Under Fire - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,258

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 pajamas 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 PURPOSES 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 pursuing 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 protect 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, RETURNED THE BATTERED CAPITAL OF THIS WAR-RAVAGED NATION “IN GOD’S NAME” TO ITS PRESIDENT, SYNGMAN RHEE. AS HE SPOKE, THE REVERBERATION OF HEAVY CANNON 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, TRAVELED ACROSS THE HAN RIVER ON A PONTOON BRIDGE, AND THEN THROUGH THE DEVASTATED CITY TO ITS BATTERED CAPITOL 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 PERIMETER AND OTHER SENIOR OFFICERS.

MACARTHUR CONCLUDED HIS BRIEF REMARKS BY INVITING THOSE PRESENT TO JOIN HIM IN OFFERING THE LORD’S PRAYER, AND IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE CEREMONY, DECORATED BOTH ALMOND AND WALKER WITH THE DISTINGUISHED SERVICE CROSS, THE NATION’ S SECOND-HIGHEST AWARD “FOR PERSONAL 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

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