How Quickly a Battle Can Change

[Riley D. Smith]

Barely audible over the sceaming of the battle ranging on all sides of him, Col Mulch's radio comes to life. He can hear the rattle of small arms, heavy weapons, mortars pounding away. Men screaming in three languages.
-"This is Dog Company...repeat...this is Dog Company. We are stalled in Sinjumac. Repeat...we are....<snap> <whizzzzzz>...being overrun. Might hold...but situation in doubt. Repeat....situation in doubt."
-"Can you read us 27?? We need reinforcements...or we need orders to fall back!!!!"
Mulch picks up the handset...then ducks as a T34/85 tank roars past the shack he is in...not even 15 meters away....dust billows up and the tanker lets fly a shot straight down the road. The Col hears the shell scream as the tank clatters past followed by an explosion that could only be that American tank he just saw coming up the main road.
-"This is Two Seven...repeat...this is TWO SEVEN...son...you gotta hold that line. You are all we have right now and there are no reinforcements. Did you read that Dog Company?" "And while you are at it...you find some men...hand 'em a bazooka...shouldn't be too hard to find on this battle field...and go find a tank to kill!! We ain't outa this fight son...but YOU GOTTA HOLD!!"
Suddenly his artillery radio sparks to life as well. "This is Lt. Alvarez...we have tanks point blank....repeat...armor point blank....I can't fight tanks with mortars!!!" Col Mulch hears a wall explode over the radio as a Russian Su-76 knocked some blocks down....dying men screaming in the background.
-"El-Tee....you keep laying that mortar fire down on that road...you do it until the last man. You got 'em pinned man...you keep 'em that way!! That infantry has got to be stopped on that road."
-"Two Seven...be advised that these mortar tubes are starting to glow from the heat...we're gonna cook off a round in a tube if we don't give 'em a break."
-Then you better start pissin' on 'em son....get them cooled off because you gotta get those tubes popping!!"
Col Mulch leans slightly out the wood framed window just in time to watch as a heavily damaged Su-76 lurches around a corner...pauses and then heads forward....only to suddenly explode 60 yards away. An American bazooka team caught the light tank off guard....a small victory but Mulch catches himself starting to smile and thinks to himself, "You crazy bastard...you son of a bitch....don't you think you can win this fight. You pack this mess up and retreat with what you got".
The battle weary Col knows that if that armor gets through this valley unscathed that the Pusan perimeter itself is in danger of being breached. He knows the prudent thing would be to fall back at least 2 miles. But he had been backing up since the NKPA first attacked...forcing him all the damn way down to this bloody peninsula. He was tired of backing up. The Col stands up, wipes his bloody, sweaty brow with the arm of his filthy field jacket, automatically checking his .45 and his M-1. "Top!! Take these 12 men and head Northwest to Sinjumac. We gotta hold that line Jim. I'm counting on you. I'm headed just north to rally those rocket troopers. The ROK 27th is doing what they can on that pass on the east side of the valley. If we can't kill those tanks we're all going to die here. But we damn sure ain't gonna do it backing up".
With that, and with a regimental sized battle screaming at a fever patch on every side of the command post, the battle-hardened Master-kick saw his commander lock and load his rifle, grab his white-faced, scared to death radio operator (a kid from Kansas that had just turned 19 two days prior) literally by the collar, peek out the door (looking both ways twice before crossing the street...his momma hadn't raised no fool...), and set off on a dead sprint to the trees...about 40 yards away, dragging that radio operator the whole way.
The Top shook his head, rubbed a stubbled chin, pulled his helmet strap up tight, and turned to his men, saying "Well...you heard the Col. We may all be going to hell but we're taken' some of them with us. See ya's on the other side boys".
Master Sargeant Rockfield Maguire Malone (always known as "Rock" to his family), a former iron worker from Brooklyn, tosses his burnt out stub of a cigar into the dust. He takes a quick look out the west side window (looking both ways...cause his momma hadn't raised no fools either) and heads off at a trot leading 12 of his friends and fellow soldiers to what he felt would finally be his last fight.