Red Phoenix Burning (34 page)

Each Hyunmyoo missile had a half-ton warhead, and the impact point was on the west side of the bridge, at the base of the center pier. To Rhee it looked not like one explosion, but the same explosion lasting six times as long, blasting and tearing at the concrete, until the span on each side began to sag, and finally collapsed into the river.

Rhee was glad they were so far away. He’d felt the pressure wave from each blast pass over him, and his ears rang with echoes of the explosions.

Oh was already breaking down the transmitter. They’d take it back out with them. Dae reported, “The helicopter’s ETA is fifteen minutes.”

They had to move back down the hill, to flatter ground. Still hopeful, Rhee turned to Tak’s men. There were seven, counting the wounded. “It will be tight, but there’s room for all of you. I promise you will not be imprisoned or punished.” Looking directly at Tak, he asked, “At least let me take your injured men with us. They’ll be in a first-class hospital within an hour.”

After a pause, one of Tak’s men spoke up. “My family is south of the capital, if they’re still alive. I’ll go. I can help carry the wounded.” A second man said, “I’ll go, too.” The remaining two looked at Tak, who said, “I’m staying, but go if you wish,” and they hurried to help the others.

The group organized themselves for the trip, each pair of Northerners carrying a wounded comrade. They stacked their weapons and other gear they wouldn’t need.

Rhee should have been satisfied, but in the face of Tak’s stubbornness, he felt like a failure. He urged, “It’s a new chance for you.”

Everyone looked at Tak expectantly, but he shook his head, and Rhee gave the order to move out. They had a ride to catch. As he turned to leave, Rhee hesitated, and asked, “Why stay?”

Tak answered, “Because I can’t imagine anything else.” The captain turned and slung his rifle, and walked south toward town.

Rhee watched the captain disappear, then headed west, down his side of the hill.

5 September 2015, 9:00 a.m. EDT

CNN Special Report

“The European Union and the Association of Southeast Asian Nations have both agreed to impose economic sanctions on China, restricting both Chinese-manufactured goods and sales to China, especially of ‘dual-use’ items, items that have both civil and military applications. Among other things, this has affected a multibillion-euro joint helicopter program with France, and numerous instrument and computer sales to the People’s Republic of China.

“This follows the passage of a sanctions bill by both houses of Congress and awaiting the president’s signature. Secretary of State Marie Baldwin spoke after the bill’s passage, saying, ‘China’s attempt to somehow preserve or sustain its client state is both misguided and harmful to the entire Asian region. Sanctions always hurt both trading partners, but the short-term cost to us must be weighed against the potential damage the DPRK could still inflict.’

“In related news, units of the US Seventh fleet have entered the shallow waters of the Yellow Sea with the publicly stated purpose of blocking any action by the nearby Chinese navy against either the Republic of Korea or the former DPRK. Many Chinese naval bases line the eastern and northern sides of this body of water, half the size of the Gulf of Mexico.

“A US Navy spokesman says that while he cannot discuss the precise location of naval vessels, he reported that Chinese and American warships are already ‘well within weapons range of each other.’

“The only public reaction from China to these latest developments was a statement released by the Chinese ambassador to the United Nations that ‘China would not be intimidated or deterred from acting in its own legitimate security interests.’”

Chapter 18 - Confrontation

5 September 2015, 1300 local time

Third Army Field Headquarters

Outside Taedong, North Korea

With Operation Gangrim winding down, Rhee Han-gil had expected the summons to General Sohn’s headquarters. He would report not only on his own recent mission, but the Ghost Brigade’s operations as a whole. As his helicopter approached from the air, he could see the whole complex, sprawled more than half a kilometer on each side, with untidy clusters of tents, vans, and vehicle parks. He also noted antiaircraft emplacements that were thankfully idle. Lanes for vehicles wound through the base, raising dust that hung in the hot air until it found someone to cling to. Its size was appropriate, since it was the forward headquarters for the entire ROK Third Army.

Rhee was met by an anxious aide as soon as his helicopter landed, who led him through the camp to the commander’s area. They were meeting in the open, in a tent with three sides rolled up, the fourth shading them from the afternoon sun. A cluster of officers worked at laptops to one side. It was a familiar scene, until he noticed that at least a third of the soldiers in the tent were wearing DPRK uniforms. The sight bumped up hard against a lifetime of upbringing, as well as his entire army career. Intellectually, he wasn’t opposed to the idea, but it did take some getting used to.

A senior officer in a North Korean uniform stepped outside. Rhee immediately recognized General Tae. The aide saluted the general, and then left. Rhee also saluted the former DPRK general, who returned it and offered his hand.

“Thank you for not killing those men outside Anju.”

“You were the one who convinced them to join us, General,” Rhee replied.

Tae nodded, then said, “I’m really speaking of Captain Tak. You didn’t shoot him, even though he refused to come with you. We might have to fight him some day soon.”

Rhee disagreed, as politely as he could with a general. “You can’t change a dead man’s mind, sir. I can’t really think of ‘North’ and ‘South’ Korea any more.” Rhee paused, meaning to say more, but realized that Tae probably thought about the issue differently. He started to apologize, but Tae stopped him.

“I could not imagine that I would be here, in this place,” Tae explained, “but in truth, I could not imagine any kind of future living under the Kims. To stay sane in the DPRK, one had to live day to day.”

The aide reappeared. “General Tae, Colonel Rhee, General Sohn has arrived.”

Officially, Rhee was reporting to his immediate superior, General Kwon, but General Sohn, commanding the ROK Third Army, and Tae, representing the former Northern forces, sat in, listening and asking questions.

After describing his own mission, Rhee briefed them about the Ghost Brigade’s operations in the last phase of Operation Gangrim. He used a map that showed the Korean Peninsula north of Pyongyang, marked with lines showing both the Chinese advance, the suspected positions of the Kim faction holdouts, and the “United Han” forces. He stumbled a little over the phrase, and apologized.

“It’s not official yet,” Sohn cautioned the group. “The National Assembly is still arguing over whether it should be ‘United Han’ or ‘Great Han’ Republic. At least they’re leaving the flag alone.”

“‘Han’ is a good name,” Tae added. “There’s history behind it. I believe most Northerners will be able to identify with it, in time.”

For Rhee’s Ghosts, Gangrim had been a tremendous tactical success, but also a strategic failure. Although they’d struck dozens of targets, and captured or destroyed the vast majority of the North’s chemical weapons, none of the missions had yielded a single nuclear warhead. Nobody was naïve enough to believe that the Kims’ claims of possessing nuclear weapons had been all bluster. The DPRK had actually detonated several devices. They were there, somewhere.

“They may have been in the area the Chinese have occupied,” suggested Kwon hopefully.

Tae shook his head. “Unlikely. Most of the General Staff was unaware of their true location, including myself, but the Kims were always worried about the threat of a Chinese invasion.” Gesturing toward the map, he explained, “This is exactly what Kim Jung-un was afraid of. I always believed they were kept somewhere close to the capital. And it doesn’t really matter where they were. They certainly could be moved, and almost certainly have been, into the holdouts’ strongest, most secure location.”

“They’re in there. They have to be,” Sohn declared, pointing to the marked area on the map.

It was a sweeping assumption, but probably correct, Rhee believed. The Chinese army had advanced as far south as the Chongchon River, which ran roughly east-west across the peninsula. The Han forces, and a few US Eighth Army units, were still some forty kilometers to the south, organizing near Sukchon and Sunchon.

Having delivered his brief, Rhee expected to be dismissed, and began to gather his notes and tablet, but General Kwon said, “Please remain, Colonel. This discussion will affect you and your men, and we would welcome your ideas.”

Sohn’s intelligence officer, a colonel as well, briefed them all on what was known about “the Stronghold.” Scouts were well north of the Han army, watching and searching for the Chinese as well as the Northern holdouts. The scouts’ progress, or sometimes lack of it, had allowed them to draw a border around the Kim faction’s probable refuge.

From the city of Anju east to Lake Yonpung, south to Sunchon, then west to Sukchon and back north to Anju, an irregular rectangle enclosed a sparsely settled region filled with rugged, heavily wooded mountains, and threaded with river valleys. Numerous intel reports had all came to the same conclusion. The Kim faction had retreated into the highly defendable area, which not only held several army bases, but also a missile base and an airfield. It was also very likely that there were other installations built secretly into the rocky landscape.

“The Kim faction pulled a lot of their best antiaircraft units into the area, so we have very little information from aerial reconnaissance, either by manned aircraft or UAVs. So many UAVs have been shot down that we can’t afford to lose the rest. We are using what’s left to track the Chinese forces, although it’s your prerogative, General, if you want to change their tasking.”

Sohn shook his head. “No. We need to know about Chinese movements as well. I don’t like fighting two different enemies at the same time.”

“But our enemies can also fight each other,” the intelligence officer responded happily. “The northern edge of the Stronghold is on the south side of the Chongchon River. It’s likely that the Chinese will be able to attack soon. They’re bringing up bridging equipment, as well as more artillery, so they can force a crossing.”

Tae had to say it. “They may very well be ready to attack before we will.”

“The area is all mountains, filled with troops that have had weeks to dig in,” Sohn replied. “I won’t send in a force that can’t win.”

“Then let the Chinese attack, and inflict some casualties,” Kwon suggested.

Sohn shook his head. “I think we must move quickly. If the holdouts have nuclear weapons, then the risk increases the longer we wait. The Chinese attack across the river may pressure the holdouts to launch.” He gestured toward Rhee. “You remember what the colonel reported about the holdouts’ sentiments—’they won’t go down quietly.’”

Tae was also against waiting. “And if the Chinese do get across the river into the mountains, it could be very hard to push them back out, if it came to that.”

Sohn agreed. “Once they’ve paid in blood for that land, they’ll want to keep it, or charge us a high price to give it back.”

“When the Chinese invaded Vietnam in 1979, then retreated to their own border, all they left behind was scorched earth,” Tae said darkly. “If they couldn’t steal it, they blew it up or burned it. My country has suffered enough without them adding more ruin and destruction.”

“It’s now
our
country, General Tae, whatever the politicians decide to call it,” injected Rhee firmly. “We will defend it together.”

General Sohn, after nodding to General Kwon, said, “And that’s why you’re here, Colonel. Our orders to General Kwon are twofold: slow down the Chinese advance, and at the same time find a way to break through the holdouts’ defenses. We have to destroy their nuclear weapons and any delivery systems before it’s too late.”

Kwon pointed to Rhee. “Of the two, you can guess which one has the highest priority. I want you to work with me here, designing missions for all the brigades, not just your Ghosts. You’ve done well in this fight, Colonel, and we need you to come through for us again.”

Rhee carefully aimed his response at all the generals. Smiling, he answered, “I’ll do my best.”

No pressure.

5 September 2015, 1600 local time

USS
Gabrielle Giffords
(LCS 10)

The Yellow Sea

“Captain,
Yantai
‘s getting set for another pass.” The OOD’s report sounded almost routine.

“Understood.” Commander Ralph Mitchell fought the urge to walk out on the bridge wing and look aft. The
Independence
class had been built with sloped, smooth sides to reduce their radar signature. They’d done away with the bridge wings, along with a lot of other things.

The old-style helmsman at the wheel and the sailor standing by the engine order telegraph had been eliminated. The bridge watch even got to sit down, which would have been heresy in his father’s navy. The officer of the deck and junior officer of the deck had their own display screens, and sat on either side of a bank of controls for the ship’s operation. To look aft, Mitchell could use the flat-screen display next to the chair, complete with joysticks and zoom controls.

The bridge on the
Independence
class was larger than those on most ships, and it seemed even more spacious with only two people at the control console, instead of the five or six or more on earlier ships. The normal watch section of two men—a commissioned officer of the deck, and a senior enlisted junior officer of the deck—could run the ship under most conditions. In a pinch, one man could do it. The “CO’s chair” was to the right of the control console, and came equipped with its own workstation. However, Mitchell often preferred the extra chair immediately behind the two watchstanders. Any similarity to science-fiction starships probably came from similar design goals. Probably.

Mitchell’s orders were clear. He was to trail the Chinese formation and monitor their operations. The Chinese clearly didn’t want him around, but just as clearly weren’t ready to fire on him, at least not yet.

“
Yantai
‘s speed is still increasing.” When you only had two people on the bridge driving the ship, division of labor was important. Mitchell had set up his teams so that the JOOD would concentrate on conning the ship, while the OOD kept his attention on the tactical situation. Monitoring the ship’s internal systems and sensors fell to the four watchstanders in Integrated Command Center 1, or ICC1, just behind the conning station.

Although an enlisted man, the JOOD was a first-class petty officer and technical specialist in one of the ship’s main systems—the gas turbines and waterjets, the weapons and sensors, and so on. He’d then received cross-training in the others. Besides, Mitchell could rely on Petty Officer Booth’s judgment. One of the good things about serving on
Gabby
was her small crew. You got to know everyone. He trusted Booth to mind the store, which allowed the OOD, Lieutenant Sontez, and Captain Mitchell to focus on the Chinese.

The formation they were trailing had left the navy base at Qingdao three days earlier. Chinese fleet activity had steadily increased since the crisis started on the fifteenth of August, but the sailing of this group had both Seoul and Washington deeply concerned.

It was centered on three amphibious ships, which between them could carry a regiment of troops, with armor and helicopter support. Three first-line guided missile destroyers and five frigates escorted them, while Chinese fighters from nearby bases along the coast flew top cover.

At first, some in Washington had thought the group might be heading for the Spratlys, raising the possibility of a naval confrontation in the South China Sea, but there were two fleets based well to the south that were more than capable of performing that mission, and still might. All doubts were removed when the Chinese task force hadn’t turned south, but loitered along the border of the Yellow Sea and Korea Bay.

They were likely a contingency force. If the ground troops hit a roadblock, the amphibious force would land their troops to break it up.

As the Chinese incursion into Korea had developed, this task force had steamed about almost at random, keeping clear of the surface traffic that filled the Yellow Sea, but making no attempt to conceal its presence. Every radar on the Chinese ships was energized, broadcasting electromagnetic radiation as it searched for contacts. Helicopters buzzed around the formation, inspecting nearby surface ships and searching for submarines.

Mitchell and
Gabby
had received orders to proceed westward within hours of a US Navy P-8 getting near enough to identify not only the warships, but the amphibs in the center of the formation. It was a twelve-hour run from the port of Busan, on the southeast coast of Korea, around the peninsula and north into the Yellow Sea, pushing her to nearly forty knots. She could go still faster, but would not have had any fuel when she arrived.

As fast as forty knots was, the Chinese formation could have crossed the water between the two coasts and landed its troops long before
Gabby
got there. Evidently, they didn’t want to, because they were still steaming in racetracks when
Gabby
showed up that morning.

Mitchell’s orders were simply to watch and report the movements of the Chinese formation. Loitering anywhere between forty to sixty miles off the coast, the Chinese could turn east, go to flank speed, and begin landing their troops in a few hours, anywhere from Nampo all the way up to the Chinese border. Although the eastern half of Korea was mountainous, the western coastal plain made it possible to put their troops ashore anywhere, especially in this age of helicopters and air-cushion landing craft. Mitchell was specifically charged to report immediately if the formation turned toward the Korean coast and increased speed to more than fifteen knots.