I had a headache--a sonofabitch of a headache to put it bluntly, and my
eyes felt as if some gremlin had got in behind them and was squeezing
hard on the eyeballs. It had started as a mild frontal pain when I was
talking to Lee and I put it down to the tension of the jump and the
subsequent march to our present camp. I'd felt a little chilly too when
we got here but the nights were still cold in the hills and we cooled
off quickly after exercise. I was sure the aching in my back was due
to the pack I had carried, about seventy-five pounds of machine gun
ammunition, grenades and some medical supplies for emergencies. But
it wasn't going away and I felt lousy. I was feeling damned sorry for
myself as I went to sleep. Seconds later it seemed, my eyes were wide
open again and throbbing.
"Damn it, this won't do!" I muttered, and unzipped the light sleeping
bag we carried. "Lord, I'm hot!" I searched the aid kit shakily.
Finally I located the APC's, communist version, and then decided to
check my temperature. It was 40° Centigrade, right on the line. I
translated that into the more familiar Fahrenheit ... 104°. The bar
of mercury, slaty grey in the early light, shimmered and wavered as I
tried to hold the thermometer still.
"Hell's teeth! What a time to get sick."
I went over the various possibilities, forcing myself to concentrate,
to think as clearly as I could. It was too soon to tell. It could be
malaria, or meningitis, typhoid or typhus.... I'd had shots for those
two. What about dengue? Or old friend influenza? My mind was wandering
now. "Too soon to tell," I said, and I swallowed the APC's. "Too soon
to tell ... too soon to tell ... to tell. tell. knell. hell. The silly
rhymes echoed down long empty corridors to my ears. I knew I was
burning up and getting delirious ... it felt like being drunk. Drunk?
I'm not drunk ... I never get drunk now ... nothin' to drink, drink,
drink, nothin' to drink and I'm hot. Oh God, my head! Must tell Blackie
I'm sick. I have to tell Blackie. I HAVE to tell Blackie!" It
was important I knew and then I couldn't remember what was important. I
had to have water. I tried to stand up.
There was a murmuring somewhere nearby but I couldn't locate it. It
persisted like a buzzing fly and I was annoyed. My head still hurt and
my eyes ached and I ached all over and I was hot and sticky and thirsty
and weak and that damned noise wouldn't go away. Wearily I decided I'd
have to do something about it. I tried to lift my head but couldn't
make it. I tried again and felt myself lifted. Ahead of me a face
wavered and then stabilized.
* * * * *
"Colonel Mac, Colonel Mac, can you understand me? Colonel Mac...."
I blinked blearily at him. I squeezed gritty eyelids together and tried
again. It was Sergeant Jimmy Lee, my aidman. "Lee what is it?" My mouth
was dry and it was hard to talk.
"Sir, we don't know what's the matter with you. Can you tell us?"
I shook my head and it tried to fall off. Lee propped me up again.
"You've been out of your mind for three days now and running a hell
of a fever. I sponged you and gave you APC's. I even gave you a shot
of penicillin when we thought you were going to die." His young face
screwed up with worry.
"I've still got the fever, haven't I?" I muttered weakly. "It feels
like it."
Makstutis came into focus beside Lee. "It's down some, Doc, but your
face was red as a tomato and your eyes are still all bloodshot. Your
urine was bloody too. Now you've got little red marks, kinda like
bruises, on your skin."
"Eyes all bloodshot ... little red marks." Somewhere a circuit snapped
shut in my head. "God Almighty! I've got Songho Fever."
"Songho Fever? What's that, Doc?"
"It's called Epidemic Hemorrhagic Fever in the States, and it hit a lot
of G.I.'s around the Iron Triangle in the Korean War."
Jimmy wasn't too young to remember. He had been in on the tail end of
that fight.
"You must have picked it up around Kumwha," he said. "There's nothing
you can do for it is there?"
"No more than you are doing now, unless the Reds have something we
don't know about." I sipped the water someone brought and lay back.
Blackie had come in when he heard I was conscious. "Lee Sung is back,"
he said. "Maybe he could get something from Anders, or better still,
get Anders to see you."
"I couldn't walk two minutes, let alone twenty miles."
"By Golly, we'll carry you," said Blackie. "Don't you worry Colonel." I
fell asleep again with his comforting hand on my shoulder.
The trek across the ridges was rough. I can't remember much of it
except the feeling of falling when the improvised stretcher tipped
on the steep slopes or someone lost his footing. By now, one of our
sergeants, another Korean War veteran named Lim On, was ill with
what appeared to be the same disease and the morale of the unit was
slipping. We had jumped a week ago and as yet had accomplished nothing.
In a deserted, half-collapsed farmhouse about a mile from Song-dong-ni,
they laid Lim and me down on piles of straw while most of the men
bivouacked in small dugouts camouflaged in the woods beside the house.
We waited for Lee Sung to get Anders.
He arrived the following afternoon. A tall man, he looked like a
benevolent hawk, pale smooth hair, sharp nose, keen grey eyes. He
stooped under the low lintel of the hovel and stood for a while in
the semi-darkness of the tiny, paper-walled room until his eyes were
adjusted. Then he came and dropped on one knee by my side.
"You are a very sick man, Colonel," he said slowly, in precise English.
"I think I have hemorrhagic fever," I said.
"There is little doubt," he agreed as his hands searched my neck
and armpits for swollen glands. "See, the small blood spots on your
abdomen, and your eyes. And what else have you noticed?"
I gave him the story, including what Makstutis had told me about the
bloody urine.
He nodded his head. "Yes, it must be so. I cannot now prevent it, but I
can help you to get well." He took a syringe and a bottle of solution
from the small pack he carried. "Lee Sung told me. I brought serum.
Every day you must take a dose, and the other man, too. I have no doubt
he will have the same disease."
It was probably some sort of concentrated convalescent serum. I never
did find out; but it seemed to help. There was no more bleeding and
the fever dropped. Lim improved too and, fortunately, none of the
others seemed to have caught it. I was still terribly weak and somewhat
depressed but I was able to get around a bit by the end of our second
week in North Korea.
The days dragged along and my strength was slow to return. I read and
re-read the letter I had received just before the take-off from South
Korea.
"I am getting along fine," Pat had written, "in spite of feeling
somewhat bloated and clumsy, which, after all, I must expect. We had
some more news about Harry. Apparently the raiding party he was with
got ashore all right and set up their headquarters in one of the small
villages near the coast. They seem to be getting along real well so far.
"I am so glad Polly is staying with me, we are good company for each
other. When I got the letter from General Rawlins that told me you
had left, I was relieved in a way, as I had wondered why you didn't
write. Now at least I know and I am sure you are glad that, one way
or another, it will soon be over. I don't expect to hear from you
again until your mission is completed. Darling, please be careful.
The General told me you had had shots for the measlepox, (they sent
some out for Harry's team too), so I am not quite so worried. At least
the dangers you face will be those of a soldier and you will have a
fighting chance."
"She obviously had never heard or had forgotten about hemorrhagic
fever," I thought ruefully, the pages trembling in my fever-weakened
hands.
"Dr. Hallam is often over to see us in the evenings," she continued. "I
believe he is really fond of Polly ... and she of him ... but naturally
he doesn't express such feelings. If anything happens to Harry I'm sure
he will take care of her."
"And who will take care of you and the baby if I don't come back," I
thought as I crumpled the letter and burned it. We shouldn't have
carried that last batch of mail into the airplane. It was the one
sentimental chink in our disguise. As soon as I was well enough I
checked to be sure that everyone else had destroyed all mementoes.
I was not naive enough to think that we could keep our secret if
captured, but pages of letters could be misplaced or fragments blown
away and picked up by anyone coming into the area.
* * * * *
The Rangers kept busy. Only one or two remained in the house to
cook and look after Kim and me. The rest lay low during the day and
reconnoitred by night so that they were soon familiar with the layout
of the virus factory and the surrounding country. They briefed me on
every trip they made until I felt I knew it almost as well as if I'd
seen it myself.
That week, Anders came three times. We always had guards posted and,
once he knew he was safe, he relaxed and talked quite volubly in
Russian or English.
"It may be fortunate for you that you have had Songho Fever," Anders
said, during one of these early talks.
"Why so?"
"The western world has not yet discovered the cause of it, but we have."
He was obviously proud of the achievements of his laboratory, in spite
of the horrible use to which they had been put.
"It's a very simple virus, carried, as you suspected, by mites which
live on small rodents. We have now taken that virus and changed it
so that it does not require to pass through other animals as part of
its life cycle. It can now pass in droplets of sputum from one man to
another. In the process of change it has become much more virulent,
almost one hundred percent fatal, I would say, with an incubation
period of only one or two days. Also it is now extremely infectious
and, I believe, far worse than the measlepox. That is the virus we have
begun producing, in large quantities, in our factory."
"What are the symptoms of this new disease?" I asked.
"It acts much like the natural disease except for its extreme rapidity.
There is a tremendous increase in the hemorrhagic tendency, with fatal
bleeding into the gastrointestinal tract, the urinary system, or
sometimes the lungs. The victims die in shock within forty-eight hours,
as a rule."
"How do you know how it will act on human beings?" I said curiously
although I thought I already knew the answer.
"Our people are more realistic than yours," he said, quite sincerely.
"We offered men condemned to die a pardon if they lived after being
exposed to the virus. Most of them agreed."
"I'm surprised they got a choice," I said acidly.
"Our rulers have softened since the days of Stalin," he replied with a
wry smile.
"Why didn't you use it instead of the measlepox?" I asked him.
"We did not have enough, and also we did not have a vaccine against it
until recently. In fact only a few people have been protected. I am
one, and so are my helpers in the Laboratory ... and, to some extent,
so will you be for a while."
"Do you really think so?"
"We have found there is limited cross-immunity from having had the
natural fever, especially early in convalescence, but that protection
wears off rapidly."
"What do you mean by limited?"
"Let us suppose you had an accident with the vials I shall give you for
your return journey and spilled the contents on you. You would be very
ill with the fever but you would have a fair chance of living."
"Have you given the new syndrome a name?"
"Yes, a melodramatic one. We call it the bleeding death."
* * * * *
In the third week of our stay he came unexpectedly, late on a
Wednesday afternoon. I talked to him alone as the other officers had
gone on an early patrol. He was extremely agitated.
"I believe the counter-offensive will soon be starting," he said.
"The Americans have refused to sell any more food to us and our radio
is full of reports that the return of another wet spring in Europe
and drought in Siberia is their doing. Today we were ordered to load
all our available virus for shipment to Russia. We expect to send it
Saturday."
"How will it go?"
"In refrigerated tank cars," he replied, and seeing my amazement, he
added, "We do not have a bottling plant here. There are barely enough
immune technicians to load it and seal the containers properly. I have
been told there is an automatic bottling plant in Siberia which can put
the virus in missile warheads without human aid, but of course I am not
completely informed about these things."
"God! They must be desperate if they intend to let this thing loose on
America without being immunized themselves."
"A calculated risk, Colonel. We can produce vaccine rapidly and protect
those who matter before the disease rebounds to our lands."
"Those who matter! That's good! I'll give you three guesses who makes
the decisions."
On their return that night I called in my officers and explained the
situation.
"We must stop that stuff from getting out of here," I said at the end.
"In fact, if possible we should blow up the tank cars and let it all
run out and at the same time try to put the laboratory out of action.
It won't do much good now for us to take the virus home ... there would
be too little time to produce a vaccine against it even if we have the
formula."
"There's a railway bridge about two miles from the plant, about four
from the way we'd have to go, that crosses a deep ravine," Makstutis
said. "It's on the spur line from the main Wonsan-Vladivostok railway.
That's the only way out of this fever factory of theirs. We can put
demolition charges on that to blow when the train goes over. There's
only three or four bridge guards. I'm sure we could cut the telephone
wire and handle them before the train gets there."
"Suppose not all the tank cars are destroyed," Kim said. "Could they
use that crap again, or would they go near it?"
"Yes, they would," I said. "Some of the technicians are protected by
immunizations."
"Then somebody has to be designated to explode the tanks in case they
survive the drop," Blackie said. "And what about the train guards?"
"You're so right!" I said. "That makes me the mouse that ties the bell
on the cat. You boys hold off the guards, I'll get the tank cars."
"Hell, Doc, you've lost your marbles!" Makstutis burst out in
amazement. "That's our job. We've got to keep you all wrapped up like a
dame in mink so you can tell them back home what's in that lousy stuff."
I laughed at his pop-eyed indignation. "That's true ordinarily, Mak," I
said, "but this new virus is one hundred percent fatal if you get it.
Anybody who blows those tanks is likely to get some on him, especially
since they'll be damaged by the fall into the gorge. But people who've
had this hemorrhagic fever are partly protected, especially while they
are in the convalescent stage, as I am, so I'll have to explode the
tanks."
"I still don't like it, Colonel," Blackie said.
"Look, Blackie, if you get this new fever you die for sure ... and
probably all the rest of the unit will die too. Then how do I get back
to the States?"
"But if you blow it, sir, we can't bring the formula home," Kim said.
"That's true, but that's the lesser of two evils. We must destroy the
virus, and if possible the factory too, before they shoot the stuff
over to North America. If we don't, knowing the formula will be like
a condemned man knowing how he's _going to be executed_ ... what
difference will it make?"
"Geez, Colonel, I don't know," Makstutis began.
"I do," I cut him short. "And I'm going to get those tanks. That's an
order. It's certain death for anyone else."
"Except me, Colonel." Lim On stood up as tall as five feet three would
stretch. We had forgotten him sleeping in the corner on a pile of straw
and he had heard the last part of our argument as our rising voices
awakened him. He looked about as pale as a yellow-skinned man can,
which to me seems more a ghastly green, but he was steady enough, and
determined enough to argue with me when I tried to set him down.
"Colonel, I'm the demolitions man of the section," he persisted. "I'm
as fit as you are, and, if the Colonel will pardon me for saying so, I
know a lot more about it than you do."
"OK, Sergeant," I gave in, "I'll carry the charges and you set them."
* * * * *
The next day Anders was back again, his bird face no longer amiable but
haggard and harried. "The tank cars begin loading tomorrow morning. I
believe they will go out as soon as finished, which should be shortly
before sunset. The Commissar is worried about possible sabotage and,
I believe, has falsified the departure time." He pondered for a moment
and then looked at me. "Colonel, I am afraid to stay here. May I go
with you when you leave?"
"You may," I said slowly, "if you will do something else for us.
Otherwise I think it would be better if you pretend to know nothing and
stay behind." I explained our plan to wreck the train and then added,
"We will be concentrating on this attack and won't be able to come back
and pick you up. Obviously you will not be able to go with the train
after it is loaded so you could not find us. On the other hand," I
paused to estimate my man, "if we were able to have help to get inside
the camp and sabotage it, you could escape in the confusion and come
with us."
"But what about the formulae?" he asked anxiously. "Are you not coming
to get them from me?"
"We would like to have them, of course," I replied. "But it is not
worth the risk for them alone since there will not be time now for our
people to set up production facilities."
"You ask a lot of me," he said heatedly. "I could easily betray you and
stay in the factory. You could not remain here indefinitely."
I threw a trump card. "What makes you think the factory is going to
stay here indefinitely?"
His face seemed to sicken as I watched. "This means atomic warfare," he
said, "and the end of the world."
"If we have to die, you are going to die too. You have about two
weeks." I was exaggerating, actually it was two months. "If we don't
report success to our headquarters by that time, an atomic submarine,
armed with a Polaris missile with atom bomb warhead, has orders to
obliterate this whole area."
"No," he shook his head. "No--this is too much. I have had enough of
this killing. I will not betray you."
"I didn't think you would," I said drily.
"But I must come with you," he said. "I am afraid the Commissar is
becoming suspicious. Yesterday we were warned by intelligence to expect
parachuting American raiders and the political commissar was asking
me about my botanical excursions. He doesn't like me anyway because I
am a Pole, and he may have put someone to watch me and report on my
movements." I looked at Blackie and he raised his eyebrows. Was this a
shrewd guess on the part of the Russian G-2 people or had some of our
rangers been picked up?
"Poor devils," I thought. "They're probably being brainwashed right
now. Time is running out on us, for sure. We must get moving right
away."
Anders was saying, "What do I have to do for you?"
I told him my plan, slowly and carefully.
"One thing more," I said, as he started to go out the door. "Don't
forget to bring samples of the viruses and vaccines with you ... and
anything else you may think important."
"I will do that," he promised. "Goodbye and good luck, Colonel."
When the sound of his steps had faded, Blackie spoke again.
"You're taking quite a chance, Colonel. He knows enough now to ruin us
all."
"Yes, I am. He is a proud man and I played on his pride as a scientist.
Deep down, he probably is ashamed of having prostituted his discoveries
for the purpose of murder, even though there wasn't much he could have
done about it. He wants to make amends and I think he will go with us.
Anyway, I could see no other way of doing it, could you?"
I looked around the circle of officers squatting on the rice mat floor.
"We're with you, Doc," Makstutis said. "All the way, by heaven."
Three heads nodded in agreement.