Kevin shook his head to clear the memory. He’d learned his lesson that time. Never trust maps. He clambered up onto the firing step and lifted his binoculars. Let’s see. Hill 640, Malibu West, fell sharply away down a rocky slope into a narrow, brush-filled valley. There were gullies running through the valley and up toward a ridgeline to the north. He could just make out what might be some camouflaged bunkers on that ridge.
A hand grabbed his combat webbing and yanked him down off the firing step.
“What the fuck?” Kevin wheeled in fury as Pierce let go of his webbing.
“Sorry, sir.” Pierce didn’t sound very sorry. “But part of what they pay me for is to make sure that my lieutenants don’t get shot on their first day up at the Z.”
“And what does that have to do with grabbing me from behind just now?” Kevin was breathing hard. He’d been startled. Christ, he hadn’t even heard Pierce come up behind him. The man must move like a ghost.
“Snipers, Lieutenant. The North Koreans take a special pride in potting people staring at ’em with shiny binoculars. You want to look around up at the Z, you use the ’scopes.” Pierce jerked a thumb toward a periscope that could be raised above the trench parapet.
“Oh, bullshit. I know that the North Koreans are lunatics, but they can’t just go around shooting people. There is an armistice on, you know.”
“You know it and I know it, Lieutenant. But I ain’t too sure the gooks know it or give a damn.” Pierce had his voice pitched low. “Look, sir. This isn’t peacetime up here. This is damn close to the real thing. Back when I was just a green PFC, before Vietnam, I was stationed at a place pretty much like this.” He paused.
“So things haven’t changed much in more than twenty years. What’s the point?” Kevin was impatient. It was starting to warm up, the sun was in his eyes, and he wanted some coffee.
“Well, sir, this rear-area general came up for an inspection one day. Now, the lieutenant gave him a pretty good tour of the bunkers, trenches, and all, but this general wanted to see the commies for himself. And he wouldn’t hear of using anything like that ’scope over there. So he just jumped up on the firing step and wouldn’t listen to the lieutenant asking him to get down. He didn’t listen until some commie sniper put a round through his head.” Pierce laid a finger on the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. “Right there, Lieutenant. Knocked that dumbshit general off the firing step and blew what little brains he had out through the back of his head.”
“Christ!” Kevin was shocked. “How come I never read anything about that?”
“Hell, I suppose they hushed it up. Damned embarrassing way to lose a general, I guess.”
“Well, what happened to your lieutenant?”
“They weren’t too happy with him. Wasn’t his fault, so they couldn’t send him to Leavenworth, but they did shove his ass out of the Army in a godawful hurry.”
Kevin thought about that for a moment and then smiled ruefully. “Okay, Sergeant. You’ve made your point. You won’t lose this dumbshit lieutenant the same way.”
Pierce grinned back at him, “That’s the spirit, Lieutenant. It’s just a question of experience. And there’s one thing you can say for the Z — you get experienced real quick.”
After six days Kevin had had enough of Malibu West. Six days of solid boredom. Of not being able to move freely during daylight. Of lousy food and not enough sleep. Six days that were too hot and six nights that were too cold.
The only high points were the daily poker games with Rhee, Pierce, and a couple of the other noncoms. Playing cards with his NCOs might not be regulation, but it helped pass the time. Table stakes were low because it wouldn’t do to have officers winning too much money from their subordinates. Still, he’d won more than he’d lost. And it had been nice to see a look of genuine respect on Sergeant Pierce’s face for once.
But that had been it. Other than a series of meaningless, routine daily reports and a single, quick inspection by Captain Matuchek, who’d seemed pleasantly surprised to find the outpost still intact, their tour at Malibu West had been about as exciting as guarding a convent somewhere in the Midwest.
That made the call even more shocking when it came.
“Sir!” The hand that was shaking him shook even harder. “Sir!”
Kevin groaned and tried to roll over. It was still dark out and he’d been up past midnight filling out useless paperwork.
“Sir!” It was Jones, his radioman. “Captain’s on the phone, sir. Says it’s urgent.”
Shit. Now what the hell did he want. Probably wanted to bitch about some goddamned form he’d filled in wrong. Kevin threw the blankets off his cot and stumbled over to the phone.
“Alfa Echo Five Six, this is Alfa Echo Five Two. Go ahead.”
“Five Two, this is Five Six. Wait one.” Great, they woke him up and now they were going to make him wait. But the line came alive again in seconds, and something in Matuchek’s voice brought Kevin up straight. “Five Two, this is Five Six. Go to full alert. Say again, go to full alert. We have a general stand-to all along the Z.”
Oh, Christ. Kevin could feel his heart starting to pound and he was having trouble catching his breath. “Six, this is Two. Is this a drill? Over.”
Matuchek’s wrath came over the phone loud and clear. “I don’t fucking know. And right now I don’t fucking care! Just get your men out on the firing line and clear the goddamned phone. Six out.”
Kevin handed the phone back to Jones and looked around for his M16, flak jacket, and helmet. They were in the corner of the CP, right where he’d left them. Rhee was already up and buckling on his gear.
Kevin turned back to Jones. “Okay, get Pierce in here. On the double.” He took a deep breath, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. Shit, shit, calm down. He grabbed his flak jacket and started to put it on, then realized he had it backward. He flipped the bulky jacket around and slipped into it. Rhee handed him his helmet.
“What’s up, Lieutenant?” Pierce was in the door to the CP, rifle in hand and looking as awake as if he’d already been up for hours.
“We’ve got an alert. All along the DMZ. I don’t know if it’s for real or not, but you’d better get the men up and in position anyway.” Kevin grabbed his rifle and map case.
Pierce backed out of the CP and vanished down the shadow-filled connecting trench, moving toward the nearest bunker. Rhee headed out the other door. Kevin followed him as far as the main trench, accompanied by Jones, lugging the platoon’s commo gear.
The moon was up and nearly full, casting an eerie mix of orangish light and pitch-black shadows across the valley below. Gusts of a cold north wind stirred the brush back and forth and whined through the coils of barbed wire covering the approaches to Malibu West.
Kevin fumbled with the focus on the periscope. Damn it. For all he could make out, the valley down there could be filled with a thousand enemy soldiers. Or it could be empty.
The eleven troopers of 2nd Squad jogged past him, equipment rattling as they fanned out down the length of the trench and clambered up onto firing steps.
“Sir!” Jones’s hoarse whisper pulled Kevin’s eyes away from the periscope and back down into the trench. “Sergeant Pierce says everybody’s up and in position. Nothing else to report.”
“Tell Pierce to get back here pronto. And check with Company to see if they’ve got anything more.”