Chapter Seven
Ranma felt the cold bite of the wind as he ventured down the hill to
their listening post. Despite his elevated rank as a corporal, Platoon
Sergeant Yoshida had decided that he and Ryoga weren't above drawing
listening post watch. It was probably the worst job you could draw on the
hill, even worse than digging out latrines. At least with latrine duty you
weren't likely to die.
Listening post watch meant that you and one other soldier sat in a
hole well beyond the help of your comrades, and your only duty was to sound
the alert if the hill was attacked by infiltrators -you weren't expected to
live much longer than that. Several men had already died on listening post
watch doing that very same thing in the last week, and now there were holes
to fill in the roster.
Fortunately the moon was waning again, and there was little light to
expose him to snipers as he moved down the charred and pocked slope of the
hill. If he needed to, he could always crouch down and follow the telephone
lines strung from the hole to the Company area on the back side of the
hilltop. He preferred not to, however. Battalion policy continued to dictate
that the North Korean dead stay where they fell, and the thought of touching
the shattered remains of one of the fallen did not sit well with him. The
smell and the flies were sickening enough.
Hiro Ohata was behind him as they trekked down the hill. Yoshida liked
to keep someone experienced with commo protocols in the hole whenever it
was manned, and as a radioman, Hiro ended up pulling a lot of watches. So
far, the North Koreans had chosen to stage their attacks around his watch
time, and as a result, pulling listening post watch with Hiro was considered
good luck.
Ranma hoped Hiro's luck would hold out just more night.
Daisuke and Hikaru were relieved to see them as they announced
themselves at the rear entrance to the sandbagged emplacement. The circles
under Hikaru's eyes had deepened with stress and fear, and he'd gone back
to his voodoo spells to cope. Ranma could see a straw doll made up like a
North Korean soldier, with Gosunkugi's namesake spike driven through the
chest, pinning it to the sandbag wall.
"Hey guys," Ranma greeted them. "How's it going?"
"Quiet," Daisuke replied. "Just how I like it." Hikaru nodded in
agreement.
"Yeah, a day off from the shelling is always good," Ranma said. "Any
chance of the rumor that the Koreans are out of supplies being true?"
"We can always hope," Hiro said, settling down with his rifle and
checking the communications line to the company area.
Daisuke picked up his rifle and started for the exit with Hikaru.
"Take it easy, Ranma," he said. "Good luck."
The two soldiers left them in the darkness of the listening post.
"You don't smoke, do you, Saotome?" Hiro asked at length.
"Nope," Ranma replied.
Hiro seemed pleased with this. He gestured to the slit opening that
faced out across the tortured, rubble strewn valley. Camouflage netting
provided some measure of concealment without obstructing their view.
"Good. 'Cause out here smoking'll get you wasted, and I'm not talking
about lung cancer. The NK snipers see the cherry on your smoke, they'll put
a bullet through this opening without breaking a sweat."
Ranma nodded knowingly. He'd heard this lecture in basic.
Hiro arranged several grenades along the opening for ready use. As he
straightened the tips of the priming pins for easy pulling, he continued to
speak.
"People say I'm lucky because the Koreans never attack when I'm down
here... It's not luck."
Ranma decided to bite.
"Then what is it?"
"Not doing stupid things like smoking," Hiro replied. "That and a
little healthy paranoia. I won't hesitate to call for illumination rounds
or a little cold steel if I think something weird is going on out there.
Look at the four guys who died already. Fuck-offs, sleepers, every one of
them except Tsurubaru, and he was just unlucky enough to get stuck with an
idiot."
Ranma felt a bit of anger rising in him at the declaration that some
of their own, men who had died in battle, were anything less than ideal
soldiers.
"That's a pretty heavy thing to say about them, man," he said in a
warning tone.
Hiro checked the batteries on the nightvision rig.
"Am I wrong?" he challenged. "How many times did Nagata get caught
sleeping on guard duty back in boot camp?"
"A lot," Ranma admitted. "But we weren't getting much sleep then,
either."
"We aren't getting much now," Hiro pointed out. "At least back in
basic, sleeping didn't get you and your buddies killed. These Koreans are
sneaky, dangerous bastards. All they need is an opening, and they take it.
Like Fukuyama and Wakida -those two smoked like chimneys. They both got
zapped by snipers, and only then did the Koreans attack. If it wasn't
for them stumbling into the new claymore tripwires we set up, they would
have reached the top of the hill without firing a shot. We'd have all
been knifed in our sleep because of those two."
Ranma didn't reply. As much as it galled him, Hiro had a point.
Hiro placed the nightvision rig on his head and peered out into the
valley.
"Look, Saotome. I didn't ask to be here, and I'm sure you didn't
either. But I'm sure as hell not leaving in a body bag. This is your first
time down here. If I have to dig on our dead to get my point across to you,
then I'll do it. I am *not* going to die in this godsforsaken hellhole,
and I am *not* going to let you get me killed."
"I ain't gonna get you killed," Ranma said evenly. "So stop giving me
shit about it."
"Fair enough," Hiro said. He offered a hand as he continued to search
the valley for signs of attack. "Friends?"
Ranma looked sidelong at Hiro, but took the man's hand.
"Friends."
They took their turns on the watch in one hour shifts. Any longer than
that, and the stress became too much. The other would rest -but not sleep.
Hiro was pretty adamant on that point, and even if Ranma outranked him, he
was willing to concede to the one guy who had spent so many watches in a
dangerous post and survived.
With nothing to do while Hiro took his next hour on the lookout, he
had nothing but time to think. He hadn't had much of a chance to do any in
the last two weeks. There was too much action, either the night attacks or
the shelling by day, to sit down and let his mind wander.
Akane was easily foremost in his thoughts. He wondered once again if
his old man was right about getting married just before he reported, then
dismissed it. He wasn't ready to get married. Not even to Akane. Not even
if he could at last admit to himself that he loved her.
There was also the possibility that he would die here, perhaps even
that very night, and then Akane would be left a widow at the age of
eighteen. That he could not do to her. Better that they never marry than
for her to go through losing her husband within months of the wedding.
He wasn't entirely certain of her feelings for him, but he was sure that
she cared enough for it to hurt.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph of her. He
had swiped it from one of Nabiki's albums before he left. The corners were
bent and the print paper a little worn from keeping it on him all the time.
There wasn't much light to see by, so he turned his back to the viewing
slit and used his red-filtered flashlight.
It was a photo of her taken shortly after her impromptu hair cut by
one of Ryoga's bandannas. She was wearing her blue school dress and white
blouse. Her eyes were alight and the corners of her mouth were drawn up
into a smile.
**Yeah, she really is cute when she smiles.**
He turned off his light and replaced the photograph in his jacket,
unaware of Hiro's grin as the private turned his attention back to the
valley.
Ranma and Hiro left the listening post at dawn, and followed one of
the returning 2nd Platoon night patrols from the valley back up the hill.
There had been a brief skirmish in the darkness with a North Korean patrol,
but as far as they could tell, no one on either side had been hit. They
reported in to the Duty NCO, and then went to their respective holes to
sleep.
* * *
The rumble of thunder woke Ranma from a heavy sleep. It wasn't the
sound of artillery, nor was it the sound of jets. He watched as several
drops of rain began to patter outside the hole and groaned. He'd need to
fire up the camp stove or he and Ryoga would be spending the day in their
cursed forms. At least they had the sense to dig themselves a deep drainage
pit for their foxhole.
Ryoga came leaping into the foxhole as the rain started in earnest.
He panted for breath at avoiding his Jusenkyo cursed fate with scant
seconds to spare.
"Way to go, blockhead," Ranma chortled. "You almost became lunch on
the hoof for the cooks."
Ryoga shot him a death look.
"Better that than one of Daisuke's pin-ups." He could see that he had
achieved the desired response from Ranma with this remark. "So, you posed
for him yet?"
"Shut up, pig boy," Ranma groused. "The answer is no, and it ain't
funny."
"Says you."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
They stared daggers at each other for a few moments. Then, without
further ado, they both backed down.
"It's too much trouble to beat you up right now," Ryoga sighed. "I'm
too tired to bother."
"As if," Ranma retorted. "But you're right. I'm pretty worn out too.
Not physically tired I mean, just worn out. All the patrols, the night
watches, the shelling, getting attacked in the middle of the night, it's
too much."
The rain continued to fall outside their hole. Little streams trickled
down the hard packed dirt sides and into the drainage pit. The sky seemed
to be weeping, Ranma mused as he watched the rain while Ryoga dozed. It
was the first real rain they had experienced in Korea. He wondered if it
would be raining in Tokyo, whether Akane was watching it as well from her
bedroom window.
"Hey Ryoga, you awake?" he asked.
"I was," Ryoga grumbled. "What is it?"
"You still seeing Akari?"
There was a pained silence.
"Um, every now and then," he admitted with a blush. "Why do you ask?"
Ranma didn't answer at first, searching for an approach to his topic
that wouldn't escalate into a brawl.
"Come on," Ryoga pressed. "Why do you even care?"
"Are you and Akari, you know..." Ranma continued. "Um, you know what I
mean."
Ryoga was starting to fume. "No, I don't know. Spit it out already, or
let me go back to sleep."
"I was just asking how you and her were getting along," Ranma managed.
"Is this about Akane?"
Ranma winced in surprise. Ryoga wasn't usually keen enough to catch
such subtlety.
"I guess you could say so."
"What have you done to hurt her this time?" Ryoga asked in an acid
tone.
"Nothing! Why does it always have to be something I've done to her
with you?"
Ryoga narrowed his eyes at him.
"Isn't that how it usually goes?"
Ranma folded his arms over his chest. "Well not this time," he replied.
"I just wanted your take on something, and you get in my face before I can
even tell you what it is."
Ryoga closed his eyes and rolled onto his side. The rain continued to
patter outside their foxhole. "So spill it already."
Ranma took a deep breath and plunged.
"What if I was to marry Akane when we finally go home?"
He saw Ryoga's pained expression for just an instant as he broached
the question.
"What of it?" Ryoga asked after a beat.
"You wouldn't mind?"
Ryoga swallowed before replying.
"Did I try to stop you the last time?"
"No," Ranma said slowly. "So does that mean you're cool with it?"
"I didn't say that," Ryoga snapped. "The first time I figured it was
something you both had chosen to do. I didn't know it was just another
scheme by your father and Mister Tendo."
"So you aren't cool with it..." Ranma said slowly.
"Are you going to do it?" Ryoga returned.
"I dunno," Ranma admitted.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Ryoga asked harshly. "Have you
even said anything to her yet? It's only been just over a year since it
happened!"
Ranma shrugged uneasily. "No, I ain't said nothing yet. Gimme a break,
Ryoga, I just thought I'd mention it. Don't make this into a big deal."
Ryoga clenched his hands into fists.
"It IS a big deal..." he growled between clenched teeth. Ranma's body
tensed in anticipation of the brawl he'd hoped to avoid. As Ryoga appeared
to be reaching some sort of inner crescendo, he settled down and rolled
onto his other side, putting his back to Ranma. "I don't want to talk about
it," he muttered. "Just drop it. You never said anything to me, and I never
heard anything, got it?"
Ranma's eyes drifted to the opening of the foxhole, and the water that
trickled down the wall.
"Whatever, man. Whatever."
* * *
The afternoon was spent digging out the holes and trenches the rain
had washed out. Ranma and the others were caked with thick red-brown mud
as they worked. After the platoon and company areas were in order, the EOD
guys would make certain that the tripwires connected to the flares and
antipersonnel mines were still in place and concealed. They would need
assistants, and the rumormill had it that the guys Platoon Sergeant
Yoshida caught screwing around during the work detail would be tapped.
Whether the rumor was true or not, no one wanted to find out, and there
were nothing but assholes and elbows to be seen on the hill that day.
"Hey, Saotome," Hiroshi said as they filled sandbags for extra
reinforcing of an observation post on the hilltop. "Any idea when they're
gonna let us go for the day?"
"Why ya askin' me?" Ranma returned as he flipped a shovelfull of soggy
mud into the bag.
"You've got the stripes."
Ranma frowned.
"Does it look like anyone tells me anything? You wanna know so bad,
go ask the sarge." He flipped another shovelfull into the bag. "Me, I don't
feel like goin' out and playing amateur mine-hunter, so I ain't askin' no
questions."
Hiroshi tied the sandbag off at the end, and stacked it in place along
the wall facing no-man's land.
"You've gotta point, Saotome," he conceded.
Kuno walked by them, carrying an armload of empty sandbags for the
two of them to fill. Hiroshi sighed tiredly at the sight of them.
"These are the times that try mens' souls," he lamented. "That the
scion of the noble House of Kuno should be reduced to such base labors as
these."
"What are you talking about, Kuno?" Ranma asked acidly. "You've got
one of the sleaziest jobs around! Are your hands even dirty?"
The scion of the noble House of Kuno offered his hands for inspection.
They were in fact slightly dirty.
"Well *I'm* impressed," Hiroshi remarked.
"Keep up the good work, man," Ranma added. "You're a credit to the
service." He started shoveling again.
Kuno set his hands on his hips haughtily.
"Indeed," he agreed. "It cannot be long before my true value as a
leader of men is recognized, and I shall be given rank as due my station.
Ever shall you continue your toils in the earth, whilst I set forth such
plans as to destroy our cursed foe and bring us hence to Japan as victors."
Ranma burst out laughing.
"Aw come on, Kuno, gimme a break!" he cried.
"Silence, knave!" Kuno retorted.
"Oh yeah? Make me, 'cause I've had enough of your crap, Kuno."
Hiroshi chuckled as well as he sat up on top of the observation post
to get a good view of the inevitable and likely short brawl between Saotome
and Kuno.
"You guys gonna fight or what?" he asked.
Several others in the platoon stopped work to watch the standoff.
Tatewaki Kuno stood imperiously over Ranma, who affected his usual
formless stance when wanting to appear off guard. Neither one made a move.
"Any minute now, the sarge is gonna come by to check on us, so either
get on with it or get back to work," Hiroshi told them. He stood up to
stretch out his sore back.
Ranma turned his head up to Hiroshi to say something, and watched the
man's head jerk back as a bullet exploded through his throat. A hot red
mist dusted Ranma's face as Hiroshi pitched over the roof of the observation
post and fell face first in the mud. A dull *crack* echoed distantly from
near the bottom of the hill.
"Hiroshi!" Ranma screamed.
"Medic!" someone else cried. Others hit the ground to keep out of the
sniper's sights. A heavy machine gun position opened up with suppressing
fire against further attacks. The crackle of automatic rifles joined the
din as men came unglued with fury against the hidden sniper.
Ranma lifted Hiroshi's head out of the mud and tried not to scream a
second time. The young man's throat was torn wide open, and blood streamed
in arterial spurts over his muddied chest. Ranma could see the blue-white
bits of spinal fragments, mixed with copper and lead from the bullet,
embedded in the ruined and bloody tissue. As he rolled Hiroshi's head into
his lap, his hand slipped across the wet entry wound high in his friend's
back, between the shoulder blades.
"Hiroshi..." he whispered.
Hiroshi looked at him with glazed, almost dull eyes. A terrible
hissing sound rattled from his ruined throat, and pink froth foamed from
the wound.
"Don't talk," Ranma cried. "You're gonna be okay, man. It's nothing.
It's justa scratch. They're gonna patch you up and send you home, man!"
Hiroshi spasmed in pain once, his eyes suddenly ablaze with fear.
"Where's the goddamned medic!?" someone, maybe Ryoga, screamed.
"Come on, please," Ranma pleaded. "Hang on!"
Hiroshi turned his head to face Ranma. He arched his back once more,
slamming his eyes shut in pain, then fell loosely in Ranma's lap. A last
ragged gasp rattled in his shattered throat, and then there was only the
muted thumping of gunfire from the machine gun nest.
Ranma Saotome stared dumbly at his dead friend.
* * *
Cpl. Saotome Ranma, JGSDF.
3rd Platoon, 'A' Co., 2nd Bn.,
1st Japanese Expeditionary Div.,
UN Forces - Korea. APO 23011-0111
Dear Akane,
This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write, and you know me,
they've all been hard. Today was the worst day of my life. I can't even
talk about it to anyone, but I have to get this out me before it gets me
killed.
Hiroshi was killed today, Akane. A sniper shot him in the back. I was
right there when it happened, and he died in my lap. There was nothing
anyone could do for him, and I keep telling myself that at least it was
quick. I never knew him all that well, even though we always hung out
together at school. I started to get to know him better while were here,
but now he's gone, and I'll never get another chance.
I hate this place, Akane. I hate it more than anything I've ever hated
in my life. I hate it. I hate the North Koreans. I wish they would all
just die.
I'm sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting in a letter from me.
I just had to tell someone how I feel right now, because I want to march
down the hill and do something really stupid. I don't want anyone else I
know to die, and I can't think of any way to keep that from happening. It
hurts knowing how weak and helpless I am.
I'm sorry.
Ranma.
Akane folded the letter slowly into the muddied envelope, and set it
down on her desk. Her new roommate, Yumiko, was out studying at the library,
leaving her alone in the tiny flat they had rented for their first semester
of college. She turned off her desk light, hugged her arms to her chest,
and began to cry.
Chapter Eight
A mortar shell burst overhead, ripping a circular swath of mud out of
the hill and showering them with it.
"Third Platoon form a skirmish line on the ridgeline!"
Ranma looked to Sergeant Yoshida, who circled his hand to get the
platoon on their feet. Ryoga grunted something which was lost over the roar
of two Marine AV-8B Harriers as they crested the blackened hill to their
backs. Rockets spurted from underwing pods with great *poffs,* and screamed
overhead with fountains of orange sparks to explode at the base of their
hill.
The radio crackled with many hurried voices nearby as Hiro tried
reestablishing communications with Division. The entire Main Line of
Resistance was being thrown back by the North Koreans, and they were about
to evacuate their positions or be encircled and destroyed.
"On your feet!" Yoshida growled. He was the acting platoon leader
after their lieutenant fell to a mortar round.
The platoon crawled out of shell craters and from under an overturned
Humvee. 120mm mortar bombs fell as hard as rain around them, killing one
of the machine gun teams in the support squad with a flash of light and a
deafening *boooom.* Fresh clods of mud and blinding sprays of murky water
erupted around them. Ranma watched in disbelief as Ryoga crawled out to
recover the weapon and ammunition; the team was beyond help. An explosion
drove him down into the mud with a curse a moment later.
As he picked himself up out of the cold mud, Ranma heard the Old Man,
their not so old Company Commander, yell over the din.
"First Platoon falls back to the next ridge, Second follows at two-
hundred meters, Third and the Support Squad pull rearguard and fall back
on orange smoke!" His orders were passed along with hoarse screams as the
artillery picked up the tempo even further.
"You got that, people?" Yoshida barked over the din. "We move on orange
smoke. Stick around, and you'll get killed by your own artillery." Ranma and
the others shot back replies as Hiro gave him a thumbs up as radio contact
was reestablished.
Ranma looked to Ryoga, who nodded grimly. They would have to hold
the hill long enough for the rest of the company to withdraw. Their own
withdrawal would be supported by massive airstrikes and an artillery
barrage that will fall on their own positions.
"First Platoon, move out!" the Captain yelled.
Ranma watched them file out of their holes and start over the other
side of the hill at a trot. The Captain joined up with the Second Platoon
as they prepared to disengage. Another volley of rockets from the Harriers
raced overhead with earsplitting screams.
The barrage continued to drop all around them. A kid Ranma barely knew
was lifted into the air with another explosion. Only at apogee did he
realize that the kid was dismembered in the blast, and his arms and head
continued on while his ragged body spiraled down the muddy hill in pursuit
of First Platoon.
"Get up behind these rocks!" Yoshida barked, pointing a finger.
Ranma leaped up into the open, weaving and dodging the explosions. He
ran for the jagged outcropping of white granite that would at least shield
them from the advancing North Koreans' bullets. As for the mortar rounds
howling in on them with increasing accuracy, he would have to wait and see.
He threw himself over the rocks, panting hard as his heartbeat
thundered in his ears. Looking back, he saw that the others were following
his lead and doing the same. Ryoga, Kuno, Daisuke, Gosunkugi, and Hiro
tumbled over the rocks close by, followed by Sergeant Yoshida and the rest
of the platoon. The new position was slightly better, with an overhang of
rock that would keep a direct hit from them if they crouched beneath it.
He continued panting for breath as he waited for the attack to
commence. The Koreans would be advancing behind an almost curtainlike
wave of artillery, so by the time the barrage let up, they would be on top
of them. It would be his first close-quarters battle since he came to Korea.
The respite would give him enough time to check his ammunition and supplies.
He had little of either.
From the valley behind him came a great wall of fire and smoke. An
instant later the ripping noise of North Korean MiG engines assaulted their
ears. Hiro, who was in contact with First Platoon, suddenly clutched at his
headset in pain.
What he heard was the horrible squawk of static as the radio on the
other end was engulfed in napalm.
First Platoon had just been incinerated to the man.
With a scream of rage, one of the support squaddies at the end of
the skirmish line lofted a shoulder-launched SAM at the fleeing MiGs, but
the Stinger had no lock, and corkscrewed out of sight. The jets escaped to
the north unscathed.
"Hang tough, Third Platoon," Yoshida told them, trying to keep them
focused on the task at hand and not on the slaughter of their buddies. "We
have to buy some time, but when the orange smoke comes in, I want you to
beeline it down the hill. First we get the hell out, then we regroup by
squads."
"Assuming we don't get bombed at the bottom of the hill," Daisuke
moaned.
"Don't say that," Gosunkugi whimpered.
"It's looking pretty bad," Ryoga admitted grimly. He clutched the
light machine gun a little tighter in his grasp.
"I ain't goin' out like this," Ranma shot back. "They want a piece of
me, they're gonna have to come and get it."
Tatewaki Kuno nodded assent, and drew his katana. His rifle was slung
on his back, and would likely remain there until the battle was done or
his life ended. "If ever the foe shouldst find vigor enough in their timid
hearts to do battle without their cursed artillery, the Blue Thunder shall
stand on this spot to face them."
There was nothing else to be said. Each man peered over the rocks to
look out over the smoke shrouded valley. They could make out the dark forms
of armored vehicles moving along the narrow bombed out roadway towards a
pass between their hill and the one their brother company was evacuating.
He knew that teams of Dragon antitank missile toting soldiers waited in the
rocks at the top of the pass to try and halt the advance of the armored
column, but he saw it as nothing but a futile suicide mission for them.
It was probably only slightly more futile and suicidal as their own holding
action.
The artillery barrage stopped abruptly.
"Heads up, people!" a corporal from one of the other squads cried.
"Movement straight ahead; at the bottom of the hill, two hundred meters."
They zeroed in on the enemy and began firing. Chinese-made AK-47
knockoffs returned fire. Bullets zipped overhead and spanged off the rocks.
Clods of mud flew into the air and in their faces. Rocket propelled grenades
zoomed up the hill with *whoooshes* and terminated their flights with
thunderclap explosions to the left and right of Ranma and his buddies,
killing several in the other squads and tearing huge holes in their rock
barricade.
"RPGs!" someone warned a little late. Ryoga snarled and began hosing
suppression fire down the thin smoke trail paths of the rockets with the
machine gun.
Another volley of RPGs followed, screaming through the air straight
at them. Ranma ducked low under the rocks as the first one hit. The hard
granite rock was shattered over his head, pelting against his helmet and
the kevlar body armor that covered his back. Choking black smoke filled
his nose and throat, and he fell away stunned and coughing from the blast.
Someone fell over him a moment later, shrieking in agony. He rolled
over the top of Ranma and slid several meters down the muddy hill before
popping up to his knees. His hands clawed at his face as he shrieked, and
blood streamed down his ragged muddy arms.
It was Daisuke.
"Medic!" Ranma cried hoarsely. He stumbled down the hill after Daisuke,
who began thrashing around in the mud as he screamed. He caught him up in
his arms and held him tight, trying to calm him enough for a medic to
treat him.
"MY EYES!" Daisuke screamed. Ranma could see the shards of rock that
stuck out of his face and forehead. An ear was sheared off and the wound
bled heavily.
"Medic!" he screamed again. He was oblivious to the firing along the
ridge, of the screams of the other wounded and dying. He couldn't hear Hiro
screaming at a distant firebase over the radio that didn't have the correct
authentication codes for the fire mission, and refused to accept his urgent
requests.
Daisuke continued to scream about his eyes as a medic slogged through
the mud towards him.
"Hold him down!" the medic barked.
"I'm tryin', goddammit!" Ranma shot back. "Come on, Daisuke, it's gonna
be all right!"
Daisuke continued to thrash in panic.
"Hold him!" the medic protested again.
"Fuck you!" Ranma screamed. He jerked Daisuke's arms away from his
face roughly. There were bloody sockets where his eyes should have been.
It wasn't that his eyes were jammed shut and bleeding, but that they
weren't even there.
The medic shot him up with morphine without a second thought, and as
Ranma held a large bandage over the gaping holes in Daisuke's face, began
wrapping his head in gauze. The morphine began taking effect as the medic
penned a letter "M" and the time on Daisuke's forehead, and clipped the
used syringe to his jacket.
"Get him out of here," the medic told him.
"What about you?" Ranma asked.
The medic was already slogging through the mud to the next casualty,
and only then did Ranma remember that there were other people fighting and
dying around him. The Koreans seemed to have an inexhaustable supply of
rocket propelled grenades, and to expose oneself on the ridge line to
shoot back was suicide.
"Where's the fucking smoke?!" Yoshida yelled over the din to Hiro.
"They won't send it!" Hiro screamed in reply. "Our codes don't match
theirs!"
Yoshida shook his head and cursed.
"Third Platoon, fall back!" he ordered. "Ohata, keep trying with
the fire base."
Ranma picked Daisuke up into a fireman's carry and began chugging
down the charred hillside. Below and beyond there was only black smoke and
pillars of flame from the burning napalm and the trees it was consuming,
and they would have to cross it to reach the relative safety of the next
ridge line. He didn't even know if it would be possible.
Bullets fountained geysers of muddy water around him as he ran down
the hill. The North Koreans had crested the ridge several dozen meters to
the east of Third Platoon's position, and now hosed rifle fire down upon
the fleeing troops. Fierce answering fire from the last squad to retreat
cut down the Koreans within seconds, and they whooped in exultation at
finally having an enemy they could kill within easy reach.
Ryoga came running down the hill, dragging Kuno with him. Another
soldier had Ryoga's arm, keeping him running in the right direction. Even
with the added burden, they caught up to Ranma easily. Gosunkugi was close
behind. Hiro and Yoshida followed only meters behind him.
"Release me at once, Hibiki!" Kuno railed as he was dragged by the
collar down the hill and through the mud.
"You'll get your chance to die soon enough!" Ryoga exclaimed. He saw
the bandages that wrapped Daisuke's head and squinted back tears. Ranma
gave him a similar look as they began stretching out their legs on the
lessening slope. The black haze of smoke and the strong smell of gasoline
from the napalm assailed their eyes, noses, and throats.
It was like walking into a vision of Hell. Sizzling pools of rainwater
threw off noxious clouds of steam and smoke. Glowing globs of napalm burned
cheerfully along the ground. The charred remains of their comrades smoldered
at their feet. There were no survivors among First Platoon, and only muddy
tracks through the carnage told them that Second Platoon was still alive
somewhere ahead. Behind them, North Korean mortar platoons began setting
up on the hill they had just fled, and prepared to shell them as they scaled
the far ridge to safety.
They reached a paved road, now pocked with shell craters and filled
with burning wrecks of Humvees and six-ton trucks. The air was blisteringly
hot and their legs ached, but the crackle of rifle fire and the howl of
mortar shells drove Third Platoon on. Yoshida told them to follow the road,
as it was the only way they could keep their bearings through the fire and
smoke.
They ran on, almost blindly, until the slope began to change, and
they were climbing the next line of hills. Their pace slowed, and Yoshida
called for the Platoon to regroup by squads. They straggled together in the
shelter of a wooded knoll, probably the only group of trees in the valley
to have survived the firestorm. Of the thirty six members of the platoon,
there were perhaps twenty who could fight. A dozen were left dead on the
hill, and there were three other wounded, in addition to Daisuke, who
couldn't move under their own power.
"I'm through to Division," Hiro panted. "They're gonna chew on some
fire base ass and get us some support."
"We're going to need it," Yoshida replied. "They're going to kill us
with mortar fire when we continue up this slope and into the open."
Ranma shifted Daisuke's weight over his shoulders.
"Some people can't wait that long," he said.
"They might have a hard time zeroing in on just a few people at once,"
Yoshida mused. He looked to the other men who carried or otherwise assisted
their seriously wounded. "All of you start up the hill. Saotome, you're in
charge. Move it. The rest of you take up defensive positions and wait for
the artillery support."
Ranma didn't need to be told twice. He began chugging up the hill
slope at a rapid pace. Daisuke moaned over his shoulder as he moved, letting
him know that his friend was still alive. The others followed after as
swiftly as they were able.
A mortar shell howled overhead, dropping sixty meters long. Ranma
changed course, climbing the hill at an angle to make it harder for the
North Korean mortar teams to zero him. Another mortar round dropped closer,
forty meters long and to his left. He zagged, taking him away from the
smoking crater above him.
His lungs were burning as he humped the last hundred meters up the
hill. He could see men from Second Platoon at the hilltop firing across
the valley to suppress the mortars. They called out to him and the others,
encouraging them on.
He reached the hilltop and fell exhausted into the arms of the Second
Platoon sergeant. A medic pulled Daisuke off his shoulders and onto a
waiting stretcher. He could hear several Humvees driving up the back slope
on a service road to take the wounded away. As he crouched on all fours
sucking desperately for air, he watched them take Daisuke away.
"All outta my hands," he gasped. "I did what I could..."
A soldier pushed a canteen into his hand, and he swigged a mouthful of
water before spitting it out. More Third Platoon wounded came up the hill
and were taken away in turn. As he pulled off his helmet, he heard the
Lieutenant for Second Platoon demanding artillery fire or close air support.
Ranma looked back out across the valley and saw the tanks rumbling
in the distance. The Dragon teams had killed a few of them, he could see by
the long fingers of black smoke that stretched into the distant sky, but
without the artillery barrage and the retreat of the company, it was obvious
that they had been attacked from behind by the advancing Korean infantry,
and wiped out.
Hatred burned within him, and he set his helmet back into place. He
handed the canteen back to the soldier, and started running back down
the hill to rejoin Third Platoon.
"Where the hell are you going?" the man called after him. "They're
pulling us out of here any minute now!"
"What the hell are you doing?" Yoshida asked as Ranma came sprinting
down the hill and into the shelter of the knoll.
"I ain't leavin' no one behind," he gasped.
Yoshida shook his head slowly and turned back to Hiro.
"Anything yet?"
Hiro nodded his head. "I'm talking to them now," he replied. "Almighty,
Almighty: this is Alpha-Three Actual, request fire mission, over." He
began calling out coordinates from a dirty and torn laminated map.
"Hurry it up," Ryoga called to them from a tree-top. "I can see tanks
coming down the road towards us."
"Copy that, Almighty," Hiro gushed with relief. "Request Hotel Echo
and Whiskey Papa, and give us all you've got!"
Yoshida whistled for attention. "Everyone up the hill, move it."
The sudden crackle of rifle fire interrupted the retreat.
"To the right!" someone cried. "Enemy to the right, fifty meters!"
They began shooting back. Ranma's hatred swelled within him, but his
aim went low nonetheless. A quick burst cut into a Korean's legs and sent
him tumbling head over heels into a tree. Ryoga's machine gun halted their
advance as the Koreans dove for cover from the thunderous weapon.
"Shot out!" Hiro cried. The ripping sound of a shell hurtling through
the air over their heads was followed by the distant thud of a howitzer to
their backs.
The shell exploded on the road close to an advanced armored car. A
great puff of orange smoke burst from the impact point.
"Beautiful!" Hiro gushed over the radio as the firefight continued
around him. "Repeat that!"
Another shell screamed overhead to land in the middle of the advancing
column with a blast of smoke and shrapnel. The tanks began to scatter off
the road and fired their smoke canisters to screen themselves from
observation.
"FIRE FOR EFFECT!!!" Hiro howled over the radio.
"Third Platoon, fall back by squads!" Yoshida ordered.
Kuno brandished his sword and stood in the open, goading the Koreans
to shoot him. Bullets exploded around him, but he was in a state of grace,
and stood unfazed by the attacks. Ranma and the others couldn't believe
their eyes, yet still Kuno was unharmed, and better still, drawing the
enemy's fire away from them.
"Face me in single combat, heathens!" he continued to bellow at them.
"Is there none of you with the mettle to treat with me steel on steel?!"
Ranma and the others fired their last rounds from their weapons into
the cowed North Korean positions as a massive artillery barrage began
pounding the armored column in the valley. Huge starbursts of white
phosphorus rained down into the valley, glowing fragments glittering
against the black smoke of the napalm, destroyed tanks, and the exploding
HE shells.
"All of you, pull back," Yoshida ordered.
Hikaru Gosunkugi spun around in that instant with a gaping hole through
his shoulder. The rifle bullet had exploded clean through his shoulder blade.
Hiro ran towards him before catching a bullet in the chest. He was thrown to
the ground with a cry, and the radio flew from his shoulder to shatter
against a tree trunk.
"Gos! Hiro!" Ranma called to them. Hiro rolled over onto his back and
screamed in pain. Gosunkugi twitched in a fetal ball. His body armor was
begining to soak through with blood. Ranma could see that the look in his
eyes was one of fear more than pain.
Ryoga saw this as well, and he threw down his depleted machine gun
as the North Koreans found their courage and advanced from their positions.
He thrust his hands out in front of himself as tears welled at the corners
of his clenched shut eyes.
"SHI SHI HOKODAN!!!"
A blazing golden fireball erupted from his hands and screamed across
the short wooded span between himself and his enemy. The ki blast exploded
into their ranks, sending them flying into unconscious piles of broken
bodies. The sonic boom of the blast drove the rest to the ground in awe.
Ranma followed up with his own ki blast, one driven from the very
depths of his own fear and anguish.
"SHI SHI HOKODAN!!!"
The second ki-blast exploded into the woods, knocking down trees and
felling still more of the enemy. The Korean soldiers began screaming in
panic and rout back down into the artillery barrage in the valley. An
answering artillery barrage began to pound the base of the hill even as
the Koreans broke, and Ranma knew that this hill was lost as surely as the
other one.
Kuno and Ryoga grabbed up the dazed and listless Gosunkugi, and he and
Yoshida hauled at the screaming Hiro. Ranma found himself at the limits of
his endurance as he traversed the slope of the hill for the third time in
minutes. As they reached the top, the last of the soldiers and wounded
were being loaded into trucks for the evacuation.
He watched Gosunkugi and Hiro being swept into the very last ambulance
truck by the medics. Then he and the others of Third Platoon clambored into
Humvees and started down the hill. North Korean artillery began to walk
up the hill as the vehicles started down.
His last thoughts before he collapsed into exhaustion were that they
were driving a very long way from his home of the last two months, and the
North Koreans were following up behind them to seize everything they had
left behind. They were losing the war.
Chapter Nine
Ranma and the survivors of 'A' Company were stuck on their new hill,
dubbed 1127 on their maps. 1127 of course was the hill's height in meters.
They weren't going home anytime soon. They had already spent nine days on
hill 1127, just holding their own.
He had just loaded up the UN Humvee with the platoon's ammunition
allowance, which he had been tasked to draw by Sergeant Yoshida. He was
also in charge of four new guys, fresh from boot camp. It still amazed him
to think that he had been one of them less than two months ago. Now he was
a combat veteran, a corporal, and soon to be decorated for valor. He could
tell that they were looking at him more in awe than respect, and it bugged
the hell out him. The winding road back up the hill to the company area
seemed to take forever.
He dropped them off with the ammunition and reported in to Sergeant
Yoshida. Yoshida took his report with the same silent ease that Ranma
had grown accustomed to. Then he went back to his new hole.
They weren't able to salvage any of the cookies when they bugged out
of their first hill. He only hoped that some of the bastards had eaten
them (or tried to.) His feelings for the North Koreans and this stupid
war had permanently changed, and although he still couldn't bring himself
to actually shoot to kill, he felt no sympathy for them. Quite the opposite,
he wished them all dead every waking moment. He'd lost too many comrades
already.
He wondered if he'd ever really be the same as he was before the
summer started, and knew at once that he wouldn't. This place had changed
him, and not in all respects for the better. He dropped down into the hole
to check on Ryoga.
Ryoga wasn't there. Now that he thought about it, his pack wasn't
there either. The place looked much the same as it had when he left for
the Divisional area that morning, only Ryoga was gone. It was odd
considering that Ryoga had drawn the midnight listening post watch out
on the perimeter. He was dead tired asleep when Ranma left.
Ranma asked around. No one had seen Ryoga. He began to worry.
**That numbskull can't find his way through a pass-in-review much less
navigate through this camp. He's probably lost. With his luck he'll stumble
through a minefield!**
It suddenly struck him as quite odd that he even cared at all for the
jerk. All he'd ever done was try to make his life a living hell. When had
things changed?
He ran into Sergeant Yoshida as he wandered.
"What is it, Saotome?" The sergeant had the talent of knowing people's
minds before they did.
"Um, 'scuse me Sergeant Yoshida, but have you seen Corporal Hibiki?"
Yoshida nodded. "Hibiki's out leading a patrol in no-man's land. You
were down in Division, so I sent him instead."
Ranma nearly exploded. "WHAT?!! You sent Ryoga Hibiki out to lead
people through no-man's land?!! Are you crazy?!"
"Saotome! You raise your voice to me again and I'll bust you back to
buck private on minesweeping detail!"
"You don't understand, sarge! Ryoga Hibiki has the worst sense of
direction in the universe! You know that! He gets lost on the way to the
latrine! Now he's out in the middle of hostile territory and he's probably
lost!"
Yoshida suddenly realized his own mistake, but remained calm.
"Stand down, Corporal Saotome. I understand your concern for your
friend. We'll see about establishing radio contact. Now see that the rest
of your squad gets their ammunition."
"Yes, sergeant."
Ranma did as he was ordered, knowing that no matter what, Ryoga was
lost.
* * *
Corporal Ryoga Hibiki had the latest navigational aids available to
the modern soldier. He had hyperacurate satellite topography maps. He had
both a magnetic and inertial compass. He even had a portable Global
Positioning System receiver linked to the cluster of GPS satellites high
in orbit.
None of it mattered, because Ranma was right. Ryoga was lost.
"What do you mean you don't know where we are?!" Kuno bellowed.
Two of the squaddies silenced him. They'd had the feeling that a North
Korean patrol were ghosting them.
Ryoga checked the map again and tried to match up features on it
to the landmarks he could see. He was not encouraged by the results of his
survey.
"I mean I'm not sure where we are," he admitted. "Everything on this
stupid map looks the same."
"Damn your eyes, man! Use your GPS!" Kuno cried.
Ryoga shrugged.
"How?"
Kuno facefaulted. The trouble was that no one else knew how to use the
thing either. Ryoga tapped at the buttons for awhile. At last some numbers
scrolled across the little LCD screen.
"Aha!"
The squad of five clustered around the little display.
"Great," a private named Kenjiro said. "Now what's it mean?"
"Uh, beats me..." Ryoga said sheepishly. "They cut that part out of
basic training, remember?"
* * *
Ranma had waited about as long as he was going to wait. Ryoga and the
others hadn't shown up. Radio communications in the FM bands were shaky
to begin with due to the hilly terrain, but the constant warble of jamming
systems killed any hopes of contact.
"I'm goin' out after them," he said to Yoshida.
The platoon sergeant raised an eyebrow.
"And add your name to the lists of the dead?"
Ranma stared back defiantly. "I ain't plannin' on dyin'."
Yoshida scowled.
"Are ya gonna let me go, or do I have to leave without your permission?"
Ranma's eyes blazed. Yoshida knew Saotome was deadly serious, and he
considered his options.
"I know nothing of this..." Yoshida said at last. Then he walked
away.
Ranma nodded grimly. He was on his own. Yoshida would neither give
his assent nor try and stop him. That was good enough.
It was pitch dark with no moon in the sky when he left. The North
Korean positions weren't fixed with any great precision, so he had no idea
how far he could go before he ran into trouble. That didn't bother him.
What bothered him was how he was going to find Ryoga and his squad.
He was traveling light to move faster. He had traded his rifle for
an American made M-727, which was a shorter carbine version of the M-16A2.
It was smaller and lighter and a little more handy than his trusty rifle.
He only carried four magazines for it, plus a few smoke grenades. He
carried no food and only two canteens of water. If he didn't find them
within a day, chances were they were already dead or captured.
He started down the hill, checking in with the listening post on the
perimeter to make sure he knew the password to get back through the lines.
No-man's land was another valley between ranges of hills, this one was more
narrow than the one he'd first come to hate. There were abundant trees, as
they had pulled back to a more defensible position faster than the North
Koreans advanced. The enemy had been heavily bombed over the next range
though, and very little remained standing.
Ryoga was supposed to turn inland, away from the sea for his patrol.
It was a safe bet then that the knucklehead had turned out towards the
coast and the Sea of Japan. He started heading towards the east, and the
sea. He made seventeen kilometers in four hours, running as fast as he
dared through the dense woods. The feeling that the Koreans also had
scouting patrols out in no-man's land was very strong in his gut.
Around midnight he stumbled across a yellow and black headband. It
was a standard Ryoga method of finding his way, although it never worked.
It did give him hope that he would find them soon.
He continued on through the night, stopping only to change the
batteries on the set of nightvision gear he had swiped from Battalion
supply. Several times in the night he got the feeling that he was being
stalked, though the ghosty green images through his goggles were sometimes
hard to read on the move. If they were out there, they were good hunters,
and stayed out of sight.
He considered ambushing them, and decided that he didn't have time
to try and draw them out. It was also extremely risky, as it would be just
himself against who knew how many enemies. Better to find Ryoga and the
others, and get back to the hill ASAFP.
* * *
"Are you sure we haven't been this way before?" Kenjiro asked.
"Positive," Ryoga replied. **Or am I? How can I possibly get lost?! I
had everything! A map, two compasses, even that stupid GPS thing. Why did
they even give it to me? Why is this happening to me? Why? Why? Why?**
"Methinks Private Kenjiro is correct, Hibiki," Kuno said. "We have
been wandering aimlessly through these hinterlands all night!"
"Shut up!" Ryoga barked.
* * *
Ranma found another bandanna at about three in the morning, then a
third an hour later. A fourth was found thirty minutes after that. And
shortly thereafter, a fifth.
**Yep, no doubt about it,** he thought grimly. **The jerk's circling.
It'll be any time now.**
He followed the least likely path Ryoga would take, and was rewarded
with a trail of broken and trampled foliage. He knew he was close. He had
the feeling that his stalkers were close as well. He'd been pretending not
to notice them all night, but his hackles were up and just getting worse.
He hoped they'd have some give away before they attacked, and he hoped
even more that they were after prisoners, and would try to take him
hand-to-hand.
**They want me alive,** he thought darkly. **'Cause they coulda shot
me a long time ago. I just hope I can get them all before they change their
minds.**
* * *
"Come on, Hibiki, let's just try the radio again," Kenjiro said. He
was getting spooked, and it was contagious.
Ryoga nodded tiredly. He unslung the radio and tried to tune it in.
They were rewarded with static, some faint signals in English, and more
of that incessant warbling on their own command channels.
"The stupid thing doesn't work," he said bitterly.
"We can see that, Philistine," Kuno growled.
"I've had about enough of you!" Ryoga yelled, flexing his fingers
into fists.
Kuno raised an eyebrow. "Oh really, cretin?"
Ryoga grit his teeth.
"That tears it!"
Ranma knew that voice anywhere.
**That stupid jerk's gonna wake up the whole damn North Korean
Army!**
He ran on, knowing his stalkers had heard as well.
Ryoga and Kuno squared off to fight. Neither one noticed as Ranma
leaped into the air, kicking both of them to the ground. Kenjiro panicked,
and nearly blew Ranma's head off with a burst from his rifle. Ranma spun
around and snap kicked the weapon from the private's hands.
"Aw knock it off, you idiots!" he yelled.
Ryoga cursed at him. "You shouldn't have stopped us! He's had this
coming for months!"
"Look, you idiot, maybe you haven't noticed, but we're being
followed."
"Maybe I did notice!" Ryoga shot back. "Maybe I just don't care
anymore. If they were so dangerous, why didn't they attack? Huh?"
"Ryoga--"
The shooting started.
Kenjiro took a burst across the chest and went down, but not before
he pointed to the direction of the shots with his dying efforts.
Nomura actually dropped into a firing stance and started shooting
back before he took a bullet in the side of the head. Whoever they were,
Ranma realized, they were attacking from at least two directions.
Kuno jumped to his feet and leaped into the fray with his sword drawn.
In the dense woods their attackers were very close, and their muzzle
flashes gave them away to the swordsman. He hacked at one of them with a
shout, and the man spun around in a spray of blood. As he fell, Ranma
noted that he was wearing blackout-style camouflage. Kuno wasted no time
in idle prattle for once, leaping again into the fray.
Ryoga rushed to Hideo's side as the private fell with a bullet in the
knee. His own rifle barked out two 3-round bursts, taking one of their
attackers across the groin. Hideo was thrashing in pain, his screams
shrill and loud enough to drown out all but the gunfire.
Ranma fired wildly into the darkness, having no targets he could
reach without hitting Kuno. They needed a way to withdraw, so he popped
two smoke grenades and lobbed them in the directions of incoming fire.
The grenades went off with loud *pops,* and billowing clouds of blue
smoke erupted in the trees.
"Follow me!" he cried, spinning around to collect Ryoga and Hideo. As
he did, he heard the single crack of a pistol from the darkness. Tatewaki
Kuno was sent flying backwards with a surprised grunt. He landed amidst the
four he'd managed to kill with his sword, and was still. Ranma could just
make out the expanding wetness at Kuno's belly.
He looked up in time to see the dull cylindrical object tumbling
towards them.
**Ryoga's in the way!** he cried in his mind. His voice failed him.
The grenade exploded an instant later.
There was heat and pain, followed by silence.
