Setting the system up and running through it, even in mime, had taken all morning, and through the lunch break, and then they had rehearsed how they would assault Yonghung-do.
About 1700, McCoy had gathered everybody together and gone through what Major Kim had learned of the dis-position of the physical characteristics of the island, the lo-cation of the North Korean troops on the island, and the plan: Yonghung-do was about three miles long, north to south, and shaped something like an hourglass. Each end of the island was about a mile wide, and each had a 250- to 300-foot hill in its center. About in its middle, the island narrowed to a few hundred feet.
"That's where We'll land," McCoy said, pointing to a drawing he'd made of the island in the now-dried mud. "They won't expect us, and we can land there without be-ing seen. We'll leave a four-man team there-the.30 Browning machine-gun team plus one BAR and one rifleman-plus eight of Major Kim's men, under Mr. Taylor. Their job will be to keep the NKs in the village at the north end of the island, Nae-ri, from coming to help the NKs in the village, Oe-Ri, on the south end of the island.
"With a little bit of luck, the people we leave on the beach won't have anything to do. If we can move that mile over the hill quietly-no one fires a round by mistake, or Mr. Zimmerman doesn't fart-"
He got the expected laughter, waited for it to subside, and then went on:
"They won't expect us, and we can take them without firing a shot. `Them' is their lieutenant, one of their ma-chine guns, probably the ammo supply for all the islands, and their radio, with maybe a generator we can use to power ours. We're not going into that village shooting. If there's a radio, or diesel fuel, I don't want it full of bullet holes. There's also about two hundred civilians. I will re-ally have the ass of anyone who pops a civilian.
"Okay, once we have secured the southern village, we leave Major Kim's people there, go back to the landing beach, pick up everybody except the machine-gun team and Mr. Taylor, head norm, go over the other hill, and se-cure the other village, Nae-ri. Once we do that, a volunteer will run happily back over the hill to the beach and tell Mr. Taylor, who will then bring the boats to Nae-ri, and haul us-less Major Kim and his policemen, who will be stay-ing until we can get the militia in there-out. Any ques-tions?"
There had been no questions.
"Well, in that case, before it gets really dark, I think we ought to have one more-maybe even two more-dry runs of the boat launching," McCoy said.
There were groans. Once the system had been set up and tried and it worked once, and then twice, and then three times, it had become a flaming, stupid, pain-in-the-ass chickenshit exercise.
He waited until they had subsided.
"On the other hand," McCoy went on, straight-faced, "maybe it would just be easier to put the boats in the water now, load the gear in them, put the camo nets over them, and then all we'd have to do in the morning would be get in them, take off the nets, and take off."
There was a moment's shocked silence, and then mur-murs.
McCoy pointed his finger at one of the Marines, a tech-nical sergeant who had been a Marine Raider.
"What did you say, Sergeant?"
"I didn't say anything, sir."
"That's odd," McCoy said. "I could have sworn I heard you say, `Oh, what a pity our beloved and brilliant com-mander didn't think of that earlier!' Or words to that ef-fect."
"Yes, sir, words to that effect."
"What happens now is that you, Sergeant, will run out to the end of the wharf, taking these with you..."
He tossed him his binoculars.
"... through which you will scan the sea. When you are absolutely sure there is nothing out there, you will make an appropriate signal..."
McCoy had put his arms over his head and waved them.
"... whereupon the rest of this magnificent Marine ex-peditionary force, having assembled by Boat One, will get the camo off and get it into the water as soon as they can, load the gear in it, put the camo back on, and then look at you again. If you are not making some sort of signal sug-gesting that there's a boat out there, they will then repeat the operation with Boat Two.
"If you see a boat while they're doing their thing, you will signal, but they will finish loading the boat and cover-ing it with the camo net before getting out of sight. Any questions?"
"No, sir," the sergeant said.
"Let's do it," McCoy said.
The sergeant took off in a fast trot for the wharf, and then down it.
Twenty minutes later, both boats were in the water, loaded, and covered with camouflaged netting.
McCoy signaled for the sergeant at the end of the wharf to come back.
"To answer the questions you're afraid to ask," McCoy said. "You went through that mimicry business so that it would be second nature when you actually did it. And we didn't do the real thing until now. It's almost dark. Even if a boat did show up, I don't think they could see the lifeboats at the wharf unless they came into the harbor. Any questions?"
There had been no questions.
"Are you ready, Captain McCoy?" Lieutenant Taylor called.
"Ready."
The sound of the engine in Taylor's boat changed as he put it in gear.
McCoy saw that the two Marines holding the lines hold-ing the boat to the wharf were looking at him.
"Let loose the lines," McCoy called. "Shove us off."
Both Marines pushed the boat away with the wharf with their feet.
McCoy pulled the transmission lever away from him, into forward.
There was immediately the screech of tortured metal.
He had no idea what it was, but it was obviously time to put the transmission in neutral. He pushed it forward, and the screaming stopped.
"What the fuck was that?" someone in the boat said.
Taylor made a tight circle with his lifeboat, pulled up beside McCoy's boat, and nimbly jumped into it.
"I don't know what the hell...," McCoy said.
Taylor moved the transmission control into forward, and then immediately back out as the screeching started again.
"You got the shaft, I think," Taylor said. "I hope that's all that's wrong."
"Is it serious?"
"It means we're not going anywhere this morning," Tay-lor said. "I can't even look at it until it's out of the water and there's light."
[SIX]
TOKCHOK-KUNDO ISLAND
0725 25 AUGUST 1950
Boat Two was now on the shore, upside down, with the camouflage net suspended over it from the wall of the gen-erator building.
Boat One was still in the water, loaded and under a cam-ouflage net. It had been a gamble lost. McCoy-and Tay-lor, too, although he kept it to himself-desperately had hoped that whatever was wrong with the boat would be able to be fixed quickly, so the operation could go on. That seemed to justify the risk of leaving Boat One in the water, where it might-almost certainly would-look very suspi-cious to anyone coming close to Tokchok-kundo.
By the time they had gotten Boat Two unloaded, so that it could be brought ashore, the predawn darkness had given way to dawn, and that meant the operation had to be scratched. There was no way to sneak past Taemuui-do and Taebu-do in daylight.
Neither was the damage to Boat Two something that could quickly be repaired, if it could be repaired at all. The shaft, coming through the hull to the propeller, had some-how been bent.