"So this is a dog and pony show?"
"I would suggest that it is, sir."
"In France, I staged more than one dog and pony show myself, to convince my seniors that a new gadget called the tank had a place in ground warfare."
Howe didn't reply directly.
"During Major Donald's enthusiastic presentation," Howe said, "I had two questions about the actual usefulness of these machines. The first thing, I thought, when he was telling us how useful they would be to transport senior officers, was that it would really be pretty stupid to load half a dozen generals or colonels on one of them. They are not immune to ground fire, and I don't know how safe they are, period."
MacArthur grunted.
"Same thing for carrying half a dozen wounded," Howe went on. "You don't often find half a dozen wounded in one place except in some place where what got them would also likely get a large, and fragile, helicopter."
"I hadn't thought about that," MacArthur said softly.
"They're capable of carrying six or seven infantrymen each. Say seven. But I can't think of a situation where fourteen men being flown into it would have much real effect."
"I take your point," MacArthur said. "So what is your suggestion? That I order these machines out of Korea? We can't really use them, and we shouldn't be wasting time and effort on a dog and pony show?"
"We haven't rescued Major Pickering, sir. Major McCoy told me he thinks he missed him on his last attempt by less than a couple of hours. Of course, he was riding in a jeep and weapons carrier convoy, and couldn't make very good time getting where he had to go."
"And McCoy could have flown in these machines to wherever he went in time to establish contact with young Pickering?"
"Possibly, sir. In fact, probably. With a dozen of his men, in case there was resistance when he got there."
MacArthur looked at Howe intently for a moment, and then glanced out the window.
"If those tents are where we're going, we're almost there," he said. Yes, sir.
"You and I are both aware that General Pickering might regard this as spe-cial treatment for his son," MacArthur said, "and not like it at all."
"I also think you and I would agree, General, that keeping the son of the Deputy Director of the CIA out of enemy hands is the first consideration, even at the risk of offending General Pickering's sense of chivalry. Or, for that mat-ter, offending the entire Marine Corps."
"Well, I'd hate to do that," MacArthur said. "I have reason to suspect that I'm not a hallowed figure in the Halls of Montezuma as it is."
Howe chuckled.
"What I'm going to do, General Howe..." MacArthur began, then stopped, smiled, and said, " 'Oh what a tangled web we weave when ere we try to deceive,' " and went on: "... is wait until we're just about to take off for Tokyo, and then direct that these machines be immediately placed under the control of the CIA here in Korea, and state that my decision is not open for discussion."
He paused again, then explained: "That way, Colonel Huff will not con-nect our little chat with that order. And further, with a little luck, General Pickering will not hear of this until it is a fait accompli."
"Yes, sir," Howe said.
"And when that inevitably happens, and he comes to me, as I strongly sus-pect he will, I will resort to the last defense of the Machiavellians. I will tell the truth. These machines were brought to my attention; I concluded that at the moment I could see no really practical operational use for them, but thought that the CIA might find some use for them."
[FIVE]
The Capitol Building
Seoul, South Korea
12O5 29 September 195O
"Mr. President," General of the Army Douglas MacArthur sonorously intoned, "in God's name, I herewith return the city of Seoul to you as the chief of its lawful government."
There came the shock wave of what most experienced soldiers and Marines in the building recognized as coming from a massive 155-mm cannon "time on target"-that is, the firing of perhaps ten, fifteen, or more heavy cannon nearly simultaneously, so that their projectiles would all land on the target at the same instant.
The shock wave caused plaster and glass to fall from the ceiling and walls of the bullet-pocked building. Many people cringed.
MacArthur did not seem to notice.
"I invite you now to join me in recitation of the Lord's Prayer," he went on. "Our Father which art in heaven..."
"Am I allowed to ask questions?" Captain George F. Hart, USMCR, asked of Brigadier General Pickering ten minutes later.
"Shoot," Pickering said.
"That was the DSC El Supremo gave Almond and the other guy, Walker, wasn't it? The cross, as opposed to the medal? As in DSM?"
"A little decorum would be in order, Captain Hart. Yes, General MacArthur has just decorated General Almond and General Walker with the Distinguished Service Cross."
"I thought that was like the Navy Cross, that you only got it for courage above and beyond in combat."
"The DSC is the Army version of the Navy Cross. And General MacArthur apparently feels that the service of both general officers was above and beyond the call of the duty in combat. Any further questions, Captain Hart?"
"No, sir."
"Good," Pickering said. "One day, George, your curiosity is going to get us both in trouble." He paused. "Where's McCoy going to meet us?"
"Outside," Hart said. "He sent Zimmerman back out to Kimpo to see if Colonel Dunn had sent any fresh aerials, and wasn't sure they'd let Zimmerman in here without a fuss."
"Let's go. El Supremo told me he wants to get out of here as soon as possible."
Miss Jeanette Priestly was sitting in McCoy's Russian jeep and he and Zim-merman were leaning against it. The men stood erect when they saw Pickering coming.
"You should have come inside, Ken," Pickering greeted him. "That was an historic moment."
"I wanted to see what, if anything, Billy Dunn came up with," McCoy said matter-of-factly, then added: "Nothing, I'm afraid, sir."
"And what do you make of that, Ken?" Pickering asked.
"He's moving again, sir. Probably north. Zimmerman told Colonel Dunn where we think he might be headed. Either almost due east, toward Wonju, or northeast, toward Chunchon. There's not many paved roads in that area, mostly rice paddies. I think he wants to be somewhere where there won't be much movement on the roads...."
"Like yours, for instance," Jeanette said.
The men looked at her but said nothing.
"... and where he can easily find rice paddies to stamp out his arrows," McCoy finished.
"Explain that, please," Pickering said. " 'Easily find rice paddies'?"
"We have to presume, sir, that the NKs have also come across one of Pick's stampings. And that they would be looking for others. The advantage we have is that we've got air superiority, which means they have to look at paddies from the ground. The more paddies there are, the more they have to look at...."
Pickering nodded.
"I take your point. You think Pick has thought of this?"
"I'm sure he has," McCoy replied. "General, there's often been two- and three-day intervals between sightings. There may be another this afternoon; if not, then probably tomorrow. When there is-"
"You'll go out again," Pickering finished the sentence for him.
"Yes, sir. Of course."
"Pick is really putting a lot of lives at risk, isn't he?" Pickering said, and then he heard what he had said and added: "That sounded pretty stupid, didn't it?"
"General," McCoy said, "we're Marines. We go after people who find them-selves in trouble."
"What I meant to say was that the lives we're putting at risk are yours and Zimmerman's, and I can't afford to lose either of you. Isn't there someone else who could go out there and look for him?"
"As of right now, sir, 1st MarDiv hasn't said anything about wanting to get back the people-it's an understrength company-who were on the Flying Fish Channel Islands. If I knew I could keep at l
east twenty or so of them, Ernie and I could bring them up to speed in three or four days. That would at least allow Ernie to go with one recon patrol, and me with another."
"You're talking about the Marines that are now at that hangar with the helicopters?"
"Yes, sir," McCoy said. "The problems with that are taking rations-and-quarters care of them, getting enough vehicles to carry them, and then de-ciding what, if anything, we tell them about why it's so important we get Pick back-and, for that matter, who Ernie and I work for. They're going to wonder."
Pickering considered that for a moment.
"I'll tell General Smith-he'll be at the airport-that I'd like to keep those Marines for a while. And I'll tell General Almond you're going to need jeeps and so forth."
"Yes, sir."
"And if General Smith goes along, I'll decide later what they're to be told."
"Yes, sir."
He looked back at the Capitol Building. Officers and other dignitaries were getting into the staff cars to accompany MacArthur back to Kimpo Airfield.
"The Imperial procession is forming," he said. "I've got to go." He put his hand out to Jeanette Priestly. "It was good to see you, Jeanette. Is there anything I can send you from Tokyo?"
"Thank you, but no thank you. I'm going with you."
"On the Bataan?" Pickering asked, surprised.
"I've already asked El Supremo," she said. "I don't know about you guys, but when I smile at him, I get just about anything I want."
She jumped nimbly out of the backseat of the Russian jeep.
[SIX]
Kimpo Airfield
Seoul, South Korea
1425 29 September 195O
The two senior commanders in Korea, Lieutenant General Walton Walker, the Eighth Army commander, and Major General Edward M. Almond, the X Corps commander, accompanied the Supreme Commander to the stairs of the Bataan.
Both were still wearing their newly awarded Distinguished Service Crosses pinned to their fatigue jackets.
Of the two, the shorter, almost rotund Walker presented the most military appearance. His fatigues had obviously been tailored to his body, and they were starched. He wore a varnished helmet with the three silver stars of his rank fas-tened to it, and polished "tanker" boots, as he had while serving under Gen-eral George S. Patton in Europe.
Almond was wearing clean but rumpled fatigues and what the Army called "combat" boots. These looked like rough-side-out work shoes to which had been sewn a band of smooth leather fastened to the lower calf with a double buckle. The only things that distinguished him from any of the soldiers in his command were the stars pinned to his collar points and fatigue cap-which was crumpled and looked too large for him-and the general officer's leather pistol belt around his waist.
"You are both to be congratulated," MacArthur intoned. "And I shall ex-pect equally great things from you in the future."
He first shook Walker's hand, then let go. Walker saluted. MacArthur re-turned it. Then he shook Almond's hand, let it go, and returned his salute.
He then took one step up the stairway and stopped and turned.
"By the way, Ned..." he began.
"Yes, sir?" Almond asked.
"This is addressed to you in your capacity as Chief of Staff, Supreme Head-quarters."
"Yes, sir?"
"Those helicopters we saw?"
"Yes, sir."
"Dog and pony shows are sometimes necessary, but under the present cir-cumstances, I can't see that the time and effort are justified. Have them trans-ferred immediately to the CIA here in Seoul."
"Sir?" Almond asked, more than a little surprised by the order.
"Do that today, if you can," MacArthur said. "The helicopters, the pilots, the mechanics, everything, go to the CIA, and I don't want to see photographs of them in the press. Clear?"
"Yes, sir."
MacArthur nodded at Almond, then went up the stairs and, ducking his head and without looking back, passed through the door.
"What the hell was that all about?" General Walker inquired of General Almond.
General Almond shrugged.
"I have no idea," he confessed, "but the Supreme Commander didn't leave any doubt about what he wants done, did he?"
They stood in front of the base operations tents watching as the Bataan tax-ied away, reached the end of the runway, ran up its engines quickly, and then raced down the runway.
The two men then looked at each another. There was no love lost between them, but there was a certain mutual respect.
"Well, Ned," Walker said as he put out his hand, "we'll no doubt be in touch."
Almond shook the hand, then saluted.
"Yes, of course we will," Almond said.
Walker nodded at him, then turned and started to walk to the Air Force C-47 that would carry him to his Eighth Army headquarters in the south.
Almond did not wait for the C-47 to take off. Even before Walker got to it, he walked toward the end of the base operations tents.
The fleet of staff cars that had been used to carry the Supreme Commander and his entourage from the airport to the Capitol Building and back-it had been assembled with no little effort; some cars had come from as far away as Pusan on an LST for the occasion-was no longer needed. Outside Seoul, with few exceptions, the roads were unpaved, in very bad shape, and not usable by passenger cars. The staff cars had been turned over to an X Corps Transporta-tion Corps captain, who had arranged them in neat rows and was waiting for orders on what to do with them.
Where they had once been lined up before the base operations tents, there was now a line of jeeps, the vehicles in which the senior officers had come from their units to participate in the liberation ceremony.
As General Almond walked toward his jeep, his aide-de-camp got out of the front seat and called his name.
"General Almond! Over here, sir."
Almond headed for his jeep. The aide took the canvas cover from the two-starred license plate.
Just as he reached the jeep, he was intercepted by Major Alex Donald.
"General Almond, if I may-"
Almond looked at him curiously, then held up his hand in a gesture telling him to wait.
"Al," he ordered, "see if you find Colonel Scott, or, failing him, Colonel Ray-mond, and bring one or the other here."
Colonel Charles Scott was the X Corps G-2, and Lieutenant Colonel James Raymond his assistant.
"Yes, sir," Haig said, and walked quickly down the line of jeeps.
Almond turned to Major Donald.
"Okay, Major," he said. "Donald, isn't it? What can I do for you?"
"Sir, I wondered what General MacArthur's reaction to the helicopters was," Major Donald said.
"I've been wondering about that myself," Almond said. "Is that why you... ?"
"No, sir. Sir, I was going to suggest that rather than returning to the X Corps CP by jeep, you fly there in one of the H-19s."
"I don't think that will be possible," Almond said. "But thank you, Major, for the thought."
Major Donald was surprised and disappointed by the general's refusal, but he was not yet ready to quit. If General MacArthur were to ask General Almond what he thought of the H-19s-as he almost certainly would-Donald wanted to make sure he had kind, even enthusiastic, things to say about them.
"Sir, I can have you there in fifteen minutes, and, sir, I really would like to demonstrate the capabilities of the H-19s to you."
Almond looked at him a moment, then gestured for Donald to follow him. Almond walked far enough away from the line of jeeps so that he was sure no one could overhear the conversation, then stopped and faced Donald.
"Major," he said, "you will consider the following to be classified."
"Yes, sir."
"Top Secret, and to be related to no one without my specific permission in advance."
"Yes, sir."
"As of"-Almond consulted his wristwatch-"1445 hours, the helicopters, their crews and maintenance personnel, everything an
d everyone connected with them, are transferred to the Central Intelligence Agency."
"Sir?"
"What didn't you understand?" Almond asked.
Major Donald was visibly shaken. It took him a moment to frame his reply.
W E B Griffin - Corp 10 - Retreat, Hell! Page 14
