by Jeff Shaara
Welch nodded. “I owe you that.”
“You don’t owe me a damn thing. Just do your job, Sergeant. And next time, make sure there’s nobody left before you how able out of here.”
Welch nodded, didn’t respond, and Riley could see how angry Welch was, all of it directed toward himself. After a quiet moment, Riley held out his hand. Welch seemed surprised, stared down at Riley’s gesture. He grabbed the hand, a firm shake, looked at Riley now, said, “I’ll do my job. You do yours. Keep your head down, and your feet dry.”
“Whatever you say, Sergeant.”
Riley looked out toward the saddle, the black smoke nearly gone, small flickers of fire still dotting the brush. There was a familiar sound now, the distant rattle of a machine gun, shouts along the hillside. Welch glanced that way, said, “Back to your hole. I guess the air jockeys missed a few.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Smith
NEAR HAGARU-RI, NORTH KOREA—NOVEMBER 28, 1950, 10:00 A.M.
HE WAS GETTING USED to the journeys by chopper, the colder air offering a smoother ride, dampening the harsh thermal currents that flowed around the steeper hills. But with the cold came the need for his heaviest gear, and even that didn’t protect him completely from the sharp chill, stabbing hard up his legs, stiffening already stiff limbs.
For days now he had planned to advance his headquarters northward the sixty-plus miles from Hungnam to Hagaru-ri, the most logical location to keep in close touch with his entire command. His Marines were still spread out, from Koto-ri up past Yudam-ni, an infuriating situation he still could not completely repair. Until now his greatest nemesis had been Ned Almond, who continued to base his orders on the amazing delusions that flowed out of MacArthur’s headquarters in Tokyo. Regardless of MacArthur’s optimistic predictions, from Koto-ri up through Yudam-ni the Chinese had severed each link in his chain, heavy roadblocks of enemy troops slicing across the main supply road in dozens of key locations. It was no surprise to him that the Chinese were planning a major offensive, his own intelligence relying on the talk from the civilians, so many rooted out of their homes by Chinese troops all along the way. His own patrols had continued to skirmish with various outposts, those fights becoming stronger in the days just past. It was essential to Smith that his three regiments continue drawing closer together, to confront what had become a serious crisis. And yet Tokyo was still insisting that the Marines drive on to the west, linking up with Eighth Army troops, no matter that those troops were even now in a headlong retreat southward. But the roadblocks by the Chinese had been surprisingly effective, and at every link in the chain along Smith’s main supply road, the convoys had been forced to turn back barely a mile into their journey.
Only a small part of the necessary pieces of his headquarters had made it as far as Hagaru-ri, the loads of essential equipment, including communications gear, stalled in the trucks that were penned in with the main body of Chesty Puller’s troops at Koto-ri. If Smith’s gear, including his own personal baggage, could not be transported to Hagaru-ri, at least Smith and his key staff officers could make the journey by the one means available. Even those men who admitted to a terrifying fear of the helicopters were soon convinced to take the flight.
—
He kept his eyes to the horizon, couldn’t shake a hard stirring in his gut, far more than the usual butterflies from the bounce of the ride. The pilot had obeyed his request, had flown close to the all-important bridge south of Koto-ri, Smith paying particular attention to its condition, amazed still that the Chinese had left it intact. Of course, he thought. They’re using it themselves, probably. As long as they make their moves at night, there isn’t much we can do to stop them. And so far, we’re not strong enough in any one place to shove them out of the way.
He shifted his eyes to the side, studied the closer hills, most of them white. Out front, the ground flattened out, and through a light fog he could see a blank gray smear on the horizon. Hagaru-ri, he thought. I’m ready to get out of this thing.
The chopper suddenly dipped, jamming Smith against the Plexiglas door, his hands reaching out against the windscreen in front. The chopper pulled upright, dipping lower now, the pilot making another sharp turn, a shrill voice now in the earphones cupping Smith’s head.
“Sorry, sir! We’re taking ground fire! Didn’t expect that!”
Smith tried to calm the drumbeats in his chest. He looked over to the pilot, saw wide, focused eyes, the young man maneuvering the craft around a tall rocky dome, then a sweeping turn to the right.
“I didn’t expect it, either, Lieutenant. Do what you have to do.”
“Seemed to be rifle fire. Glad they don’t have ack-ack. We’d be in trouble, for sure.”
The words came out in a burst of nervousness, but the pilot kept a steady hand on the controls, the chopper climbing, clear of the cluster of hills. Smith tried to relax, studied the ground, nothing but snow, looked ahead to the plain, thought, A mile or less from our lines. Do we know they’re out here? Well, yes, of course. Ridge knows his job. Puller wouldn’t have sent him up here if he didn’t.
Lieutenant Colonel Tom Ridge was one of Puller’s battalion commanders, and the man now in charge of the defensive perimeter established around Hagaru-ri. As Smith had ordered at every one of the bases along the main road, Ridge had probed outward, only to find a strong presence of Chinese troops in every direction. Hagaru-ri was already considered the lynchpin of this entire operation, but Ridge had barely three thousand men in position there to defend it. By now Smith had hoped to have Puller’s entire force, some five thousand more Marines. But Puller was penned in at Koto-ri, and until Smith could figure out how he would change that, Ridge had to make do with the strength he had at hand. The only help Smith could provide was to order all personnel, including cooks, supply officers, and truck drivers, to shoulder a weapon. It was one advantage the Marines had over the army. Every Marine was trained in handling a rifle, no matter what noncombat job he might assume down the road. Right now, at Hagaru-ri, every Marine was now a rifleman.
The chopper settled low, slowing, and Smith saw the landing pad below, a gathering of men in heavy coats. The chopper set down with a soft bump and Smith gave a brief thumbs-up to the pilot, pushed open the Plexiglas, a heavily gloved hand reaching out to help him. Smith reached back into the chopper, grabbed a small kit bag from beneath his seat. He looked at the aide again, ducked low beneath the chopper blades, put his hands up, sheltering his face, and the man waved him forward, Smith following to a waiting jeep. They climbed aboard, the driver engulfed in his coat like a green mummy. Smith realized the jeep was already running, the vehicle quickly lurching forward. He scanned the area they drove past, a mass of trucks and other equipment, enormous stocks of all variety of supplies. There was smoke swirling upward from a half-dozen large tents, but his eyes were blinded by tears now, and he lowered his hood, thought, Not the time for an inspection.
—
The door pulled open, a blast of warmth meeting Smith’s face as he moved inside. He pulled back the hood, the aide removing his, and Smith realized it was Sexton.
“Welcome, sir. Please allow me to make this official.”
Sexton saluted, a brief second of formality, and Smith returned it with a heavy gloved hand.
“Hardly necessary, under the circumstances, Captain.”
“I don’t agree, sir. Since this is your new CP, I thought you should be welcomed appropriately. This house has been set aside for your quarters. The staff tent is close by, outside. If you like, sir, I can have an aide arrange your gear.”
Smith examined the room, one more to the rear, the typical Korean house he was used to. His eyes rested on a squat iron stove, glowing red, the only source of heat.
“That won’t be necessary, Captain. The only gear I have is in that single bag. Unless the Chinese have captured it, my van and all my baggage are still in Koto-ri.”
Sexton seemed concerned, said, “We’ll fix that, sir. I’ll ha
ve the men pitch in, put together everything you might need.”
“I have a toothbrush and a razor. That will do for now. But what I need is Colonel Ridge. I need to know what we’ve heard from Litzenberg and Murray, and I need to know what’s happening with the army. We took ground fire a little south of here, and I need to know our estimation of the enemy’s strength. It would be convenient to have some idea just what they’re planning next.”
Sexton waited for more, but Smith worked now to remove his coat. Sexton assisted him, then said, “Colonel Ridge is out on the perimeter, but he knows to watch for your chopper. The radio tent has been busy all morning, sir. Colonel Lockwood just left, with a convoy, intending to relocate his CP up toward Yudam-ni.”
“Lockwood? Why was he still here? Aren’t his people already at Yudam-ni?”
Sexton seemed uncomfortable, and Smith had no patience for hesitation, something Sexton knew well.
“I don’t exactly know why the colonel was not with his men. But he has been in touch with one company of his battalion at Toktong Pass. That’s about seven miles up, halfway or so to Yudam-ni.”
“I’ve seen the maps, Captain.”
“They were positioned to protect the main road, to prevent the enemy from seizing a key passage through the hills. It seems the enemy didn’t appreciate the gesture. It’s Fox Company. They’re in some difficulty, sir.”
Smith let out a breath. “We’re all in some difficulty, Captain. The question now is what to do about it.”
—
“We have walked the entire perimeter, sir. It’s not a strong position, but we’ve done the best we can with the resources we have. We’re sitting in something of a bowl, and the enemy is in command of the heights in every direction. The greatest vulnerability we have is to the east, beyond the Changjin River, which flows into the reservoir. The river is frozen and is no obstacle. But that hill is in fact a series of sharp ridgelines and gullies, which offer excellent cover to anyone positioned there. We considered expanding our perimeter in that direction, but we just don’t have the bodies. The enemy appears to be in some strength there, and if I was him, I’d use that hill as the base of my assault in this direction. I have one additional company, George, on its way here from Koto-ri, and I had planned to move them out onto that hill. Unfortunately, I don’t have an estimate when they will arrive.”
Smith raised his eyes from the map, said, “I would not count on their arrival, Colonel. The road north of Koto-ri is in enemy hands.”
Ridge looked at Smith for a long moment. “Thank you for that information, sir.” He looked again to the map, pointed. “Along the river, the ground is somewhat marshy, though not so right now. I have positioned a battery of six one-oh-five howitzers to cover that area. Closer to the reservoir, we have positioned the remaining men available to us, the service and supply people.” He paused. “Sir, I have two rifle companies in key positions, and they’re good men. Seasoned men. I can’t vouch for the others.”
Smith put his hands on his hips, impressed by Ridge’s preparations. He glanced around at the faces, familiar officers, most of them from Puller’s command.
“I’ll vouch for them, Colonel. Our backs are to the wall here, and we have to hold.” Smith’s eyes returned to the map, and he pointed out to the east of the reservoir. “What of the army? How are they faring? I only heard from the air wing that they were hit as well. Do we know how badly? If they’re in a strong position?”
Ridge looked down. “Sir, I can only tell you that General Hodes was here early this morning and insisted that he accompany the Seventh Division’s armor and antiaircraft column. The communication lines ceased operation this morning, possibly cut by the enemy. General Hodes informed me that the best way to find out what was happening out there was to see it for himself.”
Smith knew Henry Hodes from the various meetings at Tenth Corps, General Barr’s second in command of the army’s Seventh Division.
“Have you heard from him?”
“No, sir. The only radios he has are those in the tanks. Not sure how effective they are.”
“How many tanks?”
“Six, I believe, sir. Shermans.”
Smith moved to a small chair, sat down, stared into the dark green of the tent wall. It just gets worse, he thought. The army should never have advanced out so far. We have no idea what’s out there. He had a sudden need for coffee, looked around, a small pot on a hot plate in one corner.
“Anything in that pot?”
One of Ridge’s aides poured a cup, brought it quickly to Smith. He stared into the dark brew, absorbed the strong smell of something burnt. He raised the tin cup, already too hot for him to hold, then lowered it again. The aide seemed expectant, as though reading Smith’s mind, said, “Sir, I can brew up a fresh pot if you’d like. That stuff gets pretty nasty after a while.”
Smith shook his head, took a quick tongue-curling sip, said, “No, this is fine. I need better coffee than this, my wife will make it.”
Ridge was studying him, said, “If I may say, sir, your presence here will help with morale. The men need to know we’re behind them. So far the enemy has kept back, but everyone here knows that could change at any time.”
Smith deflected the compliment with a wave of his hand, said, “What have you heard from Yudam-ni?”
“Very little, sir. While we do have radio contact with Koto-ri, we have been virtually unable to raise Yudam-ni at all. It seems likely that their radios are not functioning too well in the cold. We’ve had battery problems here as well. That, and the difficulty of the terrain between here and there. The air support has been patrolling that area vigorously, and they are able to communicate with our observers on the ground there. I can only report, sir, that last night, and throughout the early morning, the enemy has struck hard from at least two directions. The Fifth and the Seventh have both engaged the enemy on several fronts. From what we can sort out, the fighting has been severe. The pilots also report contact with our position at Toktong Pass. One company assigned to hold the heights there has been assaulted as well.”
“Colonel, I have received those reports at Hungnam. It’s one reason I am here.”
“Of course, sir.”
Smith didn’t mean to chastise Ridge, could see that the man had already done an exceptional job laying out the defense of the base.
“Colonel Bowser will be arriving here this afternoon, hopefully with more of my headquarters personnel. He can billet in my house, unless he has other preferences. This command tent will work well, assuming the enemy doesn’t currently have us ranged for an artillery assault.”
“Sir, I must request that you make available to us the engineers currently engaged in constructing the airstrip. Their rifles could be most helpful. The engineers are working around the clock, their position fully illuminated by spotlights. That seems…impractical, sir. They could certainly become an immediate target should the enemy make their assault.”
Smith shook his head. “No. I want those men doing exactly what they’re doing. That airstrip is a priority, Colonel. You can believe we have suffered casualties at Yudam-ni, and before long the same could happen here. We must do everything in our power to evacuate them.”
Ridge seemed to accept Smith’s priorities, said, “Sir, do you anticipate that we will remain here? That would certainly be a good reason to have an airfield. Supplies could become an issue.”
“Colonel, my orders as they stand now are to continue our advance to the west of Yudam-ni. The Chinese have other ideas. All I know right now is that this position is in jeopardy, and quite possibly the same thing can be said for every position we now hold in North Korea.”
To one side of the tent, a radio crackled, Ridge’s man cupping his hands over the earphones. News, Smith thought. Anything is better than what we have now. He waited, moved that way, Ridge beside him. The man spoke into the mouthpiece.
“Yes, sir. The general is here now. The command tent. Roger, sir. Out.” He looked towa
rd Smith, said, “Sir, that was General Hodes. He’s coming in. I couldn’t make out much more than that. I believe he was in a tank, sir.”
Smith turned, moved toward the covered opening in the tent, felt a wisp of icy wind. He turned again, paced in the small area, the others standing aside, watching him. Ridge said, “I can send an aide to bring him in more quickly, sir. There’s a jeep right outside, if we can get the engine started.”
Smith kept moving, eyes on the hard ground, Ridge’s words reaching him now. He stopped, looked at Ridge, said, “The cold?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve never been in these conditions before. It freezes up anything that moves, including engines. The artillery is having a dickens of a time reloading. The recoil mechanisms on the one-fifty-fives barely work. I watched the artillerymen pulling the guns back into place by hand. Hopefully we won’t have to engage in a rapid-fire duel with the enemy. Right now there’s no such thing.”
“The enemy is enduring this same cold, Colonel. I haven’t heard any reports of heavy artillery fire from the Chinese. At least that’s one advantage we seem to have.”
“And the air. No sign of enemy planes at all. Sir, I spoke to some of the Corsair pilots down south. They were itching to engage Chinese or Russian pilots. I never really understood flyboys, sir. I’ll keep my feet on the ground. Even this ground.”
The tent flap drew back, the officer rushing inside, clapping bare hands together.
“My God, this is something! The worst I’ve ever seen!” The man spotted Smith now, offered a hard scowl. “General. Good you’re here.”
Hodes offered a cold hand, which Smith took, a brief shake. Smith said, “What’s the story out there?”
Hodes shook his head. “We couldn’t get through. Engaged the enemy a couple miles shy of our goal, far as I could tell. They’ve blocked the road, blown the bridges, and they’re in force all over those hills. The tanks had problems, too. One ran out of gas, others had failing engines. Only option was to fall back.”
