Neither could Donald nor McCoy hear the lieutenant colonel mutter, in either disbelief or disgust, "Jesus H. Christ!"
But they saw him holster his pistol, make arm signals to both the machine-gunners in the jeeps and in the multiple-fifty half-track, telling them there was no hazard and to deflect their weapons. Then he made a. follow me gesture to the Big Black Bird and got in his jeep and started back down the runway.
Donald waited until the jeeps were halfway down the runway, then taxied the H-19 down it after them.
They stopped before an obviously hastily built corrugated tin building on which was a sign: OPERATIONS.
McCoy very carefully climbed down from the cockpit and went inside the fuselage. Donald climbed down far more agilely and went to the lieutenant colonel, who shook his hand and gestured unbelievingly at the Big Black Bird.
When McCoy came out of the fuselage, everybody saw that not only was he wearing what looked like black pajamas but that he was carrying a wire hanger over his shoulder. Its white paper wrapping read NAVY EXCHANGE SERVICE SASEBO.
"Colonel, this is Major McCoy," Donald said.
"That's an interesting uniform you're wearing, Major," the lieutenant colonel said. "And what is that, somebody's laundry?"
"Yes, sir. That's just what it is," McCoy said. "It belongs to Captain Haig. And I'd really like to get him on the phone as soon as I can."
"You want to tell me what's going on here?"
"Respectfully, sir, no, I don't," McCoy said. "May I use the phone, please, sir?"
"Of course," the lieutenant colonel said. He waved McCoy ahead of him into the tin building and handed him a field telephone, then cranked it for him. "Haig's number is Jade Seven," he said.
"Jade Seven," McCoy told the operator, and a moment later Al Haig's voice came over the line.
"Haig, this is McCoy. I'd really like to talk to the general."
"That can very easily be arranged, sir," Captain Haig said. "My last orders in that area were 'If that's who I think it is, get him up here. The airstrip'll give you a jeep.'"
"Thank you," McCoy said. He handed the telephone back to the lieutenant colonel. "Sir, could we get a ride to the CP?"
"I'll take you myself," the lieutenant colonel said.
The X Corps Command Post was a dirt-floored Quonset hut. Captain Al Haig was standing in front of it waiting for McCoy.
"I thought you were in the hospital," Haig said in greeting.
"I was," McCoy said, and handed him the hanger. "Your uniform. Thanks for the loan."
"You actually had this stuff dry-cleaned?" Haig said.
"It seemed like the thing to do," McCoy said.
"Well, thank you very much," Haig said. "The general is waiting for you. In his mess."
The Jade Room, the General's Mess, was another dirt-floored Quonset hut a few yards from the Command Post. One end of it was partitioned off to provide privacy for the half-dozen general officers of Headquarters, X United States Corps.
Only one of them, the Corps Commander, was in the mess. He was sitting on a folding metal chair before a rough-appearing wooden table. There was a tablecloth, however, and white china.
"Hello, McCoy," Major General Edward M. Almond said. "Have you had breakfast?"
"Good morning, sir," McCoy replied. "No, sir, I have not."
"Sit down," Almond ordered, and then saw what Captain Haig had in his hand. "What's that, Al?"
"Major McCoy returned the uniform he borrowed, sir," Haig said.
Almond shook his head.
"There were some real eggs from the Mount McKinley" Almond said. "But they never got up here. I'm sure there's some left in the sergeant's mess, but what I can offer is powdered eggs with a lot of Tabasco."
"Anything is fine, sir," McCoy said.
"I watched your helicopter come in," Almond said. "Does that mean the secret is compromised?'
"We'll have to go on that premise, sir," McCoy said. "All we can do is hope they won't be able to figure out right away what we're doing with them."
"Which is?"
"We're leaving overnight observation teams where we hope they'll be able to learn something about the Chinese."
"Hence the black pajamas? I'm surprised you're up to doing something like that."
"I hadn't planned to stay overnight, sir. They're a precaution."
"How's the leg?"
"Getting better every day, thank you, sir."
"We've had an interesting development, McCoy," Almond said as he buttered a piece of toast.
"Yes, sir?"
"The 3d ROK Division, which had been advancing toward—and was close to—the Chosin Reservoir, has encountered unusually strong resistance. They have, in fact, been turned, and are in a retrograde movement."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir."
"They have reported they came under attack by what they estimate to be three regiments of the enemy, supported by artillery and tanks."
"That's a good deal more North Korean strength than I would have thought 'they had in that area, sir," McCoy replied.
"I was a little surprised myself, McCoy," Almond said. "The 3d ROK is taking up—has taken up—a defensive position south of the reservoir. As soon as I finish my breakfast, I'm going to helicopter up there and have a personal look at the situation."
"Yes, sir."
"And one of the things I hope to do when I'm there is be able to put to rest a rumor circulating that this division-sized enemy force is not North Korean but rather Chinese."
"There's a rumor like that, sir?"
"Now, you and I both know that's highly unlikely, if not outright impossible, don't we? General Willoughby has assured us there is virtually no chance of, and certainly no intelligence suggesting, Chinese intervention, hasn't he?"
"Yes, sir. He certainly has."
"I thought you might find that interesting, Major McCoy," General Almond said. "If I had a means to do so, I'd suggest you come along with me. But unfortunately, I have only two operational helicopters, H-13s, and so there is room only for me and one of my Korean interpreters, who speaks Chinese. I can't even take Al Haig with me."
"General, I wonder how you and your interpreter and Captain Haig would feel about going with me in my Big Black Bird? The problem there is that it doesn't have any markings on it. ..."
"Major, I would think that would fall under what is known as 'an exigency of the military service.' It's regretful that you were unable to fully comply with the Rules of Land Warfare by applying the required identification markings to your helicopter, but I don't think that should keep us from using it, do you?"
"Sir, my concern was friendly fire from the 3d ROK. They've never seen a helicopter like this."
"Al," Almond ordered, "before we go, have someone get in touch with 3d ROK and tell them they are not, repeat not, to engage any aerial target until I personally give orders to the contrary. If necessary, send an L-19, and drop a written order."
"Yes, sir."
"On second thought, both communicate with and send an L-19," Almond ordered.
"I'll get right on it, sir," Captain Haig said.
"Al, could you call the airstrip and make sure Donald fuels the Big Black Bird?" McCoy asked.
"Done," Haig said.
Almond chuckled.
"You're speaking of Major Donald?" the general asked. "My former assistant Army Aviation officer? Now a member of your . . . organization?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you got him wearing pajamas?"
"No, sir. He has more faith in his helo than I do."
" All things come to he who waits,' " Almond quoted. "I believe that."
"Sir?"
"The day General MacArthur ordered me to transfer those machines to you, and I told Major Donald, he was heartbroken that he would not be able to show me what a wonderful machine his new toy was. Now he can."
"Major Donald and the helicopters have been very useful, sir," McCoy replied.
"That's wh
at he said, McCoy. He told me—and General MacArthur—that the helicopter was going to ... What exactly did he say? Oh, yes: 'usher in a new era of battlefield mobility.' "
"I've heard the sales pitch, sir. Many times."
Almond chuckled, then looked at him thoughtfully.
"How are they going to function in the snow, McCoy? In twenty-, thirty-degrees-below-zero weather?"
"I guess we're about to find out, sir."
"On the subject of your organization, McCoy, I've got to warn you that the commanding general of 1st MarDiv is looking for your scalp."
"Do you know why, sir?"
"Something about that company of Marines I borrowed to guard Major Donald's hangar in Seoul. He has been informed they won't be returning; that they are now members of your organization."
"Yes, sir, they are."
"He asked me if I knew anything about the transfer. I told him no. Then he said ... I don't think I'd better tell you what he said. But he did ask me to tell him if you ever showed up here."
"Their transfer was General Howe's idea, sir. His and General Pickering's."
"I have the feeling he suspects you were behind it," Almond said. "Or that I was and don't want to admit it."
"Why would he doubt your word, sir?"
"I have the feeling he's not in my legion of admirers," Almond said. "His primary purpose in coming to see me was to discuss . . . No. To be honest, it was to question, to request that I reconsider my orders to the 1st MarDiv. They've been ordered to proceed as quickly as possible past the Chosin Reservoir. ..."
"General Howe told me, sir. And he told me those were General Mac-Arthur's orders to you. That the quick dash to the border was not your idea."
Almond looked at McCoy for a minute.
"Let me explain something to you, Major," he said. "In case you ever find yourself far more senior and in a position like mine. The orders came from General MacArthur. When I got them— They came by officer courier, did General Howe tell you that?"
"Yes, sir."
"—I had the choice of saying 'Yes, sir' and carrying them out, or asking permission to discuss my questions, my doubts about them, with General MacArthur. I decided that General MacArthur had his reasons for the order, and that, my personal reservations about them aside, I had no grounds to ask him to reconsider them. When I made that decision, they became my orders. You can't tell a subordinate, 'Here's your orders. I don't like them much, but here they are. Don't blame me. They came from above.' I'm surprised you haven't learned that."
"I understand, sir."
"And since I gave my orders to General Smith regarding what I want the 1st MarDiv to do, I have had a chance to reflect on General MacArthur's orders to me. They were obviously based on General MacArthur's assessment of the situation. I remembered the doubts many people had about the Inchon Landing. The general was right then, and I must presume he made the correct decision in this instance."
"Yes, sir."
"His decision obviously was based on his consideration of the intelligence available to him. That intelligence concluded—General Willoughby concluded—there is only a very remote possibility that the Chinese will enter this conflict. When General MacArthur accepted General Willoughby's conclusions, it became his conclusion. A Corps Commander is not permitted to question conclusions drawn by the Supreme Commander. You following me, Major?" Yes, sir.
"Only a superior headquarters can question the Supreme Commander's judgments. And a subordinate organization commander cannot go over the head of the Supreme Commander to make his doubts known to higher headquarters."
"Yes, sir."
Almond looked at him again for a long moment.
"I don't know what we're going to find when we get to the 3d ROK, Major McCoy. But I'm not going to comment on whatever we do. I want to be in a position—and I want you to be in a position—to be able to truthfully state that whatever you report to your superiors was in no way influenced by me."
"Yes, sir. I understand."
McCoy got one final long look.
"I really hope you do, McCoy," he said, finally. "Now, if you've finished your breakfast, why don't we see what's going on at the 3d ROK Division?"
[THREE]
Headquarters, 3d ROK Division
Eleven Miles Southeast of East Shore, Chosin Reservoir
O8O5 3O October 195O
McCoy had suggested—and General Almond had quickly agreed—that the Corps Commander should ride in the copilot's seat "because he could get a better look at the terrain from there."
McCoy rode in the passenger compartment with Captain Haig, an ROK major named Pak Sun, and two X Corps Military Policemen armed with Thompson submachine guns. With the exception of Haig, no one had ever ridden in a helicopter before, and it was obvious—at least at first—that they were more afraid of the helicopter than they were of the prospect of meeting the enemy.
Major Sun shouted in McCoy's ear, over the roar of the engine, announcing that he had attended the University of California, Los Angeles, on a swimming scholarship. McCoy just nodded and smiled.
The flight took about fifteen minutes, and as they made their approach, McCoy saw a Cessna L-19, with the X Corps' blue-and-white "X" shoulder patch painted on the engine nacelle. The small, high-wing observation aircraft was flying a circular pattern around the landing strip, which was a gravel "paved" road running parallel to the line of rocky hills on which the 3d ROK Division had set up its defensive positions.
He wondered if the airplane was there on orders, in case it was required to provide something, or whether the pilot was just curious about the black, unmarked H-19.
An ROK major general in a surprisingly natty fatigue uniform was waiting for them with a driver and two MPs in a highly polished jeep.
Major Sun began to translate the introductions, and presented Major General Lee Do, ROK, to Major General Edward M. Almond, USA. General Almond looked at McCoy with a question on his face. McCoy shook his head no, and Almond said, "Leave Major McCoy out of this, Sun."
Sun nodded his head in acknowledgment and McCoy was not introduced.
General Almond said he wanted to go up the hill, to the emplacements, to see for himself what was going on.
"Do you want to go, McCoy?"
Instead of replying directly, McCoy turned to the ROK general.
"General," he asked in faultless Korean, "where are you keeping your prisoners?"
Major Sun was as surprised that McCoy spoke Korean as was the ROK general.
The ROK general pointed down the road. McCoy saw the prisoners, and the moment he saw them—both from the bones of their faces and their quilted cotton uniforms—he knew they were Chinese.
"They don't look Korean to me, sir," McCoy said to Almond. "With General Do's permission, I think I'll go talk to them."
"I think it's best you do that alone, Major McCoy," Almond said.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you want Haig to go with you?" Almond asked.
"No, sir. Thank you. Major Donald and I have a little good cop-bad cop routine we've practiced, in anticipation of something like this. Put on your nasty face, Major Donald, and lead me to the prisoners."
"Yes, sir," Donald said.
"I'm sorry I'm going to miss that," General Almond said as he got in the front seat of the shiny jeep. Haig and the two MPs got in the back. Since that left no room for him, the driver was left behind when General Do got behind the wheel and drove off.
McCoy went into the fuselage and came out with a Thompson. He handed it to the ROK soldier, a young sergeant.
"You come with us, please, Sergeant," McCoy ordered. "What I want you to do is point the weapon at the prisoners, acting as if nothing would give you greater pleasure than if the major gave you permission to shoot them."
"Are we going to shoot them, sir?" the ROK sergeant asked.
"Unfortunately, Sergeant, they are more valuable alive than dead."
"Yes, sir," the sergeant sai
d. He was visibly disappointed.
"Okay, Alex, lead on," McCoy said.
The prisoners—there were sixteen of them; McCoy counted as he and Donald walked down the line—were sitting lined up against the side of the road, their backs against a vertical section of rocky hill that had been excavated. Two ROK soldiers, one with a Garand and the other with a carbine, guarded them.
The prisoners' hands and feet were bound. The ropes on their feet were further tied to the prisoner on either side, to discourage somebody from running away.
There was a double purpose—triple if you counted simple curiosity—in the march past. McCoy wanted them all to see Alex Donald glowering at them. And he wanted to see if he could detect from boots or a wristwatch, or simply an attitude, whether one or more of them, despite the enlisted men's uniforms they were all wearing, was an officer.
Alex finished his march past and stood in the road, about halfway down incline of prisoners, and glowered at them. McCoy walked in front of him. The driver took the Thompson from his shoulder and chambered a round. The prisoners looked at him nervously.
Number Four is glaring, McCoy thought. His uniform is pretty clean, too. I think I have found an officer.
"Good morning," McCoy said in Cantonese. "The officer is from the headquarters of Generalissimo MacArthur."
Well, they speak Cantonese. There are three looks of' noncomprehension. The rest are fascinated. Which almost certainly means the three "who don't understand"— including Number Four—are either officers or noncoms. Probably officers.
"He wishes to ask you all some questions," McCoy went on almost conversationally, in Cantonese. "Your answers will determine which of you will be taken to a prisoner-of-war compound and which will not."
He switched to English. "Shall we shoot one or two to put them in the right frame of mind?"
"Let's wait a bit," Donald replied.
Either none of them speaks English, or they're better at concealing fear than I think they are.
He turned and spoke softly to Major Donald.
"Start with Number Four," he said. "Let's take a chance. You say to me, 'I think this one is an officer.' We'll wing it from there."
Donald nodded, then made a curt follow me gesture and walked toward the fourth prisoner in the line.
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