Battle Born (46 page)

Kong was pacing in front of a small campfire, surrounded by several other Korean People’s Army officers. He had kept his voice low and the group remained silent, fearing that their voices might carry in the stillness of the countryside; the fire was small to avoid attracting attention.

A few moments later a guard escorted another soldier to the campfire. He stepped before Captain Kong and saluted. “Sir, my name is Master Sergeant Kim Yong-ku, noncommissioned officer in charge, Unit Six, Forty-fifth Regiment, Sixth Battalion. I am reporting to you as ordered by my commanding officer, Lieutenant Choi Yeon-sam.”

“Where is the lieutenant?” Kong asked.

“Sir, he was captured, tortured, and left to die by a roving band of deserters on his way to this meeting,” Kim replied. “He was attacked about a kilometer from where our unit is in hiding. Security forces from Unit Six responded to his cries for help, but we were not in time. But before he died, the lieutenant told me about this meeting and how important it was for someone from our unit to attend. He said it was the only way our country had to reconstitute our strategic forces in order to drive the invaders out.”

Captain Kong drew his sidearm and aimed it at the sergeant. “How do we know you are not one of the
deserters?” he asked. “How do we know you didn’t torture the information out of Choi and come here to us, hoping to lead the capitalists or their American overlords to us?”

Kim bristled angrily, then stiffened his back almost to attention. “I may not be an officer, sir, but I am a loyal and faithful soldier and servant of the fatherland and of our Beloved Leader,” he said. “I did not flee to China when the deserters and traitors left my unit—I stood at my post and did my solemn duty. When marauders and thieves attacked our unit, I fought them off. When my commander was killed, I avenged his death. If you still believe I am a traitor to the fatherland, I give you permission to end my life. I do not deserve to live if I cannot serve the fatherland or the People’s Army.”

Kong lowered his sidearm. He had noticed that the sergeant still wore his People’s Army uniform. That said a lot, especially now. Anyone in an Army uniform was being shot at on sight. Most important was the news that word of the meeting had managed to reach the commanding officer of Unit Six. The unit’s expertise was vital to Kong’s plans. He holstered his weapon. “We welcome you,” he said. “We will ask you to prove your worth, and if you are really a traitor to the fatherland, may your ancestors curse your name forever. You are now Lieutenant Kim Yong-ku, commanding officer of Unit Six. How many men in your unit?”

“Five, sir,” Kim responded. “Three launch technicians, my maintenance supervisor, and one locomotive engineer.”

“Barely enough to do the job,” Kong said. “But we will do it, no matter how many traitors there are around us.” To the assembled group, he said, “Loyal soldiers of the fatherland, I will not try to minimize our situation—it is very grim. Unit Six represents the last
and possibly the only ballistic missile assets still operational in the People’s Army—two Nodong-1 units, two Scud-B units, and one Scud-C unit. I have tried to contact the rest of the command, and you are the only ones who have responded.

“But there is good news, comrades: I have been in contact with our government-in-exile in Beijing,” Captain Kong went on. “Efforts are under way to reconstitute the government as we speak. We have been instructed to use every means at our disposal to transport our weapons as far north as possible, to Chagang Do province. If we are successful, we can expect support from the People’s Liberation Army.” That bit of news led to a round of muted cheers. “We shall be the trailblazers, the first to establish a home for loyal Communist supporters in the fertile Tongno River plains. Our comrades in the People’s Republic of China will help us recapture and hold Chagang Do province. We will make it an autonomous entity within the new Korea. It will be a haven for all those who seek to restore the world socialist dream illegally taken from us.

“As you all know, Chagang Do province was the heart of our nation’s modern weapons development program, including the weapons that are now in our charge,” Kong went on. “It was doubtless a major target for attack or occupation by capitalist forces. Traveling to Chagang Do will not be easy. We cannot rely on the People’s Liberation Army to protect us until we are close to our objective. We must therefore do everything in our power to get as close to Kanggye as possible and hope that our friends the Chinese will intervene if we are intercepted.

“To accomplish this goal, I have received authorization to create a diversion by staging our own attack on designated targets within South Korea. Our presence will certainly become known, so we shall attack the
military targets most likely to participate in a search for us. The best way to assure that our attacks will have the greatest chance of success is to coordinate our launches. I have devised a plan, approved by the Ministry of Defense and the Politburo-in-exile, to disperse our forces and proceed to presurveyed launch points. Based on distance to target, we shall compute a launch time and date and proceed with a simultaneous launch. Five missiles reentering from different directions will have a better chance of penetrating any capitalist defenses than one. I have set up the first coordinated launch in three days. The units with reloads will then relocate to a new launch point and launch again.”

Kong handed out sheets with a list of geographic coordinates, elevations, nearby landmarks, surveyor’s distance and bearing coordinates, and celestial data needed to help align the missiles’ gyros. “Here are the planned and alternate launch points I’ve selected for your units,” he explained. “Some may be unfamiliar to you. I have rejected several of our normal launch points because I suspect some are known to the capitalists or have been compromised by deserters. It will be up to you to locate the new launch points. Use your GPS receivers to work yourself down as close as you can to the presurveyed point, locate the landmarks, then crosscheck with the surveyor’s coordinates.

“It will be up to each unit to find a hiding place,” Kong went on. “Do your best to find and secure a good location. On the date listed on your handouts, move to the launch point, do a coarse celestial heading alignment, store it, then stand by. At the time listed, power up, elevate your weapon, do a fine alignment, then launch. Remember to retreat back to your hiding place immediately after launch—do not wait to reload. Even better, try to retreat several miles to the north. Then proceed with reload procedures.

“Each of us has at least one reload. Unit Twelve has two Scud-B reloads; my Unit Fourteen, which is a Nodong-1 unit, has two reloads as well. After you secure your units, we will try to meet at this location three days after the first launch, or at one of the other rendezvous locations listed on your sheet in four days; we will contact you with instructions. We will then proceed to secondary launch points inside Kangyang Do province. Depending on the success of our first launch, we may decide to try to split up the reloads, or we might try to get more reloads from one of our bases.

“Most important, comrades, is this: survival,” Kong said. “We represent the last and only hope for the restoration of our nation. We are possibly the only weapon left that can stop the capitalists from destroying us. Guard your weapons with care. Do whatever is necessary to preserve your forces and carry out your assigned mission. If one of you is down, destroy or cache any remaining weapons, destroy all classified documents, then rendezvous with another unit to assist them. Remember: your mission is not complete until you receive verified, competent orders from myself or from headquarters telling you otherwise.”

Kong looked at the men assembled around the camp-fire. He saw that his message had stirred them, but he also saw the fear in their eyes. Their nation was imploding, coming apart at the seams. They had all heard the muted whine of enemy planes overhead, wondered when the cluster bombs or nuclear detonation would hit, whether the end had come. They had a long march ahead of them, at least five hundred kilometers. Under normal conditions, such a march would take less than a week. Under current conditions, it could take months.

It was not just the South Korean warplanes, or the threat of an American nuclear-loaded cruise missile that posed the greatest risk—it was the threat from one of
their own, their comrades-in-arms. They were more likely to be killed by a bullet from a North Korean rifle than an American bomb. The man they shared a meal or a laugh with yesterday, someone they had known or trained with for years, might be the man who would put a bullet through their head tonight.

“This is the time to be strong, all of you,” Kong Hwan-li said as forcefully as he could. “We have trained for this our entire lives. The skills and knowledge given to us by the party and the fatherland are not just a means of livelihood—they are a solemn duty, a terrible and important responsibility.

“We have always said in our command that we are the point of the spear. It has never been more true than now. We may be the last hope of the fatherland. The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea lives, but it needs our spirit to nourish it if there is any hope for survival against the imperialists. You are not alone out here. Your lives and your actions will set the course of history. Your ancestors will be the witnesses, your descendants the judge. Do not disappoint them.”

HEADQUARTERS, HIGH TECHNOLOGY AEROSPACE
WEAPONS CENTER,
ELLIOTT AIR FORCE BASE, GROOM LAKE, NEVADA
THAT EVENING

G
eneral Samson here and secure.”

“Earthmover, Jester here,” Air Force Chief of Staff General Victor Hayes responded.

“Thank you for returning my call, sir,” said Terrill Samson, commander of Dreamland. “I know it’s late. Did you get my proposal outline, timetables, and budget proposals, sir?”

“I’m not returning your call, Earthmover,” Hayes said somberly. “I need to find out what in the hell you’re up to out there.”

“Please be a little more specific, sir.”

“McLanahan. The Nevada Air National Guard B-1s. Dreamland. Balboa is getting it in Surround Sound from the Navy, from the Air Force, and from the National Guard Bureau about General McLanahan’s project, and now he’s pissing on my desk,” Hayes said. “First, you guys set off that plasma-yield thing without telling the Navy. Bad. That went straight to Balboa. We cooled things down with him and the Navy, but he’s got a burr under his saddle. He hears about B-1s and Dreamland and McLanahan and Samson and immediately gets a bad butt-rash.

“Next, a wing commander in Idaho claims a couple B-1 bombers almost rammed his jets
deliberately.
That was a Class One incident, Earthmover, a near-miss observed by both military and civilian radar facilities on the ground and in the sky. They had no choice. The reports went straight to Balboa’s desk and got cc’ed to the SECDEF. More bad press.

“But that’s not the best part, Earthmover,” Hayes went on, his anger growing in intensity. “As part of the Class One incident investigation begun by the secretary of the Air Force’s safety office, we start looking for the planes. We can’t find them. Someone pushes the panic button and the word goes out right up to the Pentagon and on to 1600 Pennsylvania that
four
B-1 bombers with weapons aboard are
missing.
Shades of the A-10 suicide. Shades of the F-117 hijacks in California. National Guard, FBI, CIA, DIA, FAA, every alphabet noodle in the damned soup can is mobilized.

“So where do we find them? Where are they?
In your sandbox
, Earthmover! You got ’em! And no one can touch them! Now everyone is howling at me, at Balboa,
at the SECDEF. Everyone wants some butts, Terrill! And I look like the biggest dipshit in the universe because I authorized all this and I didn’t know what the hell was going on! Hell, everyone was saying those B-1s were hijacked by North Korean terrorists in retaliation for the South taking over their country, and that seemed like the best possible scenario! Now, what in the hell is going on out there?”

“Sir, we’re moving ahead with Coronet Tiger and deployment of Lancelot,” Samson said. “General McLanahan has been working closely with the Air National Guard unit from Reno, and he’s determined that they’re best suited for Coronet Tiger. When the Korea incident occurred, and since we had operational control of the Nevada B-1s, I decided we should implement the plan ahead of schedule. Since General McLanahan already had the bombers near our base, I authorized him to bring them on in to begin the conversion process, as previously planned.”

“The ‘best suited’? Are you crazy, Terrill? They almost rammed two F-15 fighters—not once, but
twice.
Then they almost rammed each other! They’re nuts! They’re crazy! And so are you and McLanahan if you think you’re going to use them!” He paused, and Samson could hear swearing on the other end of the phone. “Terrill, you can’t tell me that you knew and approved of all this. I know you too well. You’re not like Brad Elliott. You would have come to me first. McLanahan did all this, didn’t he?”

“I tried to contact you earlier, sir, but with the Korea thing erupting, the networks were a jumble,” Samson lied. “And General McLanahan has a lot of initiative, and I give him a lot of authority and responsibility around here, but he doesn’t do anything unless I give him approval. The B-1s’ arrival was coordinated well in advance . . .”

“Don’t bullshit me, Earthmover,” Hayes interjected. He paused again, then went on: “Don’t touch those bombers until I tell you to, Terrill. Don’t even gas them up. Discontinue all test flights and weapons trials. You, McLanahan, and the Nevada Air Guard crews will probably face disciplinary action for what you’ve done today. I can’t help that. Coronet Tiger and the Lancelot project might be all that keeps you two off the unemployment lines—or out of Leavenworth.”

“Sir, with all that’s going on in Korea right now, General McLanahan and I feel our program might be the best option if China starts—”

“You obviously didn’t hear what I said, General Samson,” Hayes cut in angrily. “Cut the Air National Guard guys back to their unit and stand down,
now
, or drop your stars in the mailbox on your way out of town.”