이것이 전쟁이다! It was late afternoon and the Communists had been beaten from the hilltop one more. Their fire, too, had slackened so that only occasional machine-gun bursts and mortar bombs thudded into its trampled crest. Then Ike Fenton, drenched and with the rain running in little droplets from his bearded chin, got the news. His tattered BAKER Company Marines had only those few rounds in their belts remaining. If the Reds were to launch one more attack they would have to be stopped with bayonets and rifle butts. All communication with other units was still out. Runners had long since been dispatched back to battalion—and had returned with the word that reinforcements and supplies had been on the way; but en route other observers had reported a massive flanking movement by the enemy, one which might isolate BAKER Company completely . . . The other men and weapons had been diverted to meet the new threat. In the lull, the rear slope was flecked with men shaking the muck of battle from their bodies. Small groups guided their wounded buddies down the path to where they would be met by ambulance jeeps and carried the rest of the way to the rear. Other Marines bandaged fresh wounds, for mortar bombs continued to fall sporadically upon the hill. And out along the lip of the ridge ever more-thinly sprinkled Marines held their positions with weapons that could provide only a feeble necklace of fire, should the enemy attack just once again. Behind them, eagle-spread in death, lay their comrades . . . the men who would never know whether the hill had been won—or lost. It was won. The enemy never launched that last attack. Reinforcements and ammunition and rations poured in upon the hill. Communication was re-established with the units now sweeping out from the flanks, and with Headquarters in the rear. The rain even stopped and clearing skies gave tomorrow’s promise of aerial support from those Marines who flew their fighter planes so close to the heads of attacking infantrymen. General Craig's promise, given in the United States was made good. The dead from the field of battle were carefully lifted and carried down the slopes by their Ⅳ. The Hill l 87
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