“You’d think someone would have spotted them from the air.”
“You know how well they move when they don’t want to be seen. They keep to the brush by day and move at night.”
“Sir, we don’t have enough men to hold the line against a massive attack. We are spread too thin.”
The officer had spoken the truth. The line was stretched thin by the necessity of defending a long boundary. The recent monsoon rains had left the supply roads a mess, putting them behind on receiving reinforcements and supplies.
Still, someone had to ask. “What about reinforcements?”
“Not a chance. First of all, everybody is stretched out like a rubber band. China is right there and can march in all the troops they want. We have to get troops here from half a world away. There are no extra divisions just waiting for our phone call. Second of all, they’d never get here in time. Not with these muddy roads and flooded rivers to contend with. No, if the Chinese come, we will have to deal with them on our own.”
Several officers who had lived through the Chinese attacks at the Chosin Reservoir or Triangle Hill remembered the crazed nighttime attacks with thousands of enemy troops pouring down on them under the intense glare of flares overhead. It was not an experience anyone was eager to repeat.
Lieutenant Commander Miller spoke up. “Sir, if I may. It was Jang-mi here who spotted the Chinese moving toward us. She comes from a village in the hills. She knows that territory like the back of her hand.”
“All right. What about it?”
“Sir, she said the bulk of their army will have to go through the pass at Lǒngmo Samseong. That’s the name of the old hill fort that guards the pass. If we’re going to stop the Chinese or at least hold them up, that’s our best chance of doing so.”
The colonel shook his head. “We don’t have men to spare for what sounds like a suicide mission.”
Lieutenant Ballard spoke next. “Sir, what Jang-mi has suggested makes sense. I’ve seen the maps. With your permission, I could lead my platoon out there. It sounds as if a small force could hold back the enemy and buy us some time.”
“We can’t afford to spare a platoon of good men.”
Ballard wasn’t ready to give up. “How about a squad, sir?” He paused. “Also, I could take the Puerto Ricans with me. It would be a chance for them to redeem themselves.”
The CO thought it over, then nodded. “I won’t order you to do this, Lieutenant. But if you’re saying you want to volunteer, that’s a different story. Make sure your men are all volunteers as well. This might very well be a one-way trip. As for the Borinqueneers, they won’t be especially missed.”
Not long after the staff meeting, Ballard had gathered his platoon. He announced the mission and soon had twenty volunteers, with Sergeant Weber, Cole, and Tommy Wilson among them. Lieutenant Commander Miller, Jang-mi, and the two Korean villagers, Seo-jun and Chul, added to their number.
Lieutenant Ballard had taken Cole aside and explained about the Borinqueneers coming along.
“Hell now, Lieutenant, what are they going to do, hit the Chinese with shovels? They don’t even have weapons.”
“They’ll be getting their rifles back, Cole. They had better know how to use them this time around. That’s where you come in.”
“Sir?”
“Once we get to this hill fort, with any luck, we’ll have a day or two to whip them into shape. I should say, you will have a day or two to whip them into shape.”
“I ain’t a drill sergeant, sir.”
“No, you’re not. But hear me out, soldier. I know we’ve had our differences, Cole, but I’ll admit that you’re the best damn shot in the company, the regiment, maybe the whole damn United States Army. If anyone can teach those sorry cases how to use a rifle, it’s you.”
“That’s just swell,” Cole said.
Chapter Sixteen
Cole moved swiftly down the line of men that was preparing to move out.
By mid-morning, the task force had been assembled. It was being called Task Force Ballard, in keeping with the tradition of naming similar units after their commanding officer. Whether Ballard’s name was about to become famous or infamous remained to be seen. Cole couldn’t help but recall that it was Task Force Faith that had been involved in the Chosin Reservoir campaign that he remembered all too well.
He’d heard something about how back in the old days, a group of soldiers asked to carry out an impossible task, a suicide mission, really, were called Forlorn Hopes. For Forlorn Hopes, their reward was often promotion or redemption. Right now, that seemed just about right.
At the front of the column were members of his own squad. Other than giving a nod to the kid, he barely gave these battle-hardened veterans a glance. They could be counted on to do whatever needed to be done.
He was surprised to see Lieutenant Commander Miller at the front of the group, along with Jang-mi and the two Korean villagers.
“You’re not coming with us, are you?”
“Sure I am,” Miller said. “My wings are clipped for now, so I might as well make myself useful.”
Miller wasn’t wearing a helmet, but had somewhere found a broad-brimmed bush hat like the Puerto Rican troops sometimes wore. On anyone else, the hat would have looked ridiculous, but it matched the pilot’s jaunty personality. The pilot noticed Cole’s stare.
“Like the hat? I got it from one of the Borinqueneers.”
Cole shook his head. “I’ve yet to meet an officer with a lick of horse sense. Sir. I do see you have a weapon and not just that pistol.”
Miller held up a 12-gauge combat shotgun. At close range and loaded with buckshot, the shotgun was a formidable weapon. “I’m not much of a shot,” he admitted sheepishly. “I figured it would be hard to miss with this.”
Cole grinned. He was well aware of the damage that a shotgun could do. “Sir, any Chinese who get close to the business end of that scattergun will be on their way to Commie heaven.”
Nearby, Jang-mi stood watching the exchange quietly. Though small, she looked far more capable than the pilot. A carbine was slung over her shoulder and a large knife hung at her belt. Her hair was hidden under one of the ushanka hats similar to what the Chinese wore. Her face betrayed no emotion, but dark eyes assessed Cole in a calculating manner, as if sizing him up. Jang-mi was one tough customer. Cole liked that in a woman. He gave her an approving nod. Her assessment of Cole completed, she nodded back.
“Ya’ll ready?”
“Yes,” she replied grimly. To his surprise, she then turned to the pilot and smiled. “Jake said he would carry my pack, but I think I may have to carry him.”
“Ha, we’ll see about that,” Miller fired back.
Cole looked between the two, more than a bit surprised. So it was Jake, was it? Miller was smiling back at Jang-mi with something like puppy dog eyes. Cole would have figured that Miller’s interest in Jang-mi would make as much of a dent in that tough exterior as rain beating on a rock, but he’d been wrong. There was definitely two-way traffic happening on this street.
He just hoped it wouldn’t mean that Miller or Jang-mi did anything stupid if one of them got in hot water. That would usually get both people killed.
Both the old villager and the teenager stood off to one side. They had improved upon their worn old clothes by donning some cast-offs from the American troops. The boy now wore a helmet and a jacket that looked far too big for him. The sleeves were rolled up. But his hands gripped a carbine easily enough. Cole didn’t have any worries about the Korean villagers holding their own.
He moved on. Checking to make sure that the men were ready to move out was Sergeant Weber’s job, but the sergeant was busy distributing a last-minute supply of ammo.