Latham walked slowly along the pier staring at her tall towers and raked bow. He suddenly stopped and looked at the ship a little harder. If this country is going to go to war, they might just need a ship like this, he thought. I wonder what it would take….. He headed for his office at a run, grabbing people along the way. A call to the mayor was followed by men with tool boxes making a bee line toward the big ship just down the jetty. By nightfall, there were over 300 workmen onboard. By the next morning, the four tugs still running pulled the great ship from her permanent berth toward a huge floating drydock that had been prepared overnight. After one more telephone call that took an hour to set up, work began in earnest.
Chapter 5
From the top of a hill Master Sergeant Paul Hufham surveyed the remains of the motorpool yard with Private Ricks. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and the scene it illuminated was not a good one. As expected, the North Koreans had already been there. There was evidence of grenades and a lot of shooting. Several small fires were visible from the residue of some oil barrels, but the place looked deserted. Hufham took out his binoculars and scanned the area more closely. Dead soldiers lay at the gate, a couple were near the garage and several outside the door of a small barracks and office in the compound. It was obvious the surprise had been complete. The poor soldiers had been awakened and died within feet of their beds. Those on duty or working late died where they were working.
“Where are all the vehicles?” Ricks wondered in a whisper.
Hufham smiled. All those days of watching the enemy across the Z had paid off on this guy. He was noticing things that were not the norm. “Good call, sport. The last time I saw this place there were 20 or 30 vehicles here. I only see about 8. I guess they are the ones that didn’t finally start,” Hufham said quietly. Then he looked over at the boy. “What does that tell you?”
Ricks continued to peer through his glasses. “I’d say they are scavenging transport and fuel along the way,” Ricks said. He pointed to the far side of the compound. “I don’t see a scratch on the fuel depot. I bet they filled up and took a little with them…” he stopped mid-sentence and pointed. “About 9 o’clock from the office. I just saw somebody move.”
Hufham shifted his glasses and scanned the place Ricks pointed out. Just barely visible, he could see a leg moving back and forth between the edge of a building and a drum of something. The boy’s got good eyes, he thought. “That makes sense, doesn’t it? There’s still fuel here, so they leave some people behind to keep an eye on it. OK, let’s take this slow. You circle toward the gate and see how many there are. I’ll circle this way,” pointing to the back of the compound. “We take it slow and meet back here in one hour. Make sure you stay in the gullies and vegetation. No shooting since we don’t know how many there are yet. Just act like you’re a ghost and get info. Got it?”
Ricks nodded. “One hour,” he said quietly. He turned and eased down into the bushes slowly making his way in silence. The sound of the crickets and other insects drowned out what little noise he made.
Hufham was a little surprised at how the boy had grown up in the past few hours. He wasn’t cowering in a hole anymore. Somewhere between the Z and the motorpool he had grown a couple of balls. The kid was thinking like a soldier — on mission. It never dawned on Hufham that his own leadership and example had anything to do with it. The kid will go far, he thought as he got down on his belly and began crawling through the weeds. Every movement was getting a little more painful. Age sucks, the Master Sergeant thought as he made his way. Every so often he rose up to get an overall view. All was still quiet.
The quiet was interrupted by a couple of shouts. At first Hufham thought Ricks had been found, but a few seconds later some vehicles rolled through the gate. Four men walked out of the sheltered area to greet the trucks and lead them to the fueling depot. After a few minutes, the trucks left fully fueled and the men returned to the shelter. Hufham wished he could hear what they were saying. He had learned the language over several tours, but the men were too far away to make it out. He checked his watch and decided it was time to head back to the rendezvous.
Ricks was there waiting for him. The sneaky little shit actually surprised Hufham by concealing himself pretty well with some dirt and grease from an old drum that had been discarded. That earned the kid a slap on the shoulder and a big grin. He even borrowed some of the concoction to put on his own face. “I saw four guys. They are in a little open shed eating Ho Hos and drinking sodas,” Ricks said. “I didn’t see anyone else.”
“That’s old Charlie’s shack. He’s an old Korean that has a little concession stand there. I guess he’s out of business now,” Hufham said. “I didn’t see a soul, but I did see what we were coming for.”
Ricks grinned slightly. He’d had a feeling there was a method behind this madness. Trust the sergeant to have a plan. “I didn’t see much of a way to sneak up on these guys. Just open ground from the gate all the way in. We don’t have grenades or we might get close enough to throw some. Is there another way in?” he asked.
Hufham winked at the boy. “Trust me,” he said. “There was an accident a few years back and the fence was damaged. Split it wide open, but instead of fixing it, they just tied it together.” He pointed toward the other end of the compound. “If we go this way, there should be plenty of cover, but it’s two to one and I don’t like the idea of making a lot of noise.” He reached into his boot and pulled out a long knife. “You remember your basic training?”
Ricks gulped at that. He hadn’t been that good at it, and he still considered himself a 90 pound weakling. Worse yet, he didn’t have a knife with him. He pointed that out to Hufham.
“That’s okay. I can get you a knife,” Hufham said with an evil grin. “Until then let’s see how jumpy these guys are.” He picked up a rock and threw it deep into the yard. It rattled off some barrels causing the men in the shack to come out and look around. Three of them fanned out and searched the yard. After only a few minutes they gave up and returned to Charlie’s shack. A few minutes later another rock was thrown into another part of the yard. Only two came out this time and walked around a little. This time Hufham heard one of the guys say it must be the heat from the sun causing the metal barrels to expand. The men returned to Charlie’s.
Using hand signals, Hufham led Ricks toward the back of the compound near the garage. Sure enough, behind a stack of oil drums was a place where the fence bulged out between two of the supporting poles. In the center, a simple rope held the links together. A couple of cuts later and both men were inside the compound making their way — building by building — toward the “enemy.” Hufham and Ricks both now thought of the North Korean soldiers as the “enemy.” In some ways, it made what they were about to do much easier.
Hufham stopped Ricks as they neared the corner of a building and listened. They could hear footsteps in the gravel of the yard that appeared to be getting closer. Hufham motioned for Ricks to stay put, then pulled his knife and eased farther along the wall. Listening carefully, he knew it was only one guy, not two or three. He stood and pressed himself tightly against the wall and waited. The soldier didn’t even have his rifle ready. He seemed to be looking for something as the sergeant reached out from behind him and cupped his hand across the soldier’s mouth. The knife flashed and the soldier stiffened and tried to cry out, but there was nothing he could do but die. The gurgle from the dying man’s throat could not be heard five feet away. Within a minute, the man was limp and Hufham dragged him away from the center of the compound.