“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.
“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?”
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.”
“You eat sushi, Harbin?”
“Ah—” He thought the general had said “shoosh.”
“Raw fish,” explained Norton.
“No — I–I don’t believe I have, General. Didn’t have any of that in Idaho.”
“Just as well. Mightn’t be here today if you did. Goes through you like crap through a goose. Sucks all the energy out of your legs. That right, Jim?”
“That’s right, General. Though I must say I’ve never had any trouble with—”
“Don’t contradict me, goddamn it!”
“No, sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Do we know for certain?” asked President Suzlov.
Soviet head of KGB Vladimir Chernko was equivocal. “Not absolutely, Premier — I mean Mr. President.” Despite his support of
“What?” challenged Suzlov. “To slip out in the middle of the night? Hardly, Comrade. I thought he was a prima donna. Likes to be seen.”
“Unquestionably, Comrade President,” said Chernko. “Publicly — and I suppose for that matter, privately, but he’s no fool. He is the most brilliant tactician the Americans have. Anywhere. A master of the unexpected. Everyone thought this would be a war of high mobility and technology. That the so-called technological imperative would dictate strategy. But this Freeman has obviously mastered more than technical manuals. His grasp of tactics and of tactical details is legendary among his troops. We know now that the Pentagon thought he was mad when he presented the plan for Pyongyang — an airborne assault. At night — precisely when the American and South Korean forces were in full retreat. Therefore it is logical in my opinion that they would shift him back to Korea now the Chinese have crossed the Yalu. He knows the country.”
Suzlov remained unconvinced. “Yes, Comrade Director, but another of your agents is reporting that Freeman is still in Europe — going between Brussels and the front. He may be a first-rate commander, Comrade, but he’s not a magician.”
Suzlov turned away in his swivel chair, banks of white phones behind him, and looked over at the picture of Lenin. “He can’t be in two places at once. And why would the Americans give him a new command when his offensive against us is going so well in Europe?”
“Their supply line from the French ports to our Polish/Russian front is now over seventeen hundred
