haven’t got anyone else. Matuchek’s got his hands full over at what’s left of Alpha, and I’m already short a company commander. I’m short lieutenants, too. O’Farrell’s dead, three others are wounded, and another’s MIA.”
The major stepped back from the map. “I’m afraid you’re it, mister. Lieutenant Rhee will continue as your liaison officer and second in command. Sergeants Bryce, Geary, and Caldwell will be your platoon leaders. Any other questions?”
Kevin couldn’t think of anything more to say and Rhee stayed silent.
“Great. All right, the trucks will be here inside an hour to move you up to the front, so you’ve got that long to get some chow, meet your troops, and get acquainted.” Donaldson held out a hand. “Good luck to both of you, and I’ll see you on the other side of the Han.”
First Rhee and then Kevin shook his hand, saluted, and left the tent.
Kevin lay on his stomach in the snow, flattened behind a log just inside a copse of evergreens covering a low hill above the highway. Montoya, his new radioman, huddled beside him, teeth chattering in the cold. Troops of his 1st Platoon were spread out on either side in a line through the trees, crouching low in firing positions hastily scraped out of the frozen ground. They’d only had time to lay a few logs over their holes for overhead protection against artillery fire. To his left a two-man Dragon team sheltered behind a clump of brush, just at the limit of his vision. To the right the squat shape of an M-48 tank lay partially concealed by white camouflage netting. Rhee squatted behind the tank, ready to relay his orders to the South Korean crew inside.
Kevin lifted his binoculars and scanned the ground to his front. The hill fell away gently, sloping down to the multilane road leading to the Haengju Bridge. Beyond the highway the landscape opened up into a checkerboard pattern of diked rice paddies broken only by a raised railroad embankment running parallel with the highway. Helmeted heads bobbed above the nearest rice paddy dike where his 2nd Platoon was supposed to be lying hidden and then disappeared as quickly as they’d surfaced.
Without taking his eyes away from the binoculars, Kevin snapped his fingers and held out a hand for the radiophone. Montoya pushed it over to him.
“Echo Five Two, this is Echo Five Six. Keep your people down. We’re gonna have company in a bit, and I don’t want to give ’em anything for free. Over.”
Sergeant Geary, the 2nd Platoon’s CO, answered himself. “Roger that, Six. Out.”
Kevin handed the phone back to Montoya. Shit, these people were green. They were going to get sliced apart by the North Koreans. He didn’t even know their names. He held the thought for a second and then wondered what they thought of him. Nothing good, that was for sure.
The story of the massacre on Malibu West had run through the battalion like wildfire, and he’d seen the looks thrown his way by the men of his own company on the ride north. He knew what they saw. A washed-out wreck. Before leaving Battalion HQ, he’d seen himself in a mirror and been shocked. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his face was deathly pale, and he’d developed a nervous tic on his left cheek. The nerve pulsed irregularly, tightening the skin for an instant and then releasing it. How could anyone draw confidence from someone who looked like that?
He shook his head. No way. No one could or would. Move on, Kevin, the thought came. Move on. There’s nothing you can do about it. They’ll either follow you or they won’t. But you’ve got to act as though they will.
He lifted the binoculars again, surveying the rest of the battle positions he’d picked for his troops. The 1st Platoon held this low, forested hill; 2nd Platoon’s squads were deployed along the other side of the road. He’d divided the machine guns and Dragon missile teams of his understrength Weapons Platoon among the two rifle platoons. The three attached M-48s were spread out in a rough arc along the fringe of the woods — a deployment that gave them good fields of fire out into the rice paddies beyond. The trucks that had carried his troops up from the battalion HQ waited behind the hill, hidden on a narrow side road. Kevin had pressed their drivers into service as extra riflemen. He wasn’t sure how useful they’d be in a fight, but at least it would keep them from abandoning the company when the first shells started dropping.
Other hastily formed companies were dug in to the east and west of his force — in position to cover his flanks if the North Korean advance guard spilled off the highway.
He shifted his gaze north up the highway, seeing the smoke drifting lazily away from Wondang. A mixed bag of American and South Korean armored cavalry units were up there, dueling with advancing North Korean tanks and infantry. They’d bought enough time for his men to arrive and filter into hastily prepared positions, but the price had been high. Now they were getting ready to break off the battle, dash back south, pass through his positions, and cross the bridge.
Kevin frowned and felt the nerve in his cheek jump. Once that happened the North Koreans would be on the move — coming on fast to cut off any stragglers left on this side of the Han.
Montoya nudged him. “It’s the major, Lieutenant.”
Kevin took the handset. “India One Two, this is Echo Five Six, over.”
Major Donaldson’s voice crackled through the receiver. “Covering force is pulling out now. Stand by for handoff. Over.”
“Roger, Two. Out.” Kevin felt his hands trembling. The enemy was on the way. He lifted the handset again. “This is Echo Five Six. Handoff imminent. Keep an eye peeled for friendlies and hostiles and hold your fire until I give the word. Acknowledge.”
Kevin listened as his platoon leaders signaled their understanding and rose to his knees to get a better view down the road. Smoke shells were bursting now at the edge of his vision, providing cover for the grab-bag armored cavalry squadron trying to break contact with the enemy.
He focused the binoculars as the first vehicles emerged from the gray smoke pall hanging over the highway, racing toward his positions. One by one they sped past. A battle-scarred M-60 tank, several M-113 APCs packed with troops, another damaged M-60, and then a pair of ITVs — M-113s modified to carry TOW antitank guided missile launchers. A last M-60 rolled back down the road, its turret facing backward, ready to fire at the first North Korean vehicles to appear out of the smoke.
The radio crackled again. “Kilo Two One, this is Kilo Two Eight, November Kilos in sight. Three Tango Seven Twos. Repeat, Three Tango Seven Twos. Engaging now — ”
The transmission ended abruptly and Kevin watched in horror as the M-60 lurched to a halt and burst into flame. The top hatch blew skyward as ammo inside the tank cooked off.
“Oh, shit, man.” Montoya sounded sick. “Oh, Jesus.”
Kevin clicked the transmit button on the handset. “Echo Five Six to Five Two. Hold your fire. Repeat, hold your fire. Do not engage the November Kilos. Out.” He wanted to keep the 2nd Platoon hidden as an ace in the hole.
He let go of the handset and rose to a low crouch. “Sergeant Bryce!”
A helmet down the line turned. “Lieutenant?”
“Pass the word to the Dragon teams. Tell ’em to open fire as soon as the first NKs come in range. Hit their tanks first. Got it?”
Bryce nodded and scuttled off to relay his orders. Kevin glanced at Rhee. The South Korean grinned and gave him a thumbs-up signal. He’d already briefed the tank commanders on what they were expected to do. Kevin nodded and dropped back behind his log.
Shapes were appearing at the edge of the smoke, resolving into low-hulled tanks with long-barreled 125mm guns pointed south down the road: T-72s. Five of them. This was modern, first-line equipment. The M-48 tanks opposing them were over twenty years old and had 105mm guns. Two veered to pass to the left of the burning M- 60, and the other three rolled off the road to the right, treads squealing as they reformed into line.
Other vehicles appeared out of the drifting smoke. Troop carriers. Tracked BMPs and wheeled BTR-60s. Kevin grimaced. There wasn’t much doubt of the importance the North Korean high command attached to this attack. That was the first string out there.
The T-72s swept closer, and the range dropped rapidly, 1,200 meters, 1,100, 1,000. Christ! They were in range, why hadn’t his Dragon teams fired? Kevin started to get to his feet.
