“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.”
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.
“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.
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.”