Those trucks have to be coming from somewhere, he thought. Hufham followed the new road back a few hundred yards and saw his answer. A steady stream of trucks seemed to be coming up from a hole in the side of the mountain. With all these men and equipment, the allied forces would have a rough time.
Resisting the temptation to take out one of the trucks to slow the flow, Hufham eased back to where Ricks was waiting and the two men made their way deeper into the hills away from both the road and the DMZ. After running and walking about six miles up and down the hills, Hufham signaled for them to stop. “OK, let’s get our bearings. We both know the outposts are gone. I found out why the fire came from behind us, not across the Zone. Now we need to get this information back to our people.” He had already told Ricks about the tunnel.
“But how?” Ricks asked almost pleadingly. Hufham could tell he was still scared to death, but the training he had received had him reacting like a soldier instead of crawling in a hole to hide.
“Just follow me,” Hufham said quietly. He knew a calm voice was needed and that, coupled with reason, would make a big difference in how Ricks operated. “There is a motorpool about six miles down the way. Let’s make our way there and see what’s available.”
“They’re probably there already. And these guys aren’t going to let us just drive down the road,” Ricks said nervously.
“True, but if they are like those guys…” he said pointing back toward the compound, “…they will probably kill everyone and move on. I have a feeling this thing is on a strict timetable and there won’t be time for prisoners or holding ground. Those trucks are heading somewhere quick and the quicker we get to where our guys are, the better off we’ll be,” he said. Then he put his hand on Ricks’ shoulder. “Besides, I’ve been here so many times I can tell you where the roads are and where the roads are,” he said indicating he knew some “shortcuts.”
The effect on Ricks was almost amazing to see. He straightened up and looked around. Now he had a chance. The Master Sergeant knew his way around and had a plan. That was good enough for him. “Which way do we go?”
Hufham grinned. “Follow me, sport.” He led the way down a small trail across the next hill. Ricks couldn’t know Hufham had used this trail when he had been stationed here before to sneak away to a little bar he knew. The bar was long gone, but he was using the trail now for the same reason — mainly because he had never seen anyone near it and it was not marked on any map.
Captain James McPherson was a troubled man. He was troubled about the safety of his ship, its cargo, and the crewmembers he had grown to admire and respect. A veteran sailor from a number of merchant ships, McPherson had proven his skills time and again, starting as a deck hand and quickly rising in rank. He had been noticed by one of his captains and given the opportunity to attend a Merchant Marine Academy. As an officer, his career continued to grow with several notable exploits where his actions had either saved lives, cargoes, ships, or all three.
McPherson seemed to have that rare quality of being able to “feel” a ship and its moods. Better yet, he was also a good judge of character for the men and women in his crew. He could tell just how far he could push without breaking down his crew’s spirit or morale. He always seemed to have a happy ship — and one that could be relied upon to make port safely and with cargo intact.
Two years ago he had been made the Master of the largest cargo ship in the company’s fleet. The M/V Isle of Wight was huge. Over 400 meters long, she could carry 14,000 TEUs (20-foot containers) or more than 150,000 tons of cargo. Right now, her huge 14 cylinder turbocharged diesel engine was muscling the giant ship through the sea at a little over 25 knots.
Normally, the Isle of Wight would be going only about 15 knots, but over the past few days the world had changed. He had doubled his normal number of lookouts. No telling what might be out there. Before leaving port the urgency of his mission had been stressed several times. He gazed out the large bridge windows at a bright, clear, empty sea. The ship felt good and his crew was happy, if not a little on edge. The trouble in America had caught everyone by surprise and suddenly the cargo destined for India had been removed and new containers rapidly loaded.
McPherson gave off a small chuckle. His ship had been chosen to bring life back to the U.S. — something the U.S. had done for Great Britain in two world wars. No, the U.S. wasn’t dead, but it was having trouble speaking. He was returning that voice. Inside the containers on his deck were hundreds of transmitters and several hundred thousand radio and television receivers. Along the sides of the containers he read the names of hundreds of electronics companies from around the world. When the cry had gone out from his government, the response had been quick and generous. Names like Philips, Telefunken, Harris, Surrey, Bosch, Marconi, Siemens and many others emptied warehouses to rush equipment to Southampton where the ship was loaded. It had happened within 48 hours. Everything arrived, was packed tightly into empty storage containers and loaded onto the ship. The Isle of Wight had containers stacked to just below her bridge windows. There was not one square inch of her cargo decks that was not filled. It was the largest haul the captain had ever seen, and he was determined to get it to its destination ahead of schedule.
McPherson looked over at his first mate, Donald Winston, who was straining his eyes through a pair of binoculars scanning the horizon. None of them had liked the order to run without radar. They all knew the stories of ships making errors and colliding because they had not used the equipment, or because it had been used improperly. No one wanted another Andrea Doria. After a minute Winston lowered the glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. McPherson walked over to his second in command, glancing at his watch. “Almost time for you to be relieved, isn’t it?” he asked.
Winston gave a weak smile and a tired nod. “Yes, sir. It’s been a long morning,” he said. “I checked our position and, if we keep up this speed, we will make New York early tomorrow. None too soon by my thinking.”
McPherson nodded. “Yes, it’s been a strange voyage this time out, but a good one.” The Captain grinned. “I like being the cavalry coming to the rescue, as the Americans say. I doubt the Portsmouth Lass could make this kind of passage,” he noted with a gleam in his eye. The M/V Portsmouth Lass was a sister ship which had a long standing rivalry with his own.
“True, Captain,” Winston grinned. “The last I heard, she was on her way to the Middle East with a cargo of agricultural products and fertilizer. I dare say it is an uneventful transit.” Both men shared the moment until a voice interrupted their thoughts.
“Sir, I have something in the water two points off the starboard bow,” the lookout shouted. Both men nearly ran to the bridge wing. “What is it?” the Captain shouted.
“I’m not quite sure sir. It is like something lying flat on the water, but I can see a couple of men on the top.”
His eyes straining through his binoculars, the Captain could barely make out what appeared to be a piece of bread with some small figures standing on it, sitting on top of the water. Waves were washing over the structure and both men were waving frantically.
“Shipwreck?” Winston asked
“I’m not sure. But let’s not take chances. Order the men to action stations and lay us on a course to see what it is,” McPherson ordered.
The First Officer sounded the alarm and the 40-man crew began rushing to their stations. The wheel was spun over and the great ship slowly turned in the direction of the object. The ship’s engine slowed, but the momentum of the ship kept it going at a rapid pace. Through the skillful maneuvering of the crew they had the object in sight from the deck within 10 minutes. More men appeared on the object and soon there were about 12 shouting and waving toward the containership. The Captain almost immediately recognized the object as containers welded or lashed together. More troubling was one of the corners of the makeshift raft was much lower than the rest. He brought the big container ship upwind of the raft and let the winds blow the ship down on it.