"Jesus H. Christ!" Pick said.
"Hang in there, Ernie!" Pick called as the gurney rolled out the door.
"Oh, shit," Ernie Zimmerman said when the gurney was gone and the door had swung closed. "Why the hell did I tell her about Jeanette?"
"She would have found out," Pick said. "If you are looking for the culprit in this little tragedy, you have to look no further than me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Zimmerman asked.
"Think about it, old buddy," Pick said. "If I hadn't been engaged in trying to become the first locomotive ace in Marine Corps history, I wouldn't have been shot down, would I?"
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Pick," Zimmerman said.
"And if I hadn't been shot down, then Ernie wouldn't have been worried about me for all that time, would she?"
"We were all worried about you," Zimmerman said.
"Yeah, but I don't think you love me, old buddy, and, more to the point, you are not with child," Pick said. "This is the fourth time she's tried to make the Killer a daddy. Did you know that?"
"He told me."
"And having been shot down, and not having the balls to do the decent thing, I hung around for all that time, until God, in his infinite wisdom, made that Army convoy make a wrong turn, so I could find them and thus save my miserable ass."
"Jesus!"
"And if I had not been flown here, then Ernie would not have felt obliged to take a daylong train ride in her delicate condition to come all the way down here to welcome the hero home, would she?"
"Coming here was dumb," Zimmerman agreed.
"Where, upon arrival, you told her that the hero's girlfriend, her friend because of me, was now a corpse burned beyond recognition. . . ."
"Jesus, I told you I feel sorry as hell about that. I should have known better."
"And I told you she would have found out," Pick said. "This isn't your fault, old buddy, it's mine."
The door opened and Lieutenant (j.g.) Rosemary Hills entered the room.
"Mrs. McCoy has been taken to the women's ward," she announced. "There are several very skilled gynecologists on staff—"
"Whoopee!" Pickering said sharply.
"Captain Schermer says that you are to wait here for him," Lieutenant Hills said to Zimmerman. "He wants to talk to you."
"Okay," Zimmerman said.
"And he wants the telephone number of her sponsor."
"What the hell is a sponsor?" Pick asked.
"Her husband, for example."
"Her husband doesn't have a telephone right now," Zimmerman said.
"He's in Korea?" Lieutenant Hills asked. Zimmerman nodded. "Then we'll want to send a message to his unit," she said.
"That's not possible," Zimmerman said.
"Why not?" she asked.
"I can't get into that," Zimmerman said.
"You're going to have to explain that," she said.
"I don't have to explain anything to you," Zimmerman said flatly.
"What would you say, Florence Nightingale," Pick asked, "if I were to tell you that the lady's husband, as we speak, is in enemy territory, behind the lines, so to speak, eavesdropping on the Russians?"
She looked at him almost in horror.
"And if it's all the same to you," Pick went on, "I would rather not have him learn right now that the man the poor bastard thinks of as his best friend has caused his wife to have another miscarriage."
"Pick, shut the fuck up," Zimmerman said.
Lieutenant Hills looked between them, then fled the room.
[THREE]
The USS DeHaven (DD 727)
39 Degrees 36 Minutes North Latitude
128 Degrees 43 Minutes East Longitude
The Sea of Japan
O72S 19 October 195O
The vessels transporting the X United States Army Corps from Inchon to Wonsan—attack transports, cargo ships, tankers, and the "screening force" to protect them against any potential danger—were spread out over miles of the Sea of Japan.
At the head of the screening force as it steamed north was the destroyer DeHaven. Her commander, Commander J. Brewer Welsh, USN, a lithe thirty-seven-year-old with closely cropped brown hair, was on the bridge.
"Captain," the officer of the deck said. "I have a radar target five miles dead ahead."
Captain Welsh was interested but not alarmed. There was no reason to believe the target in any way posed a danger to the invasion fleet. Carrier aircraft were patrolling the area. They would have reported the presence of any naval force long before the DeHaven’s radar picked it up.
Captain Walsh looked at the radar screen.
"Probably a fishing boat of some kind," he opined. "He's about to get a surprise, isn't he?"
He nevertheless reached for the ship-to-ship microphone.
"McKinley, DeHaven, "he said.
The USS Mount McKinley was the command vessel of the convoy. It carried aboard both the senior Naval officer of the convoy and the senior officer of the Army and Marine Corps troops who were to be landed.
"Go, DeHaven" an officer on the bridge of the McKinley replied.
"I have a radar target at about five miles, probably a fishing vessel."
"And?"
"I'm waiting until I have him in sight until I do anything."
"There's some Corsairs overhead. I'll have them take a look, and advise."
"Roger, thank you. DeHaven out."
O728 19 October 195O
Two Navy Corsairs approached the DeHaven from dead ahead at less than a thousand feet, dipped their wings, and then began to climb.
O729 19 October 195O
"DeHaven, McKinley, the Corsairs report it's a junk. I think that they probably woke them up, and they'll get out of the way." "Thank you, McKinley."
O731 19 October 195O
"McKinley, DeHaven, I have the junk in sight. Unless they're blind, they have to see us, but they are not changing course. And it looks to me as if she's under power."
"Junks don't have power, DeHaven. They are propelled by what are called 'sails.' "
"Thank you so much."
"They'll probably get out of the way when they see more than one vessel headed their way. Advise."
"Will do."
O735 19 October 195O
"McKihley, DeHaven, my junk is not changing course."
"Well, we don't want to run over him, do we? The admiral says to get him to change course."
"Understand. I'll make a run across his bow."
O741 19 October 195O
"McKinley, you're not going to believe this, but my junk just hoisted a large American flag. And she is not changing course."
"The admiral does not want the junk to approach the convoy."
"What am I supposed to do, fire a shot across her bow?"
A new voice came over the ship-to-ship.
"DeHaven, this is Admiral Feeney. If putting a shot across her bow is necessary, then that's what you should do."
"Aye, aye, sir. Sir, it is my intention to come alongside the vessel and signal an order to her to change course."
"Proceed," the admiral said.
O746 19 October 195O
"McKinley, DeHaven is alongside the junk. She is under power. A man in what looks like black pajamas has hailed DeHaven with a loudspeaker and says he is a Marine major named McCoy and desires to approach McKinley. Request guidance."
"DeHaven, Admiral Feeney. The junk is not, repeat not, to approach the McKinley. Take whatever action is appropriate."