dead man’s firing step to get a better look at what they were facing.
The first wave of the North Korean assault had gotten to within twenty meters of the trench line before being stopped. But instead of retreating back down where they’d come from, the survivors had taken shelter in new shell craters on the slope, and they were laying down covering fire for a second wave now forming up inside the outpost’s barbed wire.
An NK light machine gun burst tore into the ground in front of him, and Kevin ducked back below the lip of the trench. A 1st Squad trooper groaned and toppled back to the bottom, cursing and clutching at his stomach. Kevin couldn’t remember the man’s name. He looked away as the firing rose to a new crescendo.
The North Korean major winced as the medic pulled the bandage tighter around his lacerated upper arm. It was ironic that his first wound of the campaign had come from his own country’s artillery. But it had been worth it, the major thought. He’d pushed his men right up to the edge of their own barrage — accepting casualties from friendly fire to close with the Americans before they’d had a chance to shake off the effects of the bombardment.
The medic finished tying off the wound, and the major pushed him away, half-rising to a crouch to look over the edge of the gully his command group occupied. He could see the rocky hillside carpeted with bodies, but enough men had survived the first rush to pin the Americans down inside their trenches. Good.
He glanced around for the commander of his second company, “Captain Han!”
The man scuttled over to him, eyes wide under the lip of his Russian-style steel helmet.
“You will take your company forward on my signal. We’ll wait for Koh’s attack to go in first. That should draw off enough of the fascists for you to close with their trenches. Clear?”
Han nodded. “Yes, Comrade Major.” He scurried back along the gully to pass the word to his platoon leaders.
The major watched him go and then slid back down to check his watch. Captain Koh’s 3rd Company should be in position behind the American-held hill any minute now. Soon they would find out how the imperialists held up under a two-pronged attack.
Kevin was starting to regain his confidence when the sound of firing mixed with grenade explosions surged from behind them. That goddamned third North Korean company! Now they were under attack from all sides at once. He couldn’t hear a lot of American return fire from Lieutenant Rhee’s position either.
Movement from down by the wire caught his eye. A second wave of snowsuited North Koreans were worming their way through, getting ready to lunge up the hill. Kevin looked frantically up and down the trench. He barely had enough men here to hold the NKs as it was. He didn’t have anything to spare for the rear slope. Could the South Korean lieutenant hold his ground without reinforcements?
He grabbed Pierce. “Check with Rhee. See what’s going on back there.”
The sergeant nodded and ducked back up the communications trench toward Rhee’s position. Kevin turned back to the forward slope.
He walked up and down the trench, trying to encourage his troops. “Keep it up, guys. Keep it up. You’re murdering the sons of bitches.” Yeah, sure. He felt like a liar for even saying it.
The fire from his line fell away as men were hit or ran out of ammunition. And now the North Koreans were taking advantage of it, advancing by short rushes from cover to cover — working their way up the hill.
A grenade landed on one of his machine gun positions and silenced it. Kevin raced over to try to get the gun back into operation, but there wasn’t anything he could do. The machine gun’s barrel had bent under the full force of the grenade burst. The gunner and his loader were both dying.
He lost track of time. The battle seemed to have been going on forever, although he knew that couldn’t be true. He tried to swallow and couldn’t. Where was Pierce? He needed the sergeant’s advice and steadiness. He didn’t think they were going to be able to hold here much longer.
Kevin looked around frantically. His line was down to about half strength, and the North Koreans weren’t going back. What should he do?
Bugles blared from the other side of Malibu West. Kevin spun around and saw Sergeant Pierce skidding down the slush-filled communications trench, arms pumping and head down. He put an arm out and the sergeant stumbled to a stop. Pierce nodded his thanks and gasped out his message, “NKs inside the perimeter. We gotta throw ’em — ”
Pierce’s head suddenly exploded, sending a spray of brains and blood over Kevin’s uniform. The sergeant crumpled into his arms. Oh, Christ. Pierce had been shot from behind. Through sudden tears Kevin saw North Koreans flitting up the communications trench toward him. He couldn’t move or speak. The men nearest to Kevin stared in shock at the body. Some dropped their M16s into the frozen mud.
Time started running again. Still holding the sergeant’s body, Kevin looked up and saw a grenade flying into the main trench. He threw himself to the ground as it went off. The explosion rolled Pierce’s corpse over on top of him and tossed another man dead across his legs.
North Koreans jumped up onto both sides of the trench, firing down inside it at full automatic. Kevin could hear his men screaming and trying to surrender. He lay still in the mud, trying to control his breathing.
The firing stopped. Everything was quiet for a moment, and then Kevin heard a chorus of groans from what had been his line: “Medic! Medic! I’m hit.”
Laughter drifted downwind, harsh guttural laughter. Someone shouted an order in Korean and rifles cracked. Moans turned into screams and then into silence.
Kevin tried to stop the tears he felt dripping into the blood-soaked ground under his face. Corpses don’t cry. He heard more loud voices as men jumped down into the trench, their combat boots squelching into the mud. He held his breath.
The North Koreans were making sure of their handiwork. Kevin didn’t look up, but he could hear men moving down the line toward him. Every now and then they stopped and fired a burst into an American who’d been wounded or lying doggo. There were fresh screams.
The boots were coming toward him. Oh, God. Please make them think I’m dead, please, Kevin prayed without moving his lips. The boots stopped. Don’t move. Whatever they do, don’t move, Kevin told himself. He heard a dull, meaty thunk from his left and then something cold and sharp sliced across his ribs. A bayonet. He bit down the pain and stayed still, waiting for the bullet that would end everything.
But the bayonet pulled back and the boots moved away down the trench. They thought he was dead.
There were isolated pistol and rifle shots from around the perimeter as they finished off others who’d survived the attack, but the North Koreans didn’t come back. Kevin lay amid the bodies of his men, alone with the knowledge of his failure.
Malibu West had fallen.
CHAPTER 23
First Kill
Commander Michael Deveroux, USN, studied the plot carefully. His ship, a
The start of the war had caught almost everyone in Chinhae by surprise. Everyone but the North Korean commandos who’d infiltrated the port. The crew of
Deveroux shook the image out of his mind. He had his own ship to look out for now.
Seventh Fleet’s orders had been clear and concise. “Proceed at best speed to Yokosuka, Japan.” Once there,
