Retreat, Hell! tc-10

by W. E. B Griffin

  4. SUBJECT OFFICER'S DYSENTERY HAS REACTED TO ANTI­BIOTIC TREATMENT, AND THE INTERNAL PARASITES HAVE REACTED TO ATABRINE AND OTHER TREATMENT. HE HAS BEEN PLACED ON A HIGH PROTEIN DIET.

  THERE IS NO REASON SUBJECT OFFICER CANNOT BE AIR­LIFTED TO THE ZONE OF THE INTERIOR AT

  ANY TIME. HE CAN BE TRANSPORTED FROM BADOENG STRAIT EITHER BY TBM-3G AVENGER AIRCRAFT OR BY UNDER-WAY TRANSFER TO A DESTROYER OR DESTROYER ESCORT.

  IN THE OPINION OF THE UNDERSIGNED, PRESENT AND PROJECTED WEATHER CONDITIONS MAKE AT-SEA

  TRANSFER THE LESS HAZARDOUS MEANS OF TRANSPORT. REQUEST DIRECTION.

  BADOENG STRAIT PROCEEDING.

  NORTON, CAPT USN

  COMMANDING

  Pickering read the message and handed it back to Huff. "Fifty-eight pounds," he said. "Jesus, he must look like a skeleton." Huff handed him another message.

  SECRET

  URGENT

  FROM COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF PACIFIC

  0405 16 OCTOBER 1950

  TO BADOENG STRAIT

  INFO SUPREME COMMANDER UNC TOKYO

  CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS WASHINGTON

  COMMANDANT USMC WASHINGTON

  COMMANDER USNAVY BASE SASEBO JAPAN

  1 . REFERENCE IS MADE TO

  A. MESSAGE DIRECTION OF THE PRESIDENT SUBJ: PICKERING, MAJ MALCOLM USMCR 15OCT50

  B. YOUR SECRET URGENT SUBJECT AS ABOVE 03 00 16 OCTOBER 1950

  2. CINCPAC DIRECTS

  A. DETACHMENT OF DESTROYER OR DESTROYER ESCORT FROM COVERING FORCE FOR PURPOSE OF TRANSPORTING SUBJECT OFFICER TO NEAREST PORT OFFERING SUITABLE AIR TRANSPORT OF SUBJECT OFFICER TO USNAVY HOSPITAL USNAVY BASE SASEBO JAPAN.

  B. SUBJECT OFFICER BE ACCOMPANIED BY NAVY PHYSICIAN DURING MOVEMENT FROM BADOENG STRAIT TO SASEBO. TRANSFER TO TRANSPORTING VESSEL TO TAKE PLACE WHENEVER AND WHEREVER BADOENG STRAIT DEEMS ADVISABLE.

  C. BADOENG STRAIT WILL ADVISE CINCPAC AND ADDRESSEES HEREON BY URGENT MESSAGE OF SUCCESSFUL TRANSFER OF SUBJECT OFFICER TO TRANSPORTING VESSEL, PORT OF DESTINATION, AND ETA THEREAT.

  3. BADOENG STRAIT WILL PASS FOLLOWING PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM CINCPAC TO SUBJECT OFFICER AT EARLIEST OPPORTUNITY. QUOTE WELL DONE. YOUR RECENT ACTIONS IN HIGHEST TRADITIONS OF USMC AND NAVAL SERVICE. WELCOME BACK. END QUOTE

  FOR THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, PACIFIC

  STEVENS, VICE ADMIRAL, CHIEF OF STAFF

  Pickering read the message and handed it back to Huff. Huff held the other messages up.

  "You can read these, of course, if you like," he said. "But they are simply administrative messages to implement what's going to happen. The thumb­nail of the situation is that a Navy R4-D hospital plane will be waiting at Pusan—that's the nearest port—to fly your son to Sasebo. The Supreme Com­mander has arranged for you to be flown to either Pusan or Sasebo, whichever you prefer—"

  "Sasebo," Pickering interrupted. "I don't see much point in going to Korea just to come back. And I would just be in the way."

  And it smacks of special treatment—not for Pick, for me.

  "Yes, sir. There are two remaining problems."

  "Which are?"

  "The President has directed that Major Pickering be flown to the naval hospital in the United States most convenient for Mrs. Pickering. They have apparently been unable to contact her."

  "San Diego," Pickering said. "Send him to the Navy Hospital in San Diego."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And the second problem?"

  "Miss Priestly. We haven't been able to locate her. We know she's in Korea, and probably in Pusan, but we haven't been able to find her so far."

  "I understand she was headed for Wonsan."

  "We've checked Wonsan. They don't know where she is, and her name does not appear on any flight manifest of flights from Pusan to Wonsan." He paused, then added: "We'll find her, General."

  "I'm sure you will," Pickering said. "Thank you, Sid."

  "I know the Supreme Commander is expecting you, sir," Huff said. "I'll tell him you're here."

  [SIX]

  When Colonel Huff opened the door to MacArthur's office and announced, "General Pickering, sir," MacArthur and Major General Charles Willoughby, his intelligence officer, were standing at a table to one side of the room, look­ing down at a map.

  "Ah, come on in, Fleming!" MacArthur called heartily. "I've been waiting for you."

  "Good morning, sir," Pickering said, and saluted.

  Marines and sailors do not salute indoors—unless under arms or "covered" (wearing a hat or cap)—soldiers do. Pickering had decided nine years before, in Australia, that it was wiser to follow the Army custom. His relationships with the officers around MacArthur were bad enough as it was without adding "the arrogant SOB doesn't even salute" to the listings of what was wrong with him.

  "The Supreme Commander has just told me about your son, Pickering," General Willoughby said. "What good news!"

  "Thank you, General," Pickering said.

  "And Huff has you up to speed, right, on what's happened about that this morning?" MacArthur asked.

  "Yes, sir, he has."

  "Are you going out to the carrier, or to Korea?"

  "No, sir. I think I'd just be in the way. I'll go to Sasebo and wait there."

  "Probably the wisest thing to do. Huff will arrange whatever is necessary."

  "Thank you."

  "Willoughby has been bringing me up to speed on what's happening. Would you like to listen, or are you anxious to leave for Sasebo?"

  "I'd prefer to hear General Willoughby's briefing, sir, if I may."

  "Start from the beginning, Willoughby," MacArthur ordered.

  "Yes, sir," Willoughby said. "On the west coast," he began, using his swag­ger stick as a pointer, "I Corps is poised to take Pyongyang. ..."

  The briefing took only ten minutes. It was upbeat and confident. The impli­cation was that the Korea Peace Action was just about over.

  MacArthur had asked only two questions of Willoughby.

  "And the Wonsan mines, Willoughby?"

  "Admiral Struble's Joint Task Force Seven, as of this morning, sir, has nine­teen minesweeping vessels working on the problem."

  "And?"

  "X Corps will sail today from Inchon, General," Willoughby said. "I have every confidence that by the time the invasion fleet arrives off Wonsan, the mines will no longer pose any problem at all."

  "And the Chinese?"

  "There has been no reliable intelligence of any movement of Chinese troops toward the border, sir," Willoughby said. "I've personally taken a look at a good deal of the Air Force photography. There's simply nothing there."

  Pickering had another unkind thought about Major General Charles Willoughby:

  He obviously believes what he's saying, but that is not the same thing as saying that what he believes is true.

  What I should do, I suppose, is stand up and say, "General, please remember that Willoughby is the guy who told you guerrilla operations in the Philippines were absolutely impossible, and that there was no indication of hostile inten­tions on the part of North Korea, and his confident statements about no mines and no Chinese should be judged accordingly."

  Why don't I? Because I don't know if the mines are gone from the approaches to Wonsan or not, and I don't know if the Chinese are going to come in the war, and absent proof of either, MacArthur's going to go with Willoughby.

  And, furthermore, Bedell Smith made the point that the intelligence-gathering function of the CIA ends with passing it on to those charged with making decisions. Making decisions is not our responsibility.

  MacArthur interrupted his thoughts. "Have you any questions for Willoughby, Fleming?"

  "No, sir."

  "In that case, Willoughby, would you give General Pickering and me a moment?"

  "Yes, sir, of course."

  Willoughby went through the door into Huff's office. "Willoughby tells me that you have sent the CIA Tokyo station chief home," MacArthur said, making it a question.

  I can answer that tactfully, which means lie, and
say Bedell Smith ordered it. Or I can tell the blunt truth, and probably antagonize him. It's probably time for the blunt truth.

  "In my judgment, General, he needed to be replaced. For one thing, he failed to gain intelligence of North Korea's intentions when this war started, and for another—and no disrespect is intended—he was entirely too close to mem­bers of your staff, especially General Willoughby." MacArthur considered that a full fifteen seconds. "Have you decided on a replacement?"

  "Colonel Ed Banning, sir. Do you remember him?"

  "Of course. He was your deputy in the Second War."

  "Yes, sir, he was."

  "It's always nice, Fleming, to have old comrades-in-arms in one's inner com­mand circle. You know they can be trusted," MacArthur said, then smiled. "Well, I suppose you're anxious to head for Sasebo, aren't you?"

  He meant Willoughby in that philosophical observation, not Ed Banning. Is he asking me to understand his relationship with Willoughby?

  "Yes, sir, I am."

  Pickering saluted again, then walked out of MacArthur's office into Huff's office, where Captain Hart and Master Sergeant Keller were waiting for him. Willoughby nodded at Pickering, then went back into MacArthur's office.

  "This is the most interesting one, General," Keller said, handing him a sheet of paper. "And it was delivered by a Jap on a bicycle."

  FROM TRANSGLOBAL HONOLULU TO TRANSGLOBAL TOKYO

  PLEASE PASS TO GENERAL PICKERING THAT COLONEL EDWARD BANNING, USMC, IS ABOARD TGF 1022 DUE TO ARRIVE IN TOKYO 12 3 0 TOKYO TIME OCTOBER 16.

  WILLIAMSON TG HONOLULU

  "Well, I guess we'd better be at Haneda to meet him, hadn't we, Paul?" Pickering said.

  Chapter Twelve

  [ONE]

  The Imperial Hotel

  Tokyo, Japan

  1115 16 October 19SO

  Captain George Hart knocked lightly on the door to Brigadier General Pick­ering's bedroom, and then, as was his custom, without waiting for a reply, opened the door wide enough to look inside.

  Pickering's bedroom was actually a suite within a suite. There was a bed­room, a private bath, and a small room holding a desk and chair and a leather-upholstered chair with a footstool.

  Pickering was sitting in the chair, holding a cup of coffee. He was not on the telephone, which meant that his conversation with Mrs. Pickering was over.

  Hart signaled with a wave of his hand for Master Sergeant Paul Keller to follow him into the small room.

  Pickering didn't seem to notice their presence.

  "It's about that time, boss," Hart said. "We better get out to Haneda. Trans-Global may surprise us all by arriving on time."

  Hart got neither the laugh nor the dirty look he expected from Pickering. Instead, Pickering looked at them thoughtfully.

  "Sir?" Hart asked.

  "I want a straight answer from you two," Pickering said. "You listening, Paul?"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "A lot has gone on in Korea that I don't—we don't, and especially Colonel Banning doesn't—know much about. The helicopters, for one thing, and this Army lieutenant colonel who apparently has not only stolen a Beaver from the Eighth Army Commander but seems to have taken over our villa in Seoul," Pickering said. "Right?"

  "That's right, sir," Hart said. "Are you worried about Colonel Vandenberg?"

  Pickering didn't respond.

  "George," he went on, "you and I have never been inside the Seoul villa, and all we know about it is what Bill Dunston has told us about it."

  "The Killer seems impressed with this Vandenburg guy," Hart said.

  Again, Pickering didn't respond.

  "Neither have we been to Socho-Ri," Pickering said.

  "No, we haven't," Hart agreed.

  "And obviously, Banning should meet Dunston and Vandenburg, and have them and McCoy and Zimmerman bring him up to speed on what's going on. All of these things would seem to indicate that we get Banning and ourselves to Seoul as quickly as possible, even if Ed Banning's ass is dragging after hav­ing flown halfway around the world."

  "Makes sense to me, boss," Hart said.

  "Okay, here's the question, and kindness should not color your answer: Who made that decision, your steel-backed, cold-blooded commander think­ing of nothing but the mission, or a father who desperately wants to see his son?"

  There was silence.

  "You first, Paul," Pickering said.

  "Jesus, General," Keller said. "If it was me, and if my son, if I had one, was just coming back from wherever the hell he's been, I'd be on the next plane to Korea, and I wouldn't even think of Dunston and Socho-Ri and the rest of it."

  Pickering met his eyes for a moment, then looked around for Hart. Hart was across the room, on the telephone.

  "Whoever that it is, George, it'll have to wait," Pickering said. "I want an answer."

  Hart covered the telephone microphone with his hand.

  "Where are we going? Pusan or Seoul?" he asked.

  "Meaning what?"

  "Meaning if we can get on the 1500 courier plane to Seoul, you'll have time to meet Colonel Vandenburg this afternoon and tonight, then fly to Socho-Ri in the morning and see the Killer and Zimmerman, and then be in Pusan prob­ably four, five hours before the tin can can get Pick off the carrier and deliver him there. Which means, your choice, you can have Dunston fly to Seoul from Pusan this afternoon—my suggestion—or have him wait for you in Pusan."

  "That's not an answer to my question," Pickering said.

  "Yes it is, boss," Hart said softly but firmly. "I kept my mouth shut when you and the Killer were going through that 'we can't use a helicopter that's needed to transport the wounded to look for him' noble Marine Corps bull­shit, but enough's enough. You have valid reasons to go to Korea. Be glad you do. You and Pick are entitled to get together. Now, where are we going, Pusan or Seoul?"

  After a long pause, Pickering said, "Seoul."

  Hart nodded and returned to the telephone.

  "Brigadier General E Pickering, USMC, will require three seats on the 1500 courier to Seoul," he said.

  Whoever he was talking to said something.

  "Hey, Captain!" Hart barked into the phone, interrupting the person on the other end. "Whoa! Save your breath! I don't give a good goddamn if you have seats available or not. We have a priority that'll bump anybody but Douglas MacArthur, and we intend to use it. Am I getting through to you?"

  Hart turned to Pickering, intending to smile at him. He saw that Pickering had stood up and was looking out the window. As Hart watched, Pickering blew his nose loudly.

  "We're on the 1500, boss," Hart said.

  General Pickering nodded his understanding, but he didn't trust his voice to speak.

  [TWO]

  USS Mansfield (DD 728)

  37.54 Degrees North Latitude

  13O.O5 Degrees East Longitude

  The Sea of Japan

  15O5 16 October 195O

  Lieutenant Commander C. Lewis Matthews III, USN, a very large, open-faced thirty-nine-year-old, took a final look out the spray-soaked window of his bridge, then walked to the rear of the bridge and pressed the announce lever on the public-address system control panel mounted on the bulkhead.

  "Attention all hands. This is the captain speaking," he announced. He knew that within seconds he would have the attention of every man aboard.

  On being given command of the Mansfield, he had received advice from both his father and grandfather. In addition to a good deal else, they had both told him to stay the hell off the PA system unless he had something important to say.

  "Don't fall in love with the sound of your own voice," Vice Admiral Charles L. Matthews, USN, Ret., his grandfather, had told him. "Remember the little kid who kept crying 'wolf.' "

  Rear Admiral C. L. Matthews, Jr., his father, had put much the same thought this way: "Stay off the squawk box, Lew, unless you have something really important to say. When you say 'This is the captain speaking,' you want everybody to pay attention, not groan an
d say, 'Jesus Christ, again?' "

  Lew Matthews had taken that advice, and right now was glad he had.

  "We're about to pull alongside the Badoeng Strait" Captain Lew Matthews announced. "We are going to make an underway transfer of two officers from Badoeng Strait. One of them is a physician. The other is a Marine pilot who was shot down right after this war started, and has been behind the enemy's lines until his rescue yesterday. Once we have them aboard, we will make for Pusan at best speed, where a hospital plane will be waiting to fly the Marine to the hospital at Sasebo. Do this right. The one thing this Marine doesn't need after all he's gone through is to take a bath in the Sea of Japan."

  He let go of the announce lever and walked to the spray-soaked window of the bridge, took a look at the seas and the gray bulk of the Badoeng Strait dead ahead, and shook his head.

  He turned and caught the attention of the officer of the deck, then pointed to himself.

  "The captain has the conn!" the officer of the deck announced.

  "Bring us alongside the Badoeng Strait," Matthews ordered the helmsman, describing with his finger how he wanted the Mansfield to move and where.

  He turned to the officer of the deck and nodded.

  The officer of the deck went to the control panel, depressed the announce lever, and said, "Attention all hands. Make all preparations for underway per­sonnel transfer."

  [THREE]

  USS Badoeng Strait (CVE 116)

  37.54 Degrees North Latitude

  13O.O5 Degrees East Longitude

  The Sea of Japan

  1515 16 October 195O

  Lieutenant Bruce D. Patterson, MC, USNR, wearing foul-weather gear and an inflated life jacket, was sitting in a bosun's chair. The chair—an item of Navy gear evolved from a sort of canvas seat that hauled sailors aloft to work on masts and sails, and thus was probably as old as the anchor—was suspended under a cable that had been rigged between one of the higher decks of the USS Mansfield and an interior strong point in the USS Badoeng Strait that was ac­cessible through a square port in her side.