It soon became apparent that the Marines Had Landed and the situation was well in hand. The first landing had occurred before—long before, weeks before—Baker Company of the 5th Marines had arrived.
The character in the black pajamas was a technical sergeant named Jennings. The second character to appear in black pajamas had identified himself as Captain K. R. McCoy, USMCR, and he said he was "in charge of the operation."
At about that moment—just as Dunwood was trying to reconcile McCoy with some candy-ass Marine he'd clashed with on a plane—the skies lit up and the earth trembled as a massive barrage of naval gunfire began. It flew overhead to land on Wolmi-do Island, miles farther down the Flying Fish Channel.
Captain McCoy explained to Captain Dunwood that the real role of Baker Company in the Inchon Invasion was to retake Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do islands in case something happened to him and his men.
Captain McCoy and his handful of men—some of them Korean—had then gotten into Baker Company's Higgins boats and left. Dunwood never had time to ask Captain McCoy what he was supposed to do next, or even to which Marine unit he belonged, or what was the reason for the black pajamas.
Two days later, other Higgins boats appeared at the island, under a Navy chief bosun's mate who knew only that he had been ordered to the island to pick up Baker Company and transport them to Inchon.
At Inchon, which had just been taken, Baker Company was placed in Division Special Reserve and Dunwood was shown where to bivouac and told to be prepared to move out on twenty minutes' notice.
No such notice ever came, and it had not been necessary for Baker Company to fire a shot. Or, for that matter, to dodge any.
After five days in Division Special Reserve, half a company of amphibious trucks had come to their bivouac area under an old gunnery sergeant who reported that all Captain Strauley had told him was that he was to haul Baker Company to Kimpo Airfield.
By the time they reached Kimpo, the war had moved past the airfield. It was already in use.
Sergeant Preston had come to him within an hour, saying that he'd reconnoitered the field and found a hangar at the far end that was neither in use nor too badly shot up, and why didn't they take it over?
"At least, sir, until the fucking crotch gets its head out of its ass and decides what the fuck to do with us."
Under the circumstances, Captain Dunwood had decided that pending orders, moving into the hangar was the prudent thing to do.
A captain from G-3, Headquarters, 1st Marine Division, had shown up the next day and announced that Baker Company was still in Division Special Reserve and further orders would be forthcoming. He didn't say when, but warned Dunwood to be prepared to move out on four hours' notice, maximum.
Captain Dunwood's plan of action remained the same. Have Baker Company prepared to move out on command, and in the meantime to make his men as comfortable as possible, at the same time making no waves that would call attention to his command.
With a little bit of luck, they might be forgotten again.
When he finished his ham chunks and baked beans, he took a bite of the chocolate bar that came with the rations, spit it out, and decided it had probably already been bad when packaged just before the Civil War.
He slipped his feet into his boondockers, then sort of slid across the concrete floor to the door and went outside the hangar. He put a cigarette in his mouth and reached for his Zippo. Then he went back inside the building and, with his back to the door, lit the cigarette.
He thought it was highly unlikely that a North Korean sniper was lying in the mud out there somewhere, waiting to take a shot at some Marine careless enough to light a cigarette in the open and make a target of himself, but it never hurt to be careful.
Besides, he had warned his men of snipers lying in the mud waiting for a chance to shoot a careless Marine so often that he felt he should practice what he preached.
Holding the cigarette with the coal in his cupped hand, he went outside again, thinking that for the evening's amusement he would watch the red glow of the artillery bounce off the clouds to the northeast of Seoul.
What he saw was the headlights—not the blackout lights—of two jeeps coming down the runway at high speed, and he wondered if no one had ever told them about North Korean snipers lying in the mud, hoping for an opportunity to shoot people foolish enough to run around at night with their headlights blazing.
Surprising him, the jeeps turned off the runway and onto the service road leading to his hangar.
A hundred yards from the hangar, they were stopped by one of Dunwood's perimeter guards. In the headlights, he could see the sentry gesturing toward him. Or, he thought, more accurately, the hangar, as there probably was not enough light to make him visible.
And then the jeeps were on him. There were two. In the first were three officers. The second was an MP jeep with a pedestal-mounted .30-caliber air-cooled Browning machine gun.
The driver of the jeep got out of it quickly and walked up to Dunwood. Dunwood saw that he was an Army officer, a major, wearing a classy fur-collar zipper jacket with the blue-and-white X Corps patch sewn to it. He was armed with a .45 in a tanker's shoulder holster.
Dunwood saluted.
The major returned the salute and inquired, not unpleasantly, "Who are you?"
"Captain Dunwood, sir. Commanding Baker Company, 5th Marines."
"When we couldn't find you, we thought you'd moved out."
“Sir?”
"You're 1st Marine Division Special Reserve, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you've been assigned to us for this mission," the major said.
"What mission is that, sir?"
The major didn't reply directly.
"We looked for you back there," the major said, indicating the main area of the airfield. "And when we couldn't find you, we thought you'd moved out. And we didn't expect to find anyone in this hangar."
"Yes, sir," Dunwood said.
"But all's well that ends well, right?" the major said, and turned to one of the officers with him, a young lieutenant. "Better get on the horn, Dick, and tell the colonel we've found the Marines, are now at the hangar, and we'll get back to them when we know more."
"Yes, sir," the young lieutenant said. He got into the backseat of the jeep, picked up a microphone, and called, "Jade Bird, this is Jade Bird Three."
"I'm the assistant Army Aviation officer for X Corps," the major said. "My name is Alex Donald." He put out his hand.
"How do you do, sir?"
"What's your strength, Captain? Nobody seemed to know."
"Three officers and ninety-eight men, sir."
"That ought to be enough. We can always get more if needed."
"Yes, sir. May I ask, enough for what?"
"To protect the aircraft," Major Donald said.
"What aircraft, sir?"
"This is to go no further than here, you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"At first light, Captain, two aircraft are going to land here, and immediately be placed inside this hangar. . . . The doors do function, don't they?"
"I'm afraid I have no idea, sir," Dunwood said. He saw that Staff Sergeant Al Preston had come around the corner of the hangar.
"Why not?" Major Donald asked.
"Sir, I had no reason to open them."
"Jesus Christ, Captain!" Major Donald exclaimed. "What good is a hangar if you can't get the doors open?"
"Yes, sir," Dunwood said. "Sergeant Preston, do you know if the doors of the hangar work?"
"Don't have a clue, sir."
"Get a couple of men and try to open them," Dunwood ordered.
"Aye, aye, sir," Sergeant Preston said.