“Not out of luck. Just outranked.”
“That’s life, kid. Get used to it.”
“I guess I’ll just have to wait until my next leave in Japan,” he said. “The last time I was there, there was this girl who—“
Cole had heard it all before, but he let the kid spin out his story once again. Like most young soldiers, his thoughts alternated between food and women, with a few moments of terror thrown in for good measure.
“What about that girl you’ve been writing to back home? Did you put that story in your letter?”
The kid blushed. “No, I guess not.”
Cole laughed. “That’s all right, kid. Hell, there’s plenty of married guys doing the same thing and believe me, they don’t write home about it.”
Cole just hoped that the kid would have a chance to get home again to that girl. He hadn’t wanted the kid to be part of this task force, but he had kept his mouth shut when the kid volunteered. The truth was, Cole was glad to have him along.
Quickly, they left the MLR behind, keeping well to the west of Outpost Kelly and the reach of the Chinese mortars now on that hill. Despite the recent monsoon rains that had turned the supply roads to rivers of mud, the open ground they now crossed was rocky enough to provide good footing. They approached the river and could hear it roaring, still in flood stage. He hoped that there would be no need to cross that swirling brown water.
Before the monsoon and the attack on Outpost Kelly, it hadn’t been unusual for the soldiers to take turns visiting a sandy beach nearby on a quiet bend of the Imjin River. It was what they had instead of a shower.
“Want to go for a swim?” the kid asked.
“No thanks,” Cole said. He didn’t much like the water or swimming — not since he had nearly drowned as a boy while setting beaver traps in a mountain stream. Not much frightened Cole, but he had to admit that he was terrified of water.
Jang-mi led the way, serving as their guide. It was clear that she knew this country like the back of her hand. There was no hesitation as she picked her way through the thickets and jumbled rocky outcroppings. Just when another obstacle loomed in their path, she seemed to know just the way around it.
Despite the fairly solid ground, it was slow going, mainly because of the tanks. In point of fact, the massive tanks were intended for mobility across level ground such as the terrain of Europe. The tanks were much less useful in the hills of Korea. Lieutenant Dunbar’s command vehicle was designated “Twenty-one” and the second tank was “Twenty-two.” Despite the numbering system, Dunbar did not have another twenty tanks at his disposal; it just sounded better than calling them “Tank One” and “Tank Two.”
Jang-mi was finding a path that allowed for passage of these steel behemoths. The tank commander had gotten out and was keeping pace with Jang-mi. From time to time, they stopped and conferred about the best way forward. Cole felt reassured that the tank commander knew his business.
Too often, the tanks had no choice but to crash through the thickets of underbrush. It made an awful racket, so Cole prayed that there were no Chinese scouts about. However, the tanks cleared the trail for the men on foot behind them.
Meanwhile, the Borinqueneers lagged behind. Some stumbled and had to be helped by their comrades. In fairness to them, many of these men had light wounds. None of them had eaten a decent meal in two days, which left some of them light-headed on the march. The Borinqueneers did not complain.
Sergeant Weber moved up and down the column, prodding the Borinqueneers to keep moving.
The irony of it all wasn’t lost on the kid. “Isn’t that something,” he said. “We’ve got an old German sergeant yelling at a bunch of Puerto Ricans, with some help from a hillbilly who talks like he’s got a mouthful of cornpone.”
“Yeah? You know what we don’t need on top of all that? A smartass.”
The kid took the hint, zipping his mouth shut as Weber approached.
“They are sorry looking bastards,” Weber confided to Cole, pausing to take a long drink from his canteen. “Do you think they will fight or run?”
“For all our sakes, I hope they fight,” Cole said.
“One thing for sure, they’ll have nowhere to run. There is nothing around here but mountains.”
“They may have some gumption in them,” Cole said. “When we get to this fort, you and me will have to whip them into shape.”
“Can we do it?”
“Sergeant, we ain’t got much choice.”
“This is true.”
Cole and his squad brought up the rear. With the tanks in front and the veterans in the rear, it created a good bookend for the moving column. Also, the squad kept any stragglers from the Borinqueneers from falling behind.
As they pressed deeper into the hills and thickets, Cole grew quieter. He turned his attention to the surrounding landscape, alert for the slightest movement. His eyes tracked swift birds darting through the underbrush and the occasional leaf dancing in the breeze, but he saw no sign of the enemy.
Cole liked just about any landscape in its own way, but he had to admit that there was not much to redeem the endless scrub and hills of their surroundings. While there were patches of mature trees, they were nothing like the soaring stands of oak and maple and hickory in the mountains back home. The scenery was neither welcoming nor majestic. It was just more of the same.
Gradually, they left the Imjin behind and began to climb. The hills pressed closer, steep cliff faces rising nearby and hemming them in.
Jang-mi brought them onto a narrow mountain road that appeared to be the only way through these rough hills. He caught glimpses of her from time to time, leading the column fearlessly, but with her weapon off her shoulder, out in front of her, ready for anything. If they encountered any advance units of the enemy, the Chinese would likely be forced to use this same road, but from the opposite direction.
The shadows grew longer as the daylight faded and the deep hills cut off the lowering sun. Down along the river, the air had still been warm and humid, but now an autumnal chill hung in the air.
After one last, steep push up the road, the troops entered a clearing. Looming over them, Cole had his first glimpse of the massive stone walls of the ancient fort. He could see at once why Jang-mi had chosen this location in hopes of stopping the Chinese advance. Any force using this road to traverse the rough hills would have to pass beneath the walls of the fort. It was a perfect position, both imposing and defensible.
“Butter my backside and call me a biscuit,” Cole said, a little awestruck by the fortress walls. “It looks like the Alamo.”
Nearby, Lieutenant Ballard appeared just as impressed. He had been expecting a jumble of rocks, but the stone fort looked sturdy, if somewhat weedy and overgrown. “The Koreans call this place Lǒngmo Sanseong, which doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Cole, you’ve got the right idea. From now on, we’re calling it Outpost Alamo.”
Chapter Seventeen
Having reached the fort, there was no time to lose. Without recon, it was hard to know with certainty how far the enemy had progressed. The advancing Chinese army might be two day’s march from the fort, or just a few hours away. Ballard sent a couple of men to watch the road through the gap, with orders to fire a warning shot if the enemy vanguard was sighted.
Their best hope in keeping those fresh troops from joining the enemy forces already at Outpost Kelly and all along the MLR was to stop them at this narrow gap through the hills.
On the far side of the clearing, the fort looked down upon the road through the gap. In many ways, it was like a fort defending the entrance to a harbor. Anything that attempted to cross the road or the clearing would be under the guns of the fort’s defenders.