "I have the conn, sir. Captain is leaving the bridge!"
The captain, with Colonel Dunn on his heels, headed for the ladder to the flight deck.
On the flight deck, fifty men—a dozen of them in aluminum-faced fire-fighting suits and another dozen in Corpsmen's whites, six of these pushing two gurneys—raced toward the helicopter. Through them moved tractors and fire-fighting vehicles loaded with other sailors.
They all reached the helicopter even before Donald had shut down the engine, and long before he could apply the brake to the rotor.
By the time the captain and Colonel Dunn reached the helicopter, a very thin, very dirty, heavily bearded human skeleton in what was just barely recognizable as a flight suit was very gently removed from the passenger compartment and onto a gurney.
The human skeleton recognized both Colonel Dunn and the captain. His hand, fingers stiff, came up his temple.
"Hey, Billy!' he said, then: "Permission to come aboard, sir?"
"Permission granted, you sonofabitch!" Colonel Dunn replied as he returned the salute. Despite his best efforts, his voice broke halfway through the sentence.
"Make way!" one of the doctors ordered, and the gurney started to roll toward the island.
McCoy climbed down from the cockpit.
The sight of a man in black pajamas in itself attracted some attention, as did the black helicopter with no markings. Eyes grew even wider when the man in black pajamas saluted the captain crisply, barked, "Permission to come aboard, sir?" and then crisply saluted the national colors.
The captain returned the salute.
"Good to see you again, Major," the captain said.
"Where'd you find him, Killer?" Dunn asked.
"The Army found him—actually, he found an Army convoy that got lost trying to get to Wonsan—in the middle of the Taebaek Mountains. We must have flown right over him fifty times in the last ten days."
"Me, too," Dunn said. "That's rough territory. Hard to spot anything from the air."
Major Alex Donald walked around the tail assembly of the H-19A. Not being at all familiar with the customs of the Naval service, he did not ask permission to come aboard, but instead simply saluted the captain and Lieutenant Colonel Dunn.
"Well done, Major," the captain said.
"He needed some help, as soon as we could get it for him," Donald replied.
"I presume, Major," the captain said to McCoy, "that's why you felt the risks in bringing him here were justified?"
"Yes, sir. That and because I knew you have the communications facilities 1 need."
"Well, Colonel Dunn will see that you have what you need," the captain said. "And when you're finished, perhaps you would be good enough to come to the bridge and tell me what you can to satisfy my curiosity."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," McCoy said.
[FOUR]
Communications Center
USS Badoeng Strait (CVE 116)
37.9 Degrees North Latitude
129.S6 Degrees East Longitude
The Sea of Japan
1315 14 October 195O
The communications officer on duty answered the buzz to unlock the port himself. When he saw Lieutenant Colonel Dunn and a man wearing what appeared to be black pajamas, he opened his mouth to say something, but Dunn cut him off.
"This officer has a message to dispatch," Dunn said.
"Yes, sir?"
"You want to let us in, please?" Dunn asked.
"Yes, sir," the commo officer said, and stepped out of the way.
"May I have the message, sir?" the commo officer said.
"I'll have to type it out," McCoy said.
"One of my men will be happy—"
"I'll type it myself, thank you," McCoy said. "Lieutenant, this is one of those messages that the fewer people see, the better. There will be no copies. Can you handle a Top Secret encryption yourself?"
The commo officer looked between McCoy and Dunn, then said, "That's unusual, but yes, sir."
"Can I have that typewriter a moment?" McCoy asked a white hat seated at a work table.
The commo officer nodded his approval and the white hat stood up.
McCoy sat down, rolled the carriage to eject a standard message form made up of an original and three carbons, then rolled a single sheet of paper into the machine.
He typed very rapidly, then took the message from the typewriter and handed it to Dunn, who read it.
"Two things, Ken," he said, somewhat hesitantly. "Considering the addressees, isn't that 'dirty, unshaven, and very hungry' business a little informal?"
"If I just said, 'in pretty good shape' or something like that, everyone would wonder what I wasn't saying," McCoy said.
"And can you do that? Ask somebody 'not to disseminate' Top Secret information, and then give it to them?"
"I guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?" McCoy said, and smiled, took the sheet of paper from Dunn, and handed it to the commo officer.
"Will you encrypt this and send it Operational Immediate, please?"
The commo officer took it, read it, looked at McCoy, and then sat down at the cryptographic machine and began to enter McCoy's message.
TOP SECRET
OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE
1320 14OCT1950
DUPLICATION FORBIDDEN
FROM OFFICER IN CHARGE CIA SEOUL ABOARD USS BADOENG STRAIT
EYES ONLY MASTER SERGEANT PAUL T KELLER USA COMMUNICATIONS CENTER SUPREME HEADQUARTERS
UNITED NATIONS COMMAND TOKYO
ENCRYPT USING SPECIAL CODE AND TRANSMIT AS OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE THE FOLLOWING
MESSAGE BEGINS
EYES ONLY
DIRECTOR CIA WASHINGTON DC
DEPUTY DIRECTOR CIA FOR ASIA
CHIEF PRESIDENTIAL MISSION TO KOREA SEOUL
CIA STATION CHIEF SEOUL
COMMANDANT USMC WASHINGTON DC
MAJOR MALCOLM S. PICKERING USMCR RETURNED TO US CONTROL 1200 14OCT1950. TRANSPORTED USS
BADOENG STRAIT AS OF 1300 14OCT1950.
SUBJECT OFFICER IS DIRTY, UNSHAVEN, AND VERY HUNGRY, BUT IS UNWOUNDED, UNINJURED, AND IN
SOUND PSYCHOLOGICAL CONDITION.
FOLLOWING CIVILIAN PERSONNEL SHOULD BE CONTACTED BY MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS, ASKED NOT TO
DISSEMINATE INFORMATION ABOVE TO OTHERS AND ON AGREEMENT BE NOTIFIED OF SUBJECT OFFICER'S
RETURN AND CONDITION.
MRS FLEMING PICKERINC C/O FOSTER HOTELS SAN FRANCISCO CAL
MRS K.R. MCCOY
, TOKYO, JAPAN
MISS JEANETTE PRIESTLY C/O PRESS RELATIONS OFFICER, SUPREME HEADQUARTERS UNITED NATIONS
COMMAND TOKYO
MCCOY MAJ USMCR
MESSAGE ENDS
K.R. MCCOY
MAJOR USMCR
[FIVE]
The captain, who was sitting in his chair facing aft, as if expecting them, waved Lieutenant Colonel Dunn and Major McCoy onto the bridge.
"Colonel Dunn get you everything you needed, Major?" the captain asked.
"Yes, sir, thank you," McCoy said.
"The ship's surgeon was just here," the captain said. "There's nothing life-threatening wrong with Major Pickering. But that's because he's here. The doc said he wouldn't like to hazard a guess how much longer he would have lasted if you hadn't found him when you did." He paused, and shook his head. "And what a way to die that would have been."
"Sir?"
"I suppose I'm violating the major's privacy, but I think you have a right to know, if I do. What was really threatening his life was dehydration. He has dysentery. That's unpleasant anytime, but it usually won't kill you, according to the doc, if you have enough liquids. Pickering heard somewhere that you get dysentery from bad water—and he'd had some bad water and had dysentery— so what he decided to do was not drink water he hadn't boiled. That might not cure the dysentery, but it might. Drinking more bad water would not cure it."
"My God!" Dunn said.
"Major Pickering told the doc," the captain went on, "that he'd run out of boiled water four, five days ago, and hadn't had a chance to boil any more. So he didn't drink anything. Meanwhile, the dysentery continued to drain what liquids were left in his body. They're dripping glucose into both arms now, and the doc says he should have the dysentery under control shortly. The doc also says he belongs on a hospital ship, not here."
"Sir, I knew you had the communications I needed," McCoy said.
"I won't ask you questions, McCoy, that I know you won't answer. But those pajamas of yours do make me curious."
"When I put them on this morning, sir, I had no intention of going aboard a man-of-war."
"Meaning you're not going to explain them, right?" the captain said, smiling.
"They're sort of a disguise, sir. I can't pass for an Asiatic in the daylight, but at night, in clothes like this, if they can't get a good look at me, I can."
"Until you open your mouth, you mean?"
"I speak Korean, sir."
"Who don't you want to spot you as an American? Can I ask that?"
"At first light this morning, sir, we inserted agents north of Wonsan," McCoy said.
"Using that black Sikorsky?"
"Yes, sir."
"You were on the ground, behind enemy lines, this morning?"
“Yes, sir.”
"How often do you do that sort of thing?"
"It's what we do, sir. We do it just about daily."
"You're a braver man than I am, Gunga Din," the captain said.
"It's not what you think, sir. If you know what you're doing, it's not all that dangerous."
The captain snorted.
"I'm not being modest, sir. What scared me was just now."
"Excuse me?"
"When we came out to the Badoeng Strait, sir, and Major Donald told me had no idea how we were going to land on a carrier. That was high-pucker-factor time for me, sir."
The captain smiled. "I took the liberty of seeing what I could do about that," he said. "Take a look."
He pointed down to the flight deck. McCoy followed his finger and saw Major Alex Donald and two other men in flight suits standing near the H-19A. They were making gestures with their hands. Donald was nodding his head.
"Those are helo pilots," the captain said. "I asked them to give your pilot a quick course in carrier takeoff in a helicopter."
"Sir, I am profoundly grateful," McCoy said.
"Major, I would be pleased if you and Colonel Dunn and your pilot would take lunch with me in my cabin," the captain said.
"That's very kind, sir."
Major McCoy suspected—correctly—that even the captain of a vessel like the USS Badoeng Strait did not routinely luncheon on what was served by a white-jacketed steward to the four of them in the captain's cabin.
It began with cream of mushroom soup, went through roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, baked potatoes, and green beans, and ended with strawberry shortcake.
Over their coffee, the captain asked another question.
"If you're uncomfortable answering this, McCoy, just don't answer it. But do your agents get information for you? Anything you can tell me?"
McCoy hesitated, then said: "May I have your word that it will go no further than this cabin, sir?"
"You've got it."
"In the last several days, we've been getting reports that elements of the Fourth Chinese Field Army—which has been at the Korean border since June— have begun to send at least elements of the 38th, 39th, 40th, and 42d armies across the border."
"My God!" Dunn blurted.
"I suppose my ignorance is showing," the captain said. "Fourth Field Army? What did you say, 38th, 39th, 40th, and 41st armies? Five armies?"
"Fortieth and 42d" McCoy said. "The Chinese field army is something like one of ours. Like the Eighth Army. What we would call a 'corps' they call an 'army' A field army is made up of two or more armies, like our armies usually have two or more corps. The last reliable word I had was that the strength of the Fourth Field Army was about six hundred thousand men."
"My God, and you say they're crossing the border, Ken?" Dunn asked.
"What I said, and why I don't want any of this to go further than this cabin, is that I have been getting reports, which I so far can't confirm, that elements of the Fourth Field Army—elements of those numbered armies—have begun to slip across the Yalu."
"We've been flying—and so has the Air Force—reconnaissance missions all over that area," the captain protested.
"Bill Dunston, the Korea station chief, saw the last intelligence from Supreme Headquarters, the stuff they furnished Eighth Army and X Corps. According to that, aerial reconnaissance—even the covert stuff, across the border— has not detected the Fourth Field Army as being there, and I know it's there."
"It's the first I've heard of it," the captain said, more than a little doubtfully. "How the hell can you hide—what did you say, six hundred thousand men?"
"In caves, in valleys, in buildings, you put them down by first light, and nobody moves, absolutely nobody moves, during daylight. They've had a lot of experience doing that," McCoy said.
"I'm having trouble—no offense, McCoy—accepting this," the captain said.
"None taken, sir."
"You think the Chinese are going to come in, don't you, Ken?" Dunn asked.
"I think it's a strong possibility."
"What—can I ask this?—do you do with your intelligence, these reports, who do you send them to?" the captain asked. "Can I presume they go through Supreme Headquarters?"
"I'm right on the line of what I can't say, sir," McCoy said. "We share some of our intelligence with Supreme Headquarters, General Willoughby. My boss, the Assistant Director of the CIA for Asia, gets my reports, and the decision as to what to do with them is his."
"You share 'some' of your intelligence with Supreme Headquarters?" the captain asked. "Why not all of it?"
"That's politics, sir," McCoy said.
"What's politics got to do with it?"
"If there is a difference of opinion, sir, about the reliability of some intel.. . What General Willoughby puts out, he puts out in the name of General MacArthur. If Willoughby says the moon is made of blue Roquefort cheese, that means MacArthur agrees. Once that announcement is made, we can't say the moon is made of Gorgonzola, even if we are sure it is, because that would be telling General MacArthur that he's wrong." He paused. "I suspect I'm having diarrhea of the mouth, sir."
"I don't know about that, Major," the
captain said, "but frankly, it seems to me that, for a relatively junior officer, you seem to know a hell of a lot about how things work at the highest levels."
"Sir," Dunn said. "I have something to say that (a) will almost certainly annoy Major McCoy and (b) should not leave this cabin."
"Let's hear it," the captain said, "whether or not the major is annoyed."
"Christ, Billy!" McCoy protested.
"Let's have it, Colonel," the captain ordered.
"When Major McCoy was attached to Naval Element, Supreme Headquarters," Dunn said, "he turned in to Supreme Headquarters an analysis which indicated the North Koreans were planning to invade South Korea in June. His conclusions went against those formed by General Willoughby. Not only was McCoy's analysis ordered destroyed, but they tried to kick him out of the Marine Corps, and almost succeeded."
"I find that, too, hard to believe," the captain said. "Where did you get that?"
Dunn replied, "From General Pickering, sir, the Deputy Director of the CIA for Asia."
"Jesus H. Christ!" the captain said.
"In what I personally regard an act of courage," Dunn went on, "McCoy got his draft copy of his analysis to General Pickering, for whom he had worked when they were both in the OSS during World War Two. General Pickering took McCoy's analysis to Admiral Hillencoetter, the Director of the CIA. The Admiral didn't believe it, either, apparently, until the North Koreans came across the border. But when that happened, the admiral gave McCoy's analysis to the President, who thereupon called General Pickering to active duty, named him Deputy Director of the CIA for Asia, and ordered the Commandant of the Marine Corps that McCoy not only not be involuntarily separated but that he be assigned to General Pickering."
"I really don't know what to say," the captain said.
"Sir," McCoy said, "with all possible respect, I ask you to forget this conversation ever took place."
"Forget this conversation? How could I ever do that? But you have my word that what was said in this cabin will never get out of this cabin. And if I owe you an apology, Major, consider it humbly offered."
"No apology is necessary, sir. None of this conversation would have happened if I hadn't run off at the mouth."
"What I think happened there, Killer," Dunn said, "is that even you, the legendary Killer McCoy, was understandably emotionally upset with relief when you snatched your best friend literally from death's door. Under those circumstances, a moment's indiscretion is understandable."