Red Phoenix (60 page)

Kevin swore under his breath at that. One of his wounded men could die before a jeep pushed its way over the rutted, narrow tracks they called roads in this part of South Korea. He clicked the transmit button. “Roger, Two. Tell ’em to make it fast. What about my request for ammo resupply?”

“Understand your situation, but I have nothing to give you at this time. We’re hunting for some more, Kev, but I can’t make any promises.” Donaldson sounded harried. He’d probably been getting the same urgent request from each of his other line units.

Kevin clenched the handset tighter. He needed ammo to hold this position. Didn’t any of the higher-ups give a damn about that? “Two, I can hold through one more attack like that last one, but that’s it.”

“Understood. Do what you can. Two out.”

Kevin tossed the handset back to Montoya and slung his M16. He’d been jawing with the useless high command long enough. He’d better inspect his line for new weak spots before the North Koreans tried their next move. And the ravine was the most likely place they’d try it. He set off at a fast, angry walk with Montoya in tow.

1ST COMPANY, 2ND BATTALION

Chae crawled carefully through the narrow gap, moving cautiously to avoid
rustling the snow-covered bushes on either side. Sweat trickled into his eyes and he stopped to wipe it away, conscious of the small sounds of movement from all sides as his troops continued their painstaking progress down the ravine past the enemy-held hill. Gunfire rattled in the near distance where his other platoons were still skirmishing with the Yankees, and Chae allowed himself a short, breathless prayer that his ploy would work. Then he put his hands back down in the snow and slid forward again. Soon they would be able to strike the Americans from the rear and send them running.

ECHO COMPANY

Kevin heard it first, a soft, whispering hiss as something knocked the snow off an overhanging limb. He glanced quickly around; there wasn’t any wind, though from the look of the sky there soon would be. And every animal for miles around must have already been frightened away by the noise of the fighting. That left only one other possibility.

He flattened himself and motioned for Montoya to do the same. One hand tapped the shoulder of the corporal in charge of the ravine detail, the other pulled his M16 closer.

The corporal, a tall black man named Reese, nodded his understanding and waved slowly to attract the attention of the sentries stationed above the other side of the ravine. They waved back and slid down deeper into their camouflaged foxholes.

Kevin waited.

Ten meters below and to the front, something moved. It changed shape and then grew clearer—a single North Korean soldier bellycrawling through the tangle of brush and tall grass with serpentlike care. Reese laid his thumb on the switch that would trigger the claymores, but Kevin quickly shook his head. This was just a scout. There would be others behind him, and he wanted to catch the whole group in the ambush if possible.

The North Korean came closer, and now Kevin could see and hear a dozen other signs of movement in the ravine just below his vantage point—a rustling bush, a metallic clank, a moving shadow among others motionless. He held his breath and let it out slowly, stealthily. Closer. Closer. More North Koreans were visible now, crawling quietly into range.

One of the machine gunners posted behind a fallen tree coughed—a light sound loud in the still air. Kevin saw the North Korean scout’s eyes widen and his mouth open to shout a warning.

“Reese!”

Reese jammed a thumb down on the claymore trigger—setting off the whole daisy-chained string of six with a thunderous roar. A moving curtain
of steel shrapnel sleeted the length of the ravine at just above ground level, shredding vegetation and human flesh with equal ease in a horrible kaleidoscopic spray of green, white, and reddish pink. The mines killed almost every North Korean within their burst radius and left the survivors stunned.

The other GIs opened up at the same moment, pumping round after round into the ravine. More North Koreans fell, knocked down dead or wounded. Screams reached above the chatter of the M60 and the crack of M16s.

“Pour it on! We’ve got these bastards!” Kevin jammed a new magazine into his rifle and kept shooting.

He heard Reese panting the same words over and over again as he fired: “Yeah, take it! Yeah, take it!”

The M60 stopped chattering. It had jammed when its loader let the ammo belt twist through his hands.

2ND COMPANY, 2ND BATTALION

Chae heard the American machine gun stop firing and tore the pin out of a grenade. He held it a second longer, rolled right, and hurled it toward the enemy foxhole. Three. It sailed perfectly through the air and fell in between the two Americans trying frantically to unjam their weapon. Two. One saw it, tried to grab it, and missed. One.

The grenade went off and the explosion catapulted both men out of the hole, bleeding from a dozen wounds.

Without the machine gun the American fire seemed much lighter to Chae. The North Korean captain glanced to either side. Bodies lay all around, heaped on top of one another in some places. But there were survivors and they were starting to shoot back at the Americans dug in above the ravine. Chae counted quickly. He had perhaps half a platoon left in shape to fight. If they could push through here, he might still be able to win this battle.

ECHO COMPANY

An AK burst kicked dirt up right in front of Kevin and he rolled away. That was too damned close.

He stopped rolling and squinted down the M16’s sight, squeezing off another burst. The rifle fired once, then twice, and then the bolt clicked on an empty chamber. He hit the release and tore the magazine out, automatically reaching for another in his ammo pouch. There wasn’t one. Oh, my God, now what?

“L-T! Catch!” Montoya yelled and tossed him another magazine.

“Tell McIntyre we need another fire team down here, now!” Kevin spotted an NK trying to crawl forward and shot the man through the head.

“Medic!” One of Reese’s men was down, bleeding from the mouth and chest. Things were getting tight. He had just four riflemen left and the North Korean return fire was getting heavier. Something had to give.

Something did.

Suddenly there were men wearing green camouflage gear and old-style U.S. helmets kneeling at the edge of the ravine, firing down into the North Koreans below. All were Orientals. Kevin took his finger off the trigger and stared at them. South Koreans? Where’d they come from?

Rhee dropped to the ground beside him, a grin spread all across his lean, sharp-featured face. “Third Platoon, reporting in as ordered, Lieutenant Little.”

“Jesus Christ, who the hell are these guys?”

Rhee ducked as an AK burst cracked low overhead, but he kept smiling. “Forty KATUSAs attached to the company, Lieutenant. That’s why they wanted me back at Brigade HQ—to pick these men up and lead them to the front.”

“Fantastic.” KATUSAs were Korean troops attached to the U.S. Army, and they were exactly what Echo Company needed. Kevin started to relax as he watched Rhee’s troops push the North Korean attack down the ravine. The gunfire faded as more and more of the NKs took to their heels, dragging their wounded with them.

Kevin sat up. “How much ammo do you people have?”

“Not much.” Rhee’s smile faltered. “The rear area is a complete madhouse, Lieutenant. Nobody seems to know where anything is.”

“Swell. Okay, call your boys off and string a couple of squads along the edge of this ravine. Keep one squad back.” Kevin grimaced. “That’ll be our company reserve.”

Rhee nodded and moved away to carry out his orders.

“Montoya?” Kevin looked for his RTO and saw him trying to clear a jam from his M16. “Montoya! Get Battalion on that radio of yours. I’ve got some serious talking to do with the major.”

2ND BATTALION HQ

Chae limped into the small clearing at the head of a ragged band of fifteen men, almost all wearing bloodstained bandages. He brushed past a sentry and walked up to the major standing at a fold-up map table.

The major looked up from the map he was studying in surprise. His mouth
thinned. “Chae, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you up attacking with your company?”

“This is my company, or what’s left of it.” Chae’s voice was flat, emotionless. “The attack has failed.”

The major stared at the tiny group of soldiers in front of him. Something in their faces seemed to frighten him. “I…” He broke off and moistened his lips with his tongue. “I see. Well, then, we’ll… uh, we’ll have to try something else, Captain.” He forced a sickly smile. “I’m sure your men fought very bravely. They are to be commended.”

Chae felt his right hand twitch toward the revolver at his side and forced it down. The swine wasn’t worth it. “Yes. They fought well, Major. I’m taking them back for a rest now. I’ll need replacements for my losses as soon as possible.”

The major waited for him to continue, but Chae had finished. He turned without saluting and moved away, toward his waiting troops.

“Captain…”

Chae turned. “Yes, Major?”

The man still looked pale. “What about the hill? What…”

Chae was brutal, past caring that he’d crossed the line into insubordination. “I don’t know, Major. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He swung round and walked away, half-expecting a bullet in the back.

It didn’t come.

ECHO COMPANY

“Can you hold, Echo Five Six?” Donaldson’s voice filtered through the static.

“Negative, Two. We’re down to less than two clips per man and barely a belt per machine gun. That’s just not enough.” Kevin rocked back on his heels, staring across the hillside to where his men were stripping the North Korean dead—collecting their rifles and ammunition. If another attack came in, his company would have to use the NKs’ own weapons against them. It wasn’t an acceptable situation.

Nearly ten minutes went by before Donaldson came back on. “Very well, Six. Foxtrot, Alpha, and Bravo are all in the same shape. I’ve been on the horn to Brigade, and we’re pulling back to resupply. With me so far?”

“Affirmative, Two.”

“Okay. Charlie Company’s going to cover the withdrawal, so be ready to pull out when they get there. We’ll re-form at the Yangju-sa temple complex and try to set up a new line anchored there. Got it?”

“Loud and clear, Two.” Kevin was glad to be going but was sobered by the thought that they were yielding another six or seven kilometers to the North
Koreans. He shook his head. They could stop those guys if they could just get some reinforcements and enough supplies to do the job. He signed off and rose to his feet to organize Echo Company’s retreat.

KUNSAN AIRBASE, SOUTH KOREA

Taxiing C-5s and C-141 Starlifters threw gigantic shadows under the floodlights illuminating Kunsan’s hard-surfaced runways. Howling jet engines made conversation and even thinking difficult.

McLaren squinted into the glare and shaped his face into a mask of tremendous anger aimed at the hapless officer in front of him. “I don’t want to hear any more goddamned excuses, Frank. I want this frigging mess sorted out. And I mean as in yesterday, mister. Do you read me?”

The man started to say something and stopped as a C-5 roared past on the runway and lumbered awkwardly into the air. When the noise level dropped, he went on, “General, we’re doing our best. But we’ve got one MAC aircraft landing every three minutes or so. And every one of them has thirty to one hundred tons of cargo aboard that we’ve got to unload and stow before it can turn around and go back for more.”

McLaren grimaced. “Look, I’ve got infantry battalions that are running out of ammo at the worst possible fucking times. I’ve got tanks that don’t have enough gas to move. And I’ve got artillery batteries that don’t have enough rounds to fight off a troop of NK Boy Scouts.”

He moved closer to the supply officer and poked him in the chest with an outstretched finger. “So I don’t care how many hernias your men get. I want my men properly supplied, or by God, I’ll see you in hell, personally.”

The man took a step backward. “But General, it isn’t as easy as all that. We’re getting the planes off-loaded without any problem. That’s just a muscle exercise. The trouble is sorting out what we’re getting. The people back stateside are loading everything from medical kits to bullets to spare uniforms into each cargo.”

“So?”

A Starlifter touched down and braked hard immediately, screeching down the runway to a stop. Trucks were moving toward the cargo plane before it had even stopped rolling.

“We can get the stuff out okay, but there’s just time to pile it off to the side before the next plane lands.” The officer shrugged. “I don’t have the manpower or the computer power available to keep track of everything once it’s on the ground. And that’s the bottleneck, General.”

McLaren smoothed his features out into a cold, impassive stare. “So who’s not doing their job?”

“Normally routing comes out of the logistics office in Seoul. They know
what’s on each plane and who needs it. My guys unload it and put the required crates on the designated trucks and away it goes.”

“In other words, you just unload it and load it again,” McLaren prompted.

“Yessir.” The officer brightened. “I don’t have the men or the organization to find out what’s on each plane or to match it up with the requisitions. The staff in Seoul has been evacuated. They’re here on the base, I think. They’re scheduled to fly out to Japan tomorrow morning, and set up in…” He realized that McLaren was staring at him intently.

“Yes, sir. I’ll countermand those orders.”

“Good thinking. I don’t want any more foul-ups. If those are the people to fix this mess, get them on the job, now.” He nodded toward the flight line where forklifts were busy hauling cargo pallets out of the refueling C-141. “Pass my commendation along to your boys for their work.”

“I will, General.”

McLaren nodded and started to swing away. Then he stopped. “Oh, Frank?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I don’t want to have to come back here again. Is that clear?”