"The rest of them," Murdock said. Murdock and Lam moved back along the rope with their rounds, and soon had company from Jaybird. A minute later, the line was empty and the men still alive on the far side of the river ran up the slope and over the ridgeline.
Lam headed out downstream. Murdock and Jaybird got the men behind them moving as well.
Lam settled in behind a good-sized tree and looked inland. He had led the platoon in a hundred yards from the river, and ahead he could sec mounds of fresh dirt he figured were either trenches or gun emplacements.
"Could be the MLR along here," Lam whispered to Murdock, who settled in beside him.
"Yeah. Wonder if any of them speak English?" Murdock sent Lam back to bring up Ching. The Chinese saw the situation.
"Try some Japanese on them," Murdock said. "A lot of the Koreans remember Japanese."
"First we all get some cover. I've heard these bastards are super-trigger-happy."
When the three had pushed behind trees or rocks, Ching gave it a try.
"Hey, you South Koreans. We're Americans out here. United States. Don't shoot." He called it in Japanese. There was no response. He started to repeat it, but a machine gun and about ten rifles opened fire, riddling the small trees and brush where they crouched.
Murdock slithered away from the fire, and went to the rest of the platoon.
"You guys with forty-mikes. We need you to each fire three at max range downstream. Be sure they hit land. Do it now and maybe the distraction will let us slip through the damn South Koreans' MLR here."
The men fired the rounds. Murdock led them back as close to his previous position as he could. Lam crawled back.
"Ching is moving ahead. He says he heard at least half the troops up there bug out downriver for the action down there. Those our forties?"
"True," Murdock said. He whispered to the rest of the men. "We're going to have to go through here like ghosts. Ching and Lam and I will try to quiet anyone left. You hear a morning dove call, you come quickly, quietly." Murdock crawled away toward the MLR.
Ching was ahead. He moved at a crouch toward the new earthworks. He was almost there when he heard two Koreans talking. He slanted to the left, found a spot without fresh dirt, and eased up the slight rise. He rolled over the dirt and came down in a trench three feet deep.
Ching looked both ways. Nobody. He moved toward where he had heard the two men. He spotted them when he was twenty feet away and the trench made a small turn. They looked over the lip of the berm. One of them sat behind a heavy machine gun.
Ching moved ahead without a sound. He was almost there. He picked up a rock off the new dirt and threw it beyond the two Koreans.
Both yelled.
One swung the machine gun that way. Ching rushed the last twenty feet, clubbed the machine gunner with his Colt carbine, and covered the other Korean, who looked around but didn't reach for his weapon.
"Americans," Ching said.
The Korean grinned. "Melican, OK, GI."
Ching used a pencil flash from his combat vest and blinked it three times toward the river. He got three blinks back.
Five minutes later, all the SEALs were over the berm and moving to the rear. An SK lieutenant had showed up after a few minutes and designated one of his men to lead the SEALs to the rear. Doc Ellsworth was really hurting by that time. Others carried his weapon, his medic bag, and his combat vest. Mahanani walked step for step with him, and caught him twice when he fell. Holt had the SATCOM up and working on Air TAC One. The Sea Knight had been on the ground waiting for them two miles away. It found them with the aid of a red flare.
Mahanani gave Doc another shot of morphine, and a half hour later they landed on the Monroe, where two medics and a doctor met them on the flight deck. Murdock went along with Doc. Ed got the SEALs back to their assembly room.
Murdock didn't like the way the Navy doctors were consulting about Ellsworth's elbow. They had put in half-a dozen shots to deaden the area. Ellsworth was conscious, but half out of it from the medications.
At last one of the doctors came out to Murdock,
"Commander, it's bad. The elbow is never going to work right again. It's all busted up to hell in there. Maybe a replacement joint down the road a ways."
"It won't be stiff, will it?"
"No, but he won't be doing any fancy gymnastics with it either. Is he a SEAL?"
"Yes."
"Tough. Not a chance of staying with you. You can tell him tomorrow. Now, we have some reconstruction to do and some pins to put in. Understand he was your medic."
"True. Three years."
"Sorry."
Murdock slammed his fist into the wall and stormed out of sick bay.
11
Don Stroh waited for Murdock in the SEALs' assembly room. The men were still in their wet cammies. They spent the time cleaning and oiling weapons, checking out ammo supply, and making a list of what they needed. By this time Jaybird had four boxes of rounds he kept locked so he didn't have to run to ordnance every day.
Murdock came in wet and angry. He didn't see Stroh at first. The CIA man sat in a chair near the back of the big room.
"Listen up," Murdock growled. "We lost Doc Ellsworth. His elbow is shattered. Not a chance he can get back with us. We're down to fourteen men. I need every one of you, so don't go and get yourself shot up or killed.
"If some of you don't know, we nailed that fucking bridge. That thirty-foot span fell into the river. So we should have a breather. What time is it?"
"Just past 0300, Skipper," Ronson said.
"Okay, get out of these wet cammies, grab some shuteye. That damn Stroh can't have anything for us for at least two days."
Some of the men laughed nervously. Murdock looked up sharply. Don Stroh stood up from the far side of the room.
"Like hell he couldn't," Stroh said. "We've got a war on here, people, in case you hadn't noticed. I haven't been to sleep for thirty-six hours and things are getting a little fuzzy, but General Reynolds called again. He knows it's too late to do anything tonight, so he's calling it for tonight — morning, I guess — at 0500."
"Calling what, Stroh?" Murdock asked.
"This is as bad as the Yalu River retreat. He's had another unit overrun. Not that it's all that important in the scheme of the twenty-five-mile front, but the lost outfit includes a brigadier general and his staff of six officers. They have a SATCOM and they're holed up in a small patch of woods about two miles behind the current MLR."
"Two miles, Stroh? You've got to be kidding. Tell them to get off their fat asses and hike out. They can make two miles in half an hour for shit sakes."
"We're talking about one brigadier, two bird colonels, three lieutenant colonels, and one lowly major. They just ain't used to hiking anywhere."
"Tell them to get used to it. We've got a war on here."
"You can tell them when you see them. General Reynolds wants it to go down this way. We get your platoon to the MLR an hour before daylight. That gives you an hour to get across the MLR and jog in the two miles to the patch of woods. This part of the line is not held in any strength. The NKs are pushing in other sectors, not this one. So there should be almost no opposition for you to get to the general."
"Then what's the Eighth Army have planned for us?" Murdock asked.
"Up to you. They suggest that you might want to wait until dark to make your way out of there. During the daylight you would be a security force for the brass."
"Baby-sitters, you mean?"
"That too. With full dark, you could take your charges, put them in the middle of your platoon, and work your way back to the MLR, where the good guys will create a diversion on one side and you can walk across the main line with not a shot fired." "Don't count on it. We had to come across an MLR tonight. There were plenty of shots fired."