Red Phoenix (71 page)

The North Korean let his breath out slowly and scanned the ground to either side. From where he lay, the other men of his hand-picked infiltration team seemed scarcely more than shadows. Black camouflage paint covered their hands and faces. They had dulled every shiny surface on their weapons and wrapped the weapons themselves in cloth to help muffle any noise made as the team inched past American outposts and firing positions.

Sohn and his men had started moving shortly after sundown, cloaked by one last diversionary attack and smoke screen. The team’s quick, soundless dash across Chungang-ro had been followed by an agonizingly slow crawl through still-smoking ruins left in the wake of the flamethrower assault. They’d made it safely, though singed and scorched, and now were almost within sight of their goal. Only a single, American-held building blocked their path. If they could slip past it without raising the alarm, making it the rest of the way to the objective—a solidly built apartment building squarely blocking the American lines of communication and resupply—would be easy.

Sohn started crawling again, moving with such infinite patience that an unwary eye might easily pass over him and rove on, unaware that it had missed anything. His men crept behind him, weighed down by packs of extra ammunition.

Five meters to safety.

A sound from the building, murmuring voices. He froze again, this time for several minutes. The voices faded.

Two meters left to go. Slowly, slowly, he told himself. Don’t rush it. This is your chance for revenge on the Yankees, don’t waste it.

Sohn rounded the last corner on his belly, put his back to the wall, and
levered himself into a low crouch, stifling a groan as he put more strain on already weary muscles. One by one his soldiers crawled past him and assembled on the pavement. He grinned to himself. They’d done the hard part. All that remained now was to occupy the apartment building he’d chosen and prepare it for an all-around defense.

When the morning came, he’d let the Americans know where he was—and with a vengeance. Then the imperialists would face a difficult choice: to either retreat past his waiting guns or try to dig him out. Either choice would cost many of them their lives. Sohn had few illusions about the odds of his own survival, but he’d seen too many deaths in the past several weeks to let the prospect of his own end deter him from his duty. The stalemate along Chungang-ro had to be broken, and he and his men were the anvil upon which the Americans and their puppets would break.

The North Korean lieutenant stood and used hand signals to gather his troops. They formed on him and the whole column moved off down the street at a fast walk.

ECHO COMPANY

“L-T?”

Kevin looked up from his half-eaten breakfast. “Yeah?”

“India One Two’s on the horn, sir. He wants to talk to you direct.”

“Coming.” Kevin shoved the ration bag off his lap and took the stairs two at a time. Montoya had finally rigged an antenna from the third floor up onto the roof itself so that no one had to risk getting shot just to talk on the radio. He took the handset offered by the RTO. “Echo Five Six here.”

“What’s your situation, Kev?” Donaldson sounded exhausted and a lot older.

Kevin listened carefully to the sounds around him before answering. Desultory firing from the left, over by Rhee’s position. Complete silence in the center. A single rifle cracked nearby, from one of the second-story rooms, answered at once by a heavier-sounding AK burst from across the street. “It’s quiet, Major. Skirmishing only. I think we bloodied ’em pretty bad yesterday and last night.”

“That’s great. Look, Kev, I’ve sent some ammo resupply up to your position, and I want to make sure the guys humping it don’t get shot up by mistake. Can you see down Inhyo Street from there?”

Kevin moved to a rear window near the staircase. Somebody had knocked out the glass, leaving an unobstructed opening with a view south along the street. “Affirmative, Major.”

“Well, that’s the way they’re coming, so have somebody keep an eye out
for ’em. And no poaching to make up your losses. Those boys are all I have to run errands for me. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Kevin felt himself smiling and wondered that he still could. “Hell, if they’ve got ammo for me, I’ll even send them back to you in a Rolls-Royce.”

“On foot is good enough, Kev. India One Two out,” Donaldson signed off.

Kevin decided to handle the job of watching for the ammo carriers himself. His troops were either needed on guard or busy trying to get some badly needed sleep. He leaned against the wall and eyed the street outside.

The Inhyo-ro was a study in desolation. The cars and people who would normally have filled it were gone. In their place were ragged-edged shell craters visible now and again through the gray smoke pall left by the hundreds of fires burning out of control across Taejon. The street looked utterly abandoned and alien.

He shivered slightly and blamed the chill he felt on the bad weather.

Men appeared at the edge of his vision, coming closer. Kevin raised his binoculars to get a better look. Several pairs of soldiers, each pair carting a box of precious ammo. Sweat-streaked faces. Young faces, pale and tight-lipped. Scared by this close approach to the real war.

“Jesus!” Kevin heard machine guns open up and watched in horror as the ammo carriers were mowed down, thrown dead en masse onto the pavement. He swiveled the binoculars and saw flashes winking in windows several buildings down. The guns fired for a moment longer, making sure of their victims, and then fell silent.

He spun round and saw Montoya standing openmouthed beside him. “Get Donaldson for me! Now! And tell all the platoon leaders I want them here yesterday! Go!”

He turned back to the window and stared at the tangle of bodies heaped on the street. Things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

ASSAULT GROUP 2

Sohn spotted the wounded young American crawling and aimed carefully, bracing his assault rifle on the windowsill. Satisfied with his aim, he squeezed the AK’s trigger lightly and smiled as the man jerked once and lay still in a pool of spreading blood.

“An excellent shot, Comrade Lieutenant.”

Sohn turned to face the speaker. Sergeant Yi was an ass-kisser, but at least he was a competent ass-kisser. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, Comrade Lieutenant. We’ve barricaded all the first-floor entrances and windows. Every possible approach is covered by cross fires. It will take a battalion to force us out of this place.”

Sohn favored the sergeant with an approving nod. “Splendid, Yi. Take your post. The Americans know we’re here now, so we can expect them to test your arrangements at any moment.”

Yi saluted sharply and left the room.

Sohn settled down to wait. He felt sure the enemy’s response wouldn’t be long in coming.

ECHO COMPANY

Kevin jabbed the street map with his grease pencil. “That’s the target, guys. Unless we can take that building back from the NKs, the whole battalion is well and truly fucked.” He looked closely at his platoon leaders to make sure they were following along.

Rhee nodded his understanding, but both Geary and McIntyre looked unconvinced. The burly 2nd Platoon leader spoke first. “Hell, Lieutenant, why try to take it away from ’em at all? Let the NKs sit there. We can resupply up one of these other streets here.” His stubby finger traced an imaginary line to the west of the enemy-held building.

Kevin shook his head impatiently. “It’s not that easy, Sarge. They’ve almost certainly got MGs sited to fire down that cross-street. Anybody lugging stuff across is gonna get spotted and hit.” He paused. “But even if we can get resupplied, Bravo Company can’t. Inhyo’s their lifeline to the rear. Every other path out of that train station is under enemy observation and fire. So either we clear that apartment building or Bravo eats it. And Major Donaldson doesn’t view that as an acceptable alternative.”

McIntyre looked angry. “Christ, screw the major, L-T. Why doesn’t he use those guys from Foxtrot to do this? Why should we get all the shit jobs?”

“Because we’re all that’s left, Mac.” Kevin rocked back on his heels. “Brigade took that last Foxtrot platoon away earlier this morning. They needed it to plug a gap somewhere west of here.”

There were deep frowns on every face in the command group. Things were really getting bad when nobody had any reserves held out of line. Plus, anybody with half a brain could see that NK-occupied building was going to be a tough nut to crack. Damned tough. They fell silent looking at the map.

Rhee broke the silence. “When do you want me to attack, Lieutenant?”

Kevin grimaced. He’d known it was going to come down to this, but he hadn’t wanted it to. Rhee was a friend—a last link to the past, to days before the war had turned everything upside down. Hell, Rhee was more than that. The dapper, ever cheerful South Korean had saved his life. Was this how he had to repay his friend? By sending him into the NK meat grinder any fool could see waiting for the assault force?

But Rhee was also his best platoon leader. He had the tactical sense and,
more importantly, the sheer guts needed to pull this stunt off. Maybe there wasn’t really much choice after all. The mission had to come first, ahead of any considerations of friendship or risk.

“You’ll attack in fifteen minutes, Lieutenant,” Kevin heard himself saying. “Take one of your squads and one of McIntyre’s. Battalion’s promised us priority on a smoke mission, so you’ll have that at least.”

The South Korean grinned. “Very good, sir.” He stood. “With your permission, I’ll leave now to get my force ready to go in. There’s no sense in making the communists a gift of time.”

Kevin forced himself to match Rhee’s smile. “Right. Good luck, Lieutenant. We’ll watch your back for you.”

Rhee nodded and then looked squarely into Kevin’s eyes. He held out a hand and spoke more softly. “I would like you to know, Lieutenant Little, that it has been an honor serving with you.”

Numbly, Kevin shook hands and watched as the South Korean bounded down the stairs to assemble his troops.

ECHO COMPANY, WEST OF INHYO STREET, TAEJON

Kevin thumbed the transmit button. “Kilo November Seven Two, this is Echo Five Six. I have a priority smoke mission. Coordinates Yankee Delta three eight seven one nine zero. Over.”

The artillery officer’s voice crackled back over the speaker. “Understood, Echo Five Six.”

There was a five-second pause, and the voice came back on the radio. “Shot, out.”

Kevin craned his neck to get a better angle on the silent apartment building less than thirty meters away. He felt naked, completely exposed to any NK sniper watching for a target. Seconds ticked away. C’mon, c’mon, where’s the arty?

A single shell screamed down out of the sky and burst on the street, spewing gray smoke in all directions. Kevin yanked his head back around the corner. “November Seven Two! On target! Fire for effect!”

More shells rained down around the North Korean—held building, and he watched the smoke screen rising, billowing above the rooftops.

“Go! Go! Go! Move out!” Rhee’s shouted commands brought the men of the assault force to their feet. With the South Korean in the lead, they ran forward and disappeared into the gray mist.

Suddenly the lower edge of the mist winked red in a dozen places as the North Koreans fired. Hundreds of bullets cracked down the street at supersonic speed, shattering brick, chewing up concrete, and puncturing
flesh. High-pitched screams echoed above the chattering machine guns and assault rifles.

Kevin sat motionless, instantly aware that the attack had failed. The smoke screen hadn’t been worth a damn. The NKs were too well sited. They’d positioned their weapons to cover every possible approach. The bastards didn’t need to actually see anyone coming. All they had to do was pull their triggers, confident that every bullet fired was going into a carefully calculated kill zone. The zone Rhee and his men had just entered.

Damn it. He couldn’t stand just hearing it. He had to see it. Kevin rolled out onto the street, flat on his stomach below the stream of bullets snapping past low overhead. The screams were dwindling now, fading into low sobs and moans. The North Korean fusillade fell away as well, shrinking to a spattering of single shots and small bursts.

Something scraped on the pavement ahead of him, and Kevin lifted his head to look. Two men came out of the smoke, crawling, dragging a third man behind them. A fourth staggered blindly after them, weaponless, his hands clutching at a spreading red stain on his stomach. The first two crept past him and Kevin’s stomach lurched. The man being dragged was Rhee. He waited for other survivors to follow, but there weren’t any.

He inched back into cover and sat up, staring deliberately away from the already blood-soaked patch of pavement where Echo’s medics were working frantically on the wounded. On Rhee. He closed his eyes, not wanting to think or feel anything. Not anything. This wasn’t his fault.

But it was his fault and he knew it. Twelve men had gone down that street. In the blink of an eye, eight had been killed or mortally wounded. He should have anticipated the disaster. Planned for it. Avoided it. Instead he’d hoped for a miracle and it hadn’t come. Well, Rhee had paid the price for his mistake.

“Hey, L-T?” It was Montoya. “Kilo November wants to know if they should keep firing. What should I tell them?”

“Tell them…” Kevin gagged, fighting not to throw up. “Tell them to knock it off. It’s over.”

“No.” A hoarse, pain-filled voice protested.

He opened his eyes. Rhee had pushed himself up off the pavement despite the medic’s best efforts to make him lie still. The South Korean was a horrifying sight, shot at least twice in the chest. Kevin could see blood still welling from one of his wounds.

“You must not… abandon… the attack,” Rhee gasped out, struggling for breath. One of his lungs must have collapsed. “Take them, Lieutenant… kill the bastards for us.” He fell back, completely spent.

Kevin crawled over to where the South Korean lay sprawled. His friend’s eyes were closed, but he was still breathing, if only in short, panting gasps.
The medic pulled a syringe out of his kit and jabbed it into Rhee’s arm. Kevin grabbed the man’s arm. “Will he make it?”