McCoy looked at his watch, then helped himself to a cup of coffee from an electric pot next to one of the radios- and thus a source of 110 volts AC-and exactly five min-utes later, put the mess kit coffee cup down and walked into the room where the North Korean officer was being held.
Zimmerman, who had been sitting on a folding chair, popped to rigid attention. McCoy made an impatient ges-ture with his hand, and Zimmerman relaxed slightly.
"My friend," McCoy said, conversationally, in Russian, "I'm a little pressed for time, so I suggest it would be to your advantage to make the most of what time I can give you."
There was a flicker of surprise on the North Korean offi-cer's face, immediately replaced by one intended to show that he didn't understand a word.
"All right, we'll do it in Korean," McCoy said, switching to that language, "although my Korean is not as good as my Russian." He switched to English: "Or perhaps you would prefer English?"
The officer looked at him in what was supposed to con-vey a complete lack of comprehension.
McCoy went back to Russian:
"The fortunes of war have gone against you, Major," he said.
There was another flicker of surprise in the North Ko-rean's eyes, and McCoy thought it was reasonable to pre-sume that his guess that the man was a major was right on the money.
"With a little luck, Major, at this very minute, you could be sitting in a POW enclosure, as a simple private, biding your time until the forces of international socialism over-whelmed the capitalist imperialists and you were liberated. But that didn't happen. What happened is that I happened to come by here. We are not soldiers. We are Marines. Moreover, we are more or less-probably more than less-in the same line of work."
"He understood that, Captain," Zimmerman said, in En-glish. "I could tell by his eyes. But I also saw in his eyes that he won't be useful, so may I suggest, considering the time, that-"
"I would rather not dispose of him," McCoy said, and chuckled. "Professional courtesy, Ernest. You and I could easily find ourselves in his position."
"Sir, with respect, I suggest we have him shot, and be on our way."
"Kim Si Yong," the North Korean said, in English. "Seven-five-eight-eight-nine."
"Ah," McCoy said, now in English, "the major is par-tially familiar with the Geneva Convention."
"Partially?" Zimmerman asked.
"The Convention requires that prisoners of war furnish their captors with their name, rank, and service number. I did not hear a rank, did you?"
"No, sir," Zimmerman said.
"He has therefore not complied with the Geneva Con-vention," McCoy explained. "Not that it matters anyway, for under Paragraph Seventeen, Subsection B, since he is an officer, wearing a private soldier's uniform, it may be presumed that he is not a combatant, entitled to the protec-tion of the convention, but instead a spy, who may be legally executed."
"Under those circumstances, may I respectfully suggest we have him shot, and be on our way?"
McCoy looked at the North Korean officer, then shrugged, and appeared to be on the verge of leaving the room.
"Kim Si Yong," the North Korean said, in English. "Ma-jor, seven-five-eight-eight-nine. I claim the protection of the Geneva Convention."
McCoy switched to Russian.
"Major Kim," he said. "There's one small problem with that. Your government is not a signatory to the Geneva Convention. That means that it is at the option of your cap-tors-and that means me-whether or not to apply it to prisoners. The other problem you have is your confession that you are an officer masquerading as a private soldier, which changes your position from prisoner of war to spy."
"Sir, with all respect," Zimmerman said, in Russian. "He probably doesn't know anything we don't already know. Sir, we're already going to be very late-"
McCoy held up his hand to silence him.
"Major, as a professional courtesy between fellow intel-ligence officers, let me explain your options," McCoy said. "They do not include being returned to your side anytime soon, so put that out of your mind. They do include being shot in the next few minutes as a spy. Keep that in your mind. Now we know that the 83rd Motorcycle Regiment, which has been kept out of the fighting since Seoul, will lead the attack of the 6th Division. We don't know when that attack will take place. If you tell us when that attack will take place, you will not be shot immediately. You will be kept here until the time you tell us the attack will take place. If it occurs when you say it will, I will personally deliver you to Eighth Army Headquarters, and guarantee that you are treated as an officer prisoner under the Geneva Convention. If it does not take place when you tell us it will, you will be shot at that time. I will give you as long as it takes me to go to the latrine to make up your mind."
McCoy walked out of the room, looked at his watch, picked up the mess kit coffee cup where he had laid it down, finished drinking it, and precisely five minutes after he had left the room, walked back into it.
Five minutes after that, he walked back out of the room, found the colonel, and told him what he had learned.
"You believe this officer, Captain?"
"Sir, I believe he thought I was prepared to have him shot. What he may have done is tell me that attack will be at 0300, because he knows it will be earlier; if it's earlier, and we're overrun, then he might be freed. I don't think it will be after 0300, because he thinks he'll be shot if it doesn't happen then."
"They don't usually start anything in the middle of the night," the colonel said, thoughtfully. "But they're on a roll, and it would give them the advantage of surprise."
McCoy didn't reply. The colonel paused again, obvi-ously in thought, and then said, "I'll pass this on to divi-sion. And order a fifty-percent alert from nightfall. You're still determined to stay here?"
"Yes, sir."
"And Miss Priestly?"
"If Zimmerman and I stay, sir, I don't think there's much chance of getting her to leave."
"Then I suggest you find someplace where you'll have protection from incoming," the colonel said. "They're cer-tainly going to fire their tubes-and probably the 105s they took from the 63rd Field Artillery-as a prelude to the at-tack, whenever they decide to make it."
"Yes, sir," McCoy said. "Sir, I'd like to go see the 19th Infantry. Would you have objection to my taking the major with me?"
"What are you going to do, put him in the back of Miss Priestly's Jeep with Miss Priestly?"
"Actually, sir, I thought I'd put him in the front seat with Gunner Zimmerman and Miss Priestly, and I would ride in the back."
What could have been a smile appeared momentarily on the colonel's lips.
"Just make sure she's in the Jeep, Captain," he said.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Here, I'll show you on the map where I think the 19th CP is," the colonel said.
[FOUR]
HEADQUARTERS 19TH INFANTRY REGIMENT
24TH INFANTRY DIVISION
KONGJU, SOUTH KOREA
1805 15 JULY 1950
"Jesus H. Christ!" the Garand-armed corporal standing to one side of the sandbagged door of the command post ex-claimed when he saw the Jeep with a Korean in the front seat and the American woman in the back.
He walked over to the Jeep.
After apparently thinking it over first, he saluted.
"Yes, sir? Can I help you?"
"You can keep an eye on this enemy officer while we go inside," McCoy said.