CHAPTER 14

At last light we sent out a small party to set up a diversionary attack behind the factory. There was a little gully screened by low bushes that seemed a suitable place from which to fire. It could not be approached in the daytime without some danger of observation. The plan here was to bury small charges on the railway line to be fired from the gully just after the train had passed. This would twist the rails and prevent the engineer from backing up to the factory again. A few well placed rounds should help to speed him on his way down the track, and if the shots punctured some of the tanks, so much the better. After the charges were laid, two men were to be assigned to stay and do the shooting. They would rejoin us later.

Late the following morning, we broke camp. We carried only weapons, ammunition, demolition charges and one day's ration. Sammy Lee, the aidman for Blackie's section, also carried his aid kit and extra dressings. I brought mine along for our section. We moved out with extreme caution, our scouts well ahead. We could not afford discovery now, of all times. At fourteen hundred hours we stopped for rest and food. For a while I let the men relax. Then I gathered them around me except for the guards.

"We separate here," I said. "Captain Balakireff and Lieutenant Pak and his section will go to the virus factory and carry out the plan for which you have all been prepared. Captain Makstutis, Lieutenant Kim and I will lead our party to the bridge. From now on you must start thinking and acting like Koreans, at all times. You must not speak English under any circumstances. The Reds will be hunting for us after the raid as guerrillas. If they find out that we are Americans the chase will be ten times as fierce. It might even make the men in the Kremlin decide to launch an open attack on the United States. Certainly if they capture us it will give them an excuse to do so. You must not surrender. You will take no prisoners." I looked around the group and paused for effect.

"How many of you have had the S-Flu?"

To a man they raised their hands.

"Then remember that," I said, "whenever you feel soft-hearted. These are the people who did it to you."

I turned to Blackie and Pak. "_Itdah popsidah_ ... see you later," I said in Korean and shook hands. The two officers sprang to attention and with wide smiles on their faces gave me the communist salute. I returned it. Pak faced his men, the smile gone. A stream of rapid Korean orders poured from his thin lips. The change was amazing. What had been a bunch of slouching G.I.'s having chow in comic opera uniforms was transformed into heel clicking, jumpy NCO's barking at slightly harassed, overly anxious oriental soldiers. They quick-stepped down the trail and out of sight. A minute later we too were on our way.

* * * * *

Ahead of me, as I looked back towards the virus factory area, the tracks went straight over the single arch of the steel bridge that spanned the narrow ravine and, slowly dropping, twisted to my left behind a small hill to be lost about a half a mile away. I was lying in the brush on top of the hill that rose in a steep curve out of the gorge. To my immediate right, a deep cutting with jagged rocky walls slashed through the hill from where the bridge jumped the gap. Fortunately for us, the side of the ravine farthest from the virus factory, where I now lay, was much higher than the other, which enabled us to control the approaches. The rise in gradient would also slow the train. It was a marvellous trap.

We had crossed the fast-running foamy little river higher up, where it dropped down from the steep mountain ridges. Now, in the cleft below, I could hear the deeper growling as it fought for space among the heavy boulders of its bed. I was tired after the march; tired enough to quit right there. A few feet away, over the reverse slope in a little hollow, Lim On was concentrating on his demolition charges, his skeleton face immobile and thin fingers working surely as he fixed the special fuses. He had finished three, with two to go. Anders had told us there were five tank cars. We had to get them all.

I rolled over a little, the better to reach my pants pocket where I had a pair of tiny Japanese field glasses. The sun was warm and, under the special steel of the American-made Russian model helmet, my forehead was wet where the headband touched. Like all the others, I was wearing one of the new lightweight plastic body armor suits under the uniform. It was good to know that even a burp gun bullet would bruise but not penetrate. Only high velocity rifle fire could cut through the flexible weave but I wondered momentarily if it was worth all the sticky discomfort to wear it. The glasses were up to my eyes now and I waited, propped on my elbows. The round magnified world was blurred by the heat waves and the exhaustion which blunted my concentration and sent quick tremors through my tired arms. A fly found me, his feet tickling my face as he sucked the sweat drops. The crawling became intolerable and I had to brush him off. When my eyes adjusted again to the glasses I saw Makstutis and Kim, with seven men. They were filing down the edge of the cutting in full view.

As they neared the abutment, a soldier came out of the bushes at the side of the bridge. Seeing the officers, he saluted smartly and, a moment later, called to a companion who joined the group. Then Kim and four men moved off across the bridge to where another pair of guards had come out of hiding. Thirty seconds later it was all over. At the near end of the bridge, two of my men had moved casually behind the enemy soldiers as they talked to Makstutis. Suddenly they wrapped their left arms around the victims' faces to stop a shout. Their right arms came up and the commando knives flashed down into that soft triangle behind the collar-bone. It was done almost in rhythm, like some hellish ballet. The dying men writhed a little and then went limp. By the time I swung my glasses to the other end of the bridge, the scuffle there was already over. I lowered the binoculars. My stomach churned a little as it had done on my first visit to a slaughter-house. The rest of our men were now out of hiding and working furiously on the bridge, setting up the charges. Up from below, his face covered with sweat and breathing quickly from the climb, came Makstutis. He sat down beside me.

"Dead easy, Doc," he said, as he got his breath.

"Dead, easy, is right," I said grimly. Killing of any kind always depressed me.

He glanced sideways at me, "Feel OK?"

"I'll make it," I replied quietly, with much more optimism than I felt.

We zigzagged down to the bridge. Kim was dispersing his section along the rim of the gorge and up on both sides of the cutting. We would have to eliminate any Commies who were stranded on our side by the explosion but we wanted to leave a line of retreat open for the rest. None of our men would stay on the other side. Any who survived on the far side of the ravine were welcome to go home ... and I hoped they would. We settled down in the brush to the left of the bridge--Makstutis, who was to set off the charges and then go where he felt he was needed, Lim, who would be with me, and Sergeant Kang and Corporal Hip Sing who were to cover us as we blew up the remaining tank cars.

The sun was lowering to the hills now and soon would drop behind them. The waves of its heat shook the rails in the cutting, the mirage twisting them in fancy as the explosives would soon do in fact. A weak little breeze came fitfully up the tracks and cooled my face. The soft sad whistle of a locomotive drifted with it and seconds later a dull thudding noise. I thought I heard a faint crackling of rifles.

"And away we go," I said inanely.

* * * * *

As Blackie told me much later, the first part of the attack went off as smoothly as a Tri-Di melodrama.

"I took the men down the trail at a good pace," he said. "I wanted to get into position and take a long look at the layout in daylight. There wasn't much movement, a guard or two patrolling the fence and in the gatehouse, with my glasses, I could make out a couple of soldiers playing rummy or poker or whatever these people play. We didn't dare get out behind the plant for a look but I could hear some noises and occasionally an engine huffed and puffed like they do when they are shunting. About seventeen hundred hours a loud bell signal went off. I was frightened it might be an alarm but it must have been chow call or the end of a shift. Anyway, a few more men came out and walked about here and there and the guards changed.

"Getting close to eighteen hundred I was wondering if anything had gone wrong when I saw the guard get up and answer the phone. Maybe this was it. I alerted the men. About three minutes later I saw a tall man I thought was Anders coming down the front steps of the factory with a haversack slung over his shoulder. He moved towards the gate and we came down off the hill, going fast. By the time we got there the guards were out, watching us come, and Anders was apparently clueing in their leader.

"Why, hello, Captain Balakireff," he said as I came up. "I didn't know you were out in this part of the world. Are you the group searching for the guerrillas?" I admitted we were and said to the sergeant of the guard, "Let us in. I have to report to the Commissar."

"He opened the gate and we began to enter as the train whistle blew. I was stalling for time, exchanging small talk with Anders, when the explosions came and then the shots.

"It must be the guerrillas! Behind the plant!" I yelled. "Follow me." I took off on the double with the boys coming right behind. I skidded around the corner and, by Golly, I ran smack into the Political Commissar's fat belly. Anders told me later who he was. When I got to my knees I saw he had four Russian guards with him so I guessed he must be a honcho. There was no time for argument. If I tried to play along and he found out, we were finished.

"Get them!" I shouted in Korean, and jumped on the Commissar again as he got up. Our men were fast with the knives but one guard got off a few rounds with his tommy-gun as he died. They hit poor Kwong Lin, our demolitions man ... punched holes in him through his thighs and his neck where the suit didn't cover. Sammy says he couldn't do a thing for him. I didn't wait around to see.

"Hold this old fool and keep him quiet a minute. We may need him," I said to one of the boys. "The rest of you cover while Pak and I clean out the power house." I stooped down and pulled the bag of explosives from Kwong's body. Pak was away ahead of me. He was already going up the steps and hit one guy in the belly with a couple of slugs as they met in the doorway. Knives were no use now. We whizzed around inside that place like a couple of squirrels playing tag. Up and down the ladders, and everywhere we went we slapped beehive blasters with quick fuses, on generators, transformers, anything that looked important. The first ones were going off as we set the last and one of them blasted me out the door with the shock wave. I picked myself up for the second time, feeling like the last pin in a bowling alley, and looked about for my burp gun. I found it just in time to join in a nice firefight. The Reds had caught on by now. The doggoned alarm bell was making the dickens of a racket and a bunch of soldiers came charging around the corner from the railway yards. The boy with the Commissar fired first and knocked down three and the kids covering us at the powerhouse got two more as they scrambled for cover back around the corner. We started for the gate with Benny Quong and Joe Park covering the rear. Meantime some bright so-and-so had got up on the second floor and he leaned out and dropped a grenade down between them. We got him right after the bang but it didn't do those two any good. The shrapnel went up under their helmets and caught their legs as well. I hope they died fast. Sammy wanted to go back for them but I dragged him along with me. I figured we had to get Anders out of there with the big secret and we were expendable until we did.

"By now Pak was prodding the Commissar around the corner in front of the guardhouse with a knife in his backside. We came in sight and found the four guards watching for us--Anders was standing by the door."

"Tell them to open that gate," I screamed at the fat boy. He opened his mouth but it was no use. Either somebody had it in for him or else those goons really obey orders. The alarm had gone off and the gate was closed and that was that. We kept walking. Pak stuck him again and he let out a yelp. That's when the guard commander figured the setup as fishy. He lifted his gun and sprayed. Of course all of us hit the dirt, firing, when he started to act mean, but the old Commissar wasn't a combat man. He was still on the way down when he got it in the throat and crumpled up on top of Pak. By Golly, it was a mess. Pak came up looking like a Red Indian instead of a Korean and then he blew his stack. He let out a shriek of rage like a runaway stallion and started straight for the gate, shooting from the hip. He knocked out the commander and one more and the other two beat it behind the guardhouse. Where Anders had got to I don't know. I think he went inside, but he wasn't in the guardroom when we reached it. It was getting pretty hot with rounds coming in through the windows from the three floors of the factory and some from around the corners; fortunately the gate was partly protected by the guardhouse or we'd never have made it. Pak went out and dragged the dead commander into the door to look for the gate key but a sniper got him in the arm. That was when I knew we had to get out fast or die. I sent Sammy to fix up Pak and detailed Sergeant Wong to blow the lock to pieces while the rest of the men kept the snipers' heads down with continuous fire. Then I remembered Anders. I poked my gun around the back end of the guardhouse just in time to hear a couple of shots and see the two guards go down. I hollered and he stepped out of the door of the latrine holding an automatic. I guess he'd got tired waiting and decided to finish it himself.

"'Good, Doctor, very good,' I said. 'Now let's get out of here.'

"He looked a bit shaken but he tucked his haversack under his free arm and we ran for the gate.

"Well, that's about all there was to it," Blackie concluded. "We got to the woods with no more casualties and left three men to cover the open area for a while and discourage pursuit until it got dark and we could get lost. Most of us had a scratch or two and Pak was woozy from loss of blood but we got back to the old village all right and waited for your party to come in."

* * * * *

As I said before, Blackie told me all this much later. At the time they started fighting we were lying hidden in the scrub by the gorge. Makstutis had a transistor switch to the demolitions in his hand. He and I were right beside the track. We would move to safer places when the train came in sight.

"Make sure the last tank car is on the bridge before you blow it," I said anxiously. "If one is left on the far side we'll never get to it."

"OK Colonel," he said. "It's all set up. Should be a piece of cake, as the Limeys say."

Ten minutes after the first explosion we heard the quick hard slapping of the beehive charges and the rattling as the firefight got going.

"Sounds like they're having plenty of trouble," I muttered.

"Yeah, I guess so," Makstutis admitted, "but that Blackie's a hot shot and so are Pak and his boys. I'll bet they make hash outa that joint."

"They'd better or they'll be in the stew themselves," I said, in a weak attempt at levity.

He gave me an anguished frown and then, his face suddenly grim, shushed for silence. Faintly I thought I heard an engine straining up the grade. Makstutis crawled over and put his head to the rail.

"It's on the way," he said. "Better take cover." He stood up and signalled the alert.

Lim and I were crouching behind a big rock outcropping halfway down into the gorge. A faint trail led from there to the bottom--perhaps a relic of the construction days when the bridge was being built. It was far enough away to be safe when the bridge blew up but from there we could reach the bottom in a hurry. My heart was hammering fast, partly from excitement and partly from weakness. My knees were wobbly and I could hear the blood rush past my ears. I tried to swallow but I was too dry. Now the train was around the bend and I could hear the slow chuff-chuff-chuff as it crawled up the track. The sound suddenly sharpened as the engine, a big American style steam cylinder, shoved its nose past the cutting and out on to the bridge, travelling at a walking pace. A movement at the other end caught my attention and, for a moment, a great tightness clamped down on my chest. Kim was standing at the edge of the cutting, calmly waving to the engine driver.

"The damn fool," I raged inside. "What in Hell is he doing?" And then I realized and almost wept in admiration and pride. Afraid that the enemy, already on the alert, would notice the lack of guards and stop in time, he was calmly risking his life, pretending to be one of them and enticing the Reds on to destruction. By now the engine was almost up to him. He waved again and moved casually up the embankment into the bush.

Behind the coal tender came a passenger coach full of soldiers, two flat cars and then the five tank cars. At the end, as the train clawed over the bridge, came two more flat cars, another guard coach and a sort of caboose. The bridge itself was exactly six car lengths from bank to bank. To be sure that all the tank cars would be caught, Makstutis had to let the first passenger coach get into the cutting on our side and the other one remain on the far approach. He threw the switch.

* * * * *

For a moment in time the bridge buckled upwards under the last tank car. Then, like a slow motion close-up, it started to bend downwards in a vee, moving faster and faster as the law of gravity took over. The rear tank car dropped into the vee, pulling the flat cars down with it. The crash of the explosion was rolling away down the canyon and now the screech of tearing metal sounded. The rear flat cars fell off to the side and the passenger coach behind them twisted over and wedged itself crossways between the main concrete buttresses and the far bank. By a miracle of bad luck it did not go down with the other cars and even as I turned away the guards came tumbling out of windows and doors unhurt. I looked towards our end. Three tanks had gone down with the bridge and lay twisted among the steel girders in the foaming river. Of the other two, one hung crazily over the angle between the steel and the bank. I could not see the leading tank car but I learned later it had remained upright but derailed. The couplings had broken just ahead of it, leaving the engine, the first guard car and the two flat cars free. That engineer was a smart man. Realizing that they hadn't much chance pinned down in the depths of the cutting, he pulled the throttle wide open and went for the open country as fast as the train would accelerate. With the wheels screeching and sparking on the tortured rails the engine bellowed up the grade like a charging bull trying to escape from the stockyards.

I didn't know all this. I could hear the roaring engine and the storm of firing that followed. It would be suicide to attack the tank cars in full view, I thought. Better first dispose of the three that lay in the bottom of the ravine. I nodded to Lim and we started down. It was slow work at the bottom. In places the river ran right to the edge of the cliff and we had to scramble around on the big boulders or climb up and down the rough rock face, but we made progress and eventually we stood under the shattered bridge. Down here the light was dimmer and the sound of water washing around the wreckage deadened the noise of the sporadic firing above. In mid-stream the rearmost tank car lay on its side, split open by the fall. The other two, though buckled, were intact. They had toppled off to the side of the bridge and now lay across the big rocks on our side of the river in the shape of a twisted Z. Lim laid down his gun and started to work. His lungs heaving in his poor sick chest, he scrambled over the rocks and then disappeared under the middle tank car. He came back up dripping wet and motioned for a demolition charge. I crawled to him and gave him one. Between gasps for breath and above the noise of the water and the echoing battle he shouted in my ear.

"I'm going to blow this one from underneath, at the lowest point above the water, so all the stuff will drain out."

I nodded in approval and he disappeared again. In a couple of minutes he was back. "We have about five minutes," he cried, his voice shaky with fatigue. "Let's get the other one."

* * * * *

I pulled him to his feet, where he stood shivering with cold and exhaustion, and picked up the guns and charges. We moved to the second car. This one was propped up at an angle with the low end dug into a patch of sand, easy to get at. I handed him another explosive and he jammed it against the steel, in the sand. He was about to activate the fuse when suddenly he straightened, twisted half around to face me and fell forward. The echoes of the shot ricochetted off the walls of the gorge. I estimated it came from across the water and in the same instant made a diving run for cover. I hit hard and rolled behind a small boulder as another shot hit it and whined away into the air. I was thinking fast. Some of the Reds must have been trying a sneak attack across the bottom of the gorge and had seen us at work. In spite of our uniforms it was obvious from what we were doing that we weren't friendly. I'd be marked down and shot if I tried to get back and ignite the last fuse. And there wasn't time now. I had to get out of there! The first charge might explode that full car like a can of tomato juice, spraying death in all directions. I was trying to get up the nerve to dash for safety when the shouts came from behind me. It was Makstutis, with Kang and Hip Sing. They had crawled up close to me when the fighting started.

"Doc! Doc!" Makstutis was yelling, "Get that last fuse started. We'll keep their heads down."

"Get back!" I screamed frantically. "The other tank is gonna explode. It'll cover you with virus."

"That's rough, Doc," Makstutis called back calmly, "but what's four men compared to millions. Better get cracking."

I felt ashamed, physically sick and disgusted. I had a chance and they had none and yet, facing that death, they could still think of others while all I wanted to do was to lie there, afraid even to run. Oh, I could blame my sick mind or my weakened physical state. They would excuse it on those grounds and never say a word to me no matter what I did. But I knew better. Today I was beaten down while better men than I were still fighting.

I was up and running with the nausea of moral defeat rising in my guts. Quitter! The one word I feared above all ... and it applied to me. Better to die now than have to live the rest of my miserable life with it. I felt a heavy blow on my back that threw me off stride. At the same time I heard the crack of a small mortar shell behind me and something sharp and stinging penetrated my right hip. They must be lobbing them across at extremely short range, trying to drop in behind the rocks and get my riflemen. A burp gun gnattered and chewed up the sand beside me as I reached the tank car but stopped abruptly as somebody blasted back. I stooped down and activated the fuse. I was halfway back across the open sandy patch when the first tanker blew up.