an attack anytime from darkness—which means just about now—’til 0300.”
“Yes, sir, we know,” McCoy said.
“This is no place for you, ma’am,” the major said to Jeanette.
“Jeanette Priestly, Chicago Tribune,” she said, with a dazzling smile, and offered the major her hand.
“We have a Korean sergeant who speaks some English,” the major said to McCoy. “I’d like him to talk to your prisoner. ” Then he had a second thought: “Public relations? What are you doing with a prisoner?”
Here we go again.
“Sir, Gunner Zimmerman and I are not public relations,” he said, and handed the major the “Dai-Ichi” orders. “I found it necessary to commandeer her Jeep when Eighth Army didn’t have one for us.”
The major read the orders, his eyebrows rising as he did. “I think we’d better go see the regimental commander, Captain,” he said.
The regimental colonel was a slight man with a mustache. Somehow he had managed to remain dapper despite the heat, the dust and everything else.
“I don’t want to seem inhospitable, Captain,” he said, looking up at McCoy after he’d read the orders. “But we’re a little busy here. Can we cut to the chase? What are two Marine officers doing here with a female war correspondent?”
He, too, had a second thought.
“Fred, ask the lady and the other officer to come in here,” he said to the major. “And bring the prisoner.” He looked at McCoy. “We’re expecting an attack at any time; there will certainly be artillery.”
“Yes, sir,” the major said, and went out of the sandbagged CP.
“That information came from the prisoner, sir,” McCoy said.
The colonel looked at him, waiting for him to go on.
“He’s a major attached to the 83rd Motorcycle Regiment—probably their G-2. He was making a reconnaissance when he was captured by a squad from the 34th Infantry doing the same thing.”
“How do you know this?”
“He told me.”
“You speak Korean?”
“Yes, sir.”
The colonel’s eyebrows rose.
“How’d you get him to talk?”
“I told him that since he was an officer wearing a private’s uniform, he was subject to being shot as a spy.”
“I’m starting to like you, Captain,” the colonel said. “What else did he have to say?”
“He said the attack will start at 0300, with the 83rd Motorcycle Regiment and the 6th Division.”
“And you believe him?”
“I told him if it doesn’t happen at 0300, I’ll have him shot. If it does, I’ll take him to the 24th Division Headquarters and see that he’s treated as an officer prisoner.”
“So you’re not a two-man Marine bodyguard for a female war correspondent?” the colonel asked, smiling.
“No, sir.”
“With those orders, you could be anything. What is your ‘mission’? Your orders are a little vague about that.”
“To see what’s going on here, sir.”
“For General Almond himself?”
“Actually for General Pickering, sir.”
The colonel, as the 34th Regiment’s commander had done, searched his memory back for “Pickering” and came up blank.
“In the Dai-Ichi Building?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where does the lady fit in?”
“Eighth Army didn’t have wheels for us, sir. So I commandeered hers.”
“And brought her along?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you ‘what’s going on,’ ” he said. “Apparently largely based on your intelligence, we expect an attack sometime between right now and 0300. The only signs we’ve had of anything are reports—half a dozen reports—of small groups of North Koreans trying to wade across the Kum River”—he turned to his map and pointed—“in this area.”
He turned back to face McCoy.
“Small groups,” he said. “I think they know we’re short on artillery. You heard about the 63rd Field Artillery getting overrun? . . .”
McCoy nodded.
“. . . and are reluctant to fire what little we have on groups of five or six men. And they’re also aware of the location of our positions. As a ballpark figure, my regiment is holding three times as much line as I was taught was the absolute maximum at Leavenworth,3and there are holes in it. The North Koreans are wading across where, in many cases, it is impossible for us to bring small-arms fire to bear.”
“Can you give us a guide to some of these positions?”
“Why?”
“I’d like to try to get another prisoner or two, sir.”
“I’d like another one, too,” the colonel said. “Particularly since you speak Korean. I can send you up here”— he pointed at the map again—“with Major Allman, my G-3, and one of his sergeants. It’ll be really dark in an hour . . .”
“Thank you, sir.”
“. . . which means that you and the lady will have to remain here for the night. Which means that you had better hope we can