“That was a bonehead thing to do,” the lieutenant said, coming up beside him and staring at the wreckage. “I hope that was worth it for a bunch of notebooks.”
“I think so. If I had gone back to Stars and Stripes without anything to show for this trip, the editor would have buried me for sure.” Hardy held up his reporter’s tools. Then he brandished the bottle of bourbon that he had retrieved and presented it to the lieutenant with a grin.
“Huh,” the lieutenant said, taking the bottle. “You know what? I was about to chew you out for your sheer stupidity, but now I might just put you in for a medal.”
While the Chinese had remained quiet in the wake of the rain, the tankers were soon put to work in new and unexpected ways. Hardy tagged along to watch.
A couple of tanks had been at the bottom of the hill undergoing servicing before the monsoon began, and now there was little hope of getting them up the muddy road to occupy an enfilade position. It turned out to be a lucky thing.
The days of rain had left the Imjin River badly swollen. In places, the river overran its banks and flooded the river valley. That didn’t much concern the troops occupying the hills. However, the supply road to the MLR and the string of outposts ran through the valley and relied upon a low, narrow bridge to span the Imjin. The brown, turbulent water was now even with the bottom of the bridge, even washing across the floorboards in places. Even so, the bridge still held.
But for how long? Bridge crossings had been limited to one vehicle at a time, so that if the bridge suddenly gave way, an entire convoy wouldn’t be lost. To be sure, every driver held his breath and prayed when it was his turn to make the crossing.
To make matters worse, clumps of debris that included trees and even parts of peasant houses swept down the current and collided with the bridge.
That’s where the tanks came in.
“All right, boys, time for some target practice,” Lieutenant Dunbar announced.
The two spare tanks were maneuvered into position on the riverbank. The two crews were tasked with shooting the larger debris before it could reach the bridge.
Soon, the humid air was filled with the sound of tank fire, the rounds turning the debris into splinters. From time to time, the trajectory caused a round to bounce across the water like a skipping stone. The rounds then went flying off into the valley to explode, terrifying the truck drivers and South Koreans who found themselves on the winding road through that valley. The danger posed by the friendly fire was outweighed by the necessity of saving the bridge.
Watching the tanks unleash their firepower, Lieutenant Dunbar just laughed. “This must be the most unusual duty I’ve seen yet for a tank. Is this the craziest damn war, or what?”
Nearby, a tank fired, resulting in a burst of flame and a gout of water that transformed a drifting tree threatening the bridge into splinters. Hardy clicked his camera shutter at just the right moment to capture the scene on film.
“Crazy,” he agreed.
Still, it was a hell of a lot of fun to watch.
The tanks kept at it well into the night, when a big searchlight was brought in to illuminate targets on the river. Hitting the debris was more challenging at night, but the tank gunners still did an impressive job.
Gradually, Hardy and the lieutenant became aware of the sound of more distant firing. They turned around and saw the flashes of artillery and mortar fire in the hills.
“What’s going on?” Hardy wondered. “That doesn’t sound like our own artillery.”
“So much for it being quiet around here. It looks to me like Outpost Kelly is under attack,” the lieutenant said.
Chapter Thirteen
When the attack on the outpost began, Cole and the rest of his squad were called from their sodden tents to bolster the defensive line. There was always the possibility that the Chinese attack on Outpost Kelly was just a ruse and that their real intent was to punch through the Main Line of Resistance.
“Don’t this beat all. I’ve seen hog troughs that looked better,” Cole muttered, slogging with the others into trenches half-filled with muddy water. They used their helmets to bail out the trenches as if they were on a sinking boat. Most of the men found themselves crouching in the muddy water as the occasional Chinese shell whistled overhead. Keeping dry was hopeless. Keeping the actions and muzzles of their weapons free of mud was challenging.
“Do you think we have anything to worry about from the Chinese?” the kid asked nervously.
“It’s hard to say, kid. They are sneaky bastards.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Whatever you do, keep your weapon clear of the mud. If the Chinese do show up, you’ll need it to shoot more than spitballs.”
The monsoon had been like a respite from the war, the heavy rain shutting things down, but now the war had returned.
Watching from a distance, Cole saw the explosions of mortars pounding their boys on the hill. The crackle of small arms fire and the chatter of machine guns carried clearly to them on the humid air. The damn Chinese blew their bugles and whistles. When you weren’t in the middle of a battle, getting shot at, Cole reckoned that war was indeed a grand spectacle.
He settled back, Cole’s boots squelching as he tried to get comfortable. He put the rifle to his shoulder, using the scope to scan for any targets. However, Outpost Kelly was just too far to do any good against the Chinese, who were mostly keeping out of sight.
Briefly, he considered working his way forward so that he could lend a hand against the Chinese, but just as quickly decided against it. If an attack on the main line did come, he would be stranded in no-man’s land.
It was best just to wait. He was sure their time to fight would come soon enough.
Until then, Cole would do what soldiers always had done. He would wait.
“Seems like a lot of fuss over nothing, don’t it?” Cole mused, watching the fighting from the sidelines.
“Sure does,” the kid agreed. “It’s just another hill. If you don’t like that one, pick another. There are plenty to choose from.”
Cole grunted. “You’d be right about that.”
There was nothing special about Outpost Kelly. It was just another outpost beyond the MLR that Cole and the others occupied.
The earlier days of the Korean conflict, with both sides moving over vast distances and fighting for control of huge territories, had long since devolved into something more akin to trench warfare. And yet, the lines remained somewhat fluid, with both sides pushing and pulling for every advantage.
The outposts set up by the United Nations forces were a way to lay claim to more territory beyond the MLR. The outposts also functioned as a canary in the coal mine to warn of enemy attack.
The problem was that the Chinese also wanted that territory — which explained the fight over Outpost Kelly, which otherwise occupied a useless hill among the many that filled the landscape.
It was no secret that the war had become like a game of musical chairs. When the music stopped, both sides wanted to make sure they had grabbed as much territory as possible, which explained why neither side was content to sit in their defenses and wait. Seizing the advantage of pushing a few miles one way or another could mean being able to lay claim to huge swaths of territory when the final lines were drawn between North and South Korea.
These lines on the map had real meaning, however. The entire futures of generations of Koreans would be decided by these final battles, depending upon which side of the boundaries their villages ended up. For Jang-mi and her village, it was looking more and more as if they would be on the wrong side of the fence.