W E B Griffin - Corp 10 - Retreat, Hell!

by Retreat, Hell!(Lit)

  "I see," Captain Schermer said with a somewhat strained smile. "Well, why don't we... ?" He waved Mrs. McCoy down the corridor toward 404.

  Master Gunner Zimmerman stopped in midsentence as the door swung open. Major Malcolm S. Pickering looked angrily at Captain F. Howard Scher-mer, USN, and was about to say something when Mrs. K. R. McCoy brushed past the captain.

  I've seen you looking better," she said, and went to the bed and bent over him and kissed him. "But I'm glad to see you anyway."

  "I guess you haven't heard, huh?" Pick said.

  "Heard what?" Ernie replied, and turned to Zimmerman. "What's going on, Ernie?"

  "Obviously, you haven't," Pick said. "Carry on, Mr. Zimmerman. Maybe you better start from the top again." Then he looked at Ernie McCoy and added: "I think maybe you better sit down, mother-to-be. I don't think you're going to like this." He gestured toward a folding chair, then made a go on ges-ture to Zimmerman.

  "Well," Zimmerman began, "we don't know how she got from Pusan to Seoul-"

  "She being Jeanette?" Ernie McCoy asked. "You mean Jeanette doesn't know we've got Pick back yet? Jesus Christ, why not?"

  "Let him finish, Ernie," Pick said. "And I meant it, sit down."

  "I think I will," Ernie said, and lowered herself into the folding chair.

  "-whether on the Air Corps medical Gooney Bird or some other way," Zimmerman went on. "She wasn't on any manifest that we could find."

  "Okay," Pick said. "But clever fucking OSS agent that you are, you have de-duced that she was on the fucking medical Gooney Bird when it took off from Seoul for Wonsan, right? Because she was on it when it crashed?"

  "Oh, my God!" Ernie said. "Is she all right?"

  Zimmerman looked at her.

  "Sorry, Ernie," Zimmerman said.

  "You were saying, Mr. Zimmerman?" Pick said.

  "What Dunston did was, when the general found out we hadn't told her about you and sent him to find her, was go out to K-16 and ask the Air Corps guy what possibilities there were," Zimmerman said. "The only thing he could think of was that maybe she'd hitched a ride aboard the Gooney Bird that had gone missing. Then he-the Air Force guy-found out they'd located the crash site."

  "What made him think Jeanette was on this plane?" Ernie McCoy asked.

  Zimmerman ignored the question.

  "They'd gone looking for it after it had gone missing," he went on. "There were no Maydays or anything. Anyway, they found the crash site near the top of a goddamn mountain, but (a) they hadn't been able to get anybody to it, be-cause it was in middle of nowhere, and (b) it had exploded and burned, and there were no signs of survivors, and it was... Getting to the site could wait until they'd been to other crash sites where there could be survivors."

  "So?" Pick asked.

  "So Dunston called me-"

  "Where's the Killer been all this time?" Pick interrupted.

  Zimmerman took a look at Captain Schermer, then shrugged.

  "He's in North Korea, listening to the Russians," Zimmerman said. "We're going to pick him up tomorrow morning at first light."

  "You had to tell her that, right?" Pick snapped. "Sometimes you have the sensitivity of an alligator."

  "I'm a big girl, Pick," Ernie said. "I know what Ken does."

  "Captain," Zimmerman said to Schermer. "With respect, do I have to tell you that whatever is said in here has to stay here?"

  "I understand," Schermer said.

  "So Dunston called me, gave me the coordinates, and at first light this morning, we went to the site."

  "We is who?" Ernie McCoy asked. "And I thought you said getting to the site was difficult?"

  "We is me, a doggie major-real good guy-named Alex Donald, who flew the Big Black Bird, and four Marines in case they were needed."

  "By which, Ernie, he means a great big Sikorsky helicopter painted black," Pick said. "Your husband has a couple of them."

  "And?" Ernie replied, impatience in her voice.

  "Well, we found the crash site. The Gooney Bird clipped the top of a moun-tain, went in, exploded, and then slid down the mountain. Nobody walked away from the crash. And it was quick. No question about that."

  "Well, that's comforting," Pick said sarcastically. "To know it was quick. And you found-what's the euphemism?-the remains of those on board?"

  "We found four bodies," Zimmerman said. "There was a three-man crew on the Gooney Bird. We figured, even before I found the camera, that the fourth had to be Jeanette."

  "You couldn't tell?" Ernie asked.

  "There was a lot of fuel on the Gooney Bird," Zimmerman said. "They topped off their tanks at K-16. They were planning to go on to Pusan, and maybe all the way to Japan, after Wonsan. There wasn't much left of the bodies."

  "So where are the remains?" Pick asked.

  "We took them to Seoul, to Eighth Army Graves Registration. It'll take them at least a couple of days to identify them."

  "Well, that's no problem, really, is it?" Pick said. "There's no rush, right? As a matter of fact, who the hell cares?"

  "Pick," Ernie McCoy said. "Oh, Pick, I'm so sorry."

  "Yeah, so am I," Pick said unpleasantly. "But I should have known better. Something that good was never really going to happen to me."

  "Pick," she said, and started to push herself out of the chair. Her face suddenly showed pain and went pale. "Oh, for Christ's sake!" she said faintly but angrily.

  "Mrs. McCoy, are you all right?" Captain Schermer said as he walked across the room to her.

  "No, I don't think I am," Ernie said. "Goddamn it all to hell!"

  Captain Schermer took a close, if brief, look at her.

  "Young woman, you stay right where you are," he ordered, and then went to the door.

  "Nurse!" he called loudly. "Get a gurney in here!"

  He went back to Ernie.

  "Doctor, I don't want to lose this baby," she said softly.

  "Of course you don't," Captain Schermer said. "And we're going to do everything we can to see that you don't.'

  "Jesus H. Christ!" Pick said.

  "Hang in there, Ernie!" Pick called as the gurney rolled out the door.

  "Oh, shit," Ernie Zimmerman said when the gurney was gone and the door had swung closed. "Why the hell did I tell her about Jeanette?"

  "She would have found out," Pick said. "If you are looking for the culprit in this little tragedy, you have to look no further than me."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Zimmerman asked.

  "Think about it, old buddy," Pick said. "If I hadn't been engaged in trying to become the first locomotive ace in Marine Corps history, I wouldn't have been shot down, would I?"

  "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Pick," Zimmerman said.

  "And if I hadn't been shot down, then Ernie wouldn't have been worried about me for all that time, would she?"

  "We were all worried about you," Zimmerman said.

  "Yeah, but I don't think you love me, old buddy, and, more to the point, you are not with child," Pick said. "This is the fourth time she's tried to make the Killer a daddy. Did you know that?"

  "He told me."

  "And having been shot down, and not having the balls to do the decent thing, I hung around for all that time, until God, in his infinite wisdom, made that Army convoy make a wrong turn, so I could find them and thus save my miserable ass."

  "Jesus!"

  "And if I had not been flown here, then Ernie would not have felt obliged to take a daylong train ride in her delicate condition to come all the way down here to welcome the hero home, would she?"

  "Coming here was dumb," Zimmerman agreed.

  "Where, upon arrival, you told her that the hero's girlfriend, her friend be-cause of me, was now a corpse burned beyond recognition...."

  "Jesus, I told you I feel sorry as hell about that. I should have known better."

  "And I told you she would have found out," Pick said. "This isn't your fault, old buddy, it's mine."

  The door open
ed and Lieutenant (j.g.) Rosemary Hills entered the room.

  "Mrs. McCoy has been taken to the women's ward," she announced. "There are several very skilled gynecologists on staff-"

  "Whoopee!" Pickering said sharply.

  "Captain Schermer says that you are to wait here for him," Lieutenant Hills said to Zimmerman. "He wants to talk to you."

  "Okay," Zimmerman said.

  "And he wants the telephone number of her sponsor."

  "What the hell is a sponsor?" Pick asked.

  "Her husband, for example."

  "Her husband doesn't have a telephone right now," Zimmerman said.

  "He's in Korea?" Lieutenant Hills asked. Zimmerman nodded. "Then we'll want to send a message to his unit," she said.

  "That's not possible," Zimmerman said.

  "Why not?" she asked.

  "I can't get into that," Zimmerman said.

  "You're going to have to explain that," she said.

  "I don't have to explain anything to you," Zimmerman said flatly.

  "What would you say, Florence Nightingale," Pick asked, "if I were to tell you that the lady's husband, as we speak, is in enemy territory, behind the lines, so to speak, eavesdropping on the Russians?"

  She looked at him almost in horror.

  "And if it's all the same to you," Pick went on, "I would rather not have him learn right now that the man the poor bastard thinks of as his best friend has caused his wife to have another miscarriage."

  "Pick, shut the fuck up," Zimmerman said.

  Lieutenant Hills looked between them, then fled the room.

  [THREE]

  The USS DeHaven (DD 727)

  39 Degrees 36 Minutes North Latitude

  128 Degrees 43 Minutes East Longitude

  The Sea of Japan

  O72S 19 October 195O

  The vessels transporting the X United States Army Corps from Inchon to Wonsan-attack transports, cargo ships, tankers, and the "screening force" to pro-tect them against any potential danger-were spread out over miles of the Sea of Japan.

  At the head of the screening force as it steamed north was the destroyer DeHaven. Her commander, Commander J. Brewer Welsh, USN, a lithe thirty-seven-year-old with closely cropped brown hair, was on the bridge.

  "Captain," the officer of the deck said. "I have a radar target five miles dead ahead."

  Captain Welsh was interested but not alarmed. There was no reason to be-lieve the target in any way posed a danger to the invasion fleet. Carrier aircraft were patrolling the area. They would have reported the presence of any naval force long before the DeHaven's radar picked it up.

  Captain Walsh looked at the radar screen.

  "Probably a fishing boat of some kind," he opined. "He's about to get a sur-prise, isn't he?"

  He nevertheless reached for the ship-to-ship microphone.

  "McKinley, DeHaven, "he said.

  The USS Mount McKinley was the command vessel of the convoy. It car-ried aboard both the senior Naval officer of the convoy and the senior officer of the Army and Marine Corps troops who were to be landed.

  "Go, DeHaven" an officer on the bridge of the McKinley replied.

  "I have a radar target at about five miles, probably a fishing vessel."

  "And?"

  "I'm waiting until I have him in sight until I do anything."

  "There's some Corsairs overhead. I'll have them take a look, and advise."

  "Roger, thank you. DeHaven out."

  O728 19 October 195O

  Two Navy Corsairs approached the DeHaven from dead ahead at less than a thousand feet, dipped their wings, and then began to climb.

  O729 19 October 195O

  "DeHaven, McKinley, the Corsairs report it's a junk. I think that they probably woke them up, and they'll get out of the way." "Thank you, McKinley."

  O731 19 October 195O

  "McKinley, DeHaven, I have the junk in sight. Unless they're blind, they have to see us, but they are not changing course. And it looks to me as if she's under power."

  "Junks don't have power, DeHaven. They are propelled by what are called 'sails.' "

  "Thank you so much."

  "They'll probably get out of the way when they see more than one vessel headed their way. Advise."

  "Will do."

  O735 19 October 195O

  "McKihley, DeHaven, my junk is not changing course."

  "Well, we don't want to run over him, do we? The admiral says to get him to change course."

  "Understand. I'll make a run across his bow."

  O741 19 October 195O

  "McKinley, you're not going to believe this, but my junk just hoisted a large American flag. And she is not changing course."

  "The admiral does not want the junk to approach the convoy."

  "What am I supposed to do, fire a shot across her bow?"

  A new voice came over the ship-to-ship.

  "DeHaven, this is Admiral Feeney. If putting a shot across her bow is nec-essary, then that's what you should do."

  "Aye, aye, sir. Sir, it is my intention to come alongside the vessel and signal an order to her to change course."

  "Proceed," the admiral said.

  O746 19 October 195O

  "McKinley, DeHaven is alongside the junk. She is under power. A man in what looks like black pajamas has hailed DeHaven with a loudspeaker and says he is a Marine major named McCoy and desires to approach McKinley. Request guidance."

  "DeHaven, Admiral Feeney. The junk is not, repeat not, to approach the McKinley. Take whatever action is appropriate."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  [FOUR]

  The Bridge, USS Mount McKinley (LCC-2O)

  39 Degrees 34 Minutes North Latitude

  128 Degrees 43 Minutes East Longitude

  The Sea of Japan

  O747 19 October 195O

  "I think I know who that is," Major General Edward M. Almond, USA, said to Rear Admiral Ignatius Feeney, USN.

  "You what?"

  "I suggest you give him approval to approach your ship," Almond went on.

  "It might prove very interesting."

  "You're serious, Ned, aren't you?" Admiral Feeney asked, surprised.

  Almond nodded. "Remember the islands in the Flying Fish Channel that were cleared before we got there?" he asked. "Unless I'm mistaken, that's the man who cleared them. OSS."

  "OSS? Really?" Rear Admiral Feeney said. He reached for the ship-to-ship microphone. "DeHaven, permit the junk to approach the McKinley."

  Both Navy reconnaissance aircraft and minesweepers on the scene had reported that there were still enough mines in the approaches to the harbors of both Wonsan and Hamhung to preclude the movement of oceangoing vessels into the harbors.

  The invasion fleet, both to conserve fuel and because there was no point in making speed when the anticipated course for the next thirty-six hours was one large circle after another, was moving at ten knots.

  Ten knots was still considerably faster than what Admiral Feeney-who, with General Almond, was now on the McKinleys flying bridge-understood the maximum speed of a junk under sail to be, and he was thus more than a little surprised when the junk approached the McKinley head-on, made a quick 180-degree turn, and then pulled alongside.

  "I'll be damned," Admiral Feeney said. "That junk is motorized."

  A man wearing black pajamas stood on the forecastle of the junk, holding an electric megaphone in his hand.

  "Ahoy, McKinley. Can you hear me?"

  "Loud and clear," Admiral Feeney said into the microphone of his electric megaphone.

  "I have three wounded aboard," the man in the black pajamas called.

  "Including Major McCoy, apparently," General Almond said. "Look at his leg."

  The left leg of the pajamas was torn off above the knee. A bloody compress was on the upper thigh.

  "Is that your OSS man?" Admiral Feeney asked.

  Almond nodded. "Admiral, you are looking at the legendary Killer McCoy, U.S. Marine Corps," he said.
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