Red Phoenix Burning (32 page)

Kary realized she was screaming, as much out of surprise and reaction to Cho’s fierce attack as she was from fear. She forced herself to stop, as those around her, including several ROK soldiers, saw what had happened. Ye and his alarmingly large knife were quickly taken into custody, while Cho promised to bring Kary to the provost’s office as soon as she’d had some time to recover.

She shivered, swallowing hard, and found Cho was supporting her, one arm around her waist and the other under an elbow. She did feel a little unsteady.

Cho was almost frantic. “Are you all right? Did you get cut anywhere?” Even as she tried to answer the question, Cho swung her around to check her back and neck for injuries.

“What about your throat?” he asked, studying her throat and then her shoulder. “Does it hurt anywhere?” He was holding her by her shoulders, his face full of concern.

Without thinking, she hugged him, hard, wrapping both arms around him and burying her face in his neck. She wasn’t crying, not exactly. It was half for support—no, it was all for support, and right now he was an iron pillar. “I thought you didn’t see me,” she said after a moment.

His arms were around her now, too. “I would never walk past you. You’re easy to find, especially in a crowd of Koreans.” That made her laugh, a little, and she eased her grip to something less desperate.

“Your expression was completely blank,” he explained. That was my first clue. And that
nappeun nom
was right behind you. You’d never let someone get that close.”

“Really?” she remarked, looking at the two of them. They both laughed, and realized that a small crowd surrounded them. As they released each other and she stood straighter, she heard cheers and questions. The
ajummas
all wanted to make sure she was unharmed, and everyone congratulated Cho on his neat takedown of her assailant.

She realized that she was still holding Cho’s hand, but was reluctant to let go. She was also a little embarrassed. Public displays of affection in Korea were usually limited to handholding, or a quick peck on the cheek. Embraces like theirs often earned a scolding from more conservative citizens, but under the circumstances, allowances could be made.

Cho also noticed her holding his hand, but made no move to break away. He smiled and said, “If you’re all right, you should go to the provost’s office.”

“Please come with me?” she asked.

3 September 2015, 0410 local time

Seventh Air Force Headquarters

Osan Air Base, South Korea

The Seventh Air Force was now fighting a round-the-clock war. Lieutenant General Randall Carter and his deputy, Brigadier General Tony Christopher, had agreed long ago that at least one of them would be in the ops center at all times. With advanced sensors and night vision gear for pilots, nighttime was just another operational environment. In fact, it was a little safer than flying during the day, with a lower risk of visually aimed potshots. And the air was smoother, without the thermals from daytime heating.

And it didn’t help that Washington was thirteen hours behind Seoul. The message Tony was reading had been sent at three in the afternoon, Washington time.

He’d already sent word to wake the general. They were supposed to be getting at least six hours of sleep out of every twenty-four, but it was a goal they didn’t always reach. For something like this, the boss had to be told right away.

General Carter hurried in, still shaking off sleep. Both he and Tony had quarters in the same building as the ops center. “Flash precedence?” he asked.

“The Chinese rejected the latest note,” Tony explained, handing Carter the hard copy. “All of a sudden, Pyongyang falling doesn’t seem like such a big deal.”

“It does change one’s perspective,” Carter remarked as he read the message, then took the time to read it again while Tony waited silently. “At least they’re giving us decent ROEs for the Chinese. Beijing is going to regret this,” the general predicted.

“They can still cause a lot of problems,” Tony replied with caution.

“But they can’t justify taking and holding Korean territory, at least not easily in this day and age, and we can cause problems for them as well.” Carter said the last part in a very positive way. Turning, he looked at the unit status board and pointed. “What are the Nineteenth and Twenty-Seventh doing?”

Both squadrons were equipped with F-22 Raptors and had been among the first reinforcements the Seventh Air Force had received, along with a flock of transports and aerial tankers.

“No changes, General. Rotating escorts for the E-3C AWACS and E-8C JSTARS aircraft, four reconnaissance sorties later today, and the rest on standby.” With total air superiority, the Raptors had little to do, but that could all change quickly.

“Reinforce the escorts from pairs to four-ship formations, and have the rest of the aircraft in the squadrons come up to alert plus fifteen at 0900. Send that out now, then tell the mission planning cell to double the escorts on all missions that will be anywhere north of Kaechon at 0900 or later.”

Tony made notes as the general spoke, nodded, and then simply looked at his boss.

The general was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Saint. I can’t tell you much, but you might want to look up ‘horizontal escalation.’ And between now and then, you and I are going to sit here and think of every dirty trick the Chinese could play on us, and what we can do to stop it.”

3 September 2015, 8:30 p.m. EDT

CNN Special Report

The wall behind the news anchor displayed a map of the South China Sea, framed by China on the north, Vietnam to the west, the Philippines to the east, and Malaysia far to the south. The blue oblong was dotted with small islands and archipelagos, and on the network’s map, two of the islands, both in the east near the Philippines, were highlighted by glowing red boxes. Insets showed close-ups of a triangular atoll and US warships steaming in formation. A scrolling banner across the bottom of the page read, “Naval Confrontation in the South China Sea—US and China Ready to Fight?”

“We’re breaking into our evening coverage to tell you about this latest development in the ongoing faceoff between China and the United States. Only hours after Beijing flatly refused to discuss their advance into the former North Korea, US Marines landed on a small island, not really even an island. It’s a tropical atoll called Scarborough Shoal, after a British ship that ran aground on it in the late 1700s.

“US Navy warships showed up early this morning local time and began escorting Chinese-flagged fishing boats out of the area. Those that refused were boarded. The ‘Notice to Airmen and Mariners’ posted by the US government declared an exclusion zone around the entire area while the US and Philippine Navy conducted ‘joint maritime security operations.’” The anchor read the text verbatim, but without any understanding.

“With us this evening is Dr. Eric Anderson from the Naval War College, a widely published expert on China and the long-running South China Sea dispute, to put this action in context.”

Anderson was slim, well dressed, and evidently used to being interviewed. He didn’t waste time or words. “The waters around Scarborough Shoal are being heavily fished by the PRC, Taiwan, and the Philippines. The atoll lies 530 miles from the nearest Chinese territory, and 130 miles from the Philippines.

“The exclusion zone bars other ships, including Chinese and Taiwanese vessels, from the area, and will allow the Philippine fishermen to operate without fear of harassment by the Chinese Coast Guard or other PRC paramilitary ships. That’s been a real problem for them.”

He paused for a moment. “It’s a minor economic hit for China, but a big boost for the Philippines, an important American ally in the region.”

The anchor asked, “Is there a lot of fishing around the Spratly Islands, where the second exclusion zone was declared?”

Anderson nodded. “Some, and also the possibility of oil or mineral deposits. They’ve never been properly explored or developed because China, the Philippines, and others have been squabbling over them for decades.

“Lately, China’s been expanding the islands in the Spratly archipelago, adding airstrips and radar stations in what the international community calls ‘disputed territory.’ Beijing is trying to claim squatter’s rights, but that only works if the other side, like the Philippines, is weaker.

“The US is guaranteeing that the Philippines will have full access to the resources in those two areas while shutting the Chinese completely out. It shows that America, which so far remained impartial in these territorial disputes, will now come down hard on the side of its allies. It also reminds China that the US Navy is still . . .”

The anchor held up a hand while she listened to her earpiece. “Dr. Anderson, my producer says the Chinese ambassador to the UN has just released an official statement. He’s sending it to me now.”

She turned to read the flat-screen display to one side. After a moment she reported, “It’s not very long. They condemn the ‘unlawful seizure,’ and so on, then say they will not be intimidated, and threaten ‘grave consequences.’”

Facing her guest, she asked, “What do you think that means, Doctor?”

“It means we’re playing on a different level now.”

4 September 2015, 9:00 a.m. local time

August 1st Building, Ministry of National Defense Compound

Beijing, People’s Republic of China

President Wen asked the question flatly. “How much more do we stand to lose?”

The foreign minister, already apologetic, answered, “I can’t say, Comrade Chairman. We didn’t believe the Americans would react that strongly, or quickly. My analysts are studying US official statements and other sources, trying to understand what they missed.”

“Maybe the US president has been reading Sun Tzu,” added Defense Minister Yu. “Our possessions in the South China Sea were vulnerable. They used them to send us a message.”

Wen responded, “A message, a reminder, or a threat?”

“That depends on how we wish to view it,” the defense minister answered. “But the Americans don’t want to fight us any more than we want to fight them.”

“But they are fully involved now, as you correctly predicted they would be. But with the fall of Pyongyang and the surrender of KPA units to ROK or US forces, the situation has changed, and not to our advantage.”

The defense minister reminded them all, “This isn’t about that capital or the Korean People’s Army; it’s about nuclear weapons in the former DPRK. We haven’t found any in the territory we’ve occupied—none. And we’ve heard nothing from the Americans or the South Koreans, so it is likely they haven’t found any either.”

“Comrade Chairman, our troops are near Dong-an and Yak-san, only ten kilometers from the Yongbyon nuclear facility. Our best chances of finding nuclear weapons is there. We must seize the facility before we even begin to consider a cease-fire.”

“Even if it means firing on South Korean forces, General?” asked Wen. “The intelligence reports suggest the South Koreans are now supporting the former KPA units, providing them with provisions and ammunition. What if our soldiers come in contact with ROK Army units? Are we now to engage them as well?”

“If we move quickly, that may not be necessary, Comrade Chairman,” answered the defense minister. “The advance of US and ROK army forces has slowed, due to the need to organize and supply former KPA units. If we get across the Chongchon River, and then stop, establishing a defensive line from the coastline through Anju to Tokchon, we maximize our chances of finding the nuclear weapons, while minimizing the possibility of an altercation between our forces and the Americans and their ROK ally.”

Wen frowned as he considered Yu’s suggestion. After a brief moment, he nodded slowly and said, “Unless we wish to change our goal, we must continue.”

Several CMC members shook their heads; the defense minister repeated strongly, “The security of China against a nuclear attack is paramount.”

The president stood. “Then that’s it.” He ordered the foreign minister, “We must make every effort to remind the world that we are doing this on behalf of all Asia. We will not rest until the Kim’s nuclear stockpile is found and destroyed.”

Chapter 17 - Juggernaut

4 September 2015, 1500 local time

Third Army Field Headquarters

Outside Taedong, North Korea

General Tae Seok-won and his battle staff were engulfed by a sea of ROK uniforms. The North Koreans wore camouflage fatigues, just like the other officers and soldiers at Sohn’s forward headquarters. To a civilian, they might have looked the same, but Tae knew that they stood out vividly. The two green colors were different, one darker, the other brighter, and the brown had a reddish tone that contrasted when he stood next to one of the Southerners. It had distracted Tae a little at first, marking him and his men as outsiders, but he was trying to rise above it. He hoped Sohn and the others could get used to it as well.

Sohn had placed his headquarters at Taedong, ten to fifteen miles west of the capital, because the highways were still intact. The South Korean general and his staff were meeting in an open-sided tent. Whether by accident or design, the map table they used faced away from Pyongyang. Tae knew that if he turned to the southeast, he could mark the city’s position by the gray cloud that hung over it. From their position on the city outskirts, he could see the highway, carrying their troops northwest.

The Battle of Pyongyang was over. Now the two armies had to adjust from fighting each other to working together to face the oncoming Chinese. The capital city’s highways had been torn up by fighting long before the South Korean army had arrived, and that battered network now had to support thousands of vehicles and ten times that many men, with their supplies. The first order of business was repositioning both armies along a new defensive line north of the city.

The first task Sohn’s engineers had been assigned, even before restoring electric power or repairing the water system in Pyongyang, was clearing the roads that led out of the city. Youth Hero Highway led west toward Taedong, while Sochon Street led north. Both avenues were completely choked with military traffic pulling out of the city, and movement was frustratingly low.

Everything capable of moving and fighting was being sent north to establish a new defensive position near Sukchon and Sunchon. By the time disparate ROK and KPA troops got there, they had to be ready to fight again, but this time on the same side. Tae and his officers found themselves sharing information with the Southerners that would have gotten them shot just a few weeks earlier: radio procedures, weapons and ammunition inventories, unit strengths. Tae also found he needed more and more resources from Sohn’s forces as additional KPA units declared their loyalty. Fuel and food were the biggest concern, of course, but they also needed artillery. Most of Tae’s had been destroyed in the fighting at Pyongyang.

But there were other, more sensitive issues, such as the investigators that had been “interviewing” his men. “If you want my soldiers to work with yours, they can’t be afraid they’ll be thrown into prison,” Tae demanded.

The intelligence colonel on Sohn’s staff countered, “Some of the men you command were party officials, responsible for human rights violations, or other criminal activity. A lot of them aren’t even soldiers. They’re still wearing civilian clothes.”

Tae bristled at the phrase “criminal activity,” but waited for the colonel to finish. “Immediately after the fifteenth of August, the government issued a general order for all able-bodied men, most of whom were reservists anyway, to be mobilized. Regardless of the clothes they wear, they are soldiers under my command.”

The colonel didn’t back down. “Your own role in the Kim regime is still under investigation as well, General,” he threatened.

“Then perhaps the best thing for my men and I is to defend Pyongyang against whatever Chinese units break through your defenses. Your men can stay outside the city limits.”

General Sohn shook his head. “That isn’t what we agreed to.”

“Neither was criminal prosecution of my troops,” Tae responded sharply. “I’m adding a new condition: blanket amnesty for all the men under my command. It never occurred to me that you would allow this type of thing, but if you are, then we will remain in Pyongyang and you can do without my eight full divisions of veteran soldiers.”

The colonel actually laughed. “That’s the best place for them! They’d crack and run as soon as the Chinese opened fire.”

“That’s enough, Colonel,” snapped Sohn.

Tae laughed. “Really, Colonel? Then please explain how these soldiers— outnumbered, hungry, low on ammunition, and surrounded—held against a full-fledged frontal assault by your best troops. And have you forgotten that I already have many other troops already fighting the Chinese?”

Tae was answering the colonel’s insult, but he made sure to include the general and the rest of his staff in his reply. He then turned to address Sohn directly. “My men are fighting for their homes now, and if they survive to go home, they deserve to live free of revenge.”

General Sohn nodded. “Agreed.”

5 September 2015, 0115 local time

Anju Bridge, Chongchon River

Anju, North Korea

They came in low from the southwest as fast as they dared, only slowing once they neared their objective. They were in a hurry.

Rhee wasn’t in his personal helicopter this time, but a stock machine of the Ninth Brigade, along with the rest of his five-man team. It had been a short ride, only seventy-five kilometers from their new base outside Pyongyang to Anju, or more specifically to a bridge just west of the city, over the Chongchon River.

He used the ride to work on replacing their top cover. While they had prepped and loaded for the mission, they’d been able to watch a live video feed from a Searcher UAV that they’d sent north of Anju. Chinese troops were coming south, at speed, and the Ninth Brigade was using the UAV to search for the advancing PLA units. Unfortunately, it may have found them, because ten minutes after Rhee’s team took off, the UAV’s signal ceased.

Whether it was to hostile action or some operational accident was impossible to tell. The controllers had lost time while they confirmed that the vehicle was truly gone before launching a replacement. Unfortunately, the UAV was built for endurance, not speed. The Israeli-made UAV, about the size of a Piper Cub private aircraft, traveled just about as slowly. In fact, their Surion helicopters were faster. The UAV would be on station some time after they arrived, but it wasn’t there yet.

As they flew north, Rhee had weighed their options. The Chinese were advancing faster than threatening weather, and he needed to know where they were. In theory, loss of their reconnaissance could be used to justify a mission abort, or at least a delay, but he decided against it. There was no time to reset and start over.

Gangrim Phase II was well underway. Rhee and his Ghosts were once more tracking down North Korean WMDs, this time north of Pyongyang. And with the detailed information from General Tae, they’d seized a number of bunkers that neither the South Korean NIS nor American intelligence knew of. But the intervention of the Chinese had almost doubled their workload. Instead of just removing the threat of chemical or nuclear attack, they now had to also slow the advance of the Chinese army.

The weight of the Chinese advance was coming down the western side of the Korean Peninsula, along a coastal plain some sixty kilometers wide. From that point east, the land rose and became hilly, then downright mountainous—definitely not good ground for armored vehicles. In fact, that kind of terrain would slow any type of unit. Besides, Pyongyang was in the western part of the DPRK, and the distance to the former North Korean capital from the Chinese border was shortest on the west.

While the western coast was relatively flat, it was threaded with rivers that flowed from the mountains westward to the coast. The Chongchon River ran east to west right across the coastal plan. Half a kilometer wide in spots, it made a perfect defensive barrier.

And there were a lot of other smaller rivers and bridges. South Korean and US aircraft and special operations teams were dropping them ahead of the advancing Chinese as fast as they could.

Or at least, they had been. ROK aircraft had already destroyed three of the four bridges across the Chongchon near Anju, but they’d lost two F-16s on the last raid. Accustomed to complete air supremacy, the ROK Air Force had cut some corners, in the interest of speed. The strikers had been sent out without escorts, and had run in to a Chinese offensive fighter sweep, a flight of J-11 Flankers looking for trouble. Surprised in mid-strike, the F-16s had lost two of their number before escaping.

Chinese fighters venturing that far south told everyone that the days of unopposed air operations were over. It also hinted that the Chinese were very interested in that part of the Korean landscape.

That’s when Rhee Han-gil’s Ghost Brigade got the mission, barely seven hours earlier. The last bridge over the Chongchon River was his target. The ROK Air Force would stay busy, hitting nearby targets, but with more precautions.

Luckily, Rhee’s plan was simple, largely because there was no time for anything fancy. A South Korean navy sub in the Korea Bay would launch Hyunmoo cruise missiles. They were stealthy and smart enough to follow the river valley from the coast all the way up to the bridge. They were guided by GPS signals, and were accurate enough for most targets, but the concrete piers that supported the Anju Bridge were only a few meters across, and they were very strong.

Rhee and his team would get close to the bridge and set up a differential GPS transmitter. It would provide a ground reference for the missiles’ navigation systems, reducing their miss distance from several meters to a few centimeters—less than two inches.

His team would sneak in, set up the transmitter, calibrate it for their location, wait for the boom, and then sneak out. With a little luck, they wouldn’t even be seen, much less have to fight. Rhee was more than happy to let the navy do the heavy lifting this time.

They had clear weather, and relatively smooth air. The helicopter’s radar warning receiver remained silent, and they arrived at the insertion point only fifty minutes after taking off. Rhee was mindful of the short distance back to friendly forces. The united Korean armies needed time to regroup.

Rhee was the first man out, followed by Lieutenant Guk, then the two corporals and finally Master Sergeant Oh, carrying the real-time differential GPS transmitter. Weighing about twenty kilos, and the size of a large backpack, the only tricky thing about using it was telling the transmitter its precise geographic position.

To guide missiles within centimeters of the target, the transmitter had to be placed just as precisely. They would use laser rangefinders to feed distances into the device, which already had a very accurate map loaded in its memory. While Oh and his assistant, Corporal Dae, took measurements and typed the results into a laptop computer, Rhee, Guk, and the other corporal, Ban, would make sure they weren’t disturbed. Unless there was a hardware problem, they’d need ten minutes. When it was ready, they would send a signal via satellite, and the sub, loitering at periscope depth, would launch six missiles. A few minutes later, the Anju Bridge would be history.

Of course, nothing was ever that simple. The city of Anju, on the southern bank of the river, was suspected to be one of the last strongholds of the Kim faction. Intelligence estimates suggested that at least a division was holed up in the city. And the only high ground in the area was a pair of low hills on the river’s south bank, barely four kilometers west of the city. That’s where they had to place the transmitter.

They’d landed as planned, a little over a klick from their destination, and the helicopter departed, going to a loiter spot farther south where it would wait.

In spite of the clear weather and a half moon, they were using night vision goggles. The river was on their left, a few hundred meters wide. Lieutenant Guk, on point, led them across dry rice paddies, using every bit of the meager cover. The low-lying land near the river was all farmed, with only an occasional tree or row of bushes separating one field from the next.

They could hear insects, and even the plop of a fish jumping occasionally, but nothing of human origin. Most honest folk were asleep at this hour, and the fighting discouraged casual travel at night.

They were in single file, a few meters between each man. They made little sound, and spoke only to warn of possible threats or to give an all clear. Rhee had even turned down the volume on his headset radio.

There were a just few lights ahead on the left, which marked a village to the west of Anju, named Unhak-ri. Unfortunately, it sat on top of the nearest of the two hills that overlooked the bridge, and Rhee’s team carefully worked their way past the settlement, heading for the eastern hill, which was a little closer to their target, anyway.

The burst of fire, and then another one, made the five drop and freeze as one man. Guk’s voice reported softly, “I can’t see the source, but it’s ahead of us, toward the bridge.” There were no signs of bullet strikes near them, but Rhee had the team sound off, just to be sure. Everyone was fine.

Rhee tried to imagine what the circumstances were up ahead. Was the Kim faction fighting with the now united KPA? Were there deserters or bandits ahead, preying on civilians?

They listened for a moment, then Rhee gave the all clear and they began moving forward again. Another single shot, maybe from a pistol, caused them to stop once more, but there was still no sign of the shooter, or that they were even the target. Rhee ruled out accidental discharge as a possibility. Then a cascade of fire from several weapons removed all doubt. There was a firefight ahead of them.

Caution dictated they slow and be more vigilant, but necessity hurried them along. The only certainty was that people ahead of them were shooting at something. Hopefully, the night vision gear, keyed to heat emissions, would spot them before they saw Rhee’s Ghosts.

The bulk of the second hill lay ahead of them, a dark mound blocking the stars to the east. There were no buildings on it, and it was not cultivated, just covered with low scrub and saplings not worth cutting down for firewood.