happen to a Marine who was caught on these islands dressed as a Korean national policeman.”
“Realistically, sir, they’d shoot him.”
“I can’t order Marines to do something like this, McCoy. They’ll have to be volunteers, and they’ll have to know what they’re getting themselves into. How do you plan to handle that?”
“Sir, I don’t know, but I’ll bet there’s some old Raiders in the brigade,” Zimmerman said. “They’d volunteer, I’m sure, for something like this, and they’d be ideal.”
“There’d be no way to find them without going through all the records,” General Craig said.
“Sir, what about passing the word that all former Marine Raiders are to report here now?” McCoy asked.
“I said they would have to volunteer, McCoy,” Craig said.
“I will ask whatever old Raiders who show up to volunteer—”
“ ‘For a classified mission, unspecified, involving great personal risk to life?’ ”
“Yes, sir.”
“And if you don’t get a dozen volunteers, then what?”
“We’ll get some, sir, I’m sure,” Zimmerman said.
“Why are you sure?”
“If I’d been a Raider, and somebody gave me a choice between doing a small-unit operation, and what I was going to have to do here . . .”
“Meaning what, Mr. Zimmerman?”
“Saving the Army’s ass, sir,” Zimmerman said, a little uncomfortably. “That’s liable to be really dangerous.”
General Craig seemed about to reply, but didn’t.
After a moment, Zimmerman went on: “And say I come up with four ex-Raiders who are willing to go—”
“You’re going to be the recruiting officer for this, I gather?” Craig interrupted.
“Yes, sir. Captain McCoy’s got other things to do. So if I get four ex-Raiders, I’ll ask them who else they know who would like to go along. What might be a problem is getting their commanding officers to let them go.”
“You get the volunteers, Mr. Zimmerman. I’ll deal with their commanding officers.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Thank you.”
Craig looked at McCoy.
“The idea, then, is to seize this island and make it look as if the South Korean national police did it on their own? Is that about it, McCoy?”
“Yes, sir. And if we do it now, and an invasion doesn’t immediately follow, we think they’ll relax.”
“That’s a long shot, isn’t it?”
“Sir, the alternative is taking the islands on D Minus One. That would really tip them off that an invasion was coming.”
Craig nodded his agreement, then raised his voice: “Sergeant Major!”
The sergeant major walked very quickly down the tent to them.
“Sir?”
“Get on the horn right now. Call the battalions—make sure they know the order came from me—and have them send anybody who was once a Marine Raider here, and right now.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“We’ve been levied for twelve noncoms,” General Craig said. “Ex-Marine Raiders would be ideal, according to Mr. Zimmerman. If he can’t turn up a dozen of them, we’ll have to look elsewhere. He’s also going to need some weapons and ammunition. He’ll tell you what.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Can I ask what he needs them for? For how long?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s classified,” General Craig said. “It’s important, Sergeant Major. I can tell you that much. Some very senior Marines think so, and so do I.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Zimmerman is concerned that their commanders won’t want to give up the kind of really good Marines he has to have.”
“I can deal with that, sir,” the sergeant major said.
“Let’s see how many Raiders we come up with, and play it by ear from there,” General Craig said. “Captain McCoy and Mr. Zimmerman get anything they ask for. Clear?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the sergeant major said.
“Anything else, McCoy?”
“That’s about it, sir. Thank you, very much.”
"Good luck, McCoy,” General Craig said. “You, too, Zimmerman.”
General Craig raised his voice again.
“Colonel Fuster, you wanted to see me?”
Colonel Fuster came down the tent as McCoy, Zimmerman, and the sergeant major went the other way.
The sound-reflecting characteristics of the tent were such that all three heard General Craig say, “Don’t ask me what that was all about, Fuster. I can’t tell you.”
[TWO]
USAF AIRFIELD K-1 PUSAN, KOREA 1635 4 AUGUST 1950
K-1 was a busy airport.
Lieutenant Commander Andrew McDavit, USNR, in his TBM-3G Avenger,7was third in the landing pattern behind a C-54 of the Air Force air transport command, and an R5D of the Naval air transport command. Behind him was a Marine F4-U from the Sicily, then a two-plane flight of USAF P-51 Mustangs, and, he thought, maybe half a dozen other aircraft.
"K-1, Marine Double Zero Four,” the pilot of the F4-U called.
“Double Zero Four, go ahead.”
“I have a fuel warning light blinking at me. Could you get those elephants to let me in ahead of them?”