“Casualties?”
“Extremely heavy, sir.”
“Hmmm.” The general rubbed his chin absentmindedly. He hated the idea of diverting resources from the main attack to reinforce failure. Doctrine spoke against that. But on the other hand, the American outpost sat squarely on his flank. From there its defenders could call down artillery onto his resupply units and lines of communication — and that might cause delays he couldn’t risk. He made up his mind.
“Very well.” He studied the map. “Order the Twentieth Rifles forward to attack this hill. The Americans there have defeated a company. Now let’s see how they fare against a full battalion. And tell the artillery that I want a hurricane preparatory barrage on the imperialist position. I want their fortifications pulverized. Understand?”
His deputy nodded sharply and hurried away to issue orders for the second attack on Malibu West.
Kevin Little was beginning to wish that he hadn’t been so quick to pull his men back inside their bunkers. He could still hear the artillery landing to the south, but everything around Malibu West was quiet. What if the NKs were sneaking back up the hill while they just sat here? Kevin knew that Pierce had put an OP — an observation post — out on the forward slope to give the platoon advance warning. But what if the two men in it had been surprised? Or what if they were looking the wrong direction? It had been over an hour since the last attack. What the hell was going on?
He could hear Jones muttering into the radio. “You got anything, Corporal?”
The radioman twisted round with his earphones still on. “Not a damned thing, sir. Every time I find a clear frequency and start talking, the frigging gooks come in and mess it up.”
Kevin swore under his breath. What a clusterfuck. Here he was sitting blind in this little hole on a hill, and he couldn’t get through to anyone to get some help or to find out what was going on. None of his ROTC lecturers had ever warned him that it would be so hard to communicate on the battlefield.
He jumped up. Enough of this waiting shit. “Tell Pierce I’m going to check the OP personally.” He’d just make sure his observers were on the job and come right back.
“But sir!” Jones started to yell something as Kevin pulled the bunker door open. Then he heard it.
An enormous howling arcing down out of the sky. Falling right on him. Kevin froze, one hand on the door, the other holding his M16.
Jones knocked him flat onto the CP floor just as the 152-millimeter shell exploded outside.
The shock wave tore the air out of Kevin’s lungs and throat and buried him in a tidal wave of dirt and smoke. He blacked out.
He came to seconds later, aware first of the dirt caking his face and then of a heavy weight holding him down. The ground bucked up and down as other shells landed around the hill, but he couldn’t hear the explosions. He’d been deafened by the first burst.
He shifted uncomfortably beneath the corporal’s weight. Why didn’t Jones get off him? Then he felt something warm and sticky pouring onto his neck. And there was a hot, coppery smell mixed in with the sharp, acetone odor left by the shell burst.
Kevin wriggled frantically out from under his signalman and rolled him over. Jones was dead.
A fragment thrown by the North Korean shell had spiraled out at several hundred meters a second, catching the corporal just below the eye and tearing through into his brain. Kevin stared for a moment at the ragged mess left of the man who’d saved his life, then he spun away on his knees, retching. In all his worst dreams he’d never imagined it would be this bad. Jones was dead because he’d done something stupid.
After a moment Kevin crawled over and pushed the door shut with shaking hands. He leaded against it for a second, feeling the bone-rattling vibrations thrown by the artillery pounding his hill. Then he scuttled over to the radio, carefully keeping his eyes off Jones’s body. The bunker rocked under a near miss, spilling dirt through cracks in the reinforced log roof. He had to get help. The platoon needed support.
His hearing was coming back. Kevin could make out muffled explosions now as North Korean salvos landed on Malibu West. He fumbled with the radio, setting it back to the main tactical frequency.
“Charlie Victor Two Seven, Charlie Victor Two Seven, This is Alfa Echo Five Two. Repeat, this is Alfa Echo Five Two. Over.” Kevin was ashamed of the high-pitched quaver he could hear in his voice.
Nothing. He switched to an alternate frequency and tried again, praying for an answer.
“Alfa Echo Five Two, this is Charlie Victor Two Seven. Over.” The American artillery officer’s voice crackled through the headphones.
Thank God. “Victor Two Seven. I have an immediate fire mission. Pattern Hotel. Repeat, Pattern Hotel.” Pattern Hotel would create a horseshoe-shaped curtain of American high-explosives around the base. That should keep the NKs from crawling up under the cover of their own barrage.
Victor Two Seven’s answer was quick and horrifying. “Negative, Echo Five Two. Half my guns are gone. The rest of us are pulling out. We’ve got NKs coming down around our…” The artilleryman’s voice faded in a spray of hissing static as North Korean jammers swept across the frequency.
Kevin stared at the radio for a moment. Then he heard a whistle from one of the sound-powered phones that linked his outlying positions to the outpost. He grabbed it.
“Little.”
“This is Donnelly, Lieutenant!” It was one of the men he’d assigned to the OP “We’re in deep, sir. Me and Smith can see two NK companies assembling down in front of us. And we seen another one moving around the flank a minute ago. What should we do, Lieutenant?”
Kevin could hear the fear in Donnelly’s voice and it matched his own. Three North Korean companies. God, that was at least three hundred men coming against his forty or so troops. This was not the way it was supposed to work. Where was the artillery and air support those rear-area bastards had all promised Malibu West would get?
“Lieutenant?”
He started. He hadn’t answered Donnelly’s plaintive question yet.
“Lieutenant? It looks like the arty’s starting to lift. What should we do?”
Kevin could hear the noise from outside diminishing. Not much time left now. “Okay. Get back inside the perimeter. Get back to the trench!”
He switched connections, trying to get Pierce’s bunker. Had to let the sergeant know what was going on. Had to find out what he should do. Nothing. Christ, didn’t anything work around here?
Kevin put the phone down slowly. He was going to die. And it just wasn’t fair. Not at all.
Everything went quiet. The shelling had stopped. Then he heard the whistles blowing from all around his hill. This was it. Kevin grabbed his M16 and headed out through the bunker door.
Malibu West looked like a moonscape now, full of smoking craters, partially collapsed trenches, and smashed bunkers. Kevin could hear moans from all around him: “Medic! Medic!”
Rifles fired from the forward slope of the hill, rising quickly from a few isolated shots to a continuous, crackling roar. The North Korean attack was coming in. He ran down what was left of the communications trench and stumbled into the firing line.
His troops were up on the edge of the trench firing as fast as they could down the hill. But this time, they were being answered by the harsh rattle of North Korean automatic rifles and heavy weapons. And Kevin could see Americans lying dead or wounded along the trench floor.
“Lieutenant!” Pierce grabbed his shoulder. “You all right?”
Kevin suddenly realized he was covered in Jones’s blood. He must look like a walking corpse. He leaned forward to yell in the sergeant’s ear. “I’m not hit. Jones…”
Pierce nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Well, we got a whole shitload of troubles, Lieutenant.” He half-ducked involuntarily as a grenade went off just outside the trench, spraying them with dirt and ice-cold snow.
“We’re holding ’em for now. But Kostowitz and Ramos are down. Along with a bunch of others. The Dragon teams took a direct hit on their bunker. And we’re shooting up our rifle ammo too damned fast.”
A GI next to him suddenly screamed and fell back away from the firing step. Most of the man’s right arm had been shot away. Kevin stared at the corpse in shock.
“Lieutenant! Snap out of it! There’s others still alive who need you.” Pierce pulled him away from the body. “Look, we gotta have some support.”
Kevin shook his head. There wasn’t going to be any support. He pushed Pierce away and jumped upon the
