Lieutenant Morgan felt the helicopter shudder, then lurch violently to port. Something shrieked through the red-lit confines of the Sea Stallion's cargo deck, and Morgan remembered hearing somewhere that the skin of a helicopter was so thin it was possible to punch a screwdriver through it with your hand.
"Cav One-Three, declaring emergency!" The pilot was using an emergency radio frequency, but Morgan was hearing the yell over his intercom plug. The helicopter lurched again and Morgan grabbed for a handhold. It felt as though the huge machine was spinning, dipping wildly to one side.
"Mayday! Mayday!" the pilot continued to call. "Cavalry One-Three hit by ground fire. Engine hit, repeat, engine hit! I'm going in!"
"Hold on!" Morgan screamed into the inferno of smoke and noise and darkness. "Brace for a crash!"
Nearly one hundred miles at sea, Admiral Magruder listened to the radio messages relayed by one of the orbiting Hawkeyes. Intruder strikes appeared to have cleared the ZSUs, but at least one of the Cavalry One helos had been badly hit and gone down, well short of Nyongch'on. One Intruder had been shot down, its crew lost among the night-shrouded ridges of North Korea, and the SEALs were out of touch with Homeplate.
Commander Neil leafed through a small stack of TENCAP photos. They showed flames and scars, smoke palls and wreckage. One close-up of Nyongch'on showed bodies sprawled on the ground outside the POW compound.
"You know, it's still not too late to call off the main landings, Admiral," Neil said quietly. His eyes had a glassy, far-away look.
Magruder looked up from his half-full coffee cup. "You sorry son of a bitch!"
Neil blinked rapidly. "Admiral, I didn't mean-"
"You're as bad as those fuzz-brains in Washington, boy. We started this. We're going to finish it."
"Yes, sir."
"We're not leaving our people in there to die."
"No, sir."
"We're not leaving Chimera's crew, we're not leaving the SEALs and Marines, we're not leaving our aviators. Hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
"They all come home, or none of us do."
"Absolutely, Admiral. I… I just thought I should mention the options-"
"Options." He turned away, angry with himself for having lost his temper. "Take a hike, Neil. Get the hell out of my sight."
The staff intelligence officer dropped the stack of TENCAP photos on the table and quietly left the room.
Leaving Admiral Magruder alone with the loneliness, the inner doubts which had threatened to overwhelm him ever since he'd given the order to go.
Everything depended now on the Marines of Cavalry One… and on the Marines about to storm ashore at Kolmo. The issue could still go either way, and there was nothing he could do now to affect the outcome except order an abort. And that would mean failure.
For Magruder, the waiting was always the hardest part.
CHAPTER 27
One engine had failed, but the second GE T64 turbine kept turning, lowering the Sea Stallion to an undignified but relatively gentle touchdown in the rugged country southeast of Nyongch'on-kiji. The helo struck the ground with a lurch, which threw the Marines against one another, but no one was hurt.
Lieutenant Morgan was already standing on the sharply tilted deck as the rear ramp began lowering. A blast of cold air penetrated the cabin. "Move them out, Gunny!"
But Gunnery Sergeant Walters was way ahead of him, grabbing each Marine by the sleeve and propelling him toward the ramp. "On your feet, Second Platoon! I want to see nothing but amphibious green blurs! Go! Go! Go!" With a thunder of boots on metal gratings, the Marines stormed down the ramp clutching their weapons and field gear. Morgan checked to make sure the chopper's crew was out, then followed himself.
Outside, the darkness was relieved by fires burning in the distance. Gunnery Sergeant Walters handed him an M-16. He took it and snicked back the charging handle to chamber a round. "Well, Gunny?"
Walters consulted a map and compass with a small penlight, then pointed. "That way, Lieutenant. Other side of that ridge."
"How far?"
"Two miles, maybe three. Not bad, considering."
Morgan agreed. He studied the map a moment longer. "We took fire from this area here."
"I'd say so, Lieutenant."
Morgan looked up, scanning the darkness. The platoon was clear of the downed helo now, forming up by squads. Northwest, a steep ridge bulked against a sky only just becoming visible in the pre-dawn light. The sun would be up in another ninety minutes. "Hostiles between us and Nyongch'on, then," he said. He sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. "Okay. Have the men saddle up. I don't want to get caught out here in daylight."
"Right."
"Next, ring up Cavalry One-One. Give them our posit and tell them we're coming in. Oh, and you'd better take care of the helo too."
"Already done, sir." There was a dull thump, and flames began washing from the helicopter's cabin. They would leave nothing behind that the enemy could use.
The Marine captain stepped off the ramp and extended his hand. "Captain Ford, Lieutenant," he said, shouting above the rotor noise. "U.S. Marines."
"Welcome, sir." Sikes took the hand. "Good to have the grunts aboard."
"Our pleasure, Lieutenant." The two turned and made their way off the tarmac in a bent-double stoop beneath the slowing blades of the RH-53D. "Always ready to come in and help you Navy pukes out."
Sikes laughed. "We may have bitten off more than even Marines can chew, Captain. What's the situation with Second Platoon?"
"They're down and safe, Lieutenant." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the helicopter. "I was just talkin' to them on the horn. A few cuts and scrapes, but no casualties." He pointed southeast, toward the hills above the camp. "Far side of that ridge, about two miles. They should be here in another forty mikes."
Unless they run into trouble on the way, Sikes thought. Well, perhaps it was just as well to have another forty-some Marines on the loose outside the perimeter.
Three of the four choppers of Cavalry One had touched down safely at the helipad. The ramps were down, and the Marines of the first and third rifle platoons and a weapons platoon ― altogether over one hundred thirty men ― were spilling out across the flame-illuminated tarmac to establish their perimeter. Scattered gunshots and short bursts of fire from the perimeter fence marked skirmishes with the North Koreans still lurking just outside the captured military base.
"Let's have a look at your situation," the captain said as they reached the hangar building that Sikes had commandeered as headquarters. Ford's Marines were already setting up commo gear and a map table. "The Koreans are going to hit us hard, and we have to be ready for them."
"How long until Cavalry Two comes in, Captain?"
Ford gave a tight smile. "Long enough. Jefferson's A-6s are still hammering SAM sites, and we have to make sure there are no more surprises like those ZSUs." He looked at his watch. "And our boys'll be hitting the beaches in another fifty minutes or so. We'll have to hold at least that long."
"Fair enough, Captain. I've got a map over here."
Together, they began planning the defense of Nyongch'on.
Of all the tasks the U.S. Navy is called on to perform, an amphibious assault is without question the most complex, requiring exhaustive planning, perfect timing, and a degree of coordination and cooperation between forces at sea, on shore, and in the air more exacting than in any other arena of modern warfare. As H-hour approached, Admiral Magruder could only watch the ponderous uncoilings of the many-headed beast he'd released, and pray that each head, each movement followed the plan worked out by Colonel Caruso, Admiral Simpson, and himself. With so many men and so much equipment involved, anything could cause disaster: a forgotten bit of planning, the failure of a timetable, or something as ignominious as a traffic jam on the beach.