Red Phoenix (49 page)

“Contact now bearing two seven two degrees.” The lieutenant manning the Feniks-model passive sonar had his eyes closed while he fiddled with the gain and frequency controls.

“Evaluation?” Min didn’t bother asking about range. Passive sonar couldn’t provide that kind of information without a lot of bearing cross-checks. And besides, the Feniks sonar his submarine mounted couldn’t hear anything much more than five kilometers away in these confined waters. Whatever was up there was already much too close for comfort.

“Contact evaluated as a destroyer, type still unknown. Screws turning for an estimated ten knots. No active sonar operating.”

Min rubbed his chin reflectively. The enemy destroyer wasn’t actively
hunting them, then, at least not yet. Perhaps he’d ordered absolute silence just in time.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall all the information shown on the chart back in the plot office. They were still sixty kilometers from their objective, and he had only a little more than twelve hours to reach it. There wasn’t much margin for error built into the mission timetable, and he couldn’t waste a lot of time lying doggo like this. Even arriving as little as half an hour late would force him to abort the mission. And that was something the admirals in Pyongyang would probably not forgive.

“Contact now bearing three zero five degrees and fading. It seems to have missed us, Comrade Captain!” The sonar operator’s voice was jubilant.

Min opened his eyes and smiled. Another barrier passed. He clapped a fatherly hand on the sonar operator’s shoulder. “Good work, Comrade. Keep it up and we’ll all avoid becoming Heroes of the Revolution for a long time to come!”

The captain made his way back to the main control room and motioned to his first lieutenant. “Sung, go tell our passengers to start preparing their gear. I now estimate that we’ll arrive at the objective on schedule.”

Min watched the man scurry aft and hoped his confidence was well placed. They still had a long way to go.

ANYANG MILITARY CONTROL POINT, SOUTH KOREA

Anne woke up suddenly, not sure at first what had startled her. Then she heard it again. A deep, menacing rumbling off some distance, but moving closer fast. She sat up and gasped as she saw the cause. Artillery shells were bursting in the fields ahead off to one side of the road, flinging dirt, smoke, and flame into the air.

She could see Korean civilians abandoning their stalled cars and trucks and streaming off to either side, taking shelter inside farm buildings and ditches along the road. Hutchins jumped down off the cab and pounded on the door. “Out! Get out! Take cover!”

He sprinted back down the length of the convoy, with PFC Bell right beside him. Anne scrambled out after them, feeling her heart pounding fast.

“Shit!”

“Get outta my goddamned way!”

The soldiers poured out of the truck, swearing at each other in their haste. One groaned and collapsed, clutching a sprained ankle. Sergeant Evans and another man grabbed the moaning private and dragged him away as the explosions moved closer.

Anne followed them as they half-ran, half-skipped over to a low earth bank that marked the edge of a frozen rice paddy.

She’d barely clambered over onto the other side when there was a roaring, whooshing sound. She didn’t need to be a veteran to know what was coming, and she fell flat to the ground.

WHAAAMMM!
The shell exploded just as her body hit the cold earth, and she felt the ground buck beneath her. Heat and air rushed over her head, deflected by the earth piled to one side. The combination of the shock wave in both the air and the ground pushed and pulled at her body, and for a split second, it bounced her into the air. The force of the explosion surprised her. It reminded her of being caught by a strong wave at the beach and driven facedown into the sand.

She opened her eyes and mouth and immediately discovered another similarity: she was coated with dirt and dust. Most of the troops were already kneeling, looking at the other side of the bank. She got to her knees and followed their gaze. The shell had come down just fifty meters off the road and torn a still-smoking crater two meters across out of a rice paddy. The snow had been blasted off an area more than twice as large.

Sergeant Evans saw the look on her face and grinned. “The good news about being so far behind the lines is that they don’t shell you very often. The bad news is that when they do, only the big stuff can reach far enough.”

WHOOOOSSH.

“Down!”

WHAAAMMM
!
WHAMMM
!
WHAAMMM
! More explosions rocked the ground all around the road. Anne lay flat, praying. She’d never been particularly religious, but it seemed like a logical thing to do at the moment.

The noise faded, leaving behind an eerie mixture of crackling flames, moans, and the whistling wind.

Evans raised his head and cocked an ear, waiting. When nothing more hit the ground for a couple of minutes, he stood up and shouted, “Okay, people. All clear. On your feet. Check yourselves and your buddies. Let’s go!”

Anne rose to her feet and stared at the scenes around her. The six trucks in their convoy looked unscathed, but the artillery had found the range farther back along the road. She saw a blazing pile of scrap metal canted over in a field and took several seconds to realize that the wreckage was a Hyundai that had been blown off the road by a North Korean shell. Several bodies lay motionless around one crater, the white snow rapidly turning blood red. She could hear children sobbing from somewhere ahead.

Anne swallowed hard and started toward the cries, but Hutchins stopped her with an outstretched hand. “There’s nothing you could do up there, Miss Larson. Look after your own people.”

She started to protest and then stopped. Hutchins was right.

The captain kept talking. “Go on, count noses. Make sure you see every person in your group. If people ran off by themselves and got hurt, nobody may have seen it.” He turned away to do the same thing for his own men.

As her staff filtered back from their hiding places, Anne walked from truck to truck, checking off each person’s name on the transportation order as she saw them.

They’d been lucky. Only one of her people had been hurt. Ed Cumber had taken a shell fragment in his chest. He lay along the side of the road, clutching his chest and swearing. Gloria crouched beside him, looking worried. Anne knelt beside her and with shaking fingers peeled away Cumber’s jacket to look at the damage. Fortunately the splinter had been slowed down so much by his winter coat and other clothing that it was only a superficial wound. Gloria didn’t seem very relieved, and it suddenly struck Anne that there were other reasons for her concern.

She pushed the thought out of her mind. Interoffice romances didn’t seem very important with people lying dead and dying all around them. Together they helped load the wounded man into one of the trucks where Hutchins’s medic could inspect the injury more thoroughly. He slapped a bandage on over the wound and shook his head. “Hell, I’ve gotten worse cuts shaving.”

Anne moved away from the truck slowly. Up till now she’d never really thought about how her responsibilities had changed with the transition from peace to war. Normally she supervised her staff’s office work and left it at that. But now, suddenly, she found herself responsible for their safety, for making sure they were fed and had places to sleep. She shook her head. This wasn’t the kind of job that she’d trained for. Anne decided she’d start watching Hutchins and Evans more closely. She had a lot to learn.

Except for the PFC with the sprained ankle, Hutchins’s men hadn’t suffered any injuries, but one of the convoy’s six trucks had been laced with fragments. Two tires were flat, and it wouldn’t start. She asked the captain if it would be a problem.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. We can get it fixed. The concussion probably knocked loose some of the…”

A Korean officer, a lieutenant, appeared out of the crowd and saluted Hutchins. The American straightened up and returned his parade-ground salute. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

The Korean’s English was word-perfect. “Sir, can your people board immediately? My men will have cleared a path for your vehicles in a few minutes.” Even as he spoke, a group of soldiers in battle dress appeared out of the crowd. They started shoving people off the road in both directions. Under their direction cars were driven off the road and carts were dragged off into the open fields. They were efficient, and any Korean civilians who argued suddenly found themselves looking into the muzzle of a bayonet-tipped rifle. Watching, Anne felt guilty that so many people were being threatened to clear the way for her group.

Hutchins started giving orders. “Miss Larson, get your people loaded. Sergeant, we’ll have to tow that damned truck. Get the one ahead rigged
up.” Everyone scurried to obey, eager to get moving and out of the cold. And away from the carnage behind them.

Anne watched from the cab as they moved slowly through the mass of silent, weeping people. Bell cursed quietly as he wove his way around occasional obstacles and a shell crater that forced him off into the snow. His cheerful disposition had vanished somewhere back up the road.

At last the roadblock appeared, a massive-looking fortification of cement blocks and sandbags. Two tripod-mounted machine guns faced north in front of a dugout large enough to hold a dozen or more men. The headquarters building sat off to one side, with a South Korean flag flying defiantly overhead.

As they stopped at the roadblock, another South Korean officer approached, and when he saw Hutchins, they exchanged simultaneous salutes, followed by a handshake. “I am Captain Sik. May I see your travel orders, please?”

The Korean examined all the papers with the care of someone buying a used car. Every person in the convoy had to produce identification, and Sik went so far as to check the copies to ensure that they were all identical. It took almost twenty minutes to plow through the paperwork.

“Captain,” Hutchins asked, “how’s the road up ahead?”

The South Korean looked up from the last few sets of ID he’d been inspecting. “Relatively clear, but I would advise you to stay close together and to avoid stopping. Many people are trying to get rides south in military vehicles. They have tried to block some trucks with trees or other obstacles.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, I don’t have enough troops to man the roadblocks and patrol the roads.”

He handed the sheaf of papers back and added one more piece of his own to the stack. “Your papers are in order, and I have heard about the order evacuating U.S. civilians from Seoul, so I have not been very strict with you. But please validate your pass at each checkpoint. A new order has come through ordering the arrest of anyone moving south without authorization.”

As they climbed in and drove off, Anne muttered to Hutchins, “So he wasn’t strict with us. Hah!”

“Nope. He wasn’t,” Hutchins replied with a deadpan expression, arms folded across his chest. “He didn’t have his men search the trucks. He didn’t search us. And he didn’t check our vehicle markings against the unit issuing our orders. He might have phoned back to verify them, too.”

He jerked his head back in the direction they had come from. “Did you see the third-degree every Korean civilian was getting? Even a signed pass and valid ID card might not get you past those guys. You might be carrying contraband, or have some other suspicious reason for wanting to go south.”

She looked at him unbelievingly, so he continued, “Look, this country is losing the war right now. I’ve heard stories of Korean and American units folding and running, or being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. So you can
bet the government isn’t going to allow everybody to suddenly decide to visit their uncle Kyung in Pusan. The roads have to be kept clear for military traffic.” Hutchins realized he’d been preaching and stopped in embarrassment.

They drove on in silence, past a ragged line of civilians walking south in the cold—mothers carrying their babies, older children carrying household goods and family treasures heaped on their backs, and old men and women staggering along beside them. Anne kept her eyes on the road ahead. She knew they couldn’t possibly carry any of the refugees lining either side of the road, but that didn’t soothe her conscience very much.

Now that they were past the control point, the traffic wasn’t too bad, and they made good time to the junction with Highway 47. As they turned south off the highway onto a narrow gravel road, Anne looked at the map with concern. The sun was already starting to sink lower in the west, gleaming over a landscape that again looked peaceful.

“Shouldn’t we have stayed on the road to Suwon?”

Hutchins tapped the map. “Suwon’s a major airbase, and I don’t want to be anywhere nearby if the NKs decide to raid it. A convoy like this would be a fat target for some MiG. We have absolutely no protection against an air attack.”

She sighed. Hutchins was right again. And infuriatingly so. Anne settled back into a fog of her own thoughts as they drove through a host of tiny, look-alike villages—through Yamok, Chaan, and Paran. The farther from the war they got, the more peaceful the landscape looked. She looked for details that would tell her why it looked less troubled, but she finally decided it was her own lessened tension.

She finally relaxed enough to think consciously about Tony. It occurred to her that he must be wondering why she hadn’t already called from Japan. Well, with any luck she’d get a chance to see him in person before they were flown out of Kunsan. Anne frowned. She’d have to find a way to get word to him somehow. Maybe she could call when they stopped for gas. …

WEST OF TAECH’ANG, SOUTH KOREA

The boat slid up onto the beach quietly, gently scraping far enough inland so that a chance wave couldn’t carry it back out into the Yellow Sea. Eight men in wet suits rolled off onto the wet, white sand. They crouched in a rough semicircle, hastily stripping plastic coverings off their weapons while scanning the area for signs of movement.

Nothing. Only the soft crash of waves breaking offshore. The moon hadn’t risen yet and low clouds covered most of the stars. The North Korean commando team leader waved his men into action. One scuttled inland a few yards and dropped back to a crouch with his automatic rifle at the ready.