Red Phoenix

by Larry Bond

  “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?”

  The supply officer straightened. “Absolutely, sir.”

  McLaren returned his salute and moved off toward his waiting helicopter. He saw the look on Hansen’s face. “You think I was too hard on the man, Doug?”

  “Well, General…” Hansen stopped, but it was clear that he did.

  McLaren grinned at him. “Prerogative of rank, Captain. When a general throws a temper tantrum, it’s called ‘exercising command authority.’” He clambered into the Cobra and buckled himself into the copilot’s seat. “Let’s get back to HQ. We’ve wasted enough time here.”

  The gunship lifted and clattered off into the night sky. Another snowstorm was expected before midnight.

  KUNSAN MILITARY TERMINAL

  Anne looked at the disorder around her. Not her own group. They had adapted well to this ridiculous situation and almost looked on the MAC terminal as home now. Almost all were asleep, curled up as best as comfort allowed. They had been stuck here for four days, caught up in the logistic logjam they were supposed to be solving.

  First there had been problems with the paperwork catching up with their move to Kunsan. Then there were priority squabbles, then wounded being evacuated. Weather complicated everything. If she hadn’t been so familiar with the supply system, she would have thought it impossible.

  The airfield was a mess. Crates, boxes, and equipment were piled everywhere. Every hour of delay added to the chaos they would have to fight when they finally arrived in Japan.

  Meanwhile, they sat at the airport. She remembered Kimpo Airport, and waiting for another airplane. Intellectually she knew she was safer here, but her imagination put smoke columns wherever she looked.

  She waited for the airplane and hoped Kunsan really was well-defended.

  Tony had insisted that it was, four days earlier at lunch. They’d arrived just after noon that day, and after they said good-bye to Captain Hutchins and his men, the entire staff had been invited to the Officers’ Club for lunch. Tony and Anne had taken a small table some distance away from the main group. Anne was sure her staff were gossiping about them, but she couldn’t hear it, so she didn’t care.

  “Please, Anne, don’t worry about air attacks. The ‘Kun’ hasn’t been hit since the third day of the war. We’ve even got a Patriot SAM battery guarding the place.”

  “Should you be telling me that?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said, talking around a mouthful of salad. “The NKs already found out about it — the hard way.”

  “Oh.”

  They were sitting at a table with tablecloths and silverware, having the salad bar and sandwich special, and Anne marveled at how novel it all seemed. She imagined what it must be like for men really in the field, who had lived in the killing cold and mud for over a week now.

  They talked, mostly about what Anne would do in Japan, and Tony’s experiences there. Tony was trying to clue her in on the best places to go. “There’re a lot of great restaurants in Misawa. Just outside the main gate, if you take a left — ”

  “Tony, I’m going to be working twenty-hour days when we get there. I’ll be lucky if I have time to eat. I may even be too busy to miss you.” She smiled when she said it, though.

  “I guess you’ll be too busy to think about us, then.” He smiled back, but his expression was serious.

  “Please, Tony, too much has happened. Things need to calm down.”

  He looked sour. “It could be a long time.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll call, and write every day.” It was her turn to look unhappy. “I worry about you.”

  He waved her off. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to get my butt shot off. They say if you survive the first ten missions you’re good for the duration. I hit the tenth three days in. Besides, the NKs are running out of airplanes.”

  He looked at his watch, then sighed. “I’ve got a briefing in twenty minutes. I’ve got to go.”

  “And who knows when we’ll be together again,” she said.

  “Soon, Anne.” He stood up to leave and she got up as well. Stepping around the table, she came up and embraced him.

  Surprised, he hugged her back but protested, “Isn’t this a little public?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Well, I do. Let’s go outside.”

  As they walked to the door, Anne suddenly felt very sad, more than she wanted to admit, at going to Japan and leaving Tony.

  Just outside there was a grassy area with a few bare trees. There were plenty of people about, but they were all strangers, too busy with their own concerns to care about two people kissing good-bye.

  She wondered where Captain Hutchins was now and then worried about Tony. He had came by to see her twice for a short while, but they were hurried visits, overlaid with her concern for his safety. Moreover, he couldn’t really console her. She was right, combat flying…

  An Air Force general was coming toward her, with a group of junior officers and enlisted men in tow. He was tired, but determined, and definitely looked in charge. He strode up to her briskly and she fought the urge to salute.

  “Miss Larson? I’m Frank Sheffield, base logistics officer.” He saw the recognition in her face. “Yes, ma’am, I’m in charge of tha
t disaster outside. Your orders have been changed. We’re going to have you set up shop right here in Kunsan.”

  Raising his voice a little, he said, “Sorry, folks, no trip to Japan this time. Lieutenant!”

  A short, chunky officer stepped forward. The general introduced him. “This is Lieutenant Pettigrew. He will act as a liaison between your group and me.

  “Miss Larson, the supply situation in Korea is critical. Field units are short of everything while cargo piles up at airfields and ports, and transport assets are being wasted.”

  He pointed out the window. “That scene is being repeated all over Korea, and I need you and your people to sort it out. We can’t afford to delay another minute.”

  He softened his tone. “You can have anything you want, and the lieutenant is here to see you get it. We’re giving you the aircraft maintenance records offices. Nobody’s keeping track of the stuff properly, anyway. Lieutenant, take over.”

  Without waiting for Anne’s reply, the general and most of his entourage left, leaving the lieutenant and two enlisted men behind. The young officer stepped forward and offered his hand. “I’m Tom Pettigrew, ma’am. If you and your people will come with me, I’ve got some buses waiting outside…”

  He couldn’t understand why everyone screamed. Luckily it was a short ride across the base, just long enough to fill in the young officer on the group’s adventures to date. And the buses were heated.

  Anne tried to rein in her emotions. Yet another change of plans. If it was so important, they could have told them about this days ago. She wasn’t sure that there wouldn’t be another change, either.

  She hoped this one was real, though. Being on the same base with Tony! It was too good to be true. There had to be another change in the works.

  Half of her staff was here with her, sitting in the first bus. She decided to get a head start. “Claire, you take the computer center and tell me where we stand. Bill, make up a building plan and assign work spaces for everyone. Set aside some large room as a sleeping area.”