Red Phoenix (15 page)

The South Korean looked wide-awake. Naturally. “No. It sounds like a
reasonable deployment to me. But what about our Dragon teams?” That was a good question. The Dragon teams with their wire-guided missiles were the 2nd Platoon’s best defense against enemy tanks and APCs.

“I’ve got ’em spread out along the forward slope. If the balloon goes up and NK tanks start getting around behind us, we may have to move ’em. But they’ve got good fields of fire where they are right now.”

Kevin nodded. “All right, Sergeant. Good work.” He worked his tongue around inside his mouth, trying to clear out the gritty taste he’d acquired during his short, unintentional nap. He looked at Rhee. “I understand there’s a South Korean platoon holding the next outpost over from us. Why don’t you go over to the CP and make contact with them. Let them know we’re here. Okay?”

Rhee smiled and sketched a salute. “No problem, Lieutenant.”

“Great. Oh, and then get some sleep. I thought we’d pull three watches until we get settled in. I’ll take the first, Sergeant Pierce here can take the second, and you’ll take the third. Sound all right to you?”

Rhee smiled even more broadly. “Certainly, Lieutenant. I’m always glad to hear that I’ll get some uninterrupted sleep.” He saluted again and moved back down the trench toward the CP.

Kevin yawned again and stretched. He’d have to get Zelinsky to make some coffee. In the meantime he could get a look at the terrain around Malibu. He’d studied the map, but you couldn’t always trust maps. There was that time he’d gotten lost on a night training march near Fort Lewis … it had just been damn lucky that he’d found a gas station where he could ask for directions.

Kevin shook his head to clear the memory. He’d learned his lesson that time. Never trust maps. He clambered up onto the firing step and lifted his binoculars. Let’s see. Hill 640, Malibu West, fell sharply away down a rocky slope into a narrow, brush-filled valley. There were gullies running through the valley and up toward a ridgeline to the north. He could just make out what might be some camouflaged bunkers on that ridge.

A hand grabbed his combat webbing and yanked him down off the firing step.

“What the fuck?” Kevin wheeled in fury as Pierce let go of his webbing.

“Sorry, sir.” Pierce didn’t sound very sorry. “But part of what they pay me for is to make sure that my lieutenants don’t get shot on their first day up at the Z.”

“And what does that have to do with grabbing me from behind just now?” Kevin was breathing hard. He’d been startled. Christ, he hadn’t even heard Pierce come up behind him. The man must move like a ghost.

“Snipers, Lieutenant. The North Koreans take a special pride in potting people staring at ’em with shiny binoculars. You want to look around up at
the Z, you use the ’scopes.” Pierce jerked a thumb toward a periscope that could be raised above the trench parapet.

“Oh, bullshit. I know that the North Koreans are lunatics, but they can’t just go around shooting people. There is an armistice on, you know.”

“You know it and I know it, Lieutenant. But I ain’t too sure the gooks know it or give a damn.” Pierce had his voice pitched low. “Look, sir. This isn’t peacetime up here. This is damn close to the real thing. Back when I was just a green PFC, before Vietnam, I was stationed at a place pretty much like this.” He paused.

“So things haven’t changed much in more than twenty years. What’s the point?” Kevin was impatient. It was starting to warm up, the sun was in his eyes, and he wanted some coffee.

“Well, sir, this rear-area general came up for an inspection one day. Now, the lieutenant gave him a pretty good tour of the bunkers, trenches, and all, but this general wanted to see the commies for himself. And he wouldn’t hear of using anything like that ’scope over there. So he just jumped up on the firing step and wouldn’t listen to the lieutenant asking him to get down. He didn’t listen until some commie sniper put a round through his head.” Pierce laid a finger on the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. “Right there, Lieutenant. Knocked that dumbshit general off the firing step and blew what little brains he had out through the back of his head.”

“Christ!” Kevin was shocked. “How come I never read anything about that?”

“Hell, I suppose they hushed it up. Damned embarrassing way to lose a general, I guess.”

“Well, what happened to your lieutenant?”

“They weren’t too happy with him. Wasn’t his fault, so they couldn’t send him to Leavenworth, but they did shove his ass out of the Army in a godawful hurry.”

Kevin thought about that for a moment and then smiled ruefully. “Okay, Sergeant. You’ve made your point. You won’t lose this dumbshit lieutenant the same way.”

Pierce grinned back at him, “That’s the spirit, Lieutenant. It’s just a question of experience. And there’s one thing you can say for the Z—you get experienced real quick.”

OCTOBER 1—MALIBU WEST, ALONG THE DMZ

After six days Kevin had had enough of Malibu West. Six days of solid boredom. Of not being able to move freely during daylight. Of lousy food and not enough sleep. Six days that were too hot and six nights that were too cold.

The only high points were the daily poker games with Rhee, Pierce, and a couple of the other noncoms. Playing cards with his NCOs might not be regulation, but it helped pass the time. Table stakes were low because it wouldn’t do to have officers winning too much money from their subordinates. Still, he’d won more than he’d lost. And it had been nice to see a look of genuine respect on Sergeant Pierce’s face for once.

But that had been it. Other than a series of meaningless, routine daily reports and a single, quick inspection by Captain Matuchek, who’d seemed pleasantly surprised to find the outpost still intact, their tour at Malibu West had been about as exciting as guarding a convent somewhere in the Midwest.

That made the call even more shocking when it came.

“Sir!” The hand that was shaking him shook even harder. “Sir!”

Kevin groaned and tried to roll over. It was still dark out and he’d been up past midnight filling out useless paperwork.

“Sir!” It was Jones, his radioman. “Captain’s on the phone, sir. Says it’s urgent.”

Shit. Now what the hell did he want. Probably wanted to bitch about some goddamned form he’d filled in wrong. Kevin threw the blankets off his cot and stumbled over to the phone.

“Alfa Echo Five Six, this is Alfa Echo Five Two. Go ahead.”

“Five Two, this is Five Six. Wait one.” Great, they woke him up and now they were going to make him wait. But the line came alive again in seconds, and something in Matuchek’s voice brought Kevin up straight. “Five Two, this is Five Six. Go to full alert. Say again, go to full alert. We have a general stand-to all along the Z.”

Oh, Christ. Kevin could feel his heart starting to pound and he was having trouble catching his breath. “Six, this is Two. Is this a drill? Over.”

Matuchek’s wrath came over the phone loud and clear. “I don’t fucking know. And right now I don’t fucking care! Just get your men out on the firing line and clear the goddamned phone. Six out.”

Kevin handed the phone back to Jones and looked around for his M16, flak jacket, and helmet. They were in the corner of the CP, right where he’d left them. Rhee was already up and buckling on his gear.

Kevin turned back to Jones. “Okay, get Pierce in here. On the double.” He took a deep breath, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. Shit, shit, calm down. He grabbed his flak jacket and started to put it on, then realized he had it backward. He flipped the bulky jacket around and slipped into it. Rhee handed him his helmet.

“What’s up, Lieutenant?” Pierce was in the door to the CP, rifle in hand and looking as awake as if he’d already been up for hours.

“We’ve got an alert. All along the DMZ. I don’t know if it’s for real or
not, but you’d better get the men up and in position anyway.” Kevin grabbed his rifle and map case.

Pierce backed out of the CP and vanished down the shadow-filled connecting trench, moving toward the nearest bunker. Rhee headed out the other door. Kevin followed him as far as the main trench, accompanied by Jones, lugging the platoon’s commo gear.

The moon was up and nearly full, casting an eerie mix of orangish light and pitch-black shadows across the valley below. Gusts of a cold north wind stirred the brush back and forth and whined through the coils of barbed wire covering the approaches to Malibu West.

Kevin fumbled with the focus on the periscope. Damn it. For all he could make out, the valley down there could be filled with a thousand enemy soldiers. Or it could be empty.

The eleven troopers of 2nd Squad jogged past him, equipment rattling as they fanned out down the length of the trench and clambered up onto firing steps.

“Sir!” Jones’s hoarse whisper pulled Kevin’s eyes away from the periscope and back down into the trench. “Sergeant Pierce says everybody’s up and in position. Nothing else to report.”

“Tell Pierce to get back here pronto. And check with Company to see if they’ve got anything more.”

Pierce was there almost before he finished speaking. “We’re set, Lieutenant. One of the Dragon launchers is acting up a bit, but Ramos is working on it. Should have it up in a couple of minutes.”

“Well, he goddamned well better. Christ, what if we get hit by tanks in the next couple of minutes!” Kevin realized he was starting to sound like he’d lost it and tried to calm down. He got down off the parapet and squatted in the trench next to Pierce. “Look, are we picking anything up on our motion sensors or starlight scopes?”

“Negative. There doesn’t seem to be anything moving or warm out there.”

“Then this could all be just a false alarm.”

Pierce shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Could be a long night, though, whichever way it goes.”

A shout from down the line brought them both to their feet. “Flares! Flares to the east!”

Kevin whipped his periscope around to stare down to the right. There, about five miles away, he could see two magnesium flares swaying away south on their parachutes. He found himself praying under his breath. God, oh God, please don’t let this be real. Don’t let there be a war. Please, God.

“Could be an attack down that way.” Pierce still sounded calm. “Might just be an infiltration attempt though.” He cupped a hand to an ear. “I don’t hear any shooting.”

Rhee’s voice drifted down the line, high and excited. “Those flares are
coming from a point just over Azure Dragon. That’s the ROK post on our right.”

Kevin yelled back, “Well, get on the horn and ask them what the hell’s going on.”

“Lieutenant?” Pierce coughed lightly to catch his attention. “Next time you and Lieutenant Rhee want to have a conversation, you might not want to yell it all over creation. If there are gooks down there, I figure they probably know we’re awake and ready for ’em now.”

Kevin felt his ears burning. Pierce was right and there wasn’t any way around it. He’d make a stupid mistake. The kind that Major Donaldson had warned could get his men killed. He looked down at Corporal Jones. “Uh, pass the word to Lieutenant Rhee that he’s to report here after he’s talked to that Korean outpost.”

They waited for several more minutes, but no more flares popped up to light the night sky, and everything stayed quiet. Rhee came jogging down the trench and jumped up beside Kevin and Pierce.

“I talked to the CO over at Azure Dragon. It seems that one of their new conscripts got overexcited and fired off a pair of flares. He’ll be disciplined, of course.”

Kevin knew that meant the poor little sod was probably getting the living crap beat out of him. And just at this moment, he didn’t care a bit.

Then Jones was grabbing for his elbow again. “Sir! It’s the captain!”

Kevin picked up the phone with a feeling of dread. Was this it? Was the balloon going up? “Alfa Echo Five Six, this is Five Two.”

“Alfa Echo Five Two, this is Alfa Echo Five Six. Stand down. I repeat, stand down. Resume normal schedule. That was a drill, Lieutenant, a real McLaren Special.”

“Acknowledged, Five Six.” He tried to sound cool and collected, but he knew that Matuchek had to be able to hear the immense relief in his voice. He could see Pierce and Rhee visibly relaxing at what they could hear of the conversation.

“Well, Lieutenant. Are your britches full of brown organic matter?” Matuchek didn’t sound quite as pissed off as he usually did, despite the words.

“Not quite, Five Six. Close, but not quite.” Pray God that Matuchek didn’t ever find out just how close to the truth that was.

“Well, Lieutenant. If that McLaren Special didn’t fill ’em up, I guess we might make a soldier of you yet. See you back at camp tomorrow morning. Echo Five Six out.”

Kevin hung up, feeling drained and shaky. But relieved, too. He’d screwed up, but it hadn’t been for real. And he still had time to learn.

______________
CHAPTER
10

Revelations

OCTOBER 1—INSIDE THE GREAT LEADER BUNKER, NORTH KOREA

“Comrade General. COMRADE GENERAL!”

Lieutenant General Cho Hyun-Jae opened his eyes. The lights were on, revealing Colonel Chung, his aide, bending over the bed. He came fully awake.

“What is it, Chung?” He automatically started getting dressed. Whatever it was, if it was important enough to wake him, it was important enough to get dressed for.

“Sir, the enemy has just gone on alert. We’ve seen movement into emplacements …”

Cho headed out the door, buttoning his tunic as he ran, with the colonel jogging along behind. The bunker had been constructed so that his quarters were only moments away from the II Corps operations center.

The door was open. Cho slowed down, took a deep breath, and entered an organized pandemonium. Officers and enlisted men were streaming into the room, taking positions at map boards, teletypes, and desks. A huge map occupied one side of the room, detailing the sector of the front around Kaesong, his responsibility. General Chyong Dal-Joong, his second-in-command, stood nearby discussing some point on it with the staff. He saw Cho come into the room and saluted. The rest scattered to their stations.

“Report, General. Another drill?” Cho finished buttoning his tunic collar while studying the array of painted wooden blocks used to show enemy units on the big map.

“Probably, sir. We’ve seen no movement behind the front line, but all of the imperialist troops have manned their combat positions. It would not be an auspicious time to start the liberation.” The left side of Chyong’s mouth creased upward in a lopsided smile.

Cho idly wondered how long it would be before his second-in-command’s
sense of humor landed him in a State Political Security Department detention camp.

He yawned. “I think they know when I am up late and do this just to ruin my sleep. Major Ko!” He beckoned the slim, narrow-faced intelligence officer over to him.

“Major, your observations, please.”

“Yes, sir. I believe that this is an exercise. The enemy rotates the troops manning the perimeter on a regular weekly cycle. About once every two weeks he holds an alert. The alert is always in the early morning, and late in the week. Thursday is the most frequently selected day. Only troops in place are ordered to stand to. No additional units are staged forward. That is what has happened this time.”

“As far as we know,” Cho corrected.

Ko looked a little crestfallen. “Yes, sir. As far as we know.”

Cho quoted, “‘Revolution in military thought is built on a base of knowledge, not assumptions.’ ”

“Yes, sir.” Ko bowed sharply, accepting the correction.

Chyong looked at his superior. “Maybe our enemies should read the Great Leader’s thoughts. These imperialists are too predictable.”

“Or they are trying to put us to sleep. What’s our readiness?”

“Excellent. All of our positions were manned within five minutes.”

“Hold our troops there until dawn. Have them conduct subunit training in place on what their roles would be in case the imperialists attacked. Also, move the field commanders’ meeting up from oh seven hundred to oh five hundred. Since we’re all up anyway, let’s get an early start.”

While Chyong hurried away with his order, Cho pondered the map. The first support units slated for Red Phoenix had just arrived in their new camps near the DMZ. Could the imperialists have gotten wind of the move? He dismissed the thought as irrational. They’d taken great care in scheduling the troop trains to avoid times when American spy satellites were over Korea. The Americans couldn’t know anything.

But the worry returned to nag him as he prepared for the morning’s special meeting with his field commanders and other newly arrived senior officers. He fought it off, determined to avoid any thought that might shake his confidence and spoil the presentation he had planned. Kim Jong-Il still insisted that Red Phoenix be kept a closely guarded secret, but he had finally accepted Cho’s argument that he be allowed to begin molding the proper “aggressive” spirit in his officers and men. This meeting would be a first step in that direction.

STAFF AUDITORIUM—II CORPS HQ, KAESONG, NORTH KOREA

The small, spartan auditorium lay three stories underground, part of the massive complex that housed II Corps headquarters. Six division commanders, their deputies, the general commanding his corps artillery, and the 62nd Special Forces brigade commander sat stiffly in high-backed wooden chairs facing a podium flanked by four-foot portraits of Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il.

“Attention!” rang in the room as Cho entered. Round-faced and lean, he strode to the podium and nodded to the group.

“I have just returned from a meeting of the General Staff, where we were addressed personally by the Dear Leader. What I have to tell you is welcome news.”

Cho chose his words carefully, knowing that they would be taped, transcribed, and shipped to Pyongyang within hours. There they would be scrutinized by Kim for any hint of disloyalty or disbelief.

“You are all aware of the disturbances in the South that have prompted certain ‘defensive’ measures on our part.” He nodded to the three second-echelon division commanders. “Now further developments require preparation for further action on our part.”

Cho paused to let the small murmur of comment his words aroused fade away.

“According to our intelligence network, the capitalist forces that occupy the southern half of Korea are preparing to withdraw. They have recognized the corrupt regime in the South for what it is, and like a thief who no longer trusts his partner, they are leaving. As their own economy collapses, drained by their adventurism, the fascist Americans are unwilling to pay the price of their occupation.

“This is not generally known in our nation and must remain so. If the people find out, they may become impatient to liberate their brothers.” Cho paused again, studying the faces of his officers. Already alert, his words had caused them to sit up even straighter in anticipation of the orders that might follow.

“The illegal regime in the South has been engaged in a massive military buildup, supported by the Americans. They buy the South’s goods, give it military aid, and help the regime when it suppresses legitimate protests against its excesses.

“That buildup has now stopped, and over the next six months the American forces are expected to withdraw completely. It may be that, without its puppetmasters, the regime will collapse of its own weight.

“During the period of withdrawal, moreover, the political situation will be unstable. At any time the oppressed peoples of the South may spontaneously rise up and try to overthrow their leaders. We must be ready to go to their aid. If they are too weak to rise up, we will assist them.”

Cho stopped for emphasis. He could see the gleam in his officers’ eyes.

They could sense that they were on the edge of carrying forward to completion the great work begun nearly forty years before during the Great Fatherland Liberation War. He spoke the next words slowly. “The need for such an undertaking may come upon us as suddenly as the north wind. Therefore, the General Staff has reiterated that it is the sworn duty of each and every soldier to be prepared for swift and decisive action.

“Accordingly, this Army corps will engage in a strenuous series of offensive battle drills over the coming months. Your men and equipment are to be held at a high state of readiness—available to carry out any orders the Great Leader sees fit to issue.”

Cho stepped back from the podium to survey his audience. “Questions?”

There were none, and Cho carefully studied the reactions he saw emblazoned on his commanders’ faces—eagerness, determination, excitement, and curiosity. Very well. He had momentarily lifted the curtain on Red Phoenix, and his generals liked what they saw.

They would be ready when the time came.