McLaren grimaced. “Look, I’ve got infantry battalions that are running out of ammo at the worst possible fucking times. I’ve got tanks that don’t have enough gas to move. And I’ve got artillery batteries that don’t have enough rounds to fight off a troop of NK Boy Scouts.”
He moved closer to the supply officer and poked him in the chest with an outstretched finger. “So I don’t care how many hernias your men get. I want my men properly supplied, or by God, I’ll see you in hell, personally.”
The man took a step backward. “But General, it isn’t as easy as all that. We’re getting the planes off-loaded without any problem. That’s just a muscle exercise. The trouble is sorting out what we’re getting. The people back stateside are loading everything from medical kits to bullets to spare uniforms into each cargo.”
“So?”
A Starlifter touched down and braked hard immediately, screeching down the runway to a stop. Trucks were moving toward the cargo plane before it had even stopped rolling.
“We can get the stuff out okay, but there’s just time to pile it off to the side before the next plane lands.” The officer shrugged. “I don’t have the manpower or the computer power available to keep track of everything once it’s on the ground. And that’s the bottleneck, General.”
McLaren smoothed his features out into a cold, impassive stare. “So who’s not doing their job?”
“Normally routing comes out of the logistics office in Seoul. They know what’s on each plane and who needs it. My guys unload it and put the required crates on the designated trucks and away it goes.”
“In other words, you just unload it and load it again,” McLaren prompted.
“Yessir.” The officer brightened. “I don’t have the men or the organization to find out what’s on each plane or to match it up with the requisitions. The staff in Seoul has been evacuated. They’re here on the base, I think. They’re scheduled to fly out to Japan tomorrow morning, and set up in…” He realized that McLaren was staring at him intently.
“Yes, sir. I’ll countermand those orders.”
“Good thinking. I don’t want any more foul-ups. If those are the people to fix this mess, get them on the job, now.” He nodded toward the flight line where forklifts were busy hauling cargo pallets out of the refueling C-141. “Pass my commendation along to your boys for their work.”
“I will, General.”
McLaren nodded and started to swing away. Then he stopped. “Oh, Frank?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I don’t want to have to come back here again. Is that clear?”
The supply officer straightened. “Absolutely, sir.”
McLaren returned his salute and moved off toward his waiting helicopter. He saw the look on Hansen’s face. “You think I was too hard on the man, Doug?”
“Well, General…” Hansen stopped, but it was clear that he did.
McLaren grinned at him. “Prerogative of rank, Captain. When a general throws a temper tantrum, it’s called ‘exercising command authority.’” He clambered into the Cobra and buckled himself into the copilot’s seat. “Let’s get back to HQ. We’ve wasted enough time here.”
The gunship lifted and clattered off into the night sky. Another snowstorm was expected before midnight.
Anne looked at the disorder around her. Not her own group. They had adapted well to this ridiculous situation and almost looked on the MAC terminal as home now. Almost all were asleep, curled up as best as comfort allowed. They had been stuck here for four days, caught up in the logistic logjam they were supposed to be solving.
First there had been problems with the paperwork catching up with their move to Kunsan. Then there were priority squabbles, then wounded being evacuated. Weather complicated everything. If she hadn’t been so familiar with the supply system, she would have thought it impossible.
The airfield was a mess. Crates, boxes, and equipment were piled everywhere. Every hour of delay added to the chaos they would have to fight when they finally arrived in Japan.
Meanwhile, they sat at the airport. She remembered Kimpo Airport, and waiting for another airplane. Intellectually she knew she was safer here, but her imagination put smoke columns wherever she looked.
She waited for the airplane and hoped Kunsan really was well-defended.
Tony had insisted that it was, four days earlier at lunch. They’d arrived just after noon that day, and after they said good-bye to Captain Hutchins and his men, the entire staff had been invited to the Officers’ Club for lunch. Tony and Anne had taken a small table some distance away from the main group. Anne was sure her staff were gossiping about them, but she couldn’t hear it, so she didn’t care.
“Please, Anne, don’t worry about air attacks. The ‘Kun’ hasn’t been hit since the third day of the war. We’ve even got a Patriot SAM battery guarding the place.”
“Should you be telling me that?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, talking around a mouthful of salad. “The NKs already found out about it — the hard way.”
“Oh.”
They were sitting at a table with tablecloths and silverware, having the salad bar and sandwich special, and Anne marveled at how novel it all seemed. She imagined what it must be like for men really in the field, who had lived in the killing cold and mud for over a week now.
They talked, mostly about what Anne would do in Japan, and Tony’s experiences there. Tony was trying to clue her in on the best places to go. “There’re a lot of great restaurants in Misawa. Just outside the main gate, if you take a left — ”
“Tony, I’m going to be working twenty-hour days when we get there. I’ll be lucky if I have time to eat. I may even be too busy to miss you.” She smiled when she said it, though.
“I guess you’ll be too busy to think about us, then.” He smiled back, but his expression was serious.
“Please, Tony, too much has happened. Things need to calm down.”
He looked sour. “It could be a long time.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll call, and write every day.” It was her turn to look unhappy. “I worry about you.”
He waved her off. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to get my butt shot off. They say if you survive the first ten missions you’re good for the duration. I hit the tenth three days in. Besides, the NKs are running out of airplanes.”
He looked at his watch, then sighed. “I’ve got a briefing in twenty minutes. I’ve got to go.”
“And who knows when we’ll be together again,” she said.
“Soon, Anne.” He stood up to leave and she got up as well. Stepping around the table, she came up and embraced him.
Surprised, he hugged her back but protested, “Isn’t this a little public?”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I do. Let’s go outside.”
As they walked to the door, Anne suddenly felt very sad, more than she wanted to admit, at going to Japan and leaving Tony.
Just outside there was a grassy area with a few bare trees. There were plenty of people about, but they were all strangers, too busy with their own concerns to care about two people kissing good-bye.
She wondered where Captain Hutchins was now and then worried about Tony. He had came by to see her twice for a short while, but they were hurried visits, overlaid with her concern for his safety. Moreover, he couldn’t really console her. She was right, combat flying…
An Air Force general was coming toward her, with a group of junior officers and enlisted men in tow. He was tired, but determined, and definitely looked in charge. He strode up to her briskly and she fought the urge to salute.
“Miss Larson? I’m Frank Sheffield, base logistics officer.” He saw the recognition in her face. “Yes, ma’am, I’m in charge of that disaster outside. Your orders have been changed. We’re going to have you set up shop right here in Kunsan.”
Raising his voice a little, he said, “Sorry, folks, no trip to Japan this time. Lieutenant!”
A short, chunky officer stepped forward. The general introduced him. “This is Lieutenant Pettigrew. He will
