“Shirer,” said Freeman, “if you don’t want it, say so. But before you do, remember this. I’m directly responsible for implementing the president’s orders. Now, I don’t care what you think of me, but the mission is nothing less than to initiate a decisive action to win the war for us in Asia. If my hunch is right — it’ll be a commuter ride from here through Pearl and on to Japan. And it should be a breeze from there to Seoul. I’m not supposed to be here — but in Europe. All our indications are that our ruse is working, so there shouldn’t be any trouble. But there could be Red Navy units with surface-to-air missiles, and if any shooting starts, I’d like a veteran at the wheel.”
“I’d be honored to go, General.”
“Good man! See him aboard, Jim.”
“Yes, General.”
The young press aide was now alone with the general. Freeman shook his head, grinning, watching Shirer heading out through the bluish-white veil of snow toward the aircraft. “He’s about as happy to be flying that big bird as I’d be seeing the emperor.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed the press aide, Harlin, eagerly. He had still not recovered from being assigned to the general’s staff— overawed by the general’s reputation and the scenes it evoked — of the general shooting his way room to room through the Great Hall of the People of Pyongyang, looking for his nemesis, General Kim.
“Know why he’ll do it?” said Freeman. “Because he’s a soldier. He’s a warrior, Harbin.”
“Yes, sir,” said Harlin, too awed to tell the general it was “Harlin,” not “Harbin.”
“I want you to take some notes, Harbin,” ordered Freeman. “Pass ‘em on to Jim Norton soon as you finish.”
“Yes, sir. Shoot!”
Freeman raised an eyebrow and looked down at the young aide, offering him a stick of gum.
“No, thank you, sir.”
“Last chance you’ll have between here and Korea. We’re going to be at the front, Mr. Harbin, not sitting on our butts in Seoul in that sewer staring up at the big board.” He meant the subterranean HQ operations-shelter complex beneath Seoul. “And at the front, a Commie can smell a stick of gum half a mile upwind. Now, first thing I want you to put down on that pad of yours — distribution, all commanders down to battalion and company level — is that I don’t want anybody pulling back from anywhere. The second thing is — you getting all this, Harbin?”
“Yes, General.”
“Good. Second order is that ammunition is not to be wasted. At present we have an effective ammunition usage rate of twenty — thirty percent tops. This constitutes a seventy to eighty percent consumption rate — fired in panic and it’s got to stop. My G-2’ll want to see all AURs—” The press aide stopped writing.
“Ammunition usage reports,” explained Freeman. “And if anybody’s just shooting for the hell of it, he’ll have to answer to me personally.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Course,” said Freeman, smiling, “an order like that’s impossible to police, but I want our boys to get the general idea. Capiche?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re in a winter battle,” Freeman went on, his voice rising above the wild spitting hiss of the de-icing sprays. “Those Nangnim Mountains are going to be rough. Peaks well over six thousand feet. Next order is, I want hot food chuted in and chopper-dumped wherever possible. Though, of course, that won’t be possible at the front.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Next thing. Memo to the entertainment officer in Seoul. I don’t want any Communist propaganda film shown in any unit — and that includes hospital units in Seoul.” The press aide was nonplussed. He doubted very much whether entertainment officers would ever do such a thing, even if they were KGB plants, which you couldn’t discount, given the paranoia sweeping the States in the wake of the poisoned water crisis and other sabotage.
“By that,” Freeman explained, “I mean that I don’t want any goddamned Hanoi Jane movies. Got it?”
The lieutenant, in his early twenties, wasn’t familiar with the actress’s name. “Are they bad movies, General?”
“Bad! Harbin, the only goddamn picture I want to see Ms. Fonda in is a cartoon of her ass being blown to pieces by one of those guns she sat on in Hanoi when she was calling our boys war criminals! And another thing. I don’t want any MASH reruns. You know what I’m talking about — old, funny Hawkeye with all the jokes about the futility of war and the mad American generals. If it wasn’t for mad American generals like MacArthur and Ridgeway, there’d be no funny Hawkeyes in Hollywood. They’d all be munching rice, Harbin, and a lot of South Koreans would now be fertilizing the paddies of the North with their bones. Trouble is with MASH, it was an antiwar film against Vietnam policy set in Korea, but our boys won’t make that kind of distinction, Harbin. Too young to remember Korea. I don’t want them sabotaged in the rear by those long-haired weirdos that did us in over Vietnam. And I’ll tell you another thing, Harbin. North Vietnam’s one of the poorest, most oppressive countries in Asia. That’s why there’s no MASH II.”
The hapless press aide was glad to see Colonel Norton returning from the 747, informing Freeman, “All set to go in twenty minutes, General. They’re sending a crew bus to take you out rather than an official car — case there’s some press hanging around the—”
“Never mind that, Jim,” said Freeman. “Nothing wrong with my legs. Let’s go, Harbin. What’s the flight schedule, Jim? How many hours?”
“Twenty plus, sir, allowing for refueling in Hawaii and Japan.”
“Forecast?”
“Snow from here to the Midwest, General, but then clearing up as we get to Hawaii. From then on, it gets better.”
“Good. Harbin!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Notice you don’t use a plate between those note pages.”
Harlin didn’t know what to make of it and looked over to Norton for help, but the colonel’s head was down against the fine-grained snow that was bouncing off them like uncooked rice.
“Piece of aluminum,” explained Freeman, striding ahead. “Don’t use cardboard. Plastic if you like. But never write any of my orders down without a separating pad between the pages. You put the top ones in the burn basket as a matter of course, but more than one sergeant I’ve known has been reading his CO’s confidential memos, holding the second page up to the light. That happens in my command and you’ve got a free ride to nowhere. Understand?”
“Yes — yes, sir,” answered Harlin.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Freeman. “But you see, son, any fool can figure out the big plans. Only have to look at a map. It’s the details, Harbin. The details. That’s what wins or breaks the day.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll remember.”
“I know you will. Now, you just relax. We’re gonna have that big bird all to ourselves. Coca-Cola machines. Everything. More electronics on that baby than you can shake a stick at. Next thing you know, we’ll be in the land of the rising sun. Ever been to Japan, Harbin?”
“No, sir.”
“Beautiful country. That right, Jim?”
“Sure is, General.”