Retreat, Hell! Part 75

The President took it and leaned against his desk, and stirred the ice cubes thoughtfully with his index finger.

Then he smiled.

"Six months without VD, huh?" he chuckled. "I wonder if I should tell Bess about that one?"

"I wouldn't, Har . . . Mr. President," Howe said.

"h.e.l.l, I couldn't," the President said. "If I did, Bess would immediately start to examine the ribbons of every general she saw, and G.o.d help the poor general who didn't have a Legion of Merit." He laughed, then raised his gla.s.s to Rogers. "Thank you very much, Charley. I needed a laugh."

[FOUR].

THE HOUSE SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA 1655 1 NOVEMBER 1950.

"All of my life, Major McCoy," Lieutenant Colonel J. D. Vandenburg, USA, greeted Major K. R. McCoy, USMCR, as McCoy walked into the dining room, "I was told that Marines, whatever the situation, are models of military sartorial splendor. I have to tell you, you are shattering that illusion."

McCoy was wearing black pajamas, U.S. Army combat boots, a fur-collared Army zippered flight jacket, and a huge black fur cap, which he took off as he smiled at Vandenburg.

"I really like the hat," Vandenburg said.

"I took it away from a Chinese officer-"

"You're sure he was a Chinese Chinese officer?" Vandenburg interrupted. officer?" Vandenburg interrupted.

"I am sure he was a Chinese Chinese officer," McCoy said. "He told me he got it in Russia. I believed that because he spoke pretty good Russian. I'm going to give it to my wife. I think it's Persian lamb. I thought maybe she could make a m.u.f.f out of it. Or a purse, maybe." officer," McCoy said. "He told me he got it in Russia. I believed that because he spoke pretty good Russian. I'm going to give it to my wife. I think it's Persian lamb. I thought maybe she could make a m.u.f.f out of it. Or a purse, maybe."

Vandenburg picked up the hat and examined it.

"Or wear it as a hat," he said. "That's very nice. Only senior officers would get such finery."

"He admitted to being a lieutenant colonel," McCoy said. "I suspect he's more than that."

"I was fascinated with your idea that the first Chinese you interrogated were messengers. . . ."

"Can we talk about that after I get something to eat?" McCoy asked as he took off his flight jacket. "I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast, and that was cold powdered eggs."

"Sorry, I didn't think. You want something to drink?"

"I'd like a stiff shot of scotch, and then a cup-several cups-of hot coffee."

McCoy walked to the door to the kitchen and spoke with the housekeeper, who told him there was cold chicken and cold pork, but that it would take only a minute to heat it up.

"Heat it up, please," McCoy said, "but get me some coffee right now, please."

When he turned around, Vandenburg had put a bottle of Famous Grouse and a gla.s.s on the table.

"You want ice? Water?" he asked.

"This is medicinal, not social," McCoy said. "Straight is fine."

"Against the cold? Or do you hurt?"

McCoy lowered himself carefully into a chair, then splashed two inches of whiskey into the gla.s.s, picked it up, and drank about half.

He exhaled audibly, then said: "Both. If I keep moving, I'm fine. But when I sit with my knees bent-as I have just been doing in the L-19-it gets stiff, and then it hurts when I move. If I don't move and get cold-and it was cold as h.e.l.l up in the L-19-it's worse."

"You probably should still be in the hospital in Sasebo," Vandenburg said.

"If I knew where I could lay my hands on somebody who speaks Russian and Cantonese and knows what questions to ask, that's where I would be."

The housekeeper appeared with a silver coffeepot and a cup and saucer. When she had half-filled the cup, McCoy told her to stop and poured the rest of the scotch in with the coffee.

He took a sip.

"You were telling me about the colonel with the hat," Vandenburg said.

"Let's do this like the professionals we're supposed to be," McCoy said. "We have a map?"

Vandenburg nodded, pointed to half a dozen maps rolled up and standing in a corner of the room, and then went and got one.

"Northeast Korea, right?"

"Better bring one of the northwest, too," McCoy said.

McCoy took a healthy sip from his coffee cup and then stood up as Vandenburg laid a map of northeast Korea on the table and anch.o.r.ed it in place with whiskey gla.s.ses.

"The first Chinese I talked to were captured here," McCoy said, using his finger as a pointer, "southeast of the Chosin Reservoir. The positions he gave me of ChiCom forces here, and here, and here, all checked out."

"Interesting," Vandenburg said.

"One of the reasons I came here was to get confirmation to General Pickering as soon as I could," McCoy said.

"And the other reason-reasons?"

"I thought if you had turned up the same sort of intel, it probably should go in the same report," McCoy said. "I have the feeling there are only two senior people who don't think I'm a nutcase on the loose. Pickering and Almond."

"Almond believes you?" Vandenburg asked.

McCoy nodded. Then he asked, "Have you got anything that would back me up?"

"A h.e.l.l of a lot of rumors and unconfirmed sightings, but nothing solid, I'm afraid. Just before you came in, I got a report that the 24th Division-they're on the west coast, past Chongju, almost to the Yalu-has taken some Chinese prisoners, but it was too late for me to go up there today. I'm going to go at first light."

"I have to send my report tonight," McCoy said.

Vandenburg nodded his understanding.

"The colonel with the hat was captured here," McCoy said, pointing again at the map, "thirty miles east of the eastern sh.o.r.e of the Chosin Reservoir. Same scenario as before, except this guy was wearing an officer's uniform, and I didn't have to 'discover' that he was an officer. But he said and did the same things. The Chinese are coming in with overwhelming force, which they intend to use when X Corps is stretched out making a dash for the border. And he gave me troop dispositions. I hope I can check those out tonight, but I'm going to be very surprised if they don't check out."

"If they do, that would support your idea that they're sending us a message, right?"

"I think it would," McCoy said. "What the h.e.l.l else could it mean?"

The housekeeper came into the dining room carrying a plate of roast pork, rice, and gravy.

"I should be n.o.ble and ignore that," McCoy said, "and go upstairs and send the report. But I'm hungry, and I don't want to climb all those G.o.dd.a.m.n stairs."

"I'll get a typewriter," Vandenburg said. "You can dictate it to me while you eat." He saw the look on McCoy's face. "I'm actually a very good typist. I used to be a CIC agent; a typewriter to a CIC agent is like a rifle to a Marine. "

"I wasn't asking-"

"I know, Killer," Vandenburg said, and walked out of the dining room.

"Well, Major McCoy," Vandenburg said, handing McCoy the sheets of paper he had just pulled from the typewriter, "can this old soldier type, or can he type?"

McCoy took the papers and read them.

TOP SECRETOPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE.

SEOUL >>ENTER TIME DATE HERE.

EYES ONLY BRIG GEN FLEMING PICKERING.

TOKYO1. REFERENCE MY MESSAGE FROM FISHBASE 30 OCTOBER 1950: QUESTIONING OF THREE EXFILTRATED STAY-BEHIND TEAMS THIS DATE CONFIRMED IN EVERY SIGNIFICANT DETAIL THE CHICOM TROOP DISPOSITIONS FURNISHED THE UNDERSIGNED BY CHICOM PRISONERS YESTERDAY.2. ADDITIONALLY, ONE OF THE TEAMS CAPTURED CHICOM CAPTAIN WON SON HI, WHO WAS EXFILTRATED WITH THEM AND INTERROGATED BY THE UNDERSIGNED. DESPITE CONSIDERABLE PRESSURE HE REFUSED TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT HIS UNIT, ORDERS, OR ANYTHING ELSE. HOWEVER, HIS IDENt.i.tY DOc.u.mENTS AND A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER, CAPTURED WITH HIM, ESTABLISHED THAT HIS UNIT WAS THE 2077TH RECONNAISSANCE COMPANY, 42D FIELD ARMY. AT THE TIME OF HIS CAPTURE HI AND THREE NONCOMS WERE RECONNOITERING CREST OF HILL LINE WHERE TEAM HAD BEEN INSERTED. NONCOMS DIED IN ENGAGEMENT.3. REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT ONE OF THE FOUR TEAMS INSERTED WAS APPARENTLY DISCOVERED BY CHICOM FORCES, AND MUST BE CONSIDERED MISSING IN ACTION, POSSIBLY CAPTURED, BUT PROBABLY KIA. CREW OF EXTRACTION AIRCRAFT REPORTED SIGNS OF HEAVY ENGAGEMENT, AND WERE THEMSELVES DRIVEN FROM AREA BY SMALL ARMS FIRE. ZIMMERMAN IS SENDING SEPARATELY FROM FISHBASE NAMES OF THOSE LOST AND OTHER DETAILS.4. AT APPROXIMATELY 1400 HOURS THIS DATE, UNDERSIGNED INTERROGATED TWO CHICOM OFFICER PRISONERS, LIEUTENANT COLONEL KEY HOW AND CAPTAIN LEE SOU, CAPTURED BY ROK 502D INFANTRY IN VICINITY OF KUDONG, APPROXIMATELY 30 MILES EAST OF EASTERN Sh.o.r.e OF CHOSIN RESERVOIR. EXCEPT THAT THESE OFFICERS MADE NO EFFORT TO CONCEAL THEIR OFFICER STATUS, IT WAS ESSENTIALLY A REPEAT OF THE POW INTERROGATION THE UNDERSIGNED MADE YESTERDAY. CHICOM FORCES WILL NOT ATTACK US FORCES UNTIL THEIR LINES ARE OVEREXTENDED BETWEEN HAMHUNG AND BORDER, WHEN QUOTE ANNIHILATION WILL BE a.s.sURED ENDQUOTE.5. FOUR TO SIX STAY-BEHIND TEAMS WILL BE INSERTED AT DUSK TODAY, DEPENDING ON WEATHER CONDITIONS, AND A REPORT OF THEIR FINDINGS WILL BE FURNISHED AS EARLY TOMORROW AS POSSIBLE.6. IN VIEW OF THE FOREGOING, THE UNDERSIGNED BELIEVESa. THERE IS NO LONGER ANY REASON TO QUESTION THE PRESENCE OF SUBSTANTIAL CHICOM FORCES IN NORTH KOREA PREPARED TO ENTER THE WAR WHENEVER THAT DECISION IS MADE.b. THAT THE CAPTURE OF A SECOND GROUP OF SENIOR CHICOM OFFICERS WHO MAKE ESSENTIALLY THE SAME STATEMENT REGARDING CHICOM INTENTIONS REINFORCES THE POSSIBILITY THAT THEY ARE IN EFFECT MESSENGERS HOPING TO HAVE PLANS TO ADVANCE TO THE YALU RECONSIDERED OR CANCELED.7. THE UNDERSIGNED HAS CONFERRED WITH STATION CHIEF SEOUL, WHO SAYS HE HAS NOTHING CONCRETE TO CONFIRM OR QUESTION THE CONCLUSIONS DRAWN BY THE UNDERSIGNED.

K.R. MCCOY.

MAJOR, USMCRAddition: despite paragraph 7 above the undersigned wholeheartedly concurs with major mccoy's a.n.a.lysis of the situation, and expects within a matter of days to have hard intelligence confirming mccoy's a.n.a.lysis.

J.D. VANDENBURG, LTCOL, INF.

STATION CHIEF, SEOULTOP SECRET.

"Well, you can type," McCoy said. "But what's that 'addition' that I didn't dictate or, for that matter, ask for?"

"Well, Major, you don't have any choice. I outrank you. It stays in."

McCoy looked at him.

"Killer, you're a bright guy, figure it out for yourself," Vandenburg said. "If that got to Was.h.i.+ngton without my addition, some chair-warming sonofab.i.t.c.h who's never been closer to the Orient than Big w.a.n.g's One Hung Low Chinese Buffet and Take-Out is going to say, 'Hey, he sent this from Seoul. What about Vandenburg? We really should know what Vandenburg thinks. If Vandenburg didn't say anything, he probably thinks McCoy is as full of s.h.i.+t as a Christmas turkey, and we have to judge this accordingly.' Now they know what I think."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure. Now we're going to put you to bed. Does your leg need a fresh bandage? Before I was a CIC agent, I was a Boy Scout. I know all about bandages."

"I find that hard to believe. You being a Boy Scout, I mean."

Vandenburg raised his right hand, three fingers extended, as a Boy Scout does when swearing an oath.

"You can trust me, Killer. I'm in the CIA," he said solemnly.

[FIVE].

ROOM 39A, NEURO-PSYCHIATRIC WARD U.S. NAVAL HOSPITAL SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA 0915 2 NOVEMBER 1950.

Major Malcolm S. Pickering, USMCR, was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom when Lieutenant Patrick McGrory, MC, USN, pushed open the wide door and entered the room.

Pick had just concluded that he looked like h.e.l.l. The uniform tunic hung loosely from his shoulders, which he had more or less expected. But he hadn't thought that he might have problems with the s.h.i.+rt until he'd stood before the mirror, b.u.t.toned the collar b.u.t.ton, and begun to knot the field scarf. Then he'd seen that the s.h.i.+rt collar was an inch-maybe two inches-too big for the skinny neck rising from his shoulders. He realized why: Without thinking, he'd bought s.h.i.+rts in 'his' size, which meant they were far too large for him in his walking skeleton condition.

It was too late to do anything about it.

He turned and looked at McGrory.

"Good morning, Doctor," he said. "And how is my favorite leprechaun feeling today?"

"I'm impressed," McGrory said. "That's an impressive array of fruit salad."

Pick gave him the finger.

"I mean it," McGrory said. "I was impressed when I saw the list of your medals General Dawkins sent over-"

"What?"

"I said I was impressed with the list of your medals when General Dawkins sent it over-"

"What the h.e.l.l was that all about?"

"General Dawkins called the hospital commander and said that he wanted to make sure you had a uniform, as they are about to pin another medal on you-"

"Oh, s.h.i.+t. That was a mistake. With its typical efficiency, the Crotch put my name on somebody else's citation."

"-and that he was sending his driver over," McGrory went on, "with an official list of your medals so that you would have them on your uniform when they took your picture as they pinned the medal on you. The hospital commander summoned me, handed me the list, and told me to take care of it. Which I did, by telling Francis Xavier O'-Malley I was sending him a list of ribbons which he was to make up when getting you your uniform. And as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, I was impressed with the list, but am even more impressed now that I can see them all on your manly breast."

"Manly chicken breast," Pick said. "Or chickenly man breast?"

McGrory chuckled.

"I did notice your collar seems a wee bit roomy," McGrory said. "But for the record, you have gained eleven pounds while in my loving care. You'll get it all back, Pick. You lost a h.e.l.l of a lot of weight, pal. It won't come back overnight."

"The O Club had the effrontery to serve me rice with my pork chops last night," Pick said. "I will never eat rice again in my life."

"Is that how you made it, on rice?"

"We are back to my terrible ordeal, are we? Okay. I'll give you that much. Yes, rice was a staple of my diet during my terrible ordeal. Are you now happy?"

"The longest journey begins with the first step," McGrory said solemnly. "I think Confucius said that."

"I hate to break off this fascinating conversation," Pick said, "but I told Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l I'd be waiting for her in the lobby"-he looked at his wrist.w.a.tch-"in six minutes."

"She's not coming," McGrory said.