"Christ," Pomeroy muttered, the knees of his pants now soaked. "What kind of war is this? I don't know which is worse, dodging bullets or liquid shit."
In leaping into the ditch, they were way ahead of the sergeant, who stood in the road, shouting, "Take cover! Take cover, goddammit!"
Without clear orders, some soldiers threw themselves flat on the road, while others simply ran in the opposite direction from the shooting. The fire from the field increased, and another GI went down.
While the majority of the men, including the noncommissioned officers and officers, had no real idea of what was happening, Cole assessed the situation through eyes that had seen his share of combat. It was clear that North Korean guerillas had set up an ambush, and very effectively at that. The Army troops had been taken by total surprise.
Lucky for the soldiers, there weren't that many of the enemy, and they were equipped with rifles. A machine gun or two would have been devastating to the exposed troops on the road. The road cut through open fields. There was nothing resembling cover except for the roadside ditches. In other words, the ambush had very effectively halted the advance and pinned it down.
"You see anything?" Pomeroy asked.
"They're on the other side of the field right across from us," Cole said. "Probably down in a ditch, burrowed in good. Can't be more than a dozen or so."
Pomeroy slid his rifle over the top of the ditch and opened fire in the general direction of the North Koreans.
Bullets snapped overhead. Another man was hit on the road and started screaming. Tommy was balled up in the bottom of the ditch, rifle clutched to him. He looked scared as hell.
"Easy, kid," Cole said. "Get up there next to Pomeroy, but keep your head down."
"I can't."
"Sure, you can," Cole said calmly. "You're a soldier. This is what we signed on for. All of us. Now get to it."
The kid crawled up next to Pomeroy, then put his rifle over the rim of the ditch. Cole went up behind him and put a hand on the kid's helmet, keeping it pressed low. "Just enough to see. Sneak a peek, like. Don't go sticking your whole head up."
"What am I shooting at?"
"Don't matter. Just shoot. Make them keep their heads down."
The kid began to return fire. He was shaking, so much so that his rifle jumped wildly each time he pulled the trigger. In his confusion, he started to rise too high above the edge of their cover. Again, Cole tugged him down.
"Hey!"
"What did I tell you, kid? Shoot back, give them North Koreans some lead to chew on, but keep your head down. You want a bullet to crack that pretty pumpkin head of yours wide open? We've got tanks and mortars to do the hard part."
Sure enough, they heard the deep boom of a tank lobbing a round toward the enemy. A geyser of dirt erupted, far beyond the ditch where the enemy was sheltering, but that gave the North Koreans something to think about.
The enemy fire slackened. More rifle fire was coming now from the Americans as the troops on the road, and those who had taken cover in the ditches, began to return fire. The return fire was wild and most of the men probably didn't know what they were shooting at, but it was enough to make the enemy keep his head down.
Farther down the column, the tank fired again. This time, the round scored a direct hit on the North Korean position. The enemy fire stopped abruptly. Some of the enemy crawled from the ditch and began running away across the fields.
All at once, it was immediately clear that the enemy ambush had not been well planned because there was no fallback position or any cover for a retreat. The retreating North Koreans were now the sitting ducks — or running ducks — that the Americans had been exposed on the road.
Caught out in the open, several of the enemy fell under the American guns. Everybody seemed to be shooting, caught up now in the excitement of getting a shot at the actual enemy. They were blazing away like the worst kind of turkey shoot, with the exception of Cole. He contented himself with watching the action as the tank and then the small arms fire finally beat the hell out of the North Koreans and sent them scurrying. One by one, the enemy fell dead until there weren't any upright, running targets on the field.
Just as quickly as it had begun, the ambush was now over.
But all around them, the shooting hadn't stopped. Cole scanned the surrounding fields, but he didn't see anything. What the hell was everybody shooting at?
Chapter Seven
Some of the soldiers were either so excited or frightened that they kept blazing away at the surrounding fields, although there weren't any targets. Their lack of discipline was a reminder that these were green troops. Worse, it was a reminder that some men had barely even gone through boot camp in the rush to get them into the field.
"Cease fire!" the sergeant yelled. The sergeant smacked a couple of the shooters on their helmets to get their attention. "Cease fire, dammit! Verdammt!"
Weber was able to swear in two languages, which was not only impressive, but also managed to make him sound twice as angry.
The shooting tapered off, but the silence did not last for long. From up and down the column came ominous cries of "Medic!" and the screams or curses of wounded men. The smell of gunpowder somewhat masked the stink from the fields. A couple of soldiers lay still in the road, their blood soaking into the compacted dirt. It didn't matter if they were green troops or veterans. They were dead all the same.
Down in the ditch, Tommy was still shaking. "I didn't do so good, did I?"
"You did fine."
"I froze up."
Cole shook his head. "You fought back, kid. You can hold your head up. It ain't easy coming under fire for the first time. The main thing is that you're alive, ain't you? Some of those poor bastards back there on the road weren't so lucky."
"Listen to him, kid," Pomeroy said.
"I guess you're right," Tommy said.
"There is one thing," Cole added. He looked both the kid and Pomeroy up and down. Cole had managed to keep out of the foul ditch water, but the other two were soaked through in various places. He grinned as he said, "You both smell like you crawled out of a latrine."
They climbed out of the ditch and made their way back to the road, where the sergeant was getting everyone organized. He was glaring at Cole.
"Goddammit, Cole. I had my eye on you. Let me see that rifle a minute."
Cole handed him the rifle. The sergeant reached out with a thick hand and touched the barrel, which was stone cold.
"You didn't fire a shot!"
"No, sarge. I reckon I didn't."
Sergeant Weber shook his head in disgust. "Some soldier you are."
"Pomeroy and Wilson covered me."
The lieutenant came over. "What's the problem, Sergeant?"
The sergeant glared at Cole. "Nothing I cannot handle, sir."
"All right. I need a detail to go with me to check those bodies. The captain wants to know if they have any intelligence materials on them."
"Intelligence materials?"
"Maps, Sergeant. Copies of written orders. Anything that can give us an idea about North Korean troop movements."
"Yes, sir." His tone expressed that he was doubtful that the dead attackers had any so-called “intelligence materials” on them. The sergeant fixed a baleful eye on Cole. "Take Cole with you, sir. He would be happy to go through the pockets of those dead gooks."
The lieutenant frowned. “I don’t want to hear that term, Sergeant. You know what General MacArthur said about that word.”
General MacArthur had officially banned any ethnic slurs that might create a rift with South Korean allies, but the word had even crept into official military dispatches. “Yes, sir.”