"Why do they call that a ladder when it's really a flight of stairs?" McCoy wondered aloud.


"Jesus, Ken!" Taylor said.


Two seamen, under the supervision of the diminutive chief petty officer who had supervised putting the lifeboats over the side of the Charity, were standing on the platform at the lower end of the stairs. The officer was wearing im-maculate whites.


"Captain," he called, as the Wind of Good Fortune drew quite close, "the captain suggests you gentlemen come aboard, and that your vessel circle astern of us."


"Got you, Chief," Taylor called, and issued the neces-sary orders to the helmsman.


McCoy saw that he also handed him the flashlight Colonel Dunn had dropped into the mud.


McCoy jumped from the deck of the Wind of Good For-tune onto the platform first, followed by Major Kim and fi-nally Taylor.


"Right up the ladder, if you please, gentlemen," the chief ordered.


As McCoy reached the level of the deck, the sea pushed the Wind of Good Fortune into the ladder, and the noise made him look down to see what had happened.


There didn't seem to be any damage; the Wind of Good Fortune seemed to be backing away from the Charity.


McCoy climbed the last two steps of the ladder and stepped onto the deck, where the executive officer was standing in his crisp white uniform. And there were two rows of sailors, in whites, three to a row, saluting. Just as McCoy realized what was going on, there came the shrill sound of a bosun's pipe, and a voice called out.


"United States Marines, board-ing"


McCoy faced the stern and saluted the British flag and then saluted the executive officer.


"Permission to come aboard, sir?"


"Granted."


The executive officer looked at Major Kim as he stepped onto the deck, dressed like McCoy and Taylor, in black pa-jamas, and for a moment a look of confusion crossed his face, but he rose to the occasion.


"South Korean officer, board-ing," he called out.


And Major Kim rose to the occasion by mimicking every step of McCoy's response perfectly.


And finally, Taylor stepped onto the deck in his black pajamas.


"United States Navy, board-ing"


When Taylor had finished saluting the British colors, the bosun's piping died out and the executive officer put out his hand to Taylor.


"Nice to have you aboard again, Lieutenant," he said. "Will you follow me, please?"


He led them between the lines of saluting sailors-who seemed to find nothing strange, McCoy saw, in their render-ing honors to three men in black pajamas-into the super-structure, and through interior passageways to the bridge.


Captain the Honorable Darwin Jones-Fortin waved them permission to come on the bridge.


"Your welcome overwhelms us, Captain," Taylor said.


"Well, the last time I rather sneaked you aboard. You're now here officially, and it seemed appropriate. First things first. I dislike sitting here dead in the water. How many knots can your magnificent vessel make? And do you have enough fuel?"


"Twelve to thirteen knots, sir," Taylor said, "in a sea like this. And there's plenty of fuel aboard."


"Good show," Jones-Fortin said. "Make turns for ten knots," he ordered. "Make a wide circle to port."


The helmsman repeated the order.


"You have the conn, Number One," Jones-Fortin or-dered.


"I have the conn, sir," the executive officer said.


"Why don't we go to my cabin?" Jones-Fortin said, and motioned them ahead of him into an interior passageway.


There was already someone in the captain's cabin, a Royal Marine lieutenant in field clothing and web gear.


"Gentlemen, may I present Lieutenant Richard Diceworth, Royal Marines?" Jones-Fortin said. "Diceworth, this is Captain McCoy of the U.S. Marines, Lieutenant Taylor of the U.S. Navy, and I haven't had the privilege..."


"Major Kim Pak-Su, Korean national police."


The men shook hands.


"Admiral Matthews," Jones-Fortin explained, "appar-ently after consulting with your General Pickering at some length, and having decided that your Flying Fish Channel operation deserved a bit more support than he initially of-fered, sent Diceworth and fifteen Royal Marines from HMS Jamaica, his flagship."


"I don't know what to say," McCoy confessed.


"Let me tell you what we have to offer, and then you tell me if you think it would be helpful," Jones-Fortin said. "In addition to Diceworth and his men, we have the boats that brought them to Charity from the Jamaica. There's two of them, each with a coxswain, and they're a bit larger- about twice the size, I would guess-of the lifeboats. They're also a bit faster and more seaworthy."


McCoy just shook his head.


"And while we were waiting for you to join us, my Number One and my gunnery officer, after studying aerial photographs of the islands, have offered the opinion that they can bring all of them under our guns."


"You'd have to go into the Flying Fish to do that, Cap-tain, wouldn't you?" Taylor asked.


"No, actually not. We can lay the cannon fire from a po-sition seaward of the islands, and use the islands, so to speak, as rocks behind which to hide from possible enemy observation."


"Jesus!" McCoy said.


"Sir William made it quite clear to me, Captain McCoy, that the use of British elements in your operation is by no means an order. Using any, or all, of what we can offer is entirely up to you. What do you think?"


"I think if it wouldn't give Taylor the wrong idea about Marines, I'd kiss Lieutenant Diceworth," McCoy said.


"Well, perhaps there would be time for that later," Jones-Fortin said. "But right now, nose to the grindstone, et cetera, right?"


[TWO]


TOKCHOK-KUNDO ISLAND


0330 25 AUGUST 1950


"What the hell is going on?" Master Gunner Ernest W. Zimmerman asked when Captain Kenneth R. McCoy jumped off the Wind of Good Fortune onto the wharf. "I almost blew you out of the water when I saw you coming in with that light."


Another man jumped onto the wharf, and Zimmerman looked at him in absolute surprise.


"Lieutenant Diceworth, Royal Marines, Master Gunner Zimmerman," McCoy said.


"How do you do, Mr. Zimmerman?" Diceworth said, politely.


Zimmerman saluted, then looked at McCoy for an ex-planation.


"I want everybody who won't fit in Boat Two-includ-ing the militia-on the Wind of Good Fortune in ten min-utes," McCoy said. "I want to be in the Flying Fish Channel in fifteen minutes."


"I asked you what's going on, Killer," Zimmerman pur-sued.


"There's been a slight change in the operation."


"What kind of a change?" Zimmerman asked dubiously.


"I only want to do it once, Ernie," McCoy said. "Get everybody loaded up."


"Good morning, Lieutenant," Zimmerman said to Dice-worth. "With respect, sir, may the gunner inquire where the hell the lieutenant came from?"


Diceworth smiled.


"From HMS Jamaica, actually," Diceworth said.


"He and fifteen more English Marines," McCoy added.


"Actually, Captain," Diceworth said, "that's Royal Marines."


"Sorry," McCoy said. "And two pretty-good-sized boats with people who know how to drive them, and radios with which they can talk to Charity, the destroyer, who's laying just outside the lighthouse."


"No shit?"


"And can bring naval gunfire to bear on all the islands, and has aerial photos, so we can call in what we need when we need it."


"No shit?"


"And now, if your curiosity is settled for the moment, Mr. Zimmerman, would you please get your ass out of low gear, and start getting this circus on the road?"


The essential difference between the pre-Royal Marines and pre-HMS Charity plan, and what they were going to try to do now, was that the element of surprise wasn't nearly as important as it had been.


If the two-lifeboat "invasion fleet" had been detected and brought under fire by any of the North Korean forces, it would almost certainly have meant disaster. The North Koreans had both machine guns and rifles, and would have brought the lifeboats under fire the moment they saw they were filled with armed men.


Machine-gun and rifle fire from firm ground goes where it is directed. Machine-gun and rifle fire from crowded lifeboats bobbing in the rapidly receding tide waters of the Flying Fish Channel would have struck its targets only by wild coincidence.


So the element of surprise in the initial plan was of prime importance. Now it fell into the category of "nice to have if we can get away with it"


The plan now had a role for the Wind of Good Fortune. With the two boats from HMS Jamaica running to her star-board, where they could probably not be seen, and towing the lifeboat, she would move up the Flying Fish Channel past Taebu-do and Taemuui-do under both diesel and sail power. The sails probably would do very little to propel her forward, and their being raised might have the opposite ef-fect, if mere was a strong wind from the north-in which case they would be lowered.


All the Marines-Royal and U.S.-and most of Major Kim's national police would be in the boats. They were now divided into three teams, scattering the Royal Marines among the U.S. Marines.


The two larger teams, one commanded by Captain Mc-Coy and the other by Lieutenant Diceworth, would, if everything went well, land undetected at the narrow point-the center of the hourglass-of Yonghung-do, and then split, and simultaneously move over land, Diceworth's team to take the village of Oe-ri on the south end of the island, and McCoy's to take Nae-ri on the northern end.


The lifeboat would hold a seven-man team, commanded by Zimmerman, as the reserve.


Taylor, Hart, and Kim would be aboard Wind of Good Fortune, Kim to control the militia, and Hart to operate the radio to report what was going on-especially if some-thing went wrong.


It was a good plan of operation, and it almost worked.


They managed to get past Taebu-do and Taemuui-do without, so far as they could tell, arousing any interest whatever.


But as they approached Oe-ri on the south end of Yonghung-do, hoping to pass there, too, undetected, the junk sailing up the Flying Fish Channel attracted the atten-tion of a Norm Korean sentry. First, there was a siren, and then the Wind of Good Fortune was in the light of a search-light, and finally there came machine-gun fire, which, after a moment, walked its way through the water and into the hull of the Wind of Good Fortune.


And a moment after that, two rounds of five-inch naval gunfire landed on the machine-gun position. The search-light went out, the machine gun stopped firing, and the outer of the two Jamaica boats-which held Lieutenant Diceworth's team-cut free from the Wind of Good For-tune and headed for the village.


As a Royal Marine handed twenty-round magazines to a U.S. Marine firing his Browning Automatic Rifle from the bow of the boat, two more rounds of five-inch from Char-ity landed in Oe-ri.


The second boat from HMS Jamaica-carrying Mc-Coy's team-now started to edge ahead of the Wind of Good Fortune, headed up the Flying Fish Channel for the north end of the island and the village of Nae-ri.


With the loss of the element of surprise, there was no need now to land in the middle of Yonghung-do and go overland.


The distance was a little over three miles, and the boat was making-even against the rapidly receding tide-close to fifteen knots. It took them just over fifteen min-utes to reach the end of the island, but that was appar-ently enough time for the North Koreans on the southern end of the island to notify the North Koreans on the northern end that they were under attack. When McCoy's boat turned out of the Flying Fish Channel toward the village of Nae-ri, they were immediately brought under rifle fire.


They've probably laid a telephone line across the island, McCoy thought, as he watched a Royal Marine sergeant speak into the microphone of his field radio: "Mother, Mother, Baby Two, Baby Two, Sixteen, Sixteen," he said, lowered the microphone, and turned to McCoy.


"On the way, sir," he said. "If the captain remembers, Sixteen is four rounds from Charity's five-incher, sir."


"Good show, Sergeant!" Captain McCoy said, in the best English accent he could muster.


A few moments later, there was the thruttle-thruttle sound of a large-caliber round moving in the air, and then an enormous explosion in the village of Nae-ri. And then another, and another, and another.


McCoy, who was riding in the bow, gestured to the coxswain to make for the shore, and then to Sergeant Jen-nings to get on the bow with his Browning Automatic Rifle.


[THREE]


TOP SECRET


0500 GREENWICH 25 AUGUST 1950


FROM OFFICER COMMANDING HMS CHARITY


TO HMS JAMAICA


PERSONAL AND IMMEDIATE ATTENTION VICE ADMIRAL SIR WILLIAM MATTHEWS, RN


SIR


I HAVE THE HONOR TO REPORT, BASED ON INFORMATION FURNISHED ME BY CAPTAIN GEORGE F. HART, USMC, THE FOLLOWING:


THE ISLANDS OF YONGHUNG-DO AND TAEMUUI-DO WERE SUCCESSFULLY IN-VESTED BY U.S. AND ROYAL MARINE FORCES EARLY THIS MORNING AND ALL RESISTANCE WAS ENDED AT 1500 LOCAL TIME THIS AFTERNOON.


U.S. AND BRITISH CASUALTIES ZERO KILLED AND ZERO WOUNDED.


ENEMY CASUALTIES SEVEN KILLED SIX WOUNDED NINE PRISONERS.


IT IS THE INTENTION OF CAPTAIN K. R. MCCOY, USMC, TO INVADE THE IS- LAND OF TAEBU-DO AS


SOON AS TIDAL CONDITIONS PERMIT. HE REPORTS WHITE FLAGS HAVE BEEN HOISTED PRE-SUMABLY INDICATING A DESIRE OF THE ENEMY TO SURRENDER. CAPTAIN MCCOY REQUESTS THAT BRIGADIER GENERAL


PICKERING, USMC, BE APPRISED BY YOU OF THESE DEVELOPMENTS.


MOST RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED


DARWIN JONES-FORTIN, RN COMMANDING HMS CHARITY


TOP SECRET


[FOUR]


the residence of the supreme commander un command/allied forces in japan


the embassy of the united states


tokyo, japan


1930 25 AUGUST 1950


"Oh, Fleming," Mac Arthur said, rising from an armchair in the upstairs sitting room, "there you are. Thank you for coming."


"It was good of you to receive me on such short notice," Pickering said, "and even kinder to ask me to supper. I know I'm intruding..."


He walked to Jean MacArthur and kissed her cheek.


"Don't be silly," she said. "We don't see enough of you socially, Fleming."


"This isn't exactly social, Jean," Pickering said.


"For the next ten minutes, it will be, while we have a cocktail and hors d'oeuvres," MacArthur said.


A Filipino steward offered Pickering a tray, on which sat a squat crystal glass dark with whiskey.


"Your health," Pickering said, as he picked it up.


"Do you hear often from Patricia?" Jean asked.


"I call her, or she calls me, just about every day," Picker-ing said.


"And how, poor dear, is she bearing up?"


"The tough part is not knowing," Pickering replied hon-estly.


"And there's still no word about your son?" MacArthur asked.


"Only in the sense that my station chief in Pusan reports that there is no word that Pick has been captured."


"And would he know?" Jean MacArthur asked.


"He would," Pickering said. "Actually, he's very good at what he does."


"Forgive me," MacArthur said. "He didn't-the CIA didn't-seem to be able to give us advance knowledge of what happened on June 26."


My God, if I get into that, I'll really be in trouble.


"Yes, I know," Pickering said. "That's one of the reasons I was sent here, to see if I can prevent a blunder like that from happening again."


"And I can think of no one better able to do that," MacArthur said. "Your report will be to Admiral Hillenkoetter, I presume?"


"I haven't even begun to prepare a report," Pickering said. "But when I do, it will go to the President."


"Despite the perhaps unkind things I have said about the OSS in the past, I questioned President Truman's deci-sion to abolish it immediately after the war," MacArthur said.


"He seems to have quickly realized his mistake," Picker-ing replied. "He formed the CIA several months later."


"I sometimes wonder..." MacArthur said. "Let me phrase it this way: President Truman seems to understand what a threat Joseph Stalin and company pose to the world. Frankly, I have often wondered if many of those close to President Roosevelt were similarly concerned. Many of those were still in the upper echelons around President Truman when he abolished the OSS."


"I'm sure it pleased those people, General," Pickering said. "But my best information was that it was senior offi-cers of the military who wanted to bury the OSS, and suc-cessfully urged Truman to do so."


"Why would they want to do that?"


"Because they couldn't control it themselves."


"That's a hell of an accusation, Fleming," MacArthur said, "and let me quickly and emphatically disassociate myself from any group of senior officers... I was never asked what I thought should happen to the OSS. Had I been asked, I would have said I felt it to be quite valuable to the nation. And when the CIA was formed, I was de-lighted when they sent their experts to assist me here."


Oh, what the hell. I'm going to infuriate him anyway. Why put it off for ten minutes?


"General, the point there is that the CIA wasn't here to assist you," Pickering said. "Not in the sense you're implying. You're suggesting that you considered them part of your staff, and that implies you controlled them."


"And you find something wrong with that?"


"To do their job properly, CIA people cannot be subor-dinate to the local commander," Pickering said.


"Even to someone like Douglas?" Jean MacArthur said loyally. "I can understand your position, I think, at division level, or corps level, but Douglas is the Supreme Comman-der!"


"That's the point, Jean," Pickering said. "The more im-portant, the more imposing, the local commander is-and I submit that your husband is the most important and most imposing of all the commanders I know of-the less likely the CIA man is to challenge his judgment. And he is sup-posed to think, and act, independently."


"Would you say that applies to our relationship?" MacArthur asked.


"Yes, sir, I would," Pickering said. "Our friendship aside, I really think you were happier before I came here, when the CIA station chief thought of himself-and you thought of him-as a member of your staff, and you both behaved accordingly."


"You apparently don't think much of your CIA station chief," MacArthur said.


"Or maybe Douglas, either," Jean said. "Fleming, I never thought I'd hear you talk like this-"


"Jean, you know better than that," Pickering interrupted. "My admiration for Douglas is bottomless, as an officer and a man."


"It certainly doesn't sound like it," she said.


Pickering turned to face MacArthur.


"The only reason I haven't relieved the station chief is that I'm afraid his replacement might be even worse."


"In what sense?" MacArthur said icily. "That he would be even more cooperative with the local commander?"


"I think it's perfectly natural for any senior officer-in-cluding you-to be uncomfortable with the notion of hav-ing people playing on their fields whom they do not control. And to do whatever they can to get that control. In the case of the Tokyo CIA station chief, you did just that. Or Charley Willoughby did, which is the same thing."


MacArthur stared at him icily for a moment.


"Granting, for the sake of argument, that I did, or Gen-eral Willoughby did, manage, so to speak, to bring your station chief to think of himself as a member of the team, what harm was done?"


"I was less than completely honest a moment ago when I implied I'm going to relieve the station chief for having allowed himself to be sucked into Charley Willoughby's- and your-orbit. The fact is that he was derelict-even criminally derelict-in the performance of his duties."


"That certainly deserves amplification," MacArthur said.


"In his case, it was an act of what I have to believe was intentional failure to do his job properly. It was either that, or he was, literally, so inept or so stupid that he didn't know what was going on."


"And what was going on?"


"A report was prepared by an intelligence officer on the staff of the Naval Element, SCAP, strongly indicating that the North Koreans had prepared an invasion force."


"I know of no such report, and, frankly, Pickering-"


"General, there was a report. I've seen it. You apparently didn't get to see it because General Willoughby ordered it destroyed."


"That's an outrageous accusation!"


"Unfortunately, it's true," Pickering said.


"What intelligence officer?" MacArthur said. "What we are going to do right now, General Pickering, tonight, is get General Willoughby and this intelligence officer of yours in here and get to the bottom of this. After which I will take whatever action seems appropriate."


"You can get Charley Willoughby in here, General, if you like, and I will repeat to him what I just told you. If that is your desire, I would suggest that you also summon Captain Edward C. Wilkerson-"


"Who's he?" MacArthur interrupted.


"The Chief of the Naval Element, SCAP He's the other villain in this sad affair. He acquiesced when General Willoughby ordered the report destroyed."


"I don't believe any of this," Jean MacArthur said.


From the look on Douglas MacArthur's face, neither did he.


"We will start with the intelligence officer who allegedly prepared this report," MacArthur said. "And then..."


"Unfortunately, he's not available tonight," Pickering said.


"Why not? Where is he?"


"On Tokchok-kundo Island," Pickering said.


"Where?"


"From which, early this morning, he launched an inva-sion of Taemuui-do, Yonghung-do, and Taebu-do islands in the Flying Fish Channel, which, as of 1500 this afternoon, are under our control."


MacArthur stared at him in disbelief.


"Do I understand you correctly, General Pickering, that you have launched an operation-without any consultation, much less permission from myself or anyone on my staff- that may-without question will-seriously impact the In-chon invasion?"


Pickering didn't immediately reply. But he smiled, which caused MacArthur's face to turn white.


"I fail to see the humor in any of this, so perhaps you would be good enough to tell me why you are smiling?"


"Forgive me," Pickering said. "I was thinking about General Patton's reply to General Bradley during the Sicil-ian campaign...."


MacArthur, after a moment, chuckled and then laughed.


"I don't understand," Jean MacArthur said.


"Bradley was concerned, darling," MacArthur ex-plained, "that the mutual dislike between George Patton and General Montgomery would see Georgie take extraor-dinary-possibly too risky-steps to be in Palermo before Montgomery could get there. So he messaged him words to the effect, `Do not do not take Palermo without my per-mission.' To which Georgie replied, `I hold Palermo, should I give it back?'"


She chuckled. "I'd never heard that before," she said.


"Would that this situation were as amusing," MacArthur said to Pickering.


"General, I think I should tell you that President Truman was aware of my plan," Pickering said.


"Would you tell me why you did it?" MacArthur asked.


"General, I've been privileged to be in on the planning of many of your invasions," Pickering said. "I like to think I learned from watching you."


"Why didn't you come to me?"


"Your staff was determined to take the islands on D Mi-nus One," Pickering said. "You agreed. I thought doing so would give the enemy twenty-four hours' notice of our in-tentions. That question had come up and been decided in favor of D Minus One. If I had come to you with this, you would have been forced to choose between your trusted staff and an amateur challenging their-and your-judg-ment."


"I have overridden my staff before, and you know that."


"I wasn't sure I could carry it off. Not me. Captain Mc-Coy. I thought it was worth the risk. If we failed, only a few men would be lost. If we succeeded..."


"And what makes you think the enemy won't immedi-ately take action to retake the islands?"


"The hope is that the enemy will believe it's nothing more than the South Koreans improving their positions along the Flying Fish Channel. They may not even take ac-tion. If they do, all they're going to find on the three islands are South Korean national police."


"And when the invasion doesn't take place in the next three or four days, you think they will relax?"


"Yes, sir," Pickering said. "I spoke with Captain McCoy on the radio shortly before I came here. He said the North Koreans on the islands were not in radio contact with the mainland. So they could not have reported they were under attack by U.S. and Royal Marines. He believes the decep-tion worked."


"Royal Marines?"


"Yes, sir. From HMS Jamaica. And HMS Charity pro-vided naval gunfire for the assaults."


"So Admiral Matthews also felt D Minus One for the as-sault on the islands was not a good idea," MacArthur said. "I wonder why he didn't come to me with his objections."


"I can only guess that he felt much as I felt, sir."


MacArthur looked at him for a long moment, then asked, thoughtfully, "We have no idea what will happen between now and the invasion, do we?"


"No, sir. But McCoy feels-and I concur-that if there is an attack on the islands, and we refrain from using gunfire from the Charity to repel it, it would lend credence to the idea that the whole thing was a South Korean operation, nothing more."


"In which case, we would lose the islands."


"Not necessarily, sir. There're thirty South Korean po-lice already on the islands, and we intend to reinforce them. If an attack doesn't come for several days, We should have enough South Koreans in place to repel anything but a major effort."


"That's a pretty iffy situation," MacArthur said. "So iffy that I don't consider it wise to throw this equation-what if we already held the islands?-into the last-minute plan-ning just yet. Right now, the fewer people who know about this, the better, and we will take things as they develop. Wouldn't you agree, Fleming?"


"Yes, sir."


Don't tell me that's it?


We're back to "Fleming"? And he just wants to sit on this, "take things as they develop " ?


"Would you like another little drop before we go into supper, Fleming?" the Supreme Commander asked. "Or not?"


"I think another one would go down nicely, sir. Thank you."


[FIVE]


TOKCHOK-KUNDO ISLAND


0530 26 AUGUST 1950


"I can stay," Lieutenant David Taylor, USNR, said to Cap-tain Kenneth R. McCoy, USMC. "Kim is as good a skipper for the Wind of Good Fortune as I am, and Major Kim will be aboard."


"What, are there two last names in all of Korea-Kim and Lee?" Master Gunner Ernest W. Zimmerman observed rhetorically.


Taylor and McCoy chuckled.


"Don't let this go to your head, Taylor," McCoy said. "But I disagree, and right now we can't afford to get in trouble with the Wind of Good Fortune. You go. We'll be all right."


"Says the eternal optimist," Zimmerman said.


"The sooner we get the militia off the islands, and Kim's national police on them, the better off we're going to be," McCoy said.


"What makes you so sure there's going to be more na-tional police?" Zimmerman asked.


"Because we now hold the islands, and I don't think any national police commander would want to take the chance of becoming known as the guy who was responsible for us losing them again, simply because he was afraid to rein-force them."


Zimmerman's shrug indicated he accepted the logic.


"I wish we could have kept the Limeys," Zimmerman said. "At least the boats."


"They couldn't swim back to the Charity," McCoy said. "They left us one of their boats, and the radio..."


"But not the guy to drive it," Zimmerman argued.


"... and we'll have to do with that," McCoy went on, ig-noring him. And then he changed his mind.


"I want you to have this straight in your mind, Ernie, so I'll go over it one more time. There is no way we can hold any of these islands if the North Koreans really want to take them back. And if they tried they would become damned curious if we put up a hell of a fight-"


"So what we're going to do is hope they stay stupid," Zimmerman interrupted.


"You're getting close to the line, Ernie," McCoy said very coldly. "What we're going to do is when they send a couple of boats-and they will-to see what happened on Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do, is have the militia fire on them with rifles. They may get lucky-none of the militia can really shoot, and all they have is the Japanese Arisakas-and kill a couple of the NKs. But even if they don't, bullets will be flying, and nobody likes that. The first time that happens, the NKs may pull back. But they'll come back, and when they do, the militia takes a couple more shots at them, and then takes off into the hills. The NKs, we hope, will take a look around, see no evidence of anybody but Koreans being there, and maybe, maybe, go into the hills after them. More likely, they'll just get back in the boats. They won't have enough men, we don't think, to leave enough men on the islands to garrison them. And why should they? There's nothing on the islands but a bunch of South Koreans armed with some Jap rifles, piss-ing in the wind against the inevitable triumph of the Armies of Socialism. Their misguided brethren can be left there to be dealt with later, by somebody else."


"And when they come here? They'll know Americans are here."


"We'll deal with that when it happens," McCoy said. "And pray it doesn't happen in the next two weeks. What we have to do now is buy time. You got all that straight, now?"


"I got it," Zimmerman said.


"What I was hoping to get, Mr. Zimmerman, was the ex-pected response of a Marine who has been given an order."


Zimmerman met his eyes.


"Aye, aye, sir," he said.


"Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman."


"Jesus, Killer, all I was doing was asking."


"I'll leave you lovebirds now," Lieutenant Taylor said.


"With a little luck, I'll be back in forty-eight hours."


"With fresh eggs, chickens, and bread, right?" Zimmer-man asked.


"With fresh eggs, chickens, and bread," Taylor said.


He saluted, which surprised McCoy, and walked down onto the wharf, gestured to the crew of the Wind of Good Fortune to let loose her lines, and climbed aboard. The ebbing tide immediately started to pull her away from the wharf and toward the Flying Fish Channel, even before Taylor made it to the stern and started her engine.


"Can I say something?" Zimmerman said.


"Why not?"


"Remember Guadalcanal? The Navy dumped the First Division on the beach, and then they took off with the heavy artillery and the rations, leaving the Division on the beach?"


"I remember hearing something about that," McCoy said.


"I used to wonder how those guys felt about getting dumped on some island and watching the Navy sail away. Now I know."


[SIX]


U.S. NAVY BASE SASEBO


SASEBO, KYUSHU, JAPAN


1500 5 SEPTEMBER 1950


LST stands for Landing Ship, Tank, which means the ves-sel was designed to deposit tracked armored fighting vehi-cles directly onto beaches. When approaching a beach, the less draft-the portion of the vessel extending underwa-ter-the better. So the design for the LST had provided for a flat bottom. It was known by the Naval architects, of course, that a flat-bottomed oceangoing vessel was, in any but the calmest of waters, going to toss and turn and twist and otherwise move in such a manner that passengers aboard were liable to be very uncomfortable and possibly, even probably, suffer mal de mer, but passenger comfort was not a design criterion, and getting tanks as close to the beach as possible was.


The first Marine of B Company, 5th Marines, to suffer mal de mer became nauseous ten minutes after LST-450 left Pusan for Sasebo. By the time LST-450 tied up at Sasebo, all but three members of B Company had suffered mal de mer to one degree or another, including Captain Howard Dunwood, USMCR, the company commander.


He found this both depressing and professionally humil-iating. A commanding officer tossing his cookies countless times hardly stands as an example for his men to follow.


The commanding officer of LST-450, Lieutenant John X. McNear-a thirty-year-old naval reservist who six weeks before had been the golf professional at Happy Hollow Country Club, Phoenix, Arizona-extended to Captain Dunwood the privilege of his bridge, and between bouts of nausea, Captain Dunwood learned from Lieutenant McN-ear that while this-the weather, the seas-was pretty bad, it was nothing like the weather he had experienced sailing the sonofabitch from San Diego, California, to Pusan.


He also informed Captain Dunwood that their destina-tion was the U.S. Navy Base, Sasebo, Japan.


This caused Captain Dunwood to think that at Sasebo, his company would be brought back up to strength-Baker was down to 101 men and three officers, including Captain Dunwood-and that they would probably be participating in the supposedly secret invasion of some port-Inchon, he had heard-up die Korean peninsula.


He was very curious, however, about why-literally on the pier at Pusan, about to board one of the attack trans-ports-Baker Company had been separated from the bat-talion and ordered aboard the LST.


It was only scuttlebutt, of course, but the word on the pier had been that the attack transports were headed for Yokohama, near Tokyo. If that was so, why was Baker Company going to Sasebo?


Captain Dunwood had unpleasant memories of Sasebo.


It was at Sasebo that that candy-ass "Marine" captain who had done the job on his finger had debarked from the air-craft in his splendidly tailored uniform.


Lieutenant McNear couldn't even hazard a guess about why Baker Company was going by itself on LST-450- which could have easily transported, for the relatively short voyage, four times that many men-or what would happen to them in Sasebo. His own orders were to remain in Sasebo until further orders; he had expected to be or-dered right back to Pusan.


On docking at Sasebo, Baker Company was marched into an aircraft hangar that had been hastily converted to a temporary barracks by the installation of long rows of fold-ing canvas cots, a row of toilets, and a row of showerheads.


The enlisted Marines were stripped, showered, and then given a rudimentary physical examination-which in-cluded a "short-arm inspection" to detect gonorrhea, which showed, in Captain Dunwood's judgment, that the Navy had no fucking idea what was going on in Korea-and then were issued three sets of underwear and stockings and two sets of new utilities. Privates through corporal were then given a partial pay of twenty dollars, sergeants and up of thirty, and officers of fifty.


Baker Company was then informed that, due to the spe-cial circumstances, the Officer Commanding Sasebo Naval Base had waived the standing uniform regulations, and they would be permitted to have liberty in Sasebo from 1700 until 2330.


A Navy chaplain and a Navy surgeon then spoke almost emotionally about the dangers to body and soul the Marines would encounter in Sasebo, unless they remem-bered their mothers and other female loved ones who were waiting for them at home and trusted them to behave like the Christian-or Jewish, as the case might be-gentlemen they were supposed to be.


This was followed by a twenty-minute color motion pic-ture of individuals in the terminal stages of syphilis, and of other individuals whose genitalia were covered with suppurating scabs. Captain Dunwood had seen the film before, at Camp Drake, when he had first arrived in Japan, and at Camp Pendleton, California, when he reported on active duty.


Then a bus appeared to take whichever of the Marines desired to avail themselves of a little local culture to town.


Captain Dunwood then debated whether it would be wiser to take dinner in the mess, which had a section for officers, but no intoxicants, or in the Officers' Club, which did. If he went to the O Club, and had a couple of drinks, and that candy-ass sonofabitch who'd done the job on his finger was there, he was likely to get himself in trouble.


A couple of drinks and the sudden insight-If I do knock out some of the bastard's teeth, which he deserves, the fucking finger's still not right, what are they going to do to me, send me to Korea?-saw Captain Dunwood take both his dinner and breakfast the next morning in the Officers' Club.


He did not see the candy-ass sonofabitch during either meal, and couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not.


At 0800 their first morning ashore at Sasebo, two Ma-rine officers, a major and a lieutenant, and a technical ser-geant, came into the "temporary barracks," ordered guards posted at all doors, set up a blackboard and a tripod, and announced they were from the G-3 section of what was now the First Marine Division, and that they were here to brief Baker Company on its very special role in the first amphibious invasion by the United States Marine Corps since World War II.


Using maps-and the surprisingly skillful technical ser-geant, who drew on the blackboard whatever needed to be illustrated-it was explained to the men and officers of Baker Company that to reach the landing beaches at In-chon, the invasion fleet would have to traverse the Flying Fish Channel, and that in the Flying Fish Channel were two islands, Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do.


These islands, the major went on in a manner that reminded Captain Dunwood of the district sales manager of the Chrysler Corporation urging the salesmen to greater heights, were so located that any artillery on them could be brought to bear on ships of the invasion fleet moving down the Flying Fish Channel.


This situation, of course, could not be permitted. Com-mencing at 0400 14 September, both islands (and other is-lands in the immediate vicinity) would be brought under an intense naval artillery barrage by various vessels of the in-vasion fleet, probably including the battleship USS Mis-souri, which had been hastily demothballed and rushed to Japan from the West Coast.


Whether or not the Missouri actually turned its fifteen-inch naval cannon on the islands, the briefing officer had said, there was enough firepower on the other men-of-war, cruisers, and destroyers to wipe the islands clean. Com-pany B should encounter virtually no resistance when they went ashore on Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do.


That was so much bullshit, Captain Dunwood believed. He had gone ashore at Tarawa and Iwo Jima, and on each occasion had been assured that following the massive pre-invasion barrages of naval artillery to be laid on those is-lands, resistance would be minimal.


He of course kept his personal-or was it, he wondered, professional?-opinion to himself, and went so far as to correct another Marine, who had also been on Okinawa, who said, "Bullshit, I've heard that before" aloud when told of the awesome resistance-destroying naval artillery barrage to be laid down.


The next five days, said the major from First Marine Di-vision G-3, would be devoted to training Baker Company for, and equipping it for, the seizure of the islands of Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do in the Flying Fish Channel.


Then they would reboard LST-450 and sail for the chan-nel itself.


The training was good-Captain Dunwood had to admit that-and it was necessary. It had been a long time since anybody moved from an LST into a Higgins boat, and some of his men had never done so.


Captain Dunwood took dinner every night in the O Club, but he never saw the candy-ass sonofabitch who'd done the job on his finger so long as he was at Sasebo. But he often thought about him, and hoped he would.


Chapter Twenty-Two


[ONE]


TOKCHOK-KUNDO ISLAND


1530 13 SEPTEMBER 1950


The last message from General Pickering to McCoy-with the date and time stamp 1200 12 Sep-had included the cryptic line "will be out of town for the next few days," which McCoy correctly interpreted to mean that he was leaving Tokyo to board the command ship USS Mount McKinley.


That suggested the invasion was still on, that there had been no delays. Taylor had told him that because of the tides, the only time and date the invasion could take place was in the early-morning hours of 15 September.


With that criterion, if there had been serious problems in mounting the invasion, the options available had not included a delay while the problem was being solved. Rather, the options had been to solve the problem, live with it, or call the invasion off. The invasion, McCoy was sure, was on.


And, in the absence of word to the contrary, that meant the D Minus 1 assault on Taemuui-do, Yonghung-do, and Tokchok-kundo itself was on.


Over the past week, as Major Kim had infiltrated na-tional police onto Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do, he had exfiltrated the militia. That hadn't been nearly as difficult as McCoy thought it would be. The militia had been local fishermen before being issued Arisaka rifles and bandoliers of ammunition and told what was expected of them.


With the arrival of the national police, they had become local fishermen again, turned the weapons over to the na-tional police, and left. For example, the small local fishing boats that touched ashore during the day at Nae-ri with two fishermen aboard left with three. Or four.


McCoy had been personally uncomfortable with militia, since he thought of them as-knew they were-civilians, and his entire life in the Corps had taught him to keep civil-ians out of the line of fire.


Now he was personally uncomfortable with the notion of just over 120 national policemen on the three islands they held. Intellectually, he understood they were more like gendarmerie, a paramilitary force, organized and trained more like soldiers than policemen, but emotion-ally, Captain K. R. McCoy, USMCR, thought of them as "Kim's Cops."


And if the artillery started landing, as it inevitably would unless Pickering could get MacArthur to call it off, Kim's Cops were going to get blown off Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do. Major Kim's assurances to McCoy that he had instructed his men precisely what to do if they came under naval gunfire, and that he was sure they would be all right, did absolutely nothing to reassure McCoy.


Privately, he agreed with what Zimmerman had to say after Kim had given his "I have given the men precise in-structions" speech and then gone off somewhere.


"Step Three," Zimmerman had said, "bend over, with your hands over your ears and your ears between your knees. Step Four, kiss your ass goodbye."


"Come on, Ernie," McCoy had said. "Kim's a good offi-cer. He's done a good job."


"Yeah," Zimmerman admitted. It was true.


By the time the North Koreans had made their first inves-tigation of the village of Nae-ri, for example, Kim had man-aged to infiltrate enough national policemen and exfiltrate enough of the militia so that seventy percent of the "fisher-men" the North Koreans had seen as they nosed their thirty-five-foot power launch into the harbor were in fact national policemen-


-who knew how to use their Japanese Arisaka rifles, and killed or wounded three of the twenty North Korean soldiers on the launch before it could be turned around and gotten out of the line of fire.


The launch didn't come back for two days, and when it put troops ashore, it found Nae-ri deserted.


The launch left a six-man squad under a corporal at Nae-ri, and then went to the village of Oe-ri, at the southern end of the island, where they landed unopposed. They left an-other six-man squad at Oe-ri, and sailed off confident of having restored Socialist Rule.


Kim's Cops had had the North Korean troops at Nae-ri disarmed and trussed and bound for shipment out aboard the next small fishing boats before the power launch had reached Oe-ri, and the NKs left at Oe-ri disarmed and trussed and bound fifteen minutes after the power launch left the harbor.


It took the North Koreans three days to discover that all was not right in Nae-ri, and when they sailed back into that port, they were brought under a hail of fire that killed three more of their troops before the lieutenant in charge with-drew to reassess the situation.


With slight variations, the same scenes had played at Taemuui-do and Taebu-do. Both islands provided suffi-cient resistance for the North Koreans to have to really consider whether massing enough troops to overcome it would be worthwhile, or-since all it seemed to be was a group of misguided capitalist lackeys-whether it would be best to wait and see what happened.


It had been what McCoy had told Major Kim he wanted to happen, and it had happened, almost entirely because of Kim's control of his men.


And now, unless the D Minus 1 assault on the channel islands was called off, the national police were going to get blown away by a phrase Zimmerman confessed he never understood: "friendly fire."


The other thing that was worrying McCoy was that there had been no North Korean investigation at all of Tokchok-kundo. Not one boat, of any size, had nosed into their harbor, much less one of the thirty-five-foot power launches.


There were, McCoy decided, several possible reasons for that. One was that Tokchok-kundo was the farthest is-land from the NK positions on the mainland, except for the lighthouse island, and that was really not an island but a large rock jutting out of the water.


It was also possible that Tokchok-kundo was on a list, to be investigated, and if necessary-from their point of view- neutralized and pacified after Taemuui-do, Yonghung-do, and Taebu-do.


And it was also possible that one, or two, or a half-dozen of the friendly local fishermen who had been sell-ing Kim information-or giving it to him-had also sold-or given-to the NKs the information that not only were there a bunch of Americans on Tokchok-kundo, but that they had a boat, and were, among other things, using the island as a temporary holding pen for North Korean prisoners.


McCoy made a joke of it, always smiling when he said, with great pomposity, "I devoutly believe that bad things in-evitably happen, and when they happen, happen at the worst possible time, and therefore, we have to do thus and so."


But the truth was, he devoutly believed just that.


The bad that was inevitably going to happen was a North Korean investigation of the island of Tokchok-kundo, and the worst possible time for that to happen was right now.


So far, they had been lucky. Luck runs out.


The D Minus 1 assault of the islands was apparently on for first thing in the morning. If it wasn't on, there would have been word from General Pickering. The USS Mount McKinley had as good a commo center aboard as-proba-bly better than-the one in the Dai Ichi Building. If he had something to say to them, George Hart would have heard it.


In this case, no news was bad news.


There was only one slim chance to avoid the gunfire: When the warships steamed up to the Flying Fish Channel in the early hours of tomorrow morning, the lighthouse had to be showing light.


The lighthouse keeper that Kim had talked about had not been on Tokchok-kundo when McCoy and Taylor arrived, so to get it up and running the way it should be was out of the question, but there was plenty of diesel fuel available, and diesel fuel burns.


Captain McCoy called an Officers' Call of his staff. It convened in the captain's cabin of the Wind of Good For-tune. Present were Lieutenant Taylor, Captain Hart, and Master Gunner Zimmerman.


"I have reason to believe the North Koreans may come into port tonight, probably just before dark," McCoy began.


"Where'd you get that, Killer?" Zimmerman asked, cu-riously.


My worst-thing-at-the-worst-time theory, Ernie.


"I thought you knew, Mr. Zimmerman," McCoy said. "God tells me things."


"Oh, Jesus Christ, McCoy!" Taylor said, half in disgust, half laughing.


"And there have been two changes of plan," McCoy said. "The first is that if they do come in, we're going to have to kill everybody on board, or sink the launch, prefer-ably both."


"Not just run them off, to come back and play later?" Taylor asked.


"The minute they come in the harbor, they're going to see the boat," McCoy said. "So the first thing we shoot on the boat is wherever the radio is likely to be, and anybody who looks like he has a microphone."


"Why are they going to see the boat?" Hart asked.


"Because the camouflage will be off it."


"Oh?"


"Because you and me, Hart, the moment we finish with the NKs, are going to go to the lighthouse. Maybe, just maybe, if that's lit up in the wee hours of the morning, they won't lay naval gunfire on the islands."


"No, you're not," Zimmerman said.


"What did you say, Mr. Zimmerman?" McCoy snapped icily.


"Hart and me'll go to the lighthouse," Zimmerman said. "We'll take two of the guys with us." He paused, then went on: "Who do you want to be here if the general gets on the radio?" Zimmerman said. "You or me?"


"Taylor will be here."


"He's right, Ken," Taylor said. "You can't leave here. But I don't think Ernie should, either. Hart and I can han-dle the lighthouse if you give us two men, and Ernie can work the radio."


"For what it's worth, I vote with the Navy," Hart said. "I'm a little uncomfortable with the idea of Killer steering me around in the boat in the dark."


"Okay," Taylor said. "That's settled. We just had a vote."


"A vote?" McCoy said. "What does this look like, Con-gress?"


"What I'd like to know, Ken," Taylor said, ignoring him, "is how you can be so sure the NKs are going to suddenly show up."


"I've got a gut feeling," McCoy admitted. "That's all."


"That's good enough for me, Killer," Zimmerman said, matter-of-factly. "I will go alert the troops to prepare to re-pel boarders."


He got up and walked out of the cabin.


Hart and McCoy looked at each other.


"You stick by the radio, George," McCoy ordered. `Tell Kim to turn the engine on and leave it running. Maybe, with a little luck, we'll hear from the general, and none of this John Wayne business will be necessary."


Hart nodded, and then said, "Aye, aye, sir."


The John Wayne business proved to be necessary. Twenty minutes later, as Technical Sergeant Jennings was hauling the camouflage netting off the boat, the lookout posted on the end of the wharf suddenly started to run down the wharf toward the shore.


Jennings waved at him to stay where he was, and after another half-dozen steps, the lookout jumped to one side of the wharf and concealed himself in the rocks.


Jennings dropped the camouflage net and jumped ashore, and, bent double, ran into the alley between the closest two houses. He ran behind the houses until he came to the one where he thought Captain McCoy would be.


He wasn't.


He ran to the next house.


McCoy was there, taking up the squatting firing position with his Garand as if he were on the range at Camp LeJeune.


"Captain!"


"I see them, Jennings," McCoy said.


Jennings looked through the window, and for the first time saw the boat, and the North Korean soldiers in then-cotton uniforms manning what looked like an air-cooled.50 on her bow.


The partially uncovered boat caught their attention, and they fired a short burst at it.


"Shit," McCoy said. "I was hoping they'd try to capture it intact!"


Then his Garand went off, and then again, and then again, and Jennings saw the two Koreans on the machine gun fall, one backward, as if something had pushed him, and the other just collapse straight downward.


"If you remember how to use that rifle, Sergeant," Mc-Coy said, "now would be a good time."


[TWO]


ABOARD LST-450


37 DEGREES 11 MINUTES NORTH LATITUDE,


125 DEGREES 58 MINUTES EAST LONGITUDE


THE YELLOW SEA


1615 13 SEPTEMBER 1950


LST-450 was now hobbling in a wide circle in the Yellow Sea about fifty miles off the lighthouse marking the en-trance to the Flying Fish Channel. She was alone, in the sense that she was not escorted by-under the protection of-a destroyer or any other kind of warship, but there had always been some sort of aircraft more or less overhead since she had sailed from Sasebo, and the farther north they had moved, there seemed to be more ships just visible on all sides of her.


Not a convoy, Captain Howard Dunwood, USMCR, had reasoned, although there certainly was a convoy out there someplace, surrounded by men-of-war. What he was looking at were ships of the invasion fleet who someone had judged did not need protection as much as some other ships-an LST was not as valuable as an air-craft carrier or an assault transport, obviously-and had been placed, for the time being, far enough from where the action was likely to occur to keep them reasonably safe.


After reviewing with his men for the umpteenth time the role Baker Company was to play in the Inchon invasion, Dunwood turned them over to the first sergeant and went to the bridge. He would have a cup of coffee with the captain before the evening meal was called.


The major sent to Sasebo from Division G-3 had been- as Dunwood expected he would be-a bullshitter, but the more Dunwood thought about what Baker Company was going to be expected to do, the more he came to believe the major had been right about one thing. Baker Company's role in the invasion was going to be critical.


You just can't sail large unarmored vessels slowly past artillery, and that's exactly what was going to happen un-less Baker Company could (a) seize the islands, and (b) hold them against counterattack long enough for the Navy to get some cruisers and destroyers down the channel past them.


And the more often Baker Company rehearsed its role, the more Dunwood was sure that Division G-3 had come up with a pretty good plan to do what had to be done, and that the plan-now changed by what they'd learned in re-hearsal-was now as good as it was going to get.


What was going to happen now was that during the hours of darkness-probably meaning as soon as it really got dark-LST-450 would end its circling and move to a position just off the lighthouse marking the entrance to the Flying Fish Channel.


There, it would rendezvous with five Higgins boats put into the water from the USS Pickaway (APA-222).


Starting at 0330 the next morning-14 September-af-ter they had had their breakfast, Company B would begin to transfer from LST-450 to the Higgins boats. There would be twenty men and one officer on three of the boats, and twenty men under the first sergeant on the fourth, and twenty men under a gunnery sergeant on the fifth.


The naval gunfire directed at the channel islands would begin at 0400 and end at 0430. As soon as it lifted, the Hig-gins boats would enter the Flying Fish Channel, move down it, and occupy, first, Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do Islands, and then, depending on the situation, other islands in the immediate vicinity.


They would then establish positions from which they could defend the islands from enemy counterattack. That was the plan.


What Captain Dunwood privately believed would hap-pen was that when the Higgins boats appeared off Taemuui-do and Yonghung-do, North Korean troops would come up from the underground positions in which they had been-successfully-shielding themselves from the naval gunfire, unlimber their machine guns, and fire upon the Higgins boats approaching their shores.


Captain Dunwood's experience had been that light ma-chine guns (the Japanese rough equivalent of the U.S..30 caliber) would sometimes penetrate the sides of a Higgins boat and that heavy machine guns (the Japanese rough equivalent of the U.S..50 caliber) almost always would do so.


With the result that if the projectiles did not immediately encounter a body inside the boat, they would often ricochet around the interior until they did.


To take his mind off that unpleasant probability for himself and his men, Captain Dunwood called to mind again the face of that candy-ass "Marine" captain who'd dislocated his finger, and was at that very moment proba-bly having a predinner cocktail with his wife, the gen-eral's daughter, in the O Club at Sasebo. The sonofabitch had probably heard there were some real Marines on the base and been smart enough to make himself scarce while they were there.


Lieutenant John X. McNear, USNR, waved Dunwood onto the bridge.


"My orders are pretty open," McNear volunteered. " `The hours of darkness' is a pretty vague term. I was thinking I'd wait until about 2100 and then start edging over."


"I was wondering," Dunwood said, as he helped himself to coffee.


"I'm supposed to check in with ComNavForce-the Mount McKinley-when I leave here. I expect that I'd hear from them soon enough if they thought I should have left earlier."


"I'm sure you would," Dunwood replied.


"Bridge, Radio," the intercom metallically announced.


McNear pressed the lever beside his chair.


"Go, Sparks," he said.


"Skipper, I'm getting an Urgent from ComNavForce."


"Well, then, when you have it typed up and logged in, why don't you bring it to the bridge?" McNear said, and turned to Dunwood. "See, I told you."


Two minutes later, the radio operator, a nineteen-year-old in blue dungarees, came onto the bridge and handed McNear a sheet of typewriter paper.


McNear read it and handed it to Dunwood.


SECRET


URGENT


1530 13 SEP 1950


FROM COMNAVFORCE


TO LST-450


REFERENCE OPS ORDER 12-222


PARA III B 6. IS CHANGED TO READ AS FOLLOWS:


LST-450 WILL DROP ANCHOR AT POSITION 23-23 NLT 0400 15 SEPTEMBER 1950 AND RENDEZVOUS WITH


LANDING CRAFT FROM USS PICKAWAY.


REMAINER OF ORIGINAL PARA III B 6 IS DELETED AS IS ALL OF PARA III B-7.


FURTHER AMENDMENTS TO FOLLOW.


END


SECRET


"What's it mean?" Captain Dunwood asked. "You saw where it said the fifteenth?" McNear asked. Dunwood nodded.


"It used to read the fourteenth, tomorrow morning," Mc-Near said. "For reasons ComNavFor has not chosen to share with me, it means he has changed his mind. Or MacArthur himself has. Specifically, it means we don't have to go to the mouth of the Flying Fish Channel until the day after tomorrow, and when we get there, you don't have to get in the Higgins boats-that we just sit there un-til they make up their minds what to do with us," the cap-tain said.


[THREE]


ABOARD LST-450


37 DEGREES 36 MINUTES NORTH LATITUDE,


126 DEGREES 53 MINUTES EAST LONGITUDE


THE YELLOW SEA


0320 15 SEPTEMBER 1950


As oceangoing vessels go, LSTs are not very large, and LST-450 was moving at steerage speed, so ordinarily she would not be thought to be posing much of a threat to other vessels operating in the vicinity of the mouth of the Flying Fish Channel.


However, to the coxswain of one of the five Higgins boats bobbing in the water, the bulk of the LST approach-ing them, even barely moving, was a bit disturbing.


"Fuck him," the twenty-one-year-old coxswain of the nearest boat said to no one in particular, and then took ac-tion that he considered to be necessary and of paramount importance to the safety of his vessel and crew.


He took a powerful searchlight from its compartment, turned it on, and shined it directly at the bridge of LST-450.


"We're dead ahead of you, you dumb fuck!" the coxswain said. "See us now?"


On the bridge of LST-450, the sudden very bright light coming out of the blackness literally blinded the master, the helmsman, and Captain Howard Dunwood, USMCR.


"Full astern!" Captain McNear ordered. "Keep your eyes closed until that fucking light goes out! Where the fuck were the lookouts?"


"What the hell was that?" Captain Dunwood asked, his eyes tightly closed. He now saw an almost painful red ball, which took a long time to fade, even after the white light went out.


"I think we were just about to run over the Higgins boats," McNear said.


In the next few minutes, it became apparent to Captain Mc-Near that he had two choices regarding maintaining his po-sition-three, if dropping anchor was included, something he did not want to do under any circumstances. One was to put his ship into reverse and try to hold it against the heavy tide now moving northward into the Flying Fish Channel. Backing any vessel is difficult, and backing an LST is very difficult. He elected his other option.


He went to his flying bridge and picked up the bullhorn.


"Ahoy, the Higgins boats, I am about to turn 180, into the current."


There was no reply.


"Anybody out there?" Captain McNear called over the bullhorn.


"We heard you, Captain," a voice unaided by a bullhorn replied, faintly, but audibly.


"Bring her around 180 to port," McNear ordered, as he went back on the bridge, and himself took over the controls to quickly turn his ship around.


"Hey, look at that!" Captain Dunwood called in surprise.


"Not now, for Christ's sake, Howard!" McNear said, an-grily, disgustedly.


Captain Dunwood, more than a little embarrassed, fell silent, and then after a moment left the bridge and stood on the flying bridge.


And then, Captain McNear, as the bow of his ship fin-ished its turn, said exactly the same thing Captain Dunwood had said.


"Hey, look at that!"


All along a quarter of the horizon, to port from dead ahead of LST-450, there were white flashes, immediately followed by fiery red glows. Ships-and in some cases, their naval cannon-appeared momentarily in the black-ness, and then a moment later, the sound of projectiles passing overhead became continuous.


He turned to see Captain Dunwood's reaction. Dunwood was nowhere in sight.


Goddamn, now what? Did he fall overboard? Did I col-lide with one of those fucking Higgins boats?


"Take the wheel," McNair ordered. "Hold what we have!"


"Hold what we have, aye, aye, sir," the helmsman said.


McNear found Dunwood leaning on the aft rail of the flying bridge, looking down the Flying Fish Channel.


"Howard, I guess the naval gunfire has commenced," McNear said, dryly.


"Yeah," Dunwood said. But then he added what he had been thinking-this was not the first time he'd heard naval gunfire passing overhead-"but it's not landing on my is-lands. It's landing way the hell and gone down the channel."


"Yeah," McNear agreed thoughtfully.


"And that light over there, the fire, whatever. What's that?" Dunwood asked, pointing.


McNear looked.


"Unless I'm a hell of a lot more lost than I think I am, that's the lighthouse that was supposed to be leveled yes-terday by that massive naval gunfire barrage we heard so much about that didn't come until just now."


"I thought lighthouse lights went, you know, on and off," Captain Dunwood said.


"They rotate," Captain McNear said. "That one's not ro-tating. But that's the lighthouse. Come back inside, Howard, I may need you."


Three minutes later as LST-450's chief boatswain (actu-ally a petty officer second class) reported to Captain McNair that the Higgins boats were tied alongside, and McNair had been debating with himself whether he should make another 180-degree turn so that he would be pointed down the Flying Fish Channel again, the radio operator came onto the bridge with a new Urgent Message from ComNavFor. McNair read it and handed it to Dunwood.


SECRET


URGENT


0335 13 SEP 1950 FROM COMNAVFORCE


TO LST-450


ON RECEIPT YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY DEPLOY FROM USMC LANDING TEAM ABOARD AND LANDING CRAFT


ATTACHED AS FOLLOWS:


ONE HIGGINS BOAT WITH MARINES ABOARD TO FLYING FISH CHANNEL LIGHTHOUSE PURPOSE OF


GARRISONING ISLAND, MAINTAINING EXISTING LIGHTHOUSE FIRE UNTIL DAYLIGHT, AND EVACUATING


USMC PERSONNEL PRESENTLY HOLDING LIGHTHOUSE.


TWO HIGGINS BOATS WITH MARINES ABOARD TO TOKCHOK-KUNDO ISLAND PUR-POSE OF GARRISONING ISLAND, AND EVACUATING USMC PERSONNEL PRESENTLY HOLDING ISLAND.


USMC PERSONNEL EVACUATED WILL BE TRANSPORTED TO USS MOUNT MCKINLEY.


COMNAV FORCE WILL BE ADVISED MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS OF DEPARTURE OR LANDING CRAFT; LANDINGS ON LIGHT-HOUSE AND TOKCHOK-KUNDO ISLAND, AND ETA EVACUEES MOUNT MCKINLEY.


END


SECRET


"What the hell is this all about?" Dunwood asked.


"Howard, I haven't a clue," Captain McNair confessed. "But it looks like somebody beat you to those islands."


Dunwood considered that.


"Yeah," he said, finally. "Maybe all we were was a backup force, in case something went wrong."


"Could be," McNair agreed.


They could have told us that, the sonsofbitches, Captain Dunwood thought, instead of giving us the whole-invasion-depends-on-you-grabbing-those-islands bullshit.


Goddamn the Marine Corps!


Dunwood felt a little better after he told his Marines about the change of orders. After he went through the "Any questions? Anything?" business, Staff Sergeant Schmidt raised his hand.


"Okay, Sergeant?"


"Captain, right after we landed at Pusan, they put out a call for all former Marine Raiders..."


"And?"


"Well, sir, grabbing these islands sounds like something the Raiders would do, sir. Just a thought, Captain."


"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" Dunwood said. "But you're right, Schmidt. Grabbing these islands does sound like something the Marine Raiders would do."


[FOUR]


TOKCHOK-KUNDO ISLAND


0515 15 SEPTEMBER 1950


"Captain, there's an American flag flying on the back of that junk," Staff Sergeant Schmidt called to Captain Howard Dunwood as the two Higgins boats closed on Tokchok-kundo.


"Yeah, I see it. Careful. I don't like the smell of this place."


"I think that's the drying fish, sir," Staff Sergeant Schmidt said.


"Very goddamn funny," Dunwood said. "I'll tell your widow you died with a smile on your face. Now be careful, goddamn it!"


The Higgins boat touched shore. The ramp fell onto the rocky shore with a loud clang.


The Marines ran down the ramp and turned right and left, spreading out, weapons at the ready. Captain Dun-wood was in the center of what ultimately was a formation in the shape of a V, holding his carbine in one hand.


"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" a voice shouted, an ob-viously American voice.


A figure appeared. He was in black pajamas, and had a band of the same material around his forehead. He held his hands over his head in a gesture of surrender.


"That's Jennings, Captain," Staff Sergeant Schmidt said.


"You know him?"


"Sir, when they put out the call for Marine Raiders..."


"He was one of them, huh?"


"Yes, sir," Schmidt said. "Jennings?"


"How they hanging, Smitty?" Technical Sergeant Jen-nings inquired.


"You're a Marine Raider, Sergeant?" Captain Dunwood asked. He'd never actually seen a Marine Raider before.


"No, sir, they put the Raiders out of business a long time ago. But it's like being a Marine, Captain. Once a Raider, always a Raider. There's a bunch of us here."


"You're in charge, Sergeant?"


"No, sir," Jennings said.


"I am," a voice said, and Dunwood saw another charac-ter in black pajamas with a black headband, his hands over his head in gesture of surrender. A Garand was hanging from his shoulder, and he had some kind of knife strapped to his wrist.


"You're a Marine officer?"


"Captain K. R. McCoy, USMCR, at your service, sir."


Captain Dunwood looked at Captain McCoy.


He didn't look much like what Dunwood thought a Ma-rine Raider should look like, but there was something fa-miliar about him.


"Don't I know you?"


"We've met," McCoy said, smiling, and then asked: "How's your finger?"


"I'll be a sonofabitch. You're the candy-ass on the air-plane!"


"Is it safe to put my hands down now?" McCoy asked.


[FIVE]


USS MOUNT MCKINLEY


THE FLYING FISH CHANNEL


0610 15 SEPTEMBER 1950


"Permission to come aboard, sir?" Captain K. R. McCoy inquired of the officer of the deck.


"Granted."


McCoy stepped onto the deck, saluted the OD and the national colors, and then Brigadier General Fleming Pick-ering.


"How are you, Ken?"


"In great need of a bath," McCoy said.


"I don't care how you smell," Miss Jeanette Priestly, of the Chicago Tribune, said. "I'll kiss you anyway."


She kissed his cheek and hugged him enthusiastically.


Pickering greeted every man as he stepped from the lad-der on the deck. The next to the last to come aboard was Technical Sergeant Jennings.


"Jennings," McCoy ordered, and Jennings walked to them.


"Show her," McCoy ordered.


Jennings dug in the pocket of his black pajamas and came out with three aluminum cans of 35-mm film.


"Jennings, in addition to his many other talents," McCoy said, "is an amateur photographer. I told him you'd proba-bly give him a good price for those."


"If they're what I think they are, I damned sure will."


"I couldn't take money," Jennings said.


"The hell you can't," McCoy said.


"I don't know if they came out, Miss Priestly," Jennings said. "But I was in the lighthouse with Mr. Taylor when the barrage started."


"Like I said, Jeanette, a picture like that would be worth a lot of money," McCoy said.


Taylor came aboard last.


"General, I don't know what's going on..."


"The 5th Marines are about to land on Wolmi-do," Pick-ering said.


"I've got some last-minute intel-fresh as of about 0500."


"Then we'll get it and you to General Willoughby," Pickering said.


"Dressed like this, sir?" Taylor said.


"Yes, Mr. Taylor, dressed just like that," Pickering said. "And you come along, too, McCoy."


In the passageway en route to the command center, Picker-ing put his hand on McCoy's arm.


"A heads-up, Ken," he said. "I told General MacArthur about your report."


McCoy seemed surprised.


"And?"


"I don't know, Ken," Pickering admitted. "I can't imag-ine him dumping Willoughby, but he knows. And I think he now believes."


"So you're telling me watch my back again?"


"Let me put it this way, Ken. Look surprised when MacArthur tells you he and the Commandant have decided you're entitled to put on the gold leaf again and I'm sure he'll tell you."


"What's MacArthur got to do with that?"


"He personally messaged the Commandant. Had a num-ber of nice things to say about you."


"And you had nothing to do with that?"


"I'm a little ashamed-I should have done something about it a long time ago-to admit he beat me to it," Pick-ering said. "Anyway, it's effective today, Major McCoy."


General of the Army Douglas MacArthur was leaning on the map table in the command room, supporting himself on his hands, with his staff around him jockeying for position.


Pickering had the thought that it looked not unlike pho-tographs he had seen of Hitler and his generals at Rastenburg.


"Ah," he said as Pickering, Taylor, and McCoy entered the room; "Gentlemen, for those of you who-for reasons I am sure you understand-I was not able to bring into the picture previously, these are the two officers, Lieutenant David Taylor, USN, and Major K. R. McCoy, USMC, who supervised, with great skill and courage, the covert opera-tion I put into play to seize the Flying Fish Channel Is-lands."


[SIX]


STATEROOM B-65


USS MOUNT MCKINLEY


THE FLYING FISH CHANNEL


0915 SEPTEMBER 1950


"Very nice," McCoy said, as he, Taylor, Hart, and Zimmer-man followed Pickering into the stateroom. "I've never been in this kind of officer's country before."


"There're two like this," Pickering said. "You fellows can decide who bunks with who. I put all the luggage in the one next door."


"These are flag officer's quarters," McCoy protested.


"They were assigned to me, and now I'm letting you use them," Pickering said. "The original idea was to put you all in sick bay."


"I thought you got one for you and one for Jeanette," Hart said, sitting down on the bed. "Jesus, that feels good."


"Jeanette batted her eyes at the captain," Pickering said, "whereupon he offered her his cabin, and I moved into General Howe's just before you came aboard."


"Where's he?"


"When last seen, headed for Inchon," Pickering said. "With the announced intention of hitching up with Chesty Puller and his First Marines."


"He must have a death wish," McCoy said.


Pickering picked up on the bitter tone. He started to say something, men changed his mind, and instead went to a metal chest of drawers, the top drawer of which had a combi-nation lock. He worked the combination, opened it, and came out with a bottle of Famous Grouse wrapped in a towel.


"I suspect you can use one of these, Ken," Pickering said. "Or two."


"The last I heard booze aboard ships was an absolute no-no," McCoy said. "And thank you, General, but no."


"Speak for yourself, John Alden," Hart said. "You can hand me that, boss."


Pickering did so, then asked, "What's bothering you, Ken?"


McCoy shrugged.


"El Supremo taking credit for the operation?"


"That didn't surprise me at all," McCoy said. " `Fertig the Crazy Man' became `my brilliant guerrilla leader in the Philippines,' remember?"


"Very well," Hart said.


"I don't know that story," Taylor said.


"I guess what pisses me off is that Willoughby is going to walk," McCoy said. "Isn't he?"


"What did you think was going to happen to him? They'd march him to the door of the Dai-Ichi Building, cut the stars and buttons off his uniform, and toss him into the gutter?"


"That would be one solution," McCoy said, and then said, "Oh, hell, George, hand me that."


"For one thing, Ken, he rendered long and faithful ser-vice to El Supremo...."


"Covering his own ass, I suspect, every step of the way," McCoy said, and took a pull from the neck of the bottle. He handed it to Taylor, who looked for a moment as if he didn't know what to do with it, but then took a pull. And then handed it to Zimmerman.


"Ken," Pickering said, "look at it this way. MacArthur will never completely trust him again. That hurts both of them. MacArthur has learned that somebody he trusted completely was not trustworthy. And Willoughby will know for the rest of his life that the only reason MacArthur doesn't sack him, doesn't publicly humiliate him, is for the good of the 5ervice. And I know Douglas MacArthur well enough to know that's why he's acting as he has. I think he thinks Willoughby will now ask to retire, and he'll let him, and that will be the end of it, without getting into accusa-tions and excuses or denials."


McCoy met Pickering's eyes for a long moment.


"If you say so, sir," he said after a moment.


"That was a speech, Ken, not an order," Pickering said.


McCoy opened his mouth to reply, and there came a knock at the door.


"Who is it?" Pickering asked, and gestured to Zimmer-man to get the scotch bottle out of sight.


"Ship's doctor. Let me in, please," a male voice called.


"This is General Pickering, what is it?"


"Captain Arnold, General. Please let me in."


"Hold your hands in front of your mouths," Pickering ordered softly. "Just a moment, Doctor!"


"What are they going to do if they catch us, boss?" Hart asked. "Send us to bed without our supper?"


It wasn't that funny, but it produced chuckles, and very soon the chuckles were uncontrollable giggles.


Pickering, making a valiant effort not to smile, opened the door to the doctor, who was carrying a small cardboard carton. What the doctor, a silver-haired man Pickering's age, saw were four apparently hysterical men in black pa-jamas sitting on the two beds.


"General," the ship's doctor said, "General MacArthur asked me if I didn't think this was medically indicated for these gentlemen."


He held the box up. It contained twenty-four 1.5-ounce bottles of Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey for medical pur-poses only.


That pushed Pickering over the edge.


"Gentlemen," he said. "General MacArthur thinks you should have a drink." And then he was laughing so hard he had to hold on to the door.


The ship's doctor had practiced medicine long enough, and had been in the Navy long enough, to know when pursu-ing suspicions was neither sound medical nor naval practice.


"I'll leave these with you, General," the doctor said. "I'm sure you will dispense them with discretion."


"Doctor, what about my Marines?"


"You are?" the doctor asked.


"Major McCoy, sir."


Jesus, I said that without thinking. I really must have wanted that gold leaf back. And goddamn it, "Major" sounds good.


"I'll take care of your Marines, Major," the ship's doctor said. "Rest assured of that."


The hysteria-which Pickering had decided was just that, a condition induced by their sudden change from a life-threatening situation to one where they were relatively safe-had almost passed when, five minutes later, Jeanette Priestly knocked on the door of Stateroom B-65.


"I'd hate to tell you what it smells like in here," she said.


"What can we do for you, Jeanette?" Pickering asked.


"I need your influence," she said. "I want to go on the press Higgins boat when it goes to Inchon in two hours."


"And they won't let you go? They say why?"


"Because they don't have the personnel to properly pro-tect me," she said. "I think maybe you owe me, General. I lived up to my end of the bargain."


"Go tell them you've got two Marines," McCoy said. "One of them a field-grade officer."


"Hey!" Pickering said. "How many of those little bottles have you had? You just came back from the war."


"General," McCoy said. "You know she's going whether or not they say she can. And we've done this before. And there're some people I really want to see in Seoul."


"See about what?" Pickering challenged.


McCoy hesitated.


"See about what, Ken?"


"Pick," McCoy said. "They might know where he is."


"That was below the belt, Ken," Pickering said. "How can I say no after that?"


"With respect, sir, I don't think you can."


Pickering exhaled audibly.


"George, grab a quick shower and shave and get into a decent uniform," he ordered, "and then go find whoever's in charge of this Higgins boat for the press, and tell them the CIA will require three spaces on it, and I don't care who gets bumped to provide them."


"Aye, aye, sir," Hart said, and pushed himself off the bed.


[SEVEN]


PRESS


URGENT


FOR CHICAGO TRIBUNE


SLUG MACARTHUR RETURNS SEOUL TO SOUTH KOREAN PRESIDENT SYNGMAN RHEE


BY JEANETTE PRIESTLY


CHICAGO TRIBUNE WAR CORRESPONDENT


SEOUL KOREA SEPTEMBER 29-


AT NOON TODAY, WITH A MESSAGE THAT MESMERIZED HIS AUDIENCE OF SENIOR AMERICAN AND SOUTH KOREAN OFFICIALS, GENERAL OF THE ARMY DOUGLAS MACARTHUR, IN THE NAME OF THE UNITED NATIONS, RE-TURNED THE BATTERED CAPITAL OF THIS WAR-RAVAGED NATION "IN GOD'S NAME* TO ITS PRESIDENT, SYNGMAN RHEE. AS HE SPOKE, THE REVERBERATION OF HEAVY CAN-NON FIRING ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE CITY CAUSED PLASTER AND GLASS TO FALL FROM THE WALLS, CEILING, AND WINDOWS OF THE BULLET-POCKED CAPITOL BUILDING.


MACARTHUR AND RHEE FLEW INTO SEOUL'S KIMPO AIRPORT ABOARD "THE BATAAN" SHORTLY AFTER 10 THIS MORNING, TRAV-ELED ACROSS THE HAN RIVER ON A PON-TOON BRIDGE, AND THEN THROUGH THE DEVASTATED CITY TO ITS BATTERED CAPI-TOL BUILDING. THERE THEY WERE MET BY U.S. AMBASSADOR JOHN J. MUCIO, MAJOR GENERAL EDWARD M. ALMOND, COMMANDER OF THE INVASION, GENERAL "JOHNNIE" WALKER, DEFENDER OF THE PUSAN PERIME-TER AND OTHER SENIOR OFFICERS.


MACARTHUR CONCLUDED HIS BRIEF REMARKS BY INVITING THOSE PRESENT TO JOIN HIM IN OFFERING THE LORD'S PRAYER, AND IM-MEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE CEREMONY, DEC-ORATED BOTH ALMOND AND WALKER WITH THE DISTINGUISHED SERVICE CROSS, THE NA-TION'S SECOND-HIGHEST AWARD "FOR PER-SONAL VALOR IN THE FACE OF THE ENEMY.'


IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT, HE RETURNED TO KIMPO FIELD, BOARDED THE BATAAN, AND FLEW TO TOKYO. EN ROUTE HE SPOKE TO THIS REPORTER MODESTLY OF HIS OWN ROLE IN THE WAR, SAYING THE CREDIT BELONGED ENTIRELY TO THE YOUNG MEN WITH RIFLES IN THEIR HANDS AND THE OFFICERS WHO ACTUALLY LED THEM ON THE BATTLEFIELD.


END NOTHING FOLLOWS


[EIGHT]


THE RESIDENCE OF THE SUPREME COMMANDER UN


COMMAND/ALLIED FORCES IN JAPAN


THE EMBASSY OF THE UNITED STATES


TOKYO, JAPAN


2030 29 SEPTEMBER 1950


"Thank you for coming with me today, Fleming," General of the Army Douglas MacArthur said to Brigadier General Fleming Pickering.


"My God, I was honored to be there," Pickering said. "Thank you for taking me."


"You made your contribution to this campaign," MacArthur said. "You had every right to be there."


"That's unjustified, but thank you," Pickering said.


"I didn't see General Howe there," MacArthur said.


"He was there, sir."


And he said, "Liberated city, my ass. They're still shoot-ing in the city limits," but somehow mentioning that doesn't seem appropriate.


The steward handed Pickering a glass of whiskey.


And it's now incumbent upon me to offer some kind of a toast. But I really can't think of one. This war's not over, and if the Chinese come in, which seems more likely every day, we`ll be up to our ears in a worse mess than we were before Inchon.


He raised his glass nevertheless, and said,


"I propose-"


The door opened and Colonel Huff came in.


"Sir, there's a Lieutenant Colonel Porter to see you."


"Ask him to be good enough to call upon me in the morn-ing," MacArthur said. "Sid, I told you I didn't wish-"


"He's carrying a personal from General Ridgway, Gen-eral."


"And I'll look at it in the morning. Thank you, Sid."


"Sir, the colonel is under orders to put General Ridgway's personal into your hands as soon as possible," Huff persisted.


"Ask him to come in, please," MacArthur said impa-tiently.


A tall, good-looking young officer marched in, saluted, said, "General Ridgway's compliments, General," and handed him a squarish envelope.


"Thank you, Colonel," MacArthur said. "Please be good enough to attend me tomorrow after ten at my headquar-ters."


"Yes, sir," Colonel Porter said, saluted again, did an about-face, and marched out of the room.


MacArthur tore the envelope open, glanced at it, then read it carefully again. Then he held it out at arm's length and sort of waved it until his wife had taken it from him.


Then he turned his back on Pickering and his wife, took a handkerchief from the hip pocket of his soft-washed khakis, and rather loudly blew his nose.


If I didn't know better, if anyone but Douglas MacArthur did that, I'd say he was crying. I wonder what the hell was in that note?


As if reading his mind, Jean MacArthur handed Picker-ing the note, went to her husband, and put her arms around him.


"Douglas," she said. "Darling, that's simply beautiful!"


Pickering looked at the note.




WASHINGTON, 26 SEPTEMBER 1950


BY OFFICER COURIER


MY DEAR GENERAL MACARTHUR:


UNDER GOD'S GUIDANCE, THE FULL FRUITS OF THE INDOMITABLE COURAGE AND UNSHAK-ABLE PERSEVERANCE OF OUR FORCES SEEM ABOUT TO REACH HARVEST.


THEY WILL ATTEST AGAIN TO THE INCOMPA-RABLE BRILLIANCE OF YOUR UNSURPASSED LEADERSHIP AND JUDGMENT.


THEY WILL DEMONSTRATE AGAIN THE UN-FAILING RESPONSE OF AMERICAN FORCES TO TRUE LEADERSHIP, REGARDLESS OF ODDS.


WHAT A TRIBUTE, TO BE RECORDED IN OUR MILITARY HISTORY TO OUR DEAD AND MAIMED.


SINCERELY,


M. B. RIDGWAY


MATTHEW RIDGWAY


VICE CHIEF OF STAFF


UNITED STATES ARMY


"A wonderful tribute," Pickering said, "and well-deserved."


"Thank you, Fleming," said MacArthur. There was a slight waver in his voice.


Jesus, I was right. MacArthur actually was crying.'


Pickering read the note through again: "indomitable courage," "unshakable perseverance," "true leadership." He thought of McCoy and Zimmerman and Taylor and the South Koreans who had gone with them to the islands, and smiled. All these words applied there, too.


"Regardless of odds." He hadn't heard from McCoy since they'd said goodbye on the Mount McKinley. He'd tried to put Killer's words out of his mind, but he'd failed miserably. "They might know where he is."


Goddamn him. I'm not sure hope is what I want right now.


Pickering felt a slight sting at the corners of his eyes.


Jesus Christ! Two generals, blubbering like babies.


He noticed the glass in his hand and raised it. "I never finished my toast, General," he said.


MacArthur looked at him.


"I'd like to do that now," Pickering went on. `To our men in Korea-wherever they are. God watch over them all."


"I'll drink to that," MacArthur said, and raised his glass to Pickering's.


For a moment, both men were silent. Then they drank, and their talk turned once more to war.


Afterword


There really was a major general, a friend of President Harry S. Truman since their service as captains, whom the President sent to the Far East immediately after the Korean War began, in a role very much like the one the fictional Major General Howe plays in this book. He landed at In-chon on D day, and immediately hooked up with the leg-endary Colonel "Chesty" Puller, USMC.


And there really was a naval reserve lieutenant, Eugene F. Clark, a Mustang like my fictional character Lieutenant David Taylor, USNR, in this book, who did in fact seize the islands in the Flying Fish Channel with the assistance of a handful of Marines, and Korean national policemen.


I learned of Lieutenant Clark's exploits from my friend Ed Ivanhoe, who is the historian cum laude of the Special Operations community, and who was himself involved in Korean War Special Operations. And some others, in other places.


The exploits of the real naval hero also came to the at-tention-from other sources-of the distinguished histo-rian Thomas Fleming. He published an article based on what he had learned. Shortly after it was published, Lieu-tenant Clark's family got in touch with Mr. Fleming and told him that on his return from Korea, Lieutenant Clark, now deceased, had written a book about the Flying Fish Channel operation but never submitted it for publication.


Would Mr. Fleming have a look at it to see if a publisher might be interested? They thought it was a good story. When he read it, so did Mr. Fleming.


Several weeks later-ay he was actually editing the seg-ment of this book that put my fictional character David Taylor on Tokchok-kundo Island-Lieutenant Clark's man-uscript landed on the desk of Putnam's publisher and editor in chief, Neil Nyren.


Putnam published Lieutenant Clark's memoirs of the Flying Fish Channel Operation, titled The Secrets of In-chon.


W. E. B. Griffin


Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina


August 23,2001


The End






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