W E B Griffin - Corp 09 - Under Fire

by Under Fire(Lit)

  General Craig smiled.

  "In the interests of international cooperation, Mr. Zim-merman," he said. "I think we should commend those splendid musicians for at least trying."

  "Yes, sir," Zimmerman said.

  They could hear guffaws and laughter from the Marines hanging over the rails of the decks and gun positions of the Clymer.

  "You said there was something else, McCoy?" General Craig asked.

  "Yes, sir," McCoy said. "Sir, I just asked General Pick-ering for permission for Zimmerman and myself to attach ourselves temporarily to the brigade. I thought we could be useful. If nothing else, as interpreters."

  "And General Pickering's reply?"

  "I couldn't get through to him, sir. But I can't think of any reason he'd object. I told him we'd continue to report."

  "Subject to General Pickering's approval, I accept," General Craig said. "For the time being, consider your-selves attached to me."

  "Aye, aye, sir. Thank you," McCoy said, and went on: "We were at Headquarters Eighth Army last night, sir. They hadn't decided where the brigade will be sent."

  It was a statement that was also a question.

  "They still haven't," Craig said. "What do you know about Masan, McCoy?"

  "It looks to me like the next North Korean objective, sir," McCoy said. "And a couple of prisoners Zimmerman and I talked to last night were the 6th NK Division. So far the 6th has done very well. One of them had this in his pocket."

  He handed General Craig a small sheet of flimsy paper, crudely printed.

  "What's it say?"

  McCoy translated it in a matter-of-fact voice.

  "Comrades, the enemy is demoralized. The task given us is the liberation of Masan and Chinju..."

  "That sort of spells it out, doesn't it?" Craig said.

  "There's more, sir. Shall I-"

  Craig signaled him to go ahead.

  "... the liberation of Masan and Chinju and the annihi-lation of the remnants of the enemy. The liberation of Chinju and Masan means the final battle to cut off the windpipe of the enemy. Comrades, this glorious task has fallen to our division!"

  He raised his eyes to Craig to show that he had finished.

  Craig looked at McCoy for a moment, and said, "I de-cided late last night that in the absence of orders from General Walker to the contrary, I'm going to move the brigade by truck and train up toward Masan. I borrowed two companies of six-by-six trucks from the Army Trans-portation Corps. If I can break up the parties on the attack transports, and get those ships unloaded today and tonight, we'll move out in the morning."

  "The 6th Division has T-34 tanks, sir."

  "Just before we left Pendleton, we drew new M-26s," Craig said. " `Pattons.' I suppose we are about to learn if they're as good as Fort Knox thinks they are."

  "Sir, the T-34 looks as if it's vulnerable to the 3.5-inch bazooka. The 27th Infantry managed to stop a column-"

  Craig held up his hand to silence him, then pointed to the Pickaway. A ship's ladder had been put over the side, and a dozen Marines were hurrying down it.

  "Save it, McCoy," General Craig said. "I'm going to gather the officers in the mess. I was going to brief them on enemy intentions and capabilities. I just decided you're better qualified to do that than I am."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  Craig got out of his Jeep, motioned for McCoy and Zim-merman to follow him, and walked down the pier, toward the officers now approaching him.

  Salutes were exchanged, then handshakes.

  "Has ammunition been issued?" General Craig asked.

  "No, sir."

  "I sent a message to do so," Craig said. "Apparently it went astray."

  The officers looked uncomfortable.

  Craig turned to one of the enlisted Marines-a young PFC, obviously a runner.

  "Son, have you ammunition for that piece?"

  "Yes, sir," the Marine said, and patted his cartridge belt.

  "Well, then, here's your first lesson in how things are in Korea. Load and lock, son. And then guard those two Jeeps down the pier. Unguarded Jeeps get stolen here. Isn't that right, Captain McCoy?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Assign one lieutenant per company to supervise the is-sue of basic ammunition loads," Craig ordered. "All other officers will assemble now in the mess of the Clymer for a briefing by Captain McCoy on enemy locations, inten-tions, and capabilities. After that, we will begin to unload the ships. We move to the lines in the morning."

  The ship's ladder of the Clymer was dropped to the dock. Marines started to climb down it.

  Craig went to the foot of the ladder and held up his hand to stop them, then started up the ladder.

  "As pissed as he was," Zimmerman said softly to Mc-Coy, "about them not being ready to fight, I expected to see some brass getting a real ass-chewing."

  McCoy chuckled.

  "Ernie, General Craig can chew ass better with a raised eyebrow and a little disappointment in his voice than you and I can shouting ourselves hoarse."

  Zimmerman shrugged. There was immediate confirma-tion of McCoy's theory.

  "Anytime you're ready, Captain McCoy," General Craig called politely from near the top of the ship's ladder.

  "Coming, sir," McCoy said. "Sorry, sir," and trotted to-ward the ladder.

  [THREE]

  COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

  EIGHTH UNITED STATES ARMY (REAR)

  PUSAN, KOREA

  0730 2 AUGUST 1950

  The secure landline telephone between the communications center of Eighth United States Army (Rear) in Pusan and the communications center of Headquarters, Supreme Commander Allied Powers and United Nations Command was intended solely to provide communications between the technicians in the two commo centers.

  So when Master Sergeant Paul T. Keller heard it buzz, he answered it cryptically before it could buzz again, won-dering what the hell else somebody in Tokyo was going to announce was wrong with the crypto machines, the radio or radio-teletype circuits, or all three, what would have to be fixed, how much would have to be retransmitted.

  On another telephone line, he would have said "Eighth Army Rear ComCenter, Sergeant Keller, sir." Now he just said, "Keller."

  "Who's speaking, please?" the caller asked.

  "Master Sergeant Keller. Who's this?"

  "Sergeant, my name is Pickering. Brigadier General, Marine Corps."

  The addressee of that Oplmmediate that Marine captain sent. How did he get access to this line?

  "Yes, sir?"

  "A short time ago, there was a message, an Operational Immediate, sent from Pusan by Captain K. R. McCoy. A Marine officer."

  "Yes, sir, I'm familiar with it."

  "Is he still there, anywhere near, by any chance?"

  "No, sir."

  "Have you any idea where he went?"

  "Sir, I believe he's going to the pier."

  "I have to get a message to him. To him and Brigadier General Craig, the commanding general of the 1st Provi-sional Marine Brigade. How can I do that?"

  "General Craig'll be no problem, sir. They're setting up a commo center for the Marines right now."

  "Right now is when I need to send this message. It may be necessary to send someone to hand-deliver it. Can you do that, or would you rather I spoke with an officer?"

  "I can arrange that, sir," Keller said. "What's the mes-sage?"

  "Permission denied. Repeat denied. Return immedi-ately. Repeat immediately. Signature Pickering Brigadier General. Got that?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And I'll want you to message me, either by tele-phone-they'll patch you through to me at the Imperial Hotel-or by Operational Immediate that the message has been delivered."

  "Yes, sir."

  "You're very obliging, Sergeant, and I realize this will foul up your schedule. But if it wasn't important, I wouldn't ask you to do it."

  "No problem, sir."

  "I'll be waiting to hear from you. Thank you again."

  "Yes, sir."

&
nbsp; Master Sergeant Keller stuck his head in the radio room and caught Captain Peter's eye.

  "Captain, I've got an errand to run. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  Captain Peters nodded, and Keller pulled his head back out of the door before Peters could ask him, "What kind of an errand?"

  He picked up his Thompson and went outside the build-ing and commandeered one of the message center Jeeps and told the driver to take him to the pier.

  "You can't get on the piers, Sergeant. The Marines are getting off their boats, and they put up a guard."

  "Just take me there," Keller said.

  On the way through Pusan's narrow, filthy streets, crowded with military vehicles too large to pass side by side, Keller wondered why he had been so obliging.

  Because the caller was a general, and generals-even Marine Corps generals-get what they ask sergeants to do for them?

  Because, in addition to being a general, this guy had ob-viously had access to the SCAP/UN commo center and the landline?

  Or maybe because Peters had told him the captain was CIA?

  And Captain Peters, who's a good guy, is obviously go-ing to be pissed because I didn't tell him what was going on.

  There was a guard post at the entrance to the wharf area, and three Marines, a sergeant, and two PFCs, all of them in field gear, one of them with a Browning automatic rifle hanging from his shoulder.

  The sergeant stepped into the road and held up his hand in a casual but very firm gesture meaning "stop."

  "Off-limits, Sergeant," he said. "Sorry."

  "I'm from the Eighth Army ComCenter," Keller said. "I have a message for General Craig."

  "Let's have it. I'll see it gets to him."

  "It's an oral message, Sergeant." Keller said.

  "An oral message?" the Marine sergeant asked, dubi-ously.

  "Is there an officer of the guard?" Keller asked.

  "Of course there's an officer of the guard," the Marine sergeant said.

  "Send for him," Keller said.

  "What?"

  "Send for him."

  "Why should I do that?"

  "Because I have six stripes and you have three, and that's what they call an order."

  The Marine sergeant looked at Keller for a long mo-ment, then gestured to one of the PFCs, who started off at a trot down the dock.

  Two minutes later, a Marine captain walked up, trailed by the PFC.

  Keller and the Marine sergeant saluted him.

  "What's up?" the captain asked.

  "Sir, I've got a message for General Craig," Keller said.

  "An oral message," the Marine sergeant said.

  "What is it, Sergeant?" the captain said. "I'll get it to him."

  "Sir, it is oral, and I was ordered to deliver it personally," Keller said.

  "By who?" the captain said.

  "Brigadier General Pickering, sir," Keller said, then added: "U.S. Marine Corps."

  "Never heard of him," the captain said, matter-of-factly. "But I can't imagine why a master sergeant would... Come with me, Sergeant."

  The captain started walking down the wharf, and Keller started to get back in the message center Jeep.

  "The Jeep stays," the Marine sergeant said.

  "Wait for me," Keller said to the driver, who nodded.

  The reason the captain was walking and the Jeep denied access to the wharf became immediately clear.

  The wharf was jammed with men, equipment, and sup-plies. Lines of Marines-their rifles stacked using the stacking swivels near the muzzles, something Keller hadn't seen since Germany-waited for cargo nets jammed with supplies being lowered from the two ships to touch the dock, then began to carry the individual cartons and crates to waiting U.S. Army GMC 6x6 trucks.

  Other booms lowered Marine 6 x 6s, and trailers for them, many of them stacked high with supplies, to the dock. The trucks were joined with their trailers, and then quickly driven off to make room for other trucks, trailers, and other piles of supplies dumped from cargo nets.

  The closest ship was the USS Clymer. The captain started up her ladder. There was a Navy officer and a sailor in a steel helmet at the top of the ladder. As the captain was explaining to the Navy officer who Keller was, Keller could see, farther down the wharf, the USS Pickaway, and past her-too far away for him to read her name-some kind of a Navy freighter unloading artillery pieces and M-26 "Patton" tanks.

  "This way, please, Sergeant," the captain said, and Keller followed him onto the deck of the Clymer and then down a passageway and a narrow stairway and then an-other passageway until they reached a door guarded by two Marines. A sign read "Mess & Wardroom II."

  "Wait here, Sergeant," the captain said, and went through the door.

  A moment later, a tall, silver-haired man in Marine fa-tigues came through the door.

  "My name is Craig," he said. "You have a message for me?"

  "Yes, sir," Keller said. "General Pickering called from Tokyo and first asked if Captain McCoy was available. When I told him I believed Captain McCoy was on the pier, he gave me a message for you and Captain McCoy, and asked if I could deliver it personally."

  He paused. Craig waited for him to go on.

  "The message is `Permission denied. Repeat denied. Re-turn immediately. Repeat immediately. Signature, Picker-ing, Brigadier General, USMC "

  "I'll see that he gets the message, Sergeant. Thank you."

  "Sir, General Pickering asked me to confirm that the message was delivered. To call him, sir."

  Craig looked at him for a moment, then went into the mess.

  "Gentlemen," Keller heard him say, loudly enough to be heard, "Captain McCoy will take one more question. We have to get on with the off-loading. Please join me, Captain McCoy, after the next question."

  Then he came back into the passageway.

  "He will be here shortly, Sergeant," he said. "How is it you-a master sergeant-are doing this personally?"

  "I told General Pickering I would, sir."

  A minute later, he heard someone in the mess call "At-ten-hut," and there was the sound of scraping chair legs.

  Then McCoy, followed by Zimmerman, came into the corridor.

  Craig steered him to the right of the door.

  "The sergeant has a message for you, McCoy," Craig said. "For us. Go ahead, Sergeant."

  "Permission denied. Repeat denied. Return immedi-ately. Repeat immediately. Signature, Pickering, Brigadier General, USMC "

  McCoy's face showed surprise, then regret.

  "I'm sorry, sir," he said to General Craig.

  "Never be sorry when you've tried to do a good thing, Captain," Craig said. "At least we got a splendid briefing out of you before other duty called."

  "Thank you, sir," McCoy said.

  "I presume General Pickering's order includes Mister Zimmerman?"

  "I believe it does, sir."

  "How will you get to Tokyo? You have orders?"

  "Yes, sir, we do. We'll catch a ride out to K-l...."

  "You have a Jeep."

  "Sir, I'd just have to leave it at K-l for somebody to steal, and I wouldn't be surprised if that Jeep was already wearing some kind of Marine insignia."

  "I'll get you a ride out to K-l," Craig said.

  "Captain," Master Sergeant Keller said. "I've got a Jeep. I'll run you out to K-l."

  "By your leave, sir?" McCoy said, coming to attention.

  "Carry on, Mister McCoy," General Craig said.

  [FOUR]

  "I'll drive," Master Sergeant Keller said to the driver of the message center Jeep.

  "Sergeant, I don't think you're supposed to do that."

  "What I know you're supposed to do is what I tell you," Keller said. "Get in the back."

  Keller got behind the wheel. McCoy got in beside him, and Zimmerman clambered over the back to sit beside the driver.

  "Captain, before we go out there," Keller asked, "what are you going to do with that rifle, and Mr. Zimmerman's Thompson, when we get to K-l?"

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