Red Phoenix Burning (43 page)

Kunsan Air Base

Gunsan, United Han Republic

Tony Christopher turned off the television and tossed the remains of his lunch into the trash. He wanted to know why, if the fighting was over, he was so busy? But he knew why. They’d flown the wings off their aircraft, and now all that deferred maintenance had to be dealt with. And the war really wasn’t over for the transports. They were still bringing in relief supplies, as well as replenishing stocks of parts and ammunition that had been seriously depleted in the few short weeks they’d been fighting.

But a lot of that matériel would have to be removed in the very near future. It was hard to imagine the Eighth Fighter Wing, the Wolf Pack, anywhere but Kunsan, but his boss, General Carter, was in Seoul right now with the rest of the Pacific Command, planning the biggest redeployment of the US armed forces since Desert Storm. Yet Carter had promised Tony that he would do a full tour in country. The Seventh Air Force wasn’t going away that quickly. In fact, he hinted that for his next tour, Tony might end up with Carter’s job, provided he didn’t fly any more unauthorized combat missions.

On top of everything else, the crisis had deferred his house-hunting. Ann was still waiting for him to find a place for them to live, and wasn’t being all that patient. If there was a drawdown, he might be able to pick up a nice place for less than they had planned.

And wait until she heard there was a chance for back-to-back tours.

11 September 2015, 1000 local time

Third Army Field Headquarters

Outside Taedong, United Han Republic

It was the first visit to the territory of the former DPRK by the president of the newly united Korea. Lingering security concerns and the rapid-fire press of events had prevented President An Kye-nam from making even a short trip above the former DMZ. Besides, the occasion was historic, and needed to be properly choreographed.

An’s helicopter, Korea One, approached Taedong after a forty-five minute flight from the Blue House in Seoul. A wedge of Apache gunships escorted the aircraft, while fighters provided high cover for the flight.

The presidential helicopter flew a little past the landing pad, then turned into the wind to make its final approach. The commentators covering the landing used the time to discuss the political problems facing the Seoul government as it organized elections in the shattered north, and tried to cope with new political parties well to the left of traditional Korean politics.

As the helicopter’s wheels touched the pad, whistles blew and with all the pomp and circumstance it could muster, the victorious army welcomed its civilian leader. A band flown in from the capital played the “Aegukga” while the honor guard came to attention and presented arms.

In concession to the ongoing military operations, the soldiers welcoming President An wore battledress. This was not only more appropriate for a field headquarters; it allowed General Tae and other former KPA soldiers to avoid wearing their Kim-era dress uniforms. The idea was to blend in with their Southern colleagues, and camouflage served that purpose well.

President An Kye-nam emerged first, followed by a huddle of officials trying to stay close to the president while avoiding the rotor wash. They waited nearby, half-crouched, for a moment while the helicopter’s engines spooled up again and it flew off.

While most of his entourage waited to one side, the president reviewed the honor guard, made up of special forces troops that had taken part in the assault on the missile complex, then greeted the generals, arranged in order of rank: Sohn, Tae, and Kwon.

An greeted Sohn warmly, and had a lengthy conversation with Tae, and beamed as he acknowledged Kwon’s salute. Rhee might be the hero of the hour, but everybody knew who Rhee worked for.

After speaking with Kwon for a few minutes, An nodded in agreement. He walked back to stand next to General Sohn. The band struck up the “Arirang Nation” march, and the different staffs quickly rearranged themselves while the general strode to a nearby podium. He barked out a short command. In time with the martial music, a new group of individuals marched onto the landing pad, forming a neat line facing the dignitaries. The commentator announced the name of each one.

Once they were in position, the president stepped in front of the podium and Sohn called out, “Colonel Rhee Han-gil, front and center.”

While Rhee crossed the distance in front of the podium, General Sohn read, “For considerable skill in executing the attack on the Sukchon missile complex, and displaying exceptional leadership and conspicuous bravery during the action, Colonel Rhee Han-gil is awarded the Taeguk Cordon, First Class.” A staffer produced the decoration and handed it to the president, who pinned it on the colonel.

Standing at one end of the line, Kevin tried not to smile too broadly as Rhee received Korea’s highest military honor. One was supposed to maintain proper decorum at these events. Rhee’s deputy was next. Then several enlisted soldiers who had done some extraordinary things during the fight. As the sole American, he was okay with being last.

There was a reception after the awards ceremony in the mess tent, which had been decorated with oversize Korean flags and the insignia of the Ninth Special Forces Brigade. Curiously, a DPRK flag, somewhat tattered, occupied a place of honor. It was a trophy that been taken from the missile complex before it was destroyed, and was headed straight to a museum after today’s festivities.

There were two crowds in the tent—one surrounding Rhee and the other at the refreshment table. It had been hot under the sun, and Kevin decided rehydration had priority. His rank as well as his recent award gave him an edge, and he managed to redeploy with a cool drink to a quieter part of the tent.

General Tae had chosen the same tactic, and when he saw Kevin approaching, he smiled broadly and offered his hand. “Congratulations on your award, Colonel.”

“And to you on your success at the airfield, General. It’s much better to have you as an ally than as an opponent.”

Tae acknowledged the remark with a raised glass, then quietly asked, “But will America be an ally to all of Korea? The North was your enemy for over seventy years.”

“Americans were always able to distinguish the Kim government from the Korean people.” Little shrugged. “If you want to take the long view, when the peninsula was divided in 1945, the Soviets promised to hold elections in the north. That never happened, and the first Kim came to power. Now, three or four generations later, the North Korean people will finally get a chance to have that vote.”

The general nodded agreement. “It will be an interesting experience for everyone.” He paused thoughtfully, and asked, “I’m hearing a lot about the South Korean democratic system, but I’d like to know more. Would visiting America help me learn more about politics?”

Kevin was taking a drink, and a little of it went down the wrong way. He coughed, but recovered quickly. “Are you thinking of going into politics?” In the process of translating that question from English into Korean, Kevin tried to mask some of his surprise at the idea.

“Not right away. I believe the military government will have to run things for several years. Actually, President An just asked me if I’d delay my retirement and take part in the negotiations with China, representing the interests of the Northerners.”

“Politics is all about give and take, General,” Kevin answered brightly. “And the talks are in Tokyo. Japanese-style democracy is very different from both Korean and American.”

“Good point,” Tae agreed. The general looked at something past Kevin’s shoulder, and he turned to see Rhee standing there.

The colonel took care to greet General Tae before his old comrade, but then he slapped Kevin’s shoulder. “Congratulations on your award, Kevin! Third Class, Chungmu Cordon! That’s like the American Silver Star. You should be proud.”

“I am,” Kevin answered, “but I’m especially glad for you. That medal makes you untouchable.” He turned to Tae. “There were some high-ranking officers in the ROK Army who were upset with a mere colonel treating with a three-star general.”

Tae laughed. “Generals, jealous? Who ever heard of such a preposterous thing?”

“Actually, it’s no longer a problem,” Rhee said, and showed them a small white box. He opened it and they saw two silver stars, one for each shoulder.

“Brigadier General!” Kevin remarked happily.

Rhee grinned. “General Sohn just handed them to me. He says if I’m going to act like a general, they might as well make me one.”

Kevin saluted his friend, and Tae shook his hand warmly. “This is not too far from where we shook hands for the first time,” Tae remarked.

“We’ve covered a lot of ground since then,” Little commented.

“We’re here because of you, General Tae,” Rhee said. He touched his medal. “This belongs to you as much as me.”

Tae accepted the compliment with a smile. “We had a different awards system in the KPA. Not getting shot was popular.”

25 September 2015, 11:00 a.m. local time

Lake Taesong, United Han Republic

They’d borrowed an army jeep, driving from the port city of Nampo northeast, back toward Pyongyang. Restrictions on civilian traffic had been lifted now that all the areas affected by chemicals had been marked, and the main roads cleared of unexploded ordnance.

The roads were busy, but a good deal of it was still foot traffic. Kary saw vehicles with Southern license plates mixed with the military transports. Only a few Northern vehicles were on the road. She knew gasoline was still very precious.

Civilians plodded along on either side. She studied them, trying to guess their story. A local farmer? A mother and child looking for the rest of their family? She saw several demobilized soldiers, probably headed for home and hoping it was still there.

Cho turned off the main road and headed northwest, keeping the city on their right. The two-lane road was less traveled, but there were scattered clusters of farm buildings. They drove for no more than a few kilometers and she saw they were headed for a line of low hills.

Curiosity building, she finally said, “I still don’t know where we’re going or why.”

“We’re almost there,” he answered, and the road curved around a low hill, paralleling a small river. The river and road both reached a lake and they drove along the shore for few minutes, before stopping near a ruined house. Built on the hillside, it had suffered a fire or other damage, and looked long abandoned. Several small trees were growing inside the outlines of its foundation.

He parked the jeep and got out carefully, favoring his left leg and using the crutch as Kary had taught him. He reached out with his free hand and beckoned, “Please, come.”

She nodded and followed, trusting that he would eventually explain.

Traces of a path led up to the house. The closer she got to the structure, the worse it looked. The masonry walls were shattered, as well as blackened by fire. The tallest part of the ruin was no more than a meter high.

They stopped near what was once an entranceway, and Cho announced simply, “This was my house. This was where I lived as a child.”

Kary, surprised but also shocked at the extent of the ruin, asked, “Did this happen when you . . .”

“No,” Cho answered. “We were simply taken away. But years later, on one of my first missions for the Russians, I was near Pyongyang, and I came back here. We’d been forced to abandon almost everything when we were arrested. I suppose I wanted to find some relic, maybe something my mother had owned. I found the house like this. The army had used explosives to level the place, then set everything on fire. I spent a few hours picking through the rubble, but couldn’t find anything. They probably looted it first.”

Kary tried to imagine the pain Cho had felt back then, the hurt he must still feel. She hugged his arm, searching for words, but could only say, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Cho answered. “This is what my life felt like until I found something better, something to live for.”

Kary could only hug him even more tightly. She fought to control what would be tears of happiness, but she knew once she started, it would be very hard to stop.

“I want to build our house right here,” he announced. “This was the last place I could call home. We’ll tear out all the wreckage, then build a place for us.” After a moment, he added, “Once we clear the site, I’d like to have a shaman perform a
kut
. Would that bother you?”

Swallowing hard, she answered, “Of course not. This sounds wonderful, but what about the mission? You know I want to rebuild that.”

“What mission? You mean the new full-sized hospital, school, and church? Your CFK organization did so much in spite of the Kims, I’m curious to see how much they’ll be able to accomplish now.” He paused for a moment, and became more serious.

“You know you can’t rebuild at Sinan. The village is empty, and it’s contaminated. But there’s plenty of room to build right here. Actually,” he said, pointing back down the road, “back there a few hundred meters. Room for everything, and to grow after that. I’ve already surveyed the site.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Is that what you have been doing the past few days? And what do you mean ‘surveyed’?”

“I’ve talked to a few people, and I’m starting a construction company.” He grinned. “It’s a growth industry, don’t you know?”

Korean Language Terms