B004V9FYIY EBOK

by Unknown

  “Now we shall take up Admiral Harris, the CNO. In his case….” The President took the men step by step through each of the records on the table, addressing each man removed from his position. The reports were damning. For those in the room it had been a wonder these men had ever risen to the positions they acquired. However, it was what was unsaid that affected the men more. In each case, there was something in writing tying these men to a congressman or senator who used influence to help them remain in power. If that ever got out, the political repercussions would have been devastating. With the current mood in the country, it would have meant the elected official being run out of town on a rail. They all knew when to fold their cards and it happened during the two hour meeting. Jim Butler sat at the back wall and said not a word. The man definitely knows politics, he thought.

  In the end, there were few questions but no one wanted to pursue the matter further. After some refreshments, the President took the floor one last time. “My friends, I hope you now know why these unfortunate decisions had to be made. I want to continue to work closely with you and your staff to make this country great and I am sorry that officers in our armed services have painted the wrong picture for you. I will, of course, maintain these records so that they are not released to the public. If in the future you have questions of me or any of the departments under my administration, please contact me or my Chief of Staff. Thank you all for coming this evening,” he said as he shook each man’s hand and then walked with them to the main portico. He stood at the steps as each got in the special transportation and left.

  The President then turned to Butler and let out a long slow breath. “I hope I’ll never have to do that again,” he said.

  Butler nodded as they went back into the White House. “Boss, you never cease to amaze me. I thought they were going to eat us up; especially Senator Williamson.”

  The President shook his head. “Most of those guys are not the big hitters they think they are. I hope you noticed that all I had to do was hint at a scandal and they backed down. Williamson sees himself as the next god. If it ever got out he was involved in something regarding these men, he would probably find himself retired and on some speaker’s circuit.”

  “I also noticed you mentioning things written on paper. I didn’t recall anything like that in the service records.”

  The President grinned. “Actually, I had some additional records pulled. Like letters to the boards, letters to their superiors, things like that. For a politician, it is the paper trail that can hurt you. In these cases, they had been using their influence for years. Williamson was one of the worst. You just have to know where to find it. A couple of those guys will be pissed off at us for a while, but in the end, if I keep my word and it doesn’t get out, they will come around. Besides, now I have one hell of a bargaining chip when our backs are against the wall,” he said slapping Butler on the back. “Now why don’t you get home. Your wife already thinks I’m a task master down here. Tomorrow is Saturday. You take tomorrow and Sunday off like a normal guy. The office will run itself. If I need anything I can call you now anyway,” he said grinning.

  “You sure?” Butler asked. “I’d hate to be missed,” he said with a slight grin.

  “Get on home,” the President said. “Relax some, Jim. I need my friend back on Monday.”

  Butler looked around and made note that only the Service escort was around. He winked at the President. “Good night, Steve,” he said in a short private moment. Butler turned and headed down to the staff offices and home.

  President O’Bannon watched the man leave. Butler was quickly becoming his best friend. He would have to make sure they continued to work together even after his presidency.

  Chapter 9

  June 15 - Gathering Assets

  Washington D.C.

  General Claire Richardson went over the reports on her desk. They told the story of men and women, materials, equipment, timetables, transportation, munitions – everything that would be needed to conduct a war. Since her return from Memphis, she had been totally immersed in planning and preparation for an invasion. It had been rough. Transportation issues plagued her from the start. At first, it was bringing in the supplies and troops. Then it was the staging. Now it was getting the whole show to Korea. A Navy three star was in the overall command of this venture, but so far all he worried about was his own precious ships. The Navy was getting assets but the wrong kind. Warships were great at protecting things and projecting power ashore, but what she needed was transport to get the Marines and Army to the beach with all its equipment and be able to provide enough to make it decisive. US pre-positioning ships were on their way from Diego Garcia, and a couple were coming from Europe. There were even a few being readied from Pearl Harbor, but that was not near enough. She wanted enough to put at least five full divisions on the beach with enough equipment to outfit a couple of brigades with spares – and that was just for the initial landings. One thing she had learned about amphibious warfare; go in with overwhelming superiority.

  “Okay, let’s go over it again so I understand. You plan on transporting us over there on a few LSTs, some LPDs and the rest on chartered cruise ships. That should get the men over, but the equipment side is left hanging. The LPDs and LSTs don’t hold but a fraction of what’s needed. You are bringing in the Ro-Ros to handle some of the tanks. But you’re telling me you can’t bring but half of the equipment they will need. What kind of options are you suggesting?” she asked.

  The Navy Captain had already thought through tons of options, but none were really satisfactory. “General, the only thing my guys came up with is to go in with what we have and stage the rest in Japan. We empty, go across the strait and pick up more. If we were to round robin the stuff, we probably wouldn’t leave the guys without equipment for too long,” he said.

  She shook her head. There were just too many times in history when people made assumptions and the Marines ended up paying the price. Guadalcanal was a prime example. “Look Captain, I understand we are short stocked on transport, but we can’t do this unless we have some way to get tanks and trucks on station. We can’t really do it with freighters or containerships. There has to be something that can get that equipment there and put it on a beach. You and your team find me that transport within the next 24 hours or I will have to tell the President this thing can’t work. You get me?”

  The Captain gave a sigh. “Yes, ma’am. We’re still working on it. I don’t like it any more than you do, General. My people have been scrounging around every port on the East Coast and in the Gulf trying to figure it out. One guy mentioned barges, but that would be a no go in any kind of offshore operations. The other problem is our equipment is big. Trucks and tanks take up a lot of room and weigh a bunch of tons. We’ve maxed out our sealift capacity as it stands. Nobody ever believed we would have to mount such an amphibious operation again.” The man rubbed his forehead.

  Richardson looked at the man and could tell he was frustrated. He couldn’t help that the political climate of the previous administration had choked back the budgets and, as a result, the ships. “Captain, I understand and I can’t say as I have all the answers myself, but we have to solve this one. It means my people dying on some godforsaken beach without a chance. I can’t do that, and I figure you can’t either. So push hard. We have got to find an answer,” she said.

  “Aye, sir. We’ll come up with something,” he said. The people at the table gathered up their papers and trudged out the door. It had been a long and exhausting day, and it looked like it would be a long night too. The General sat back and looked over the lists one more time. There had to be some way of making landings on Korean soil where it would be strategically placed and not a deathtrap for her troops.

  After a minute she put the papers down and closed her eyes. Black had been right. It was the ultimate for her - planning the largest amphibious landing since Inchon, during the last Korean conflict. She had the men and materials and almost everything in p
lace to kick off; and she would be in command of one of the units. It was a back breaking task, but she loved it. She didn’t even question the order. She took the reins and sank spur. Her thoughts were interrupted by Colonel Grayson. He missed the last meeting and was upset.

  “Grayson, where the hell have you been? The meeting’s over,” she chided.

  “Sorry about that, General. I was up in Baltimore looking over a couple things and had a hell of a time getting back. One of those ships broke her anchor chain and drifted into the bridge. I had to detour forever before I could get here,” he said.

  “What kind of ship was it?” she asked. “I didn’t know there was that much traffic going in and out.”

  “No, ma’am, it was one of those car carriers. Baltimore is a major hub for sending over the Hyundai’s and Toyotas. With Korea closed up, the Hyundai people have them stacked all over the Chesapeake Bay. I’ll be glad when we can get those barges out of here. Ugly things,” he complained.

  The General stood up. There was a surprised look in her eyes. “Get Captain Ross back in here right now,” she shouted.

  The Colonel jumped and quickly made his way out the door. He thought she was really pissed. In fact, she was happy as a clam. In three minutes Grayson and Ross came back in the room. They found her pouring over charts of the coasts. She stood again when they entered. “Gentlemen, I think we may have an answer.” Both men looked at her questioningly. It had only been a few minutes since they had all left in dismay. Now a change?

  “Ross, I want to change the plans a little,” she said. “I want to land here and here,” she said pointing at two places on the chart. Both men looked down at where she was pointing. It looked like major cities with large port facilities. It was obvious they didn’t get it.

  “Ross, how about going to Baltimore with the Colonel here tomorrow and talk to our friends at Hyundai. I bet they have some ships we can use,” she said with a grin.

  San Pedro, California

  “Permission granted to light off One Alpha,” came the voice over the bitch box.

  Senior Chief Messick checked the boiler front one last time. He reached down and picked up the lighting off torch. One end of the torch had a cloth that was soaked in some fuel. One flick of a lighter and the cloth end caught and began to burn. A small cover was pulled open on the lighting off port leading into the boiler casing. He already made sure that no fuel was on the floor that might pre-ignite. The lighted torch was inserted into the boiler and, after making sure it was still lit, the port was closed. The First Class Petty Officer opened the number one burner atomizer safety valve and then opened the number one fuel oil supply valve one-half turn.

  Inside the burner, the pressurized fuel oil slammed through the tube and hit the tip of the atomizer causing it to spin rapidly, spinning the fuel into a vapor. The vapor sprayed into the boiler casing just above the torch resulting in a sudden flash of flame. The Senior Chief looked through the observation port and saw the flame. He then adjusted the flame and opened up the fuel oil supply to full. He smiled at the result, turned and grabbed the mike. “Fires lit in One Alpha.”

  The Senior Chief opened another set of valves on the number two burner, then three and so on over the next hour until all the burners were lit and the water was slowly brought to a boil. The top watch kept an eye on the water levels in the steam drum, while the lower level watched the burners and the pressures. The steam-driven forced-draft blowers were sped up as the boiler came up to pressure taking over from the electric one used when lighting off. Care was taken to make sure the water levels inside the boiler were maintained. Too much water and there was a high water casualty that would possibly allow water to enter the system and strike rapidly turning turbine blades in an engine, generator, or blower. Too low and the water, which actually cooled the steel boiler tubes, would drop below the tops of the tubes causing them to overheat and possibly split open. A rapid refilling would cause a thermal shock and tremendous explosion. By the time the boiler was online, it was operating at 600 psi and generating superheated steam at a temperature of nearly 800 degrees. The safeties were set and, after making all the tests and checks, the boiler was certified as operational. By that time One Bravo had been lit off and was nearing its operating pressures. Six more boilers waited to be tested and certified.

  Pyongyang, North Korea

  Kee Yuan Ho was scared. He was a common driver for the Democratic People’s Republic who worked his way up from small Lorries to the largest trucks in the fleet. He spent the last three weeks delivering Army supplies from the huge depots near Pyongyang to troops now in what was called South Korea. Day after day he had driven his truck almost to the breaking point, and then he was told to take two days off because his truck was scheduled for maintenance. He fell onto his mat and didn’t move for over 24 hours. When he woke, he stepped from his one room apartment and looked around the neighborhood.

  The suburb of Pyongyang was not much more than a slum by western standards. The streets were made of dirt and the buildings plain and utilitarian. Occasionally there was room where a tree was growing either in a courtyard or beside a building where it was protected from the street. Smoke rose from each building as the cooking pots boiled the evening’s meager meals. A haze hung over the buildings and the rest of the city, not from automobiles but from the manufacturing plants surrounding them. You could smell a variety of things in the air, from some kind of flowers and food preparation to the heavier smell of industrial waste. Kee was about to go back inside when he saw it – a small stick poking out from under a flower pot in his side window.

  It was a signal he dreaded for the past five years. He had worked his way up the chain at the transportation office to a position of trust. On his very first assignment to make a pick up in China it happened. He had been required to wait overnight as the truck was loaded. While staying in the local party barracks he had befriended a Chinese man and they had gone out to have a couple of beers. The next day he awoke in the man’s bed. Exiting quickly; he had been confronted by a Chinese official. They had taken photographs and had all the evidence of a homosexual orgy he could not remember. He was taken to a headquarters and after a long interrogation offered a chance to have all charges dropped. The only catch had been that he would forever do their bidding. During several trips to China he was trained in covert operations and told to return to work. They would contact him by placing a small twig under the flower pot. He had been told to keep that pot there all year long. Now he must put on his clothes and go down by the river to seemingly fish.

  Kee rapidly threw on his clothes and grabbed his fishing pole. The river was about ten blocks away. He walked rapidly through the people on the street. No one looked up or had anything but a bored expression on their face. It made his job easier since he thought he probably looked guilty of everything. He crossed several streets and came to the reed covered backwater along the river. It was full of trash and debris. Coming to the water’s edge, he sat on a small stump and cast out his line. In no way would he eat anything caught in this river. He hadn’t even baited his hook. Thirty minutes later he reeled in his line and packed it up.

  On the way back Kee took his time. He looked into a couple of shops and made his way through a small crowd. Upon returning to his home, he closed the window and retrieved the message that had been expertly placed in his pocket. After reading it, he threw it into the small wood stove and watch it burn thoroughly. He didn’t feel rested yet, but he knew he must get back to his truck. He would be contacted again soon.

  South Korea

  It was no use. The river had been forded in several places. The North Korean Army was moving forward again, although at a heavy price. The Americans were throwing everything into defense, while the South Korean Army soldiers were fighting fanatics. On two occasions the North Koreans were pushed back across the river, using up a month’s worth of artillery shells in the process. The next time across, the North sent over twice the men using three times the guns. Even
then the South Koreans kept them at bay for more than three days until the North Korean Air Force hit the ammunition storage area and fuel depot. The soldiers simply started running out of things to throw at them.

  The crossing was not an isolated incident. The South was fighting along a 180 mile front and constant pressure was exerted along the entire length. The defensive effort was enormous. A few ships had come through to Pusan bringing sorely needed ammunition and supplies. The airplanes brought even more, but there was no way to supply the entire effort by air. It would mean a constant airlift similar to the one supplying Berlin during the blockade. It was ships that always brought what was really needed. The submarine offensive helped, but aircraft came over almost every day. In the first two days all the aircraft in South Korea had been destroyed on the ground. Only now were some aircraft able to come across from Japan to provide very limited air cover. But these aircraft had limited time on station and were not top of the line. Despite all efforts, the South was losing ground by a couple of miles a day.

  Master Sergeant Hufham and his company held the high ground overlooking the only serviceable road in this sector. The road was surrounded by steep hills, filled with vegetation and a few rock outcroppings. It made a 180-degree turn just beyond the base of Hufham’s hill partially blocking the far side of the road, but denying anyone a lot of maneuvering room. They chose this spot carefully. The top of the hill gave him a 270-degree look at the valley below, and he was going to take full advantage of it. The men were armed with mortars and .50 caliber machine guns. This time they even had some light artillery. Quite an accomplishment except for the fact there were fewer than 50 rounds for each of those guns. Luckily, the other hills around them were smaller, so their position was protected unless someone decided to climb the hill; not a likely prospect. He and the major commanding the unit were given 24 hours to set it up.