explosive and white phosphorus? Then he remembered that calling in the artillery for this sector was his job. The platoon’s attached forward observer had been rotated home weeks ago, and he hadn’t been replaced because of the Army’s scheduled withdrawal from Korea.
Kevin pulled his eyes away from the periscope, looking for his signalman. The ops plan for meeting a North Korean surprise attack gave him at least one artillery battery in direct support, with up to a full battalion on call. Plus whatever close air support could be arranged. That was a lot of firepower, the kind of firepower he was going to need to keep the NKs as far away from him as possible.
“Jones!” The signalman’s head snapped up from his phones. He had a pale, set look on his freckled face. “Get me the arty. We’ve got a fire mission.”
Jones nodded and lifted one of the phones. “Charlie Victor Two Seven, Charlie Victor Two Seven, This is Alpha Echo Five Two.”
Kevin waited, watching Pierce as the big, gray-haired sergeant moved down the trench encouraging the men. “Got arty coming anytime, boys. Stay cool. Wait for the word. Hold your fire.”
“Sir!” It was Jones. “I can’t get through. All the lines are dead. That stuff” — he gestured over his shoulder to the explosions still racking the main American line — ”must’ve cut the wires.”
Shit. “Switch to the goddamned radio then.” Kevin could feel the panic bubbling up inside him. Oh, God. He wanted to be sick.
Jones bent over his radio, but Kevin could hear the confused squeals and hissing static pouring out of it. They were being jammed. Jones worked frantically, changing frequencies to find one still in the clear.
“Lieutenant. Those people down there are getting awfully close. Where’s the arty we’re supposed to have?”
“We’re blocked. The phones are out and the radio’s jammed.” Kevin kept his words clipped, trying to conceal the fear he felt.
Pierce just nodded. “Right, we’ll do this the old-fashioned way then. On our own.” He turned and headed back down the firing line. “Okay, boys. This is it. When I give the word it’s rock-and-roll time. Pick your targets. Get their heavy weapons men first unless you want an RPG up the ass.” One or two men laughed nervously. The others nodded grimly.
Kevin turned back to the scope. The closest North Koreans were only forty meters away and coming on fast, though bent low under the weight of full packs. It struck Kevin that they weren’t planning on going back to their own lines for food or ammo resupply. They must be pretty sure they’d push on right through his platoon on their way south. And for some reason that made him mad enough to momentarily push down the panic welling up inside.
He looked down the trench line toward Pierce. The sergeant gave him a thumbs-up, and Kevin pumped a clenched first back and yelled, “Let’s do it.”
Pierce’s bullroar cut through the unearthly din from the North Korean artillery barrage landing behind them. “Up and at ’em! Fire! Fire!”
All along the forward perimeter, troopers from the platoon’s 1st and 3rd Squads jumped up onto firing steps and cut loose with their M16s. Many fired their rifles on full automatic, wasting rounds as the recoil kicked the barrels higher and higher above their targets. Two of the platoon’s M60 machine guns joined in, hosing down the front slope of the hill in steady, regulation bursts. The concentrated fire cut the first rank of the North Korean assault company to pieces. Men trying to charge up the steep hillside were bowled over or thrown back to fall in crumpled heaps as bullets found them. Others dropped to the ground, looking for any kind of cover they could find. Only a few tried to shoot back with their AK47s and AKMs, but they were soon killed, wounded, or pinned down by the sheer volume of fire pouring out of the American-held trench.
Satisfied that his men had held off the first rush, Pierce shifted the platoon’s fire back down the slope into the North Koreans still struggling through the barbed wire and minefields. Caught bunched up like that, they were slaughtered. Through his scope Kevin could see them falling. Those left alive started to edge backward, away from the hill. A North Korean officer came running forward to rally them, but he went down with a bullet in the face.
Whistles shrilled from down by the wire, and the surviving North Koreans began moving back, leaving a trail of bloody, writhing bodies on the ground behind them. Pierce let the platoon shoot until they were outside effective range — about two hundred and fifty meters — and then roared, “Cease fire! Cease fire! Save your ammo. You’ll need it later.”
Kevin was elated. His earlier fears had faded as quickly as they’d broken the North Korean attack. He looked up and down his line. Not a man had been hit. They’d smashed an enemy infantry company without suffering a single casualty.
He grinned at Pierce as the sergeant came up to him. “Well done, Sergeant.”
Pierce nodded, his own face carefully expressionless.
Kevin could hear moans from the North Korean wounded left behind on the hillside. Time to be humanitarian about this. “Tell the medic I’d like him to see what he can do for those poor bastards out there.”
Pierce was astonished. “You gone nuts, Lieutenant? This ain’t the end of it.” He gestured in the direction the attack had come from. “That was just a probe. Now that they know for sure we’re here, they’re going to make us wish we weren’t.”
He leaned forward to bring his face closer to Kevin’s. “And next time they’re gonna give us a dose of that arty.”
Senior Lieutenant Park Sung-Hi of the North Korean People’s Army couldn’t see the body of his company commander from where he lay. In fact, he couldn’t see much of anything at all.
Park and the remains of his platoon had been driven back from the American outpost to a place where a small fold in the ground offered cover from the imperialists’ murderous fire. One of his men hadn’t made it all the way to safety, and his body lay sprawled half in and half out of the shallow ditch. Park gripped his AKM assault rifle tighter and tried to burrow deeper into the frozen snow.
Technically his captain’s death had given him command of the company, but there wasn’t much left to command. Just the four, no, five men huddled on either side of him. There were undoubtedly others left alive and unwounded, but they’d either sought cover elsewhere or kept running. For their sake Park hoped that the men who’d run stopped before they got back to the company’s Start Line. The commissars of the Main Political Administration had made it clear that would-be deserters would be dealt with harshly.
The North Korean lieutenant lay in the snow and considered his options — none of which seemed particularly palatable. He could try again to take the hill with what he had left. And that was suicidal madness, of course. The Americans were too well dug-in. Or he could wriggle back to the company’s communications gear, report the failure of this attack, and ask for support from a higher headquarters. That was the militarily sensible thing to do, but it might be viewed as cowardice by an unsympathetic political officer.
He bit his lip while trying to decide what to do and spat the blood out onto the snow. Oddly enough, the pain helped clear his mind. Better to be shot for trying to do the right thing than to be killed while doing something utterly foolish and wasteful. He would call for help.
The North Korean division commander smiled all the way through his staff’s situation report. The attack was going well, much better than he’d dared hope possible. His first echelon tank and infantry battalions had already broken into the first enemy defensive line in three separate places. Casualties in some units had been heavier than expected, but others had suffered only minimal losses. And according to the reports, whole enemy units had collapsed under the weight of the unexpected attack. The Special Forces and the artillery had done their work well.
He leaned over the map table to get a better look. The grease-penciled wedges showing his spearheads were being erased and redrawn as new information came in. They were now well on their way to their first day objectives. Excellent. But then his smile faded. One of the American hilltop outposts had not yet been seized.
He tapped the map. “What is the problem here, Comrade Colonel?”
His deputy moved closer, his eyes magnified behind thick glasses. “We’ve just had a report from a platoon leader outside that position, sir. It was supposed to be taken by a company strength surprise attack before our barrage began, but there was some sort of delay as they moved through our forward lines. Consequently, the attack failed. The platoon leader is now requesting artillery support and reinforcements.”
