the…”
A Korean officer, a lieutenant, appeared out of the crowd and saluted Hutchins. The American straightened up and returned his parade-ground salute. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
The Korean’s English was word-perfect. “Sir, can your people board immediately? My men will have cleared a path for your vehicles in a few minutes.” Even as he spoke, a group of soldiers in battle dress appeared out of the crowd. They started shoving people off the road in both directions. Under their direction cars were driven off the road and carts were dragged off into the open fields. They were efficient, and any Korean civilians who argued suddenly found themselves looking into the muzzle of a bayonet-tipped rifle. Watching, Anne felt guilty that so many people were being threatened to clear the way for her group.
Hutchins started giving orders. “Miss Larson, get your people loaded. Sergeant, we’ll have to tow that damned truck. Get the one ahead rigged up.” Everyone scurried to obey, eager to get moving and out of the cold. And away from the carnage behind them.
Anne watched from the cab as they moved slowly through the mass of silent, weeping people. Bell cursed quietly as he wove his way around occasional obstacles and a shell crater that forced him off into the snow. His cheerful disposition had vanished somewhere back up the road.
At last the roadblock appeared, a massive-looking fortification of cement blocks and sandbags. Two tripod- mounted machine guns faced north in front of a dugout large enough to hold a dozen or more men. The headquarters building sat off to one side, with a South Korean flag flying defiantly overhead.
As they stopped at the roadblock, another South Korean officer approached, and when he saw Hutchins, they exchanged simultaneous salutes, followed by a handshake. “I am Captain Sik. May I see your travel orders, please?”
The Korean examined all the papers with the care of someone buying a used car. Every person in the convoy had to produce identification, and Sik went so far as to check the copies to ensure that they were all identical. It took almost twenty minutes to plow through the paperwork.
“Captain,” Hutchins asked, “how’s the road up ahead?”
The South Korean looked up from the last few sets of ID he’d been inspecting. “Relatively clear, but I would advise you to stay close together and to avoid stopping. Many people are trying to get rides south in military vehicles. They have tried to block some trucks with trees or other obstacles.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, I don’t have enough troops to man the roadblocks and patrol the roads.”
He handed the sheaf of papers back and added one more piece of his own to the stack. “Your papers are in order, and I have heard about the order evacuating U.S. civilians from Seoul, so I have not been very strict with you. But please validate your pass at each checkpoint. A new order has come through ordering the arrest of anyone moving south without authorization.”
As they climbed in and drove off, Anne muttered to Hutchins, “So he wasn’t strict with us. Hah!”
“Nope. He wasn’t,” Hutchins replied with a deadpan expression, arms folded across his chest. “He didn’t have his men search the trucks. He didn’t search us. And he didn’t check our vehicle markings against the unit issuing our orders. He might have phoned back to verify them, too.”
He jerked his head back in the direction they had come from. “Did you see the third-degree every Korean civilian was getting? Even a signed pass and valid ID card might not get you past those guys. You might be carrying contraband, or have some other suspicious reason for wanting to go south.”
She looked at him unbelievingly, so he continued, “Look, this country is losing the war right now. I’ve heard stories of Korean and American units folding and running, or being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. So you can bet the government isn’t going to allow everybody to suddenly decide to visit their uncle Kyung in Pusan. The roads have to be kept clear for military traffic.” Hutchins realized he’d been preaching and stopped in embarrassment.
They drove on in silence, past a ragged line of civilians walking south in the cold — mothers carrying their babies, older children carrying household goods and family treasures heaped on their backs, and old men and women staggering along beside them. Anne kept her eyes on the road ahead. She knew they couldn’t possibly carry any of the refugees lining either side of the road, but that didn’t soothe her conscience very much.
Now that they were past the control point, the traffic wasn’t too bad, and they made good time to the junction with Highway 47. As they turned south off the highway onto a narrow gravel road, Anne looked at the map with concern. The sun was already starting to sink lower in the west, gleaming over a landscape that again looked peaceful.
“Shouldn’t we have stayed on the road to Suwon?”
Hutchins tapped the map. “Suwon’s a major airbase, and I don’t want to be anywhere nearby if the NKs decide to raid it. A convoy like this would be a fat target for some MiG. We have absolutely no protection against an air attack.”
She sighed. Hutchins was right again. And infuriatingly so. Anne settled back into a fog of her own thoughts as they drove through a host of tiny, look-alike villages — through Yamok, Chaan, and Paran. The farther from the war they got, the more peaceful the landscape looked. She looked for details that would tell her why it looked less troubled, but she finally decided it was her own lessened tension.
She finally relaxed enough to think consciously about Tony. It occurred to her that he must be wondering why she hadn’t already called from Japan. Well, with any luck she’d get a chance to see him in person before they were flown out of Kunsan. Anne frowned. She’d have to find a way to get word to him somehow. Maybe she could call when they stopped for gas. …
The boat slid up onto the beach quietly, gently scraping far enough inland so that a chance wave couldn’t carry it back out into the Yellow Sea. Eight men in wet suits rolled off onto the wet, white sand. They crouched in a rough semicircle, hastily stripping plastic coverings off their weapons while scanning the area for signs of movement.
Nothing. Only the soft crash of waves breaking offshore. The moon hadn’t risen yet and low clouds covered most of the stars. The North Korean commando team leader waved his men into action. One scuttled inland a few yards and dropped back to a crouch with his automatic rifle at the ready.
The others pulled waterproofed packs out of the boat and then peeled off their wet suits.
They wore South Korean army uniforms. The team leader, now wearing captain’s bars, studied the luminescent numbers on his wristwatch. Two minutes. It was time to go. He signaled the sentry back into the boat.
As the man struggled into his scuba gear and settled in at the helm, the others pushed the lightweight boat off the beach and around so that its bow pointed seaward. From the stern a specially quieted engine sputtered, then caught, and the boat slid out to sea through the surf. It submerged just offshore, leaving only a faint, rippling wake behind.
The captain smiled to himself. So far, everything had gone according to plan.
Yes, they’d landed in the right spot. The fascists mined all but a few beach approaches that were carefully guarded at night, but there were always paths left through the minefields for use by sentries and patrols. One lay just a few dozen meters inland to the south.
He snapped off the penlight, folded his map, and rose to his feet. His men stood with him, slung their M16s, and picked up their waterproofed packs. There wasn’t any further point in acting furtively. They were now just another South Korean army unit patrolling the beach.
With the captain leading, they moved off into the darkness in single file. He kept his eyes on the ground in front as they walked. Sand. Sand mingled with clumps of grass. A small rise off to the right lined with barbed wire. There. Two short, red-flagged stakes marked the beginning of the path through the minefield — their path into the so-called Republic of Korea.
The eight men headed east, off the beach and onto the flat inland plain. They walked more quickly now, making sure only that they stayed between the pairs of stakes planted every few yards. The captain paused to check his watch again. Five minutes since they’d landed. They were still on schedule.
“Halt!” A high-pitched, nervous voice came out of the darkness ahead of them. The captain and his men
