Tempered Steel

Chapter 9

General Claire Richardson went over the reports on her desk. They told the story of men and women, materials, equipment, timetables, transportation, munitions — everything that would be needed to conduct a war. Since her return from Memphis, she had been totally immersed in planning and preparation for an invasion. It had been rough. Transportation issues plagued her from the start. At first, it was bringing in the supplies and troops. Then it was the staging. Now it was getting the whole show to Korea. A Navy three star was in the overall command of this venture, but so far all he worried about was his own precious ships. The Navy was getting assets but the wrong kind. Warships were great at protecting things and projecting power ashore, but what she needed was transport to get the Marines and Army to the beach with all its equipment and be able to provide enough to make it decisive. US pre-positioning ships were on their way from Diego Garcia, and a couple were coming from Europe. There were even a few being readied from Pearl Harbor, but that was not near enough. She wanted enough to put at least five full divisions on the beach with enough equipment to outfit a couple of brigades with spares — and that was just for the initial landings. One thing she had learned about amphibious warfare; go in with overwhelming superiority.

“Okay, let’s go over it again so I understand. You plan on transporting us over there on a few LSTs, some LPDs and the rest on chartered cruise ships. That should get the men over, but the equipment side is left hanging. The LPDs and LSTs don’t hold but a fraction of what’s needed. You are bringing in the Ro-Ros to handle some of the tanks. But you’re telling me you can’t bring but half of the equipment they will need. What kind of options are you suggesting?” she asked.

The Navy Captain had already thought through tons of options, but none were really satisfactory. “General, the only thing my guys came up with is to go in with what we have and stage the rest in Japan. We empty, go across the strait and pick up more. If we were to round robin the stuff, we probably wouldn’t leave the guys without equipment for too long,” he said.

She shook her head. There were just too many times in history when people made assumptions and the Marines ended up paying the price. Guadalcanal was a prime example. “Look Captain, I understand we are short stocked on transport, but we can’t do this unless we have some way to get tanks and trucks on station. We can’t really do it with freighters or containerships. There has to be something that can get that equipment there and put it on a beach. You and your team find me that transport within the next 24 hours or I will have to tell the President this thing can’t work. You get me?”

The Captain gave a sigh. “Yes, ma’am. We’re still working on it. I don’t like it any more than you do, General. My people have been scrounging around every port on the East Coast and in the Gulf trying to figure it out. One guy mentioned barges, but that would be a no go in any kind of offshore operations. The other problem is our equipment is big. Trucks and tanks take up a lot of room and weigh a bunch of tons. We’ve maxed out our sealift capacity as it stands. Nobody ever believed we would have to mount such an amphibious operation again.” The man rubbed his forehead.

Richardson looked at the man and could tell he was frustrated. He couldn’t help that the political climate of the previous administration had choked back the budgets and, as a result, the ships. “Captain, I understand and I can’t say as I have all the answers myself, but we have to solve this one. It means my people dying on some godforsaken beach without a chance. I can’t do that, and I figure you can’t either. So push hard. We have got to find an answer,” she said.

“Aye, sir. We’ll come up with something,” he said. The people at the table gathered up their papers and trudged out the door. It had been a long and exhausting day, and it looked like it would be a long night too. The General sat back and looked over the lists one more time. There had to be some way of making landings on Korean soil where it would be strategically placed and not a deathtrap for her troops.

After a minute she put the papers down and closed her eyes. Black had been right. It was the ultimate for her — planning the largest amphibious landing since Inchon, during the last Korean conflict. She had the men and materials and almost everything in place to kick off; and she would be in command of one of the units. It was a back breaking task, but she loved it. She didn’t even question the order. She took the reins and sank spur. Her thoughts were interrupted by Colonel Grayson. He missed the last meeting and was upset.

“Grayson, where the hell have you been? The meeting’s over,” she chided.

“Sorry about that, General. I was up in Baltimore looking over a couple things and had a hell of a time getting back. One of those ships broke her anchor chain and drifted into the bridge. I had to detour forever before I could get here,” he said.

“What kind of ship was it?” she asked. “I didn’t know there was that much traffic going in and out.”

“No, ma’am, it was one of those car carriers. Baltimore is a major hub for sending over the Hyundai’s and Toyotas. With Korea closed up, the Hyundai people have them stacked all over the Chesapeake Bay. I’ll be glad when we can get those barges out of here. Ugly things,” he complained.

The General stood up. There was a surprised look in her eyes. “Get Captain Ross back in here right now,” she shouted.

The Colonel jumped and quickly made his way out the door. He thought she was really pissed. In fact, she was happy as a clam. In three minutes Grayson and Ross came back in the room. They found her pouring over charts of the coasts. She stood again when they entered. “Gentlemen, I think we may have an answer.” Both men looked at her questioningly. It had only been a few minutes since they had all left in dismay. Now a change?

“Ross, I want to change the plans a little,” she said. “I want to land here and here,” she said pointing at two places on the chart. Both men looked down at where she was pointing. It looked like major cities with large port facilities. It was obvious they didn’t get it.

“Ross, how about going to Baltimore with the Colonel here tomorrow and talk to our friends at Hyundai. I bet they have some ships we can use,” she said with a grin.

“Permission granted to light off One Alpha,” came the voice over the bitch box.

Senior Chief Messick checked the boiler front one last time. He reached down and picked up the lighting off torch. One end of the torch had a cloth that was soaked in some fuel. One flick of a lighter and the cloth end caught and began to burn. A small cover was pulled open on the lighting off port leading into the boiler casing. He already made sure that no fuel was on the floor that might pre-ignite. The lighted torch was inserted into the boiler and, after making sure it was still lit, the port was closed. The First Class Petty Officer opened the number one burner atomizer safety valve and then opened the number one fuel oil supply valve one-half turn.

Inside the burner, the pressurized fuel oil slammed through the tube and hit the tip of the atomizer causing it to spin rapidly, spinning the fuel into a vapor. The vapor sprayed into the boiler casing just above the torch resulting in a sudden flash of flame. The Senior Chief looked through the observation port and saw the flame. He then adjusted the flame and opened up the fuel oil supply to full. He smiled at the result, turned and grabbed the mike. “Fires lit in One Alpha.”

The Senior Chief opened another set of valves on the number two burner, then three and so on over the next hour until all the burners were lit and the water was slowly brought to a boil. The top watch kept an eye on the water levels in the steam drum, while the lower level watched the burners and the pressures. The steam-driven forced-draft blowers were sped up as the boiler came up to pressure taking over from the electric one used when lighting off. Care was taken to make sure the water levels inside the boiler were maintained. Too much water and there was a high water casualty that would possibly allow water to enter the system and strike rapidly turning turbine blades in an engine, generator, or blower. Too low and the water, which actually cooled the steel boiler tubes, would drop below the tops of the tubes causing them to overheat and possibly split open. A rapid refilling would cause a thermal shock and tremendous explosion. By the time the boiler was online, it was operating at 600 psi and generating superheated steam at a temperature of nearly 800 degrees. The safeties were set and, after making all the tests and checks, the boiler was certified as operational. By that time One Bravo had been lit off and was nearing its operating pressures. Six more boilers waited to be tested and certified.

Kee Yuan Ho was scared. He was a common driver for the Democratic People’s Republic who worked his way up from small Lorries to the largest trucks in the fleet. He spent the last three weeks delivering Army supplies from the huge depots near Pyongyang to troops now in what was called South Korea. Day after day he had driven his truck almost to the breaking point, and then he was told to take two days off because his truck was scheduled for maintenance. He fell onto his mat and didn’t move for over 24 hours. When he woke, he stepped from his one room apartment and looked around the neighborhood.

The suburb of Pyongyang was not much more than a slum by western standards. The streets were made of dirt and the buildings plain and utilitarian. Occasionally there was room where a tree was growing either in a courtyard or beside a building where it was protected from the street. Smoke rose from each building as the cooking pots boiled the evening’s meager meals. A haze hung over the buildings and the rest of the city, not from automobiles but from the manufacturing plants surrounding them. You could smell a variety of things in the air, from some kind of flowers and food preparation to the heavier smell of industrial waste. Kee was about to go back inside when he saw it — a small stick poking out from under a flower pot in his side window.

It was a signal he dreaded for the past five years. He had worked his way up the chain at the transportation office to a position of trust. On his very first assignment to make a pick up in China it happened. He had been required to wait overnight as the truck was loaded. While staying in the local party barracks he had befriended a Chinese man and they had gone out to have a couple of beers. The next day he awoke in the man’s bed. Exiting quickly; he had been confronted by a Chinese official. They had taken photographs and had all the evidence of a homosexual orgy he could not remember. He was taken to a headquarters and after a long interrogation offered a chance to have all charges dropped. The only catch had been that he would forever do their bidding. During several trips to China he was trained in covert operations and told to return to work. They would contact him by placing a small twig under the flower pot. He had been told to keep that pot there all year long. Now he must put on his clothes and go down by the river to seemingly fish.

Kee rapidly threw on his clothes and grabbed his fishing pole. The river was about ten blocks away. He walked rapidly through the people on the street. No one looked up or had anything but a bored expression on their face. It made his job easier since he thought he probably looked guilty of everything. He crossed several streets and came to the reed covered backwater along the river. It was full of trash and debris. Coming to the water’s edge, he sat on a small stump and cast out his line. In no way would he eat anything caught in this river. He hadn’t even baited his hook. Thirty minutes later he reeled in his line and packed it up.

On the way back Kee took his time. He looked into a couple of shops and made his way through a small crowd. Upon returning to his home, he closed the window and retrieved the message that had been expertly placed in his pocket. After reading it, he threw it into the small wood stove and watch it burn thoroughly. He didn’t feel rested yet, but he knew he must get back to his truck. He would be contacted again soon.

It was no use. The river had been forded in several places. The North Korean Army was moving forward again, although at a heavy price. The Americans were throwing everything into defense, while the South Korean Army soldiers were fighting fanatics. On two occasions the North Koreans were pushed back across the river, using up a month’s worth of artillery shells in the process. The next time across, the North sent over twice the men using three times the guns. Even then the South Koreans kept them at bay for more than three days until the North Korean Air Force hit the ammunition storage area and fuel depot. The soldiers simply started running out of things to throw at them.

The crossing was not an isolated incident. The South was fighting along a 180 mile front and constant pressure was exerted along the entire length. The defensive effort was enormous. A few ships had come through to Pusan bringing sorely needed ammunition and supplies. The airplanes brought even more, but there was no way to supply the entire effort by air. It would mean a constant airlift similar to the one supplying Berlin during the blockade. It was ships that always brought what was really needed. The submarine offensive helped, but aircraft came over almost every day. In the first two days all the aircraft in South Korea had been destroyed on the ground. Only now were some aircraft able to come across from Japan to provide very limited air cover. But these aircraft had limited time on station and were not top of the line. Despite all efforts, the South was losing ground by a couple of miles a day.

Master Sergeant Hufham and his company held the high ground overlooking the only serviceable road in this sector. The road was surrounded by steep hills, filled with vegetation and a few rock outcroppings. It made a 180-degree turn just beyond the base of Hufham’s hill partially blocking the far side of the road, but denying anyone a lot of maneuvering room. They chose this spot carefully. The top of the hill gave him a 270-degree look at the valley below, and he was going to take full advantage of it. The men were armed with mortars and .50 caliber machine guns. This time they even had some light artillery. Quite an accomplishment except for the fact there were fewer than 50 rounds for each of those guns. Luckily, the other hills around them were smaller, so their position was protected unless someone decided to climb the hill; not a likely prospect. He and the major commanding the unit were given 24 hours to set it up.

Major Peterson is not a bad leader, Hufham thought. He made good decisions and worked with the men to get the job done. Best of all he listened to his NCOs who had been the ones to dream up the plan in the first place. Hufham watched as the men completed the camouflage around the positions. Instead of just draping the nets around, the men had pulled up shrubs and other undergrowth from the other side of the hill to weave into it. By the time it was finished, no one from the ground or the air would be able to see any of the positions. Peterson made his way up the hill toward Hufham.

“Looks good from down the hill. Are the people spaced out enough?” he asked not wanting to increase the likelihood of losing too many to return fire.

“Should be no problem, Major. The ammunition is under cover and the whole place is ringed with field telephones so we can communicate. I checked the line to the next position over on Hill 419. Good comms, and the way is clear for us to back off when we need to,” Hufham said.

The Major nodded. The sound of gunfire could be heard not far away. Heavy thuds of artillery and mortars accentuated the staccato of the rifle fire. “Okay look. I want everyone to get to their positions and stand by. Eat a good meal, but no fires or smoke of any kind, including cigarettes. Pass the word. No one opens up until I say so. We may have one hour, possibly two before all hell breaks loose. When the people from hill 432 come around, have the guys meet them on the other side of this hill and send them back to 419. We don’t need them getting in the way or giving away our positions. I told Captain Washburn to stay on the far side. Lieutenants Harvey and Donnelly are already placed. Just make sure no one runs out into the open. I don’t want to give away anything,” he repeated sternly. It was clear he thought it all through and was worried about getting the job done. Then he smiled. “And keep your head down Top. I may want a ride in that Jeep of yours when this is done,” he said.

“Don’t worry. I got it hid. The keys are in the ignition, sir.”

“Damn, I like an efficient man,” he grinned. He turned serious again. “If we have to leave, get as many of the guys down that hill and back to 419 as possible. Blow up anything left, but above all, get these guys home, Top,” he said.

“Will do, sir. You know where I’ll be,” Hufham said. The men exchanged salutes and the Major blended back into the side of the hill. Hufham scanned the compound. Not a soul was stirring. That was good — exactly what they wanted. Hufham walked to each position along the line and told the men to eat a meal and stand ready. By the time he got to his position his stomach was churning, both from hunger and in anticipation of things to come. Ricks sat back from his binoculars and pointed to an MRE already in its cooker. The chemical heater had the water boiling.

“I made you some beef stew. Have a seat and relax before they come over the hill,” he said. Another explosion was heard and some black smoke billowed up two hills over. Ricks scanned the area and sat back again. “That ought to shut Davis up a while. He’s been bitching and moaning all day about having to set all this up. I finally had to tell him I was going to put my size 11s up his ass if he didn’t get hot,” he said. Ricks had matured quickly since that first night at the DMZ. He developed a focused approach to his job and the ability to get others to toe the line. Most of all, although encouraging, he didn’t mind kicking a few butts to get the job done. He and Hufham had developed a close, strong working relationship. He took another look around. Almost no traffic on the road was going toward the front. Most of it was heading away from it. “Won’t be long now,” he said.

Hufham wolfed down his meal and ate the dessert supplied. Then he threw the box and other leavings into a plastic bag. He doubted they would be policing the area up when they left, but it was good to at least think about it. The noise of gunfire was stronger now and more wounded were being brought back from the front, either in some sort of truck or by foot. Hufham made a call to each position reminding his people not to make a move until the order was given. He had thrown a few expletives in just to get his point across. He was actually pleased with their actions so far. This group had been thrown together from the huddling masses of military refugees who fled the northern part of the country when North Korea invaded. They were harassed all the way toward Pusan and reformed to help meet the needs of a controlled retreat along the front. But the men were not defeated. They pulled together and learned from what happened before. When the Major and Master Sergeant told them the plan, they responded with enthusiasm. This was their chance to get back at the people who started this war. It may not be the best situation, but they would give better than they got.

Ricks was watching the men and machines as they moved back along the road. It wasn’t a rout, but it was close. Lots of people were now trying to save what they had while not getting killed. A few mortar rounds landed at the curve along the far hill. They were here.

A couple of jets flew overhead. Hufham noticed them through the camouflage. They were not carrying bombs, as far as he could see, and the hills restricted what they could do in strafing runs. They passed across the area several times before moving to the north. Hufham pointed as they left. “Reconning from what I see,” Hufham said. “I bet they were checking out the hills along the road.”

Ricks nodded and turned to the other five in the hurriedly dug emplacement. “That’s why we said stay under cover. With all this shit on top of us, those planes have no idea we’re down here. Just stay loose,” he said to the men. He turned to Hufham. “There’s activity on the next hill,” he said. Hufham picked up his field telephone to alert the others and the Major reminded everyone to stay low and hold fire.

The men in the emplacement stared through the camouflage netting to watch a number of men scurry across the top of the adjacent hill. They mostly carried small arms, though a mortar and a couple of machine guns were seen being set up. Down on the road, the allies were carrying out a delaying movement, stopping to shoot and slow the enemy’s approach. It was deliberate work, dashing from place to place, firing at the enemy then moving again. A crossfire had been set up and some of the allied soldiers were drawing the North into the trap. Additional North Korean soldiers scrambled to the top of a hill across the road. It was the same as before, mostly small arms, a mortar and machine guns. More and more soldiers began to appear on the top of the adjacent hill and Hufham watched as an officer directed a part of the group to start moving along the ridge toward his own hill.

Hufham picked up the telephone and gave it a spin. “Emplacement two to command post. We have a couple squads of DPRs heading our way, Major,” he said.

“I see them,” came the reply. “Unit four, stand by, do not engage until I give the word.”

“Unit four roger,” came the voice of Captain Washburn.

“Attention all units, this is command post. Mortar one target hill one. Mortar two target hill two. Machine gun posts no targets at this time. Artillery positions hold; however, if we start to see armor, target the armor and hold. Remember, we don’t want to give away our true positions,” the Major reminded them.

Along the ridge of the hill the North Korean squad made its way through the brush. If they could get around the back of the Americans, it would be a slaughter. The brush was thick, but not too difficult to get through. Comrade Lieutenant Ho pushed his men forward. They had been walking almost since the war began and needed a break. But the Political Officer told them emphatically they could all rest after the war. It was politically imperative that this campaign get over with quickly. The Political Officer joined them in this push. After carefully surveying the adjacent hill by air and on the ground, it was determined that no one had considered it important enough to fortify, even though it was strategically situated along this major road. The soldiers pulled out their knives to slash away at the undergrowth as they proceeded. It slowed their progress to a crawl. The Political Officer went into another of his tirades, but nature was not something to be overcome through political will. Ho had to laugh at the man. He was typical. Almost every political officer he met thought that things would become fact simply by pronouncing it. Ho helped him out on several occasions when he found himself caught in some brush or dangerous situation. They were coming up on a rocky outcropping that would make easy transit.

Peterson watched the slow progress through the undergrowth. He also watched as the two hills completed their preparations for attacking the retreating troops. It would be just about right. The Claymores were positioned just behind the rocky outcropping so the ricocheting fragments could cause more damage. Once the Claymores went off, everything would go.

The Political Officer climbed up over the rocks and began walking along a path down the other side. His men were following behind. This campaign was sure to help him make a name for himself in the government. Any successful operation, no matter how small, looked good in a record. He silently held Lieutenant Ho in contempt. The man was weak politically, but his men followed his instructions and so he served his purpose — at least that is how it would read in his report. As he walked along, he never questioned why a path lay along the rocks. He was curious when he came up on some metal looking things stuck in the ground. He stopped a moment, bending down to get a better look.

The Claymores went off in unison wiping the entire squad of North Koreans off the side of the hill. At the same time, small sections of the netting were pulled back and the mortar rounds began dropping all along the ridge of both hills almost at once. North Korean men and equipment went flying as the rounds burst inside the tightly packed groups and their hastily dug positions. The machine guns and mortars never even had the chance to respond. The Americans used their mortars with great skill, clearing the top and walking the rounds down the opposite side of the hill. American mortar crews worked feverishly making sure every square inch of the North Korean positions had been neutralized. Within ten minutes the Major called a cease fire. The netting was pulled back in place.

The North Korean commander watched in horror as both hills seemed to disintegrate before him. He called for more troops to ascend the hill, but they were met by frantic troops coming down trying to escape the carnage. As the last of the American troops crossed the junction between the two hills, both sides seemed to explode at once, showering the roadway with debris and boulders. Then more explosives went off leaving the road unmanageable.

The Korean Commander cursed the Americans for denying him his planned route. There was pressure from above to meet the planned objectives at whatever cost. He immediately ordered the engineers forward to clear and rebuild the road. Then he began peering through his glasses to find out where the attack came from. But there was nothing. No smoke, no fallen trees, no evidence of an emplacement on any of the surrounding hills. He gazed back at the place of the first explosion. He could see where the Claymores had done their work, so he expected that emplacements were there. He next ordered artillery brought up to fire on that position and the surrounding area.

From a hidden site above the bend in the road, the spotter watched the activities out of sight from the rest of the company. Using the field telephone, he told the mortar crews exactly where everything was being brought up. Waiting until as many enemy soldiers were in the area as possible, Major Peterson gave the order to commence firing. The mortars spat out their deadly cargo at an alarming rate; raining down on the narrow roadway between the hills, killing troops, damaging the guns and other equipment, and more importantly, igniting the ready service ammunition that had been brought up to service the guns. When that happened, the high walls surrounding the roadway began to be peppered with ordnance. In a few seconds, the dirt and rock face gave way on both sides of the steep hills and slid down into the narrow road; making it narrower still. After using a rocking ladder type movement with the mortar rounds for the next 15 minutes, all fell quiet again.

“Move the mortars and equipment to position bravo, I say again, position bravo,” Major Peterson ordered into the telephone. Quickly and quietly, the mortars were dismantled and moved to a new covered position nearly 100 yards away from their previous positions. The entire move was accomplished under the natural canopy or the camouflage netting, giving nothing away.

“There isn’t much moving down there, Major,” the spotter said into his telephone. “I see all the guns overturned, a couple of trucks burning, and a shit load of soldiers dead,” he said. “They moved the rest of the equipment back behind the next bend. I would bet that road is all clogged up now, sir.”

“Just keep your eyes open,” the Major told him. “Now that we’ve pissed them off, they’ll be back.” He turned and walked up to Hufham’s new position. The men were putting the finishing touches on the emplacements and reinstalling the field telephone.

Hufham saluted. “All set, Major,” he said. “How far back did we knock them?”

The Major glanced back toward the road. “I figure about half a klick. They’ll regroup and start coming over those hills to get at us, or they’ll bring up some armor. Either way it will be a hot night,” he said gruffly. “I doubt they were able to get a good fix on where we were shooting from, but I’m being cautious. Have your men get some rest after they re-supply. I have a feeling they won’t come till later this evening when it gets dark.”

Hufham nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they’d be sitting ducks down there,” he said pointing to the road. “I’ll have some of the decoys set off towards dusk to let ‘em know where we aren’t,” he said with a grin.

“Good. That will last long enough for us to drop ‘em. Just make sure no one lets the cat out of the bag. I’ll do a walk through later on,” the Major said.

Hufham made his own rounds of the positions, reassuring the people and reinforcing the Major’s ideas. Whoever came up on their positions was going to learn a really hard lesson.

Hammond rode the elevator up from his basement abode and stopped on the main floor. He took a quick look outside just so he could say he had seen daylight for the day, even though it was 5:30 am. Just the hint of a dawn was good enough for him. He walked briskly down the corridors and out the west wing toward the offices surrounding the Oval Office. He stopped by communications and picked up the “Early Bird,” the daily newspaper clippings sheets. The top sheet was always colored yellow and had the words “Early Bird” across the top. He glanced across the front sheet where the most important stories were. As he was about to leave, a Marine captain stopped him. “Captain, the Chief of Staff was looking for you, sir. He said to have you come in and see him right away.”

Hammond grunted. “Another minor crisis no doubt,” he said with a faint smile. He retraced his steps a few yards and turned down another corridor near the Oval Office. Butler’s door was open and Hammond saw Butler reading the Washington Post, sipping on some black coffee. Another Navy captain was in the office. Hammond knocked slightly on the door.

“Come on in, Roger,” Butler said with a grin. He pointed to the other captain who was now getting out of his chair. “Roger, meet Eric Matthews,” he said. The two men shook hands. “Eric is your relief.”

That stopped Hammond in his tracks. He looked at his friend. “My relief?”

Butler laughed. “Yeah, the President and I have been getting tired of looking at your ugly face,” he said. Then he handed Hammond a sheet of paper.

Hammond read the message slowly. “…proceed immediately to San Francisco, CA and report aboard USS (name withheld) and assume the duties of commanding officer….” Hammond’s face broke into a grin. “My god, I never would have believed it,” he said slowly. “What ship? It’s been removed from the orders.”

Butler was beaming. The President and Admiral Johnson both had come up with this idea. He wasn’t about to blow it. “Roger, the boss wants that kept a secret for now. You are to proceed this morning to San Francisco and take command. Some people will meet you at the airport and take you to her.”

“Yeah, but is it a destroyer, a cruiser, some barge — what is it?”

“Probably some supply ship. The boss knows you really wanted to go to sea, but you’ve made a few enemies around here. He did the best he could. Just get out there and command again,” Butler said. “In the mean time, Eric and I have a little work to do. So get back to your hole and pack up. Your plane leaves in about four hours. Just be happy you get to leave this funny farm,” he said extending his hand. Hammond shook it warmly. “Thanks, Jim. Can I drop by and thank the boss?”

“You can try, but he’s on the Hill all morning. Don’t worry. We’ll be in touch. Besides, if this guy doesn’t work out, I may recall you,” he joked winking at Matthews.

Hammond shook their hands again. “Tell the President I said thanks.”

“Get out of here, squid.”

Hammond walked out of the office and back down the corridor. Several of the people stepped out to congratulate him on his new command. No one could say what it was, but they knew it was something he wanted. Back at his quarters, he was surprised to see several staff members packing up the last of his belongings. The staff arranged for his things to be sent up and a car brought around. Hammond stopped briefly by the command center where he picked up his records and his orders along with the transportation documents. Being from the White House, everything had already been arranged.

As he prepared to leave, he stopped by Butler’s office again to find it empty. He walked over to the desk and placed a set of keys to his Oldsmobile in the center of the blotter with a short note. Take care of her, it said. Then he made his way through the corridors again and out the entrance. A limousine was waiting for him. He sat in the front with the driver and the big presidential machine exited the gate and made its way to 14th Street and Reagan International Airport. The driver went to the private plane section where a Cessna business jet was waiting. Inside he found three other officers, all heading for the west coast. Within 20 minutes the jet was climbing steadily into the morning sky.

The North Koreans had tried one additional push along the road. Two old T-59 tanks pressed through the narrow passage and started shooting at the rock outcropping where the Claymores had gone off. They couldn’t know that no one had ever really been there. After several rounds each with no return fire, the tanks with infantry following close behind eased out of the gap and around the corner of the road. They were half way along the near side of the hill before the Major opened up with the light artillery he had. The M102 howitzer had been around a while. It was on wheels, fairly light, and shot a 105mm round. Major Peterson had two of them, and both were positioned where they could shoot down at anything along the road. Peterson loved the things, but whenever they fired there was a puff of smoke to give the position away. He had kept them silent until this moment.

Firing armor piercing rounds, the M102s cut through the armored bubble top of the old Russian tanks like they were butter. Immediately both tanks were knocked out and the mortars opened up again to take care of the infantry.

After knocking out the tanks, the M102s opened up on the far side of the hill, eventually knocking off enough dirt and rock to completely block the road, while also cutting off any means of escape. The North Koreans were trapped. They desperately tried to find cover, but none was to be found. Then they tried to climb the hill the Americans were on. They made it to just above the base when the .50 caliber machine guns and other small arms opened up. Within minutes, nothing was alive in the valley floor. Peterson again moved his equipment to new emplacements. The heavier guns were moved just over the top of the hill. No one would be coming along the road any time soon.

By 9 pm the sun was well below the horizon and Major Peterson’s men were firmly in place. All had been fed and they were fairly well rested, even after all the hard work of moving the equipment. Because they no longer had night vision glasses, Hufman had set some of the men to work laying noisemakers in the bushes and wire well ahead of the positions to give warning of an enemy’s approach. Unfortunately the crickets tended to mask the sound of someone moving around. Ricks reminded them that crickets fell silent when someone approached, helping some of the soldiers feel better.

Hufham was sitting in his foxhole looking out across the valley. There was a little moon, but not much. Nothing was moving. “Where would you come from?” he whispered to Ricks.

Ricks moved slightly and pointed. “Along the ridgeline from that low hill to ours. A lot easier than climbing it,” he said. “But I’m not worried about those guys coming in. I’m worried that they start raining some mortar rounds over here from the tops of those far hills. It will be tough watching for the bad guys when you’re trying to keep your head from being blown off.”

“True enough. Now that it’s dark, we really can’t see what’s going on over there,” Hufham agreed. Through the field telephone in his hand he could hear the Major giving orders to the mortar batteries. So far, there was nothing. One could only hope they had given up, but Hufham knew that would never happen.

Shortly after 10 pm flashes of dim light could be seen coming from the far hill. Mortar rounds began dropping all along the promontory next to the road. Round after round landed in the positions they had been firing from and even spread out along the length of the hill. Fortunately the Major had anticipated the move and their final emplacements were closer to the back end of the hill away from the tip. No rounds were fired in return that might give away their final positions. After thirty minutes of sustained mortar fire in the wrong place, the hills fell silent again.

Only ten minutes later one of the outposts heard the rattle of an empty can. It was reported quickly and at a whisper through the system. A few minutes later more were heard. Now the whole compound was alerted. Hufham sat in his position and waited. Slowly, he began to see faint movement as the North Korean soldiers eased their way along the hill. There was no reason to do anything yet. Wait until they had the largest number of them dead to rights, then let them have it, he thought. Hufham glanced over at Ricks. In the faint moon he could see a glint of concentration in Ricks’ eyes as he peered at the slowly moving Koreans. They continued to crawl in closer. In a few minutes Hufham motioned for Ricks to get ready while he pulled out some grenades. All along the line, the other men in their positions were doing the same thing. Closer and closer they came until Hufham could see individual parts of their uniforms. When it seemed that he could almost reach out and touch them, the telephone crackled “Now!”

The entire side of the hill seemed to explode at once and riflemen and machine gunners opened up on the hapless Koreans. Grenades went flying through the air, exploding in packed groups of soldiers who let out cries of pain and fear as a result. All along the line came shouts of anger as the soldiers charged towards the fortified positions, only to be mowed down by the American assault weapons and machine guns. The flash of the .50 caliber weapons occasionally illuminated a North Korean soldier as he rose up or fell down. Many times it caught the agony of the dying soldier’s face.

The mortars were in business now hitting along the crest of the hill where the North Koreans were coming with a few peppering the far hill where the North had set up their own mortars. At one point a large explosion was seen indicating a round that hit an ammunition supply. The M102s then fired a set of star shells over the enemy positions showing for the first time the extent of the assault.

North Koreans were everywhere. Their forces had been hurt badly but more and more seemed to be pouring over the top of the hills toward the American lines. Several machine gun positions were set up and firing into the lines, killing indiscriminately. As Hufham watched, heavier artillery rounds began falling around them. The North Koreans obviously placed their guns farther back where they could not see.

The M102s began hammering at the Koreans to keep them from reinforcing their lines, but the effort was running short. In several places the Americans were overrun. Hand to hand fighting was starting to break out and the North had the weight of numbers on their side. The American mortars were doing their best, but after several assaults, they were running low on ammo.

A North Korean soldier suddenly appeared in front of Hufham’s position. Hufham nearly cut him in half with his rifle as two more came up. With methodical precision, Hufham and Ricks, along with two other men, mowed down the soldiers until they were piled so deep the advancing soldiers had to climb over them.

Still they came. One screaming soldier managed to get into the small emplacement and lunged at Ricks, who calmly shoved his bayonet almost clean through the man. As he fell back, two more came in. Both were picked off by the Americans, but not before one was killed by a rifle shot.

In a final effort, the North Koreans were repulsed. Hufham killed one in a hand-to-hand duel where he slung the man against a piece of splintered wood and then pressed him into it. He turned around to see one last soldier scrambling toward him; his bayonet leading the way. Just as it seemed Hufham’s life was over, the soldier doubled over and fell like a wet rag at Hufham’s feet. That was when Hufham saw Ricks standing there holding his rifle by the barrel. The stock was broken and hanging. Ricks looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. “Out of ammo,” he said.

Major Peterson stumbled into the position and looked at the carnage. “You’ve been busy,” he said. “We won’t be able to take another assault. Gather the men you can and head to Hill 419. See if you can drag one of the 102s with you. I’m going to set the charges. As soon as they come again, we’re all out of here. Get going,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” said Hufham. He turned to the others. “You heard the man, get going. Ricks, go along the line and tell the men to be ready to move out when I say.” All the men took off to get things ready. Hufham had two men head to the jeep and hook up one of the mobile guns. The second was hooked up to a deuce and a half sitting unscathed nearby. As they were finishing up, a cry went out from across the ridge as seemingly thousands of North Koreans charged through the brush toward the American lines. The last of the mortar rounds were expended and men kept up the fire while the rest began their orderly retreat. Major Peterson ordered the men to leave and Ricks jumped in the Jeep and pulled out toward the next hill. Hufham led the remaining men in their fall back, still taking a toll on the North Koreans as they advanced blindly and foolishly into what was to become a trap.

As the last of the Americans scrambled down the hill and away, Major Peterson’s last surprise was unleashed. The fuses were set for a number of charges throughout the camp; especially around the remaining ammunition. The Americans were only about half way down the hill when the entire top seemed to lift as one gigantic piece straight into the air and fall with a thud back to earth. Men were knocked from their feet and the sounds of the explosions were deafening.

Suddenly all fire ceased. The Americans continued to make their way back down the hill, but no one followed. Hufham went back a short distance to help retrieve the last of the soldiers. In the midst of the carnage Major Peterson suddenly appeared in front of him. His uniform was torn and bloodied. There was a gash across his temple and what looked like blood running down his arm. He was dragging himself slowly toward the hill with a pronounced limp.

Hufham took the Major’s good arm and draped it over his shoulder to steady him. Peterson winced slightly, and then continued at a faster pace. “You know, you are one ugly sumbitch in the dark,” he said.

Hufham chuckled. “Shouldn’t talk to your guardian angel that way, sir,’ he joked.

Peterson shook slightly as he let out a stifled laugh. “Yeah, maybe,” he said. Then he turned serious. “Everybody out?” he asked.

“As many as were alive,” Hufham said.

The Major seemed to droop slightly. “Well, at least we made them pay for it,” he said sadly.

The two men were met by several of the other men and helped up Hill 419. There wasn’t much to be thankful for. Hill 419 was next.