Red Phoenix Burning (23 page)

The empty missiles could be placed on platforms and then moved on rails. They would be taken to the other space and joined to a warhead, then moved again to a launcher and fueled. To Rhee’s immense relief, none of the missiles had been mated to a warhead, much less moved to a launcher.

But he could hear the disappointment in Captain Ji’s report, and felt it himself. Outside again, he gave a more complete report to General Kwon. “We’re still collecting documents, and intelligence can tell us if they ever were here, but I can confirm there are none here now.”

“This was the last potential nuclear site in your zone of operations, Colonel. So far, Gangrim has found none. I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried. Do you have any recommendations?”

“I’m going with the ‘worried’ option, General. They could all be in a single location, under tight control,” Rhee suggested. “We just haven’t found it yet. There are still more facilities north of Pyongyang, but it is assumed there will be considerably more resistance.”

“That’s possible, but it’s also equally possible that weapons have been dispersed, so they can’t be captured all at once.” The general paused, and added, “We won’t gain insight hashing over old arguments. At this point, intelligence becomes even more important. We have to become detectives as well as soldiers.”

“Understood, sir.”

“One other thing I can tell you about, now that Sangwon is secure. I’ve chosen a commander for the Bongmu garrison, Colonel Ham Seung-min. You won’t know him. He’s been recalled from retirement. He’s in excellent health, and has command experience.”

Rhee was both delighted and a little dismayed. He’d essentially been commanding two bases, with two very different missions. The operation at Bongmu was still going on, of course. It would take weeks for the investigators and forensic scientists to remove the bodies and attempt to identify them.

Lieutenant Gung and his team, except for the badly wounded Corporal Park, had asked to stay and help provide security for the site.

Rhee had agreed. They were out of the fight anyway, and the colonel understood why they wanted to remain. But they weren’t going to do the job by themselves. A company of reserve infantry had arrived yesterday evening, and another was due to arrive soon.

Rhee had insisted that Gung remain in command, especially of reserve troops still shaking the rust off. But that situation was uncomfortable, especially in rank-conscious Korean society. Then they’d received new orders about the refugees: Don’t ship them south anymore. Feed them and keep them there. A mission of that size was beyond even Gung’s capabilities.

But Rhee couldn’t suppress his misgivings. The general had made it a point to tell Rhee that Colonel Ham was in “excellent health.” He asked, “Exactly how old is the colonel?”

“Sixty-seven,” General Kwon answered.” “He’s not the only officer being recalled, either. If we want to take our country back, we will need everyone’s help. And his last assignment was in the supply corps. The colonel will arrive at Bongmu by noon, along with another company of infantry.”

“And a lot of rations,” Rhee added. “Last night, they already had civilians gathering nearby. More will come.”

“It’s easier to ship the food up there than bring them south, feed them, and eventually send them back north. If you can spare enough time to be relieved, that will be his problem, not yours.”

26 August 2015, 2130 local time

Operation Backstop Headquarters, Munsan Refugee Camp

Outside Dongducheon, South Korea

Cho Ho-jin found Kary back at her “office” in the headquarters tent. Although there were always people working, it was quieter after the dinner hour, and it gave her time to think and plan for the next day.

Kary’s office consisted of a table with two folding chairs. A cardboard box under the table held a few items she worked with and several hard-copy printouts she still had to read more carefully. Her badge of authority, a cell phone with Kevin Little’s number already loaded, lay on the corner of the desk. As sparse as her workspace was, it was prime real estate. Colonel Little’s office was just a few feet away.

She sat with two pads of paper on her lap. One had a list of tasks that needed to be done right away, and the second listed things that had to be done before the first list could be dealt with. She was tired, overstimulated, and wrung out. It was a different kind of tired than her recent all-night drive south with Cho.

But she also felt happy, and relaxed in a way she hadn’t felt since the coup in the North had begun. Barring stray missiles or rogue dinosaurs, she was physically safe, the people she was taking care of were safe, and she could work to make things better.

And her latest phone call with her father had gone very well. It was her third or fourth, and while she was telling him about the camp and her work, he was telling her about her cousin’s wedding plans. It was several months off, and she might be able to attend.

She knew other people talked to their families like that all the time, but her anger at her father, turned sideways, had kept her away from the family member closest to her. Kary could be stubborn. She understood that part of her personality. She had Cho to thank for breaking the logjam.

The words on the paper swam, and she shook her head to clear it. At some point, she’d have to go back to the tent she shared with three other women and sleep, but her mind whirled with thoughts that needed to be captured before they flew away. Then she could rest.

Cho came into the tent. She waved and offered him the other chair. Sitting, he reported, “Cheon Ji-hyo just came out of surgery. I spoke with the doctors, and they said there was very little work left for them to do.” His smile broadened. “Gam Sook-ja and the children said to thank Fowler-
seonsangnim
for saving their mother’s life again.”

Kary sniffed. “And of course, you had nothing to do with that.”

Cho ignored her. “I helped Gam put the kids to bed, and came to find you.”

“I wish I could have been in the surgery. Did they have to . . .”

Cho held out a hand. “I deliberately did not ask for details. The surgeon is looking forward to speaking with you tomorrow, and he will tell you everything, using words I would not understand. He was impressed. He thinks you are wasted as the camp’s ombudsman.”

Kary laughed and swept one arm around her. “And give up all this?” She added, “It’s a shock, coming from one small clinic, but we can do so much to help these people.”

“And I want to help. Which I won’t be able to do if I have to take that civics class you’re setting up.”

“It’s not all day, and they need it. You need it. The North Koreans have lived three generations surrounded by lies. Plus you can tell me how well it’s working.”

“So now I’m spying for you,” he smiled. “I suppose I can do that.”

She shook her head and gestured vigorously. “No, don’t even joke like that.”

He nodded. “My apologies. Force of habit.” Then his expression became serious. “I do need to speak with you about something else, but not here.”

Standing, Kary tossed the two writing pads on the desk, then reconsidered and retrieved them, along with the cell phone. “Lead on.”

Outside, the area was lit by overhead lights that reminded her of the streetlights back home. They followed a bare earth path that served as Main Street for the Backstop headquarters area, walking from one pool of light to the next.

Beyond one row of tents, they could see the Munsan camp proper. Over twelve thousand people were crammed in an area meant originally for eight. Even some distance from the camp, the many voices blended into a constant hum that might fade at night, but never went away.

It had cooled, although the air remained humid, so it was only warm instead of sweltering. Other Backstop personnel sat outside or walked and chatted. The serenity of it was still novel to Kary, removing a weight she didn’t know she’d been carrying.

Curiosity made her want to ask what he needed to talk about, but she trusted Cho to tell her when the time came.

The Munsan camp had been set up in what had been farmland, and the pair quickly came to the edge of what was bare earth and turned into cultivated crops. It was some sort of grain, but she couldn’t tell what type in the dark. Clouds blocked the moon and much of the starlight, and in the rural darkness, she could barely see his face.

He continued to walk, leading her along a two-lane road for some time, until she could see that they were truly alone.

“Do you still have the pistol?”

Surprised, she answered “Yes” automatically. While Cho had of course been searched after his arrest, she and the other refugees and their belongings had not been searched. “It’s in my footlocker in my quarters tent. It’s locked, of course.”

“Could I please have it?”

“What for?” It was a stupid question, and before Cho could answer, she quickly added, “Why do you need it? Do you think the Russians will try to kill you? Here?”

“No, not the Russians, or the South Korean NIS. This is not about espionage.” He sighed, and explained, “Walking around, I’ve seen some things in the camp that . . . concern me.”

He pointed back toward the camp. “All those people have been thrown together, and they are busy setting up a new society modeled after the only one they know. While you want to help, others want to prey on them. A lot of people left the North, all kinds, and some of them are undoubtedly criminals.”

“But why do this?” she asked. “Tell the South Korean authorities what you saw. It might put you in a better light.”

Cho disagreed. “
If
the authorities listen. And it’s only hints and suspicions, but I believe there are some in Munsan who were used to living off the work of others. Many will see this as a chance to make a fresh start. Others will keep to their old ways.”

Kary nodded, understanding. “This is a fresh start for you, isn’t it? You’ve done what you wanted. Cheon and her family and the others from Sinan are safe. I don’t know what ex-spies are supposed to do. Shouldn’t you be getting plastic surgery or new fingerprints or something?”

Cho laughed at the idea. “I don’t think that’s what happens. I wish I knew. I don’t know what the North will become, or what it’s like to live in the South. Besides, I don’t want to go anywhere. Here is where I’m needed the most.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” she responded.

“You’re a good teacher,” he replied. “I’ll stay and help you, as long as you’ll have me.”

Cho had said that with some feeling, and Kary thought about that as they turned around and headed back.

It took about fifteen minutes or so to reach the cluster of tents used by female personnel. It was roped off and clearly marked with signs in several different languages, all saying “No men after 2200!” Below that, somebody had written in marker “How about 2215?”

While Cho waited, she hurried to her tent. Two women, both army officers, were reading, while her fourth roommate was absent. Squatting down and unlocking the footlocker next to her bed, Kary rummaged under her few clothes and other possessions for the pistol. Wrapping it in a spare pair of scrub pants, she closed and locked the lid, then hurried out.

Even though she’d agreed to give him the weapon, she was still troubled. If someone was shot by Cho, that was her responsibility. Cho wasn’t a violent person, but she knew he was capable of shooting someone if he had to. And should she even have a weapon, or allow Cho to have it? She was sure the army would discourage civilians from having them, but she also believed that if she’d asked the colonel for permission, he might have allowed her to keep it—reluctantly—but certainly not a North Korean civilian, who had been a spy for the Russians.

It wasn’t a long trip back to where Cho was waiting, and her worries must have shown in her expression, because as she passed him the bundle, he asked, “Please, trust me.”

“I do,” she said, and her worries vanished.

Chapter 12 – Shock and Awe

27 August 2015, 0530 local time

East Coast Fleet Flagship
Great Leader

20 NM Northeast of Wonsan Airport, North Korea

Vice Admiral Gong Kyeong-pyo looked back at the dark silhouettes as his “armada” sailed in three long columns toward its objective. Never before had so many ships of the Korean People’s Army Navy sailed together in such a massive formation. He felt immense pride as more shadows became visible against the slowly brightening sky. Twilight was in full bloom, the eastern sky glowing a deep crimson. Dawn would peek over the horizon in another half hour, and then their attack would begin.

The admiral considered it a small piece of good fortune that all his ships were still together after their three-hour transit in the dark. It was the only good news he’d had for some time. Four days earlier, South Korean forces had bombed the submarine bases at Mayang-do and Chaho. Fourteen of the East Coast Fleet’s Type 033 Romeo-class submarines were either sunk or severely damaged, along with many of their infiltration midget submarines. The following day, the imperialist puppet’s ground troops seized the naval base at Changjon. What had initially started out as an internal revolution had now become a three-way fight—only the third party had much more weight to throw around. Both the General Staff and KWP factions’ strength had already been weakened, and would continue to do so with each passing day as the two sides engaged in vicious battles.

The fascists were taking advantage of the DPRK’s internal crisis to pick the meat off their bones. That was why the General Staff committee had approved the amphibious assault at Wonsan. They had to quickly defeat the Korean Workers’ Party forces there and then establish a strong defensive line against the approaching invaders. Given the last reported Southern rate of advance, the imperialists would reach Wonsan in only a few days.

The east coast’s mountainous terrain was slowing the Southern forces a little, but intelligence reports put ROK Army scouts at the outskirts of Tongchon and Hoeyang. Senior naval officers had pushed hard for the amphibious assault, even though they acknowledged it was a risky plan. If the General Staff followed their own more conservative approach, they would find themselves squeezed between the KWP and the fascists. The committee chose the lesser of the two evils.

“Comrade Vice Admiral,” announced Senior Captain Song Dong-shin as he walked on to the frigate’s bridge wing. “We are approaching the turn point. Distance to turn is five kilometers. The only contact we hold is a surface surveillance radar on the southeast coast of Ryo-do.”

Gong grunted. The radar on the large island outside the entrance to the harbor was expected. Reconnaissance Bureau sniper troops had watched as the radar, and its accompanying missile battery, were emplaced on the island—moved from one of the coast defense sites near Wonsan. It was the only seaborne defense that the KWP faction had; the patrol boats berthed at the Munchon naval base had all been scuttled by their crews.

“Very well, Song. Order the gunboats to proceed. Their orders are to support the sniper troops in neutralizing the missile battery. Then deploy the missile squadron to port, just in case the imperialists show up.”

“At once, Comrade Vice Admiral!”

Gong raised his binoculars and surveyed his fleet again—almost fifty ships. It would be more accurate to call them “boats,” as only a handful of the vessels displaced more than one hundred tons. Flashing lights began flickering astern. His orders were being sent out. Soon the Soju-class missile boats would peel off to port and screen the fleet from any enemy approaching from the south. At the same time, the two gunboats were to head straight for the missile battery.

Their small guns had little chance of silencing the battery, but they would provide the necessary diversion to allow the concealed sniper troops to attack and eliminate the radar, the missile launchers, and their crews. It was unfortunate that the two old veteran ships would likely be destroyed in the process, but their loss would not be in vain. A klaxon sounded behind him; the flagship was going to battle stations.

Special Patrol Craft 1001

West Side of Ryo-Do

The battered man leaned on the silent radar repeater for support. His body ached every time he moved. He stared out the bridge window, still wishing he had died with his crew. The captain also felt ashamed that he hadn’t been able to carry out his orders to scuttle his ship. The newly modified missile patrol craft had been docked across the harbor, undergoing repairs to one of the diesel engines and other systems. He didn’t receive the order directly. Their communication system was down, but he did notice the other patrol boats starting to settle at their berths, and the smoke rising from the boats stored on shore. Before he could pass the word, KWP troops had stormed aboard and started shooting. Every last member of his crew was executed and he was severely beaten, but left alive. They needed him.

“So what do you think of our strategy, Comrade Captain?” asked the political commissar. He wore the rank of major, but Captain Hak had no idea what his name was.

“I’m not your comrade, Major,” Hak spat out defiantly.

“No, I suppose not,” retorted the short, scrawny young man. His arrogant smile grated the captain. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Hiding behind an island is for lesser vessels,” scoffed Hak. “This ship was built for speed and stealth. She was designed to dart in undetected, fire her missiles, and dart out. You waste her best attributes sitting here in the shallows behind a rock.”

Special Patrol Craft 1001 was one of three surface effect ships in the North Korean navy, a high-speed patrol craft that rode on a cushion of air, reducing her drag in the water. Her hull was shaped to reduce her radar cross-section, but the added guns and other equipment on her deck largely negated any benefit.

“Perhaps, Captain. But even a cheetah stays low, hiding in the tall grass, pouncing only when its prey is within reach. We’ll use your ship’s speed, but only when our targets are in sight.”

“And then you will die,” Hak observed confidently.

The political commissar was losing patience with this fool. The only reason Hak was alive was so he could direct the special patrol craft with its four Kh-35, or SS-N-25, antiship missiles into position and fire them. After that, the major had no further use for him.

“Comrade Major!” interrupted a sergeant. “The missile battery command post reports two contacts approaching at high speed.”

“See, Captain. Now it begins.” That irritating smile again. “Please get us ready to attack.”

Surface Action Group Alpha

Republic of Korea Ship
Choi Young
, DDG 981

40 NM Southeast of Wonsan Airport

Captain Park watched the large flat-panel display with amazement. If anyone had told him the Korean People’s Navy could put forty-seven ships into a single formation, and sail under full EMCON, he would have dismissed them as an imbecile. But there it was, right before him. Three long columns of ships moving, more or less, in a straight line and not a single radar was emitting. “Astounding,” he whispered quietly.

The video feed from the Super Lynx’s FLIR sensor turret allowed Park to keep a close eye on the enemy fleet while keeping himself radar silent. The North Korean ships had just finished executing a turn to starboard. It wasn’t pretty, but they all managed to stay in formation. There was no doubt now; they were heading for Wonsan. Judging by the infrared video, there were at least two dozen amphibious ships. The North Korean General Staff had apparently learned a thing or two from the US Navy; they were attempting to flank their opponent from the sea. Park found himself begrudgingly impressed.

“Captain, the four patrol craft that broke off from the main formation have been identified as Osa I–type missile boats. They’re establishing a screen approximately five nautical miles off the formation’s port side,” reported the tactical action officer.

Park glanced at the main plot; the SAG still had plenty of distance before coming into radar range of this new screen, should they begin transmitting. “Very well, TAO. We’ll remain on this course for a little longer. Have the other two ships gone to general quarters?”

“Yes, sir, all ships are at battle stations, with radars and weapons warmed up and in standby.”

The captain grunted his acknowledgment.

Great Leader

“Comrade Vice Admiral, all ships have completed the turn,” reported Song.

“Excellent, Senior Captain!” smiled Gong, pleased that everything seemed to be going as planned. “Have the bombardment squadron assume their position at the head of the formation. Stand by to execute the rocket barrage. Also alert the hovercraft and light landing craft to prepare to assault the beach.”

“Yes, sir.”

Within moments, the eight Chaho-class attack craft passed by the flagship to port and assumed a line-abreast formation ahead of the fleet. Each boat was armed with a BM-21 rocket launcher that would salvo forty 122mm rockets in a single burst. The concentrated barrage was to be launched just as the hovercraft reached the beach. The slower Nampo light landing craft would immediately follow, along with the six Chong-jin–class gunboats providing dedicated naval gunfire support. Three larger Hantae-class landing ships would bring up the rear, with half of the troops and the twelve main battle tanks.

The fifteen Kongbang hovercraft carried two battalions of Reconnaissance Bureau amphibious sniper troops, or North Korean special operations forces. The beach had a low grade and an unobstructed approach to the Wonsan airport. The hovercraft would be able to run right up to the closest buildings before discharging the sniper troops. Their first task would be to establish a beachhead for the slower light and medium landing craft that would follow. If all went well, over 2,100 troops and a dozen tanks would be dumped behind the KWP defensive positions. The amphibious troops would be in a perfect position to roll up the seaward flank, just as units from the First Corps conducted a general assault along the entire defensive perimeter on the landward side.

“Admiral! Missile alert!” shouted Song.

Gong burst through the bridge to the starboard wing and saw the four bright flashes in the early morning sky as the missiles were launched from Ryo-do. He hoped the two gunboats saw the flashes as well; otherwise they’d be dead in a little over two minutes. The admiral shook his head; there was nothing he could do to help them. He needed to concentrate on getting the troops ashore.

“Senior Captain, signal the fleet, all ahead flank! Energize radars!”

Special Patrol Craft 1001

Hak saw the bright glare from the missiles’ booster rockets as they rose from the island. Shaking his head he mumbled, “Idiots.” They’d just wasted half of their firepower by launching an attack on what were undoubtedly decoy ships. The politically reliable KWP soldiers didn’t seem to understand what was happening; at least he hoped that was the case.

“Ah, see Captain! My comrades have already begun the attack. It is time for us to move out,” squealed the major. Hak almost laughed at the man’s naïveté.

“Very well,” acknowledged the captain. “Helmsman, ahead two-thirds, steer course one zero zero.”

The young soldier looked down at the control panel, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to find the throttle. Grumbling, Hak walked over, followed closely by the political commissar. Pointing to a lever, Hak said, “This. Move it up two notches.”

As the ship began to move, the loudspeaker suddenly blared, “MULTIPLE RADAR EMISSIONS, BEARING IS TO THE LEFT, FIVE DEGREES.”

“There are our targets, Captain, as expected,” smirked the major.

Choi Young
, DDG 981

“Captain! Missiles have been launched from Ryo-do. They are
not
heading in our direction! And we have numerous ESM hits on surface search radars, all coming from the DPRK fleet.”

Park looked up and saw the four missile icons as they moved slowly from the island. They were Russian Styx variants, or perhaps KN-01 cruise missiles. Either way, they were slow, high fliers, easy targets. But most importantly, they weren’t coming toward his ships. Still, someone had just launched missiles and the large formation had lit off all their sensors, and that changed everything. “Stand by to energize radars!”

Great Leader

As soon as the boosters cut out and fell away, Gong lost sight of the missiles in the darkness. Flashes from near the horizon meant the two gunboats were firing their guns and chaff launchers. Silently he urged them on. Thirty seconds later, two bright flashes suddenly bloomed. At least two missiles had hit, and flames could now be seen dancing along the darkened skyline. Turning back toward the island, Gong saw a glowing line of fire along the coast of Ryo-do. Raising his binoculars, he could see the launchers were burning furiously. An explosion or two later, and the command vehicle was engulfed as well. Satisfied, Gong watched as the hovercraft screamed by his frigate at forty-five knots.

Special Patrol Craft 1001

“Energize the surface search radar,” ordered Hak. The KPW soldier looked at the major, awaiting confirmation of the order.

“Is that wise, Captain?” asked the commissar. His hand hovered near his holster.

“If you want to shoot missiles, then we don’t have a choice,” lied Hak.

“Very well. Energize the radar, Sergeant.” The soldier looked around for the transmit button. Completely frustrated, Hak walked over and pushed the man out of the way, turned on the radar, and put his face on the viewing hood.

After a few sweeps he barked, “Firing bearing, green one zero, range thirteen kilometers.”

“What kind of foolishness is this, Captain?” yelled the major as he pulled his pistol. “What do you mean by green?”

Hak rolled his eyes. The man was utterly clueless. He screamed, “Green! As in starboard! To your right!” The captain raised his right hand to emphasize his point. “The firing bearing is right one zero degrees, firing range is one three kilometers! Have your men enter that data in the fire control computer and quickly. You don’t have much time before they figure out what is going on and shoot missiles at us!”