At last they turned off the main highway onto a tree-lined dirt road winding up a narrow valley. The corporal driving the lead truck slowed down to a crawl, and the ear-splitting engine noise fell away to a low, dull roar. A helmeted soldier appeared in the headlight’s beams, waving a flashlight fitted with a red lens. The driver said, “There’s our ground guide.”
Reaching forward, he doused the truck’s headlights, turning on the dim red blackout lights.
Startled, Kevin turned to ask him just what he thought he was doing.
The man drove and kept his eyes on his guide. “Regulations, sir. We’re within five klicks of the Z here and we’re not supposed to make it any easier for the North Koreans to know what we’re up to.”
Kevin had to admit that made some sense. He sat back and tried to act nonchalant as they drove slowly up the valley.
The assembly point was a small clearing just behind the trenches and bunkers of the main line of resistance, the MLR. They were ten minutes behind schedule. Kevin clambered out of the truck cab and walked toward the lone figure who had guided them. Urged on by Sergeant Pierce’s low, hoarse voice, his men clambered out of the trucks and formed up in a column of twos. It was still pitch-dark outside. The moon had set and low clouds covered most of the night sky.
The red beam came up and centered on his face.
“Second Platoon from Alpha?”
Kevin nodded, then realized the man probably couldn’t see him all that clearly. “Yeah. You the guide to Malibu West?”
“Sergeant Hourigan, sir. Third Platoon, Bravo Company. Lieutenant Miller’s waiting back up at the outpost. If you’re ready, sir, we should hit the trail. Sunup’s in a little over an hour and a half, and we’ve got some hard walking to do by then.”
“Okay.” Kevin half-turned toward the column behind him. “Sergeant Pierce?”
“Here, sir. Platoon’s assembled and ready to move.”
Kevin turned back to their guide. “Okay, Hourigan. Let’s do it.”
Hourigan lead them out through an opening in the rolls of barbed wire strung along the MLR. The ground was rough and uneven, but even in the dark Kevin could see that every tree or tall patch of brush had been cut down or uprooted to provide clear fields of fire for the troops stationed behind them.
Hourigan stopped suddenly, then moved over to the left a few yards. Kevin followed him. The sergeant reached over and tapped him on the shoulder. “See them white stakes up ahead, Lieutenant?”
Kevin nodded.
“Well, there’s a pair every few yards. Stay between ’em unless you want to get blown to bits. We’re going through the main minefield now.”
The column pushed on, moving slower now that they were in the minefield. Kevin kept going, trying to keep pace with Hourigan. He brushed away sweat that was beginning to trickle into his eyes. Jesus, he hadn’t carried a fifty-pound pack since basic. He could feel his heart pounding. In the still night air every scuffed rock, patch of dried grass, or broken twig made a noise he could swear would carry for miles.
At last they came out of the minefield and started up a winding trail that got steeper and steeper. They began passing through piles of boulders lying half-buried on the slope. Kevin could feel the straps of his pack starting to cut into his shoulders as they climbed. God, this was a damned high hill. It hadn’t looked this bad on the map.
A voice broke through the darkness. “Halt.” It was accompanied by the sound of a machine gun’s being cocked. Shit.
The sentry called, “Advance and be recognized.” The party walked forward in the pitch-blackness. After a dozen steps they heard, “That’s far enough. Marbles-Galore.”
The sergeant stopped. “It’s Hourigan, you dumb son of a bitch.”
“I don’t give a shit. Give the countersign or you’re a deader.”
“Zebra-Cardinal.”
“Okay, Come ahead.” They could hear the safety being snapped back on. Kevin ran a hand across his face and wiped it across the front of his jacket. Damn, what a bunch of paranoid assholes.
The platoon stumbled over the crest of Hill 640 and into the middle of Malibu West. Another column was there, waiting to go down.
A figure wearing black plastic bars stepped out from the head of the other column. “Little? I’m Miller. Glad to see you’re here. Look, let’s go into the command post and I’ll get you settled in before I head down after my troops. Hourigan and your platoon sergeant can get your men squared away.”
Kevin still couldn’t quite make out the man’s face in the darkness, but he could tell that it was getting lighter.
He followed Miller down a couple of steps into a low, lamp-lit bunker. The command post, or CP, was scarcely five feet high, made of green sandbags with a beamed ceiling. Inside, it was barely big enough for the two cots, a table, telephone, and backup radio. And it stank. A mixture of unwashed bodies, damp mustiness, and old food hung in the air. Kevin tried not to breathe in too deeply.
Miller laughed. “I know. It’s pretty bad, isn’t it? Our laundry and bathing facilities aren’t exactly first class up here. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” The other lieutenant had dark shadows under his eyes.
He motioned Kevin over to a low table crowded with a map and a communications setup. “Okay, here are your fire concentrations.” Kevin could see a sheaf of plastic overlays with colored-pencil markings showing preregistered artillery firing points and code numbers.
Miller continued on down the table. “Your radio, field phones, sound-powered phones to your squad leaders and the other outposts nearby, one to your company CP back on the MLR, and the artillery direct line.” Kevin nodded his understanding.
“Any questions?”
Kevin shook his head, then thought better of it. “Just one. Has it been hectic up here lately?”
“Nah. Pretty damned quiet — for once. Only one alert, the usual ‘hold your ass and pray until the all-clear comes.’ ” Miller stood up, stooped low to avoid the roof. “Okay. That’s it then. Good luck and I’ll see you back at the camp.” He held out his hand.
Kevin shook it, suddenly realizing that Miller couldn’t wait to get out of Malibu West. Well, he couldn’t blame him for that.
Miller nodded and ducked back out the door up into the cleaner air outside.
Kevin sat down heavily onto one of the bunks. Great, he had a whole week in this combination rattrap and outhouse to look forward to. He dropped his pack off onto the ground by his feet. At least that felt better. Then he remembered that he’d better report the platoon in to Captain Matuchek back in position along the main line. He stepped over to pick up the phone to the company CP.
Now, just where the hell was that list of code names he was supposed to use? Kevin fished around in the pockets of his fatigue jacket before coming up with a small pad of radio codes.
He lifted the field phone’s receiver. “Alfa Echo Five Six. Alfa Echo Five Six. This is Alfa Echo Five Two.”
“Go ahead, Echo Five Two. This is Echo Five Six.” The line was clear of static. Good, he could call for help without much trouble if he needed it. That was reassuring.
“Echo Five Six, Echo Five Two is in position. Say again, Echo Five Two is in position.”
“Roger, Two. You’re in position. Out.”
Kevin put the phone back down on the table and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, and he knew he’d have to stay awake at least until past dawn to make a daylight inspection of the position.
He looked at his watch: 0535. The sun should be up in twenty minutes or so. He could see the sky outside growing grayer.
Pierce stuck his head in the door a few minutes later. “I think it’s light enough to take a quick walk around now, Lieutenant.”
Kevin sat up sharply. It was growing orange outside now. The sun must be coming up over the horizon. Oh, crap. He’d fallen asleep, just nodded right off on his first tour of duty up at the DMZ. He blinked and staggered to his feet, barely stopping himself from trying to stand full upright under the CP’s low roof.
He followed Pierce out into a connecting trench dug from the CP out to the edge of the hill. It tied into the
