Meanwhile, the others tried to get as comfortable as they could.
“I wish we could at least warm up these rations,” the kid complained, digging into a cold can of stew and spearing a chunk of potato, which he popped into his mouth and chewed in a desultory fashion. He tugged his jacket tighter. Here in the higher elevations, the nights were chill in the shadow of the fortress wall.
“Enjoy it while you can, kid,” Cole said. “It’s gonna get right warm around here once the Chinese show up.”
“Can we stop them?”
“If we don’t stop them, we’ll sure as hell slow them down,” Cole said.
The kid nodded and forced down another lump of cold potato. “We’ve got our squad and the two tanks. Those Korean villagers look tough as nails, if you ask me. But do you think those Borinqueneers will hold up?”
“Only time will tell,” Cole said. “If they cut and run, we’ll be in a world of trouble.”
Cole had been in some tight places, and tomorrow promised to be another one. Their ragtag task force was supposed to stop a small army? It seemed a foolish notion, but then again, they had all volunteered for this.
The kid looked out at the darkness, lost in his own thoughts. “Do you think this place is haunted? This fort must have been here for centuries. I’ll bet lots of people have died here.”
Cole began to lay out the tools to clean his rifle. “I reckon it is haunted. Anyplace this old must have ghosts. But there ain’t been a ghost yet to stick a bayonet in your ribs. It’s only the living who can do that. We’re a lot safer with the ghosts. Get some sleep. You’re gonna need it.”
“What about you? You can’t get that rifle any cleaner.”
“Don’t worry about me, kid. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
Hardy was sacking out with the tankers. The remnants of the monsoon clouds had cleared enough to reveal the stars, which wheeled overhead, pinpricks of cold light. There had been rumors that the Soviets or possibly the United States planned to send men into space. Hardy figured there were enough problems in the world that mankind didn’t need to worry about space just yet.
A sentry was posted in each tank turret, watching the road. The tank crews were stretched out in foxholes, which was a lot more comfortable than trying to sleep in contorted positions inside the tanks. Given warning, they could be up and at their stations inside of a minute.
“Can we hold back this army?” Hardy asked Lieutenant Dunbar, who lay in his sleeping bag nearby. His tank crews had stretched out on the surrounding ground, but never straying far from the tanks.
“As long as they don’t have artillery and they don’t rush us, we can give ‘em hell all day long if we have to,” Dunbar said. “At least, we can until we run out of ammunition. There won’t be any resupply out here.”
“What happens when you run out of ammunition for the tanks?”
“We’ll fight as long as we can, one way or another. You’ve heard of the Alamo, right? We’ve been dubbed Outpost Alamo for good reason. It might be like that.”
Hardy had brought along a rifle, but he planned to observe the battle and take photographs, rather than fight. Up until a moment ago, Hardy had been excited about the possibility of a great story and photographs for the Stars and Stripes. But Dunbar’s words and the darkness itself began to sink in. It hadn’t occurred to him that there might not be any leaving this place.
The Alamo? Every American had heard the story of the Alamo. And everyone knew that the outnumbered defenders had all died in the end. Even the famous frontiersman, Davy Crockett, had perished.
“I tell you what. If we live through tomorrow, promise that you’ll come visit me in Indiana after the war,” Hardy said. “I’ll buy you a steak dinner.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Nearby, the Korean villagers who had come to help defend the fort slept on the ground or ate their own meager meals. Due to the war, their own food was in short supply. They eagerly divided the C rations that Lieutenant Ballard had provided.
Jang-mi did not have so much as a blanket, but had stretched out on the ground near Seo-jun and Chul. She did not know all of the Koreans who had come down out of the hills to fight, but she felt safe near these two, at least. They would defend her, just as she would defend them.
Earlier, she had tried to send Seo-jun away. He was barely more than a boy, and she wished to spare him from certain death. She had no illusions about what would happen once the large enemy force arrived.
Seo-jun seemed too young to understand that this might be his last night on earth.
She was not so old herself, but she had made peace with this life.
The same seemed true of Chul, who was old enough to be her father. He did not talk much, but he seemed content with his fate. His philosophy seemed to be that it was better to die now, than die later. If the Communists won, there might be no safe place in all of Korea for those who loved their freedom.
A bittersweet feeling had seemed to steal over the entire camp, as if the defenders collectively agreed that this might be their last night alive. A few of the Koreans had started singing old folk songs, some funny, some mournful.
Jang-mi was still listening as she started to drift off to sleep, but she jolted upright at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. These were not the light steps of a Korean. To her delight, it was the American pilot. Against all odds, considering their very different backgrounds, she found herself drawn to the American. Outlined against the stars, he was carrying a folded blanket.
“I thought you might want this,” he said. “It’s going to be chilly tonight.”
“What about you?” she wondered, accepting the blanket gratefully. Neither the cold ground nor her thoughts offered any warmth or comfort.
“You saved my life, remember? The least I can do is offer you a blanket.”
“You will be cold. Here,” she said, spreading the blanket over her shoulders and lifting a corner to indicate that Lieutenant Commander Miller should join her. A moment later, they were sitting side by side under the blanket. Jang-mi had been in many battles and survived many difficult situations, but she was surprised at the rapid beating of her heart, caused by nothing more than this man’s presence.
Suddenly embarrassed at what the others would think of her, she looked around again for Chul and Seo-jun, but saw the older man leading the boy farther away, as if to give Jang-mi and the American their privacy.
“I wish we had more time, Jang-mi,” the pilot said. “I would like to get to know you better. All that we have is tonight.”
Jang-mi nodded, then tugged the blanket closer across their shoulders, joining them together in mutual warmth. “We have tonight,” she agreed.
Chapter Nineteen
Once again, the ancient fortress became a witness to war. The fight began just after dawn, with gunfire from the sentries rousing those who had been able to sleep from what rest they could get. Cole and the others had expected a warning shot or two, but instead, there was suddenly a flurry of sharp rifle cracks. The battle had not started with a trickle, but with a flood.
“Here they come,” Cole shouted, mainly for the benefit of the Borinqueneers. Cisco translated the warning into Spanish, although the rifle shots had sent a message that was clear enough. Fortunately, the Puerto Rican soldiers had slept in their positions on top of the fortress wall and were ready for action.
Below, a swarm of Chinese troops appeared out of nowhere, sending the sentries running for cover. Moments before, the road through the mountains had been empty and shrouded in pre-dawn darkness. Now it was packed shoulder to shoulder with hordes of enemy troops clad in their grayish-white uniforms that made them seem ghostly and otherworldly, their rifles bristling.