the lifeboat was cut, and the junk’s helmsman turned her away from the Mount McKinley.
Electric motors whirred and the lifeboat began to rise against the McKinley’s hull, and then was swung inboard.
The American with the bloody compress on his thigh jumped to the deck first.
He winced in pain, saluted the colors aft, then an officer on the deck.
“Permission to board, sir?” he asked.
“Granted,” the officer said, visibly surprised.
A Navy doctor and half a dozen Corpsmen began to take the wounded from the lifeboat and to place them on aluminum stretchers.
“How are you, Major McCoy?” General Edward M. Almond asked. “That is not pro forma. What’s with your leg?”
McCoy saluted him.
“I took a piece of shrapnel, sir,” he said. “I don’t think it’s serious.”
“Take Major McCoy to sick bay,” Almond ordered.
“Sir, with respect, I need to get a message off as soon as I can. Sick bay will have to wait.”
“What sort of a message?”
“We lost our radios, sir,” McCoy said. “I don’t want them mounting a rescue mission when they don’t hear from us.”
Almond turned to Admiral Feeney.
“The Navy can accommodate the major, can it not?” he asked. “Admiral, this is Major McCoy.”
“Welcome aboard, son,” Admiral Feeney said. “If you’re able to walk, I know the way to the radio room.”
“I can walk, sir. Thank you.”
McCoy gave the chief radioman the frequency, then eased himself into a plastic upholstered metal chair before a rack of communications equipment. The chief handed him a microphone and headset.
“Fishbase, this is Flying Fish,” McCoy said into the microphone. “Fishbase, Flying Fish.”
The reply came immediately: “Go, Flying Fish.”
“Flying Fish is three clicks as of 0530.”
“Understand three clicks as of 0530. What are your coordinates? ”
“Aboard a Navy vessel at sea. If Bail Out is under way, cancel. If Bail Out is under way, cancel. Acknowledge.”
“Acknowledge cancel Bail Out. Bail Out was just about to launch.”
“Who is this?”
“Car Salesman.”
“Killer here. Where Fat Kraut?”
“Sasebo.”
“Say again?”
“Fat Kraut Sasebo. Big Daddy en route Sasebo.”
“What’s up?”
“From Big Daddy. Killer will proceed Sasebo ASAP. Acknowledge.”
“Acknowledge proceed Sasebo ASAP. What’s up?”
“Little Daddy is in Sasebo. Lady Friend bought farm. Fat Kraut carrying bad news.”
“Say again?”
“Fat Kraut carrying bad news, Lady Friend bought farm, to Little Daddy in Sasebo.”
“Understand Lady Friend bought farm. Where’s Beaver?”
“Beaver here.”
“Send Beaver Korean Marine. Wait for me. Acknowledge. ”
“Acknowledge Beaver to wait for you at Korean Marine.”
“Contact Wild Bill Junior. Arrange transportation for me Seoul Sasebo. ETA Korean Marine 1200. Acknowledge. ”
“Acknowledge Killer ETA Korean Marine 1200. Wild Bill Junior to arrange transportation Seoul Sasebo.”
“What happened to Lady Friend?”
“Gooney Bird went in on way to Wonsan.”
“Advise Big Daddy I’m en route Sasebo. Acknowledge.”
“Acknowledge advise Big Daddy Killer en route Sasebo.”
“Send replacement crew for Wind on Beaver. We took two KIA, three WIA. Acknowledge.”
“Acknowledge replacement crew on Beaver. How Killer?”
“Killer fine. Mind the store, Car Salesman. Flying Fish out.”
“Fishbase clear.”
McCoy laid the microphone on the desk and took off the headset.
“About the only thing I understood about all that, Major McCoy,” General Almond said, “was ‘Killer fine.’ And that’s just not so. You’re bleeding all over the linoleum.”
He pointed. There was a small puddle of blood on the linoleum under McCoy’s chair.
“Can you make it to sick bay under your own power? Or shall we get you onto a stretcher?” Almond asked.
“I’ve got to get to Wonsan, sir. I’m all right.”
“You’re not going anywhere until they have a look at your leg. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, there’s nothing in there,” Lieutenant Warren Warbasse, MC, USNR, said to Major McCoy, who was lying prone on a medical table in sick bay. “And no serious muscle damage that I can see.”
“They got lucky,” McCoy said. “Hitting something with a mortar from a small boat under way isn’t easy. I think I actually saw the round coming in.”
“A half inch the other way, and what sliced your thigh would not have bounced off,” Dr. Warbasse said.
“Four inches the other way, and I’d be a soprano,” McCoy said.
“The sutures I’m going to put in will disappear,” Dr. Warbasse said. “There is a danger of infection, of course. The penicillin I’ll give you will probably take care of that. You need a day on your back, and when you get up, it will hurt like hell every time you put weight on it.”
“I don’t have time to spend a day on my back. Can you give me something for the pain that won’t turn me into a zombie?”
“I can give you something—reluctantly—that will handle the pain,” Dr. Warbasse said as he started the first stitch. “The