Body of Secrets: Anatomy of the Ultra-Secret National Security Agency (43 page)

Half an
hour later, the ship managed to connect with the Naval Security Group listening
post at Kamiseya. Once the right circuit was found, the signal was clear and
strong and the situation report was finally sent. Then the ship reverted to
radio silence.

About
noon, as the
Pueblo
was broadcasting to Kamiseya, an intercept operator
there began picking up signals from a North Korean subchaser, SC-35. It was the
same one that the Elint operator on the
Pueblo
was following. The
captain of the subchaser reported to his base his position, about eighteen
miles off the coast and twenty-five miles from Wonsan. That was very close to
where the
Pueblo
sat dead in the water.

By now
Bucher was on the flying bridge, peering through his "big
eyes"—twenty-two-inch binoculars. He could see that the fast-approaching
boat was an SO-1 class subchaser, hull number 35. He could also see that the
boat was at general quarters and that its deck guns—a 3-inch cannon and two
57mm gun mounts—were manned and trained on his ship. A quick check through the
files indicated that the SO-1 also carried two rocket launchers. Bucher ordered
flags raised indicating that the
Pueblo
was engaged in hydrographic
research, its cover. But the subchaser just drew closer and began circling the
ship at a distance of about 500 yards. On the
Pueblo,
all hands were
ordered to remain below decks to disguise the number of persons on board.

In North
Korea, a shore station reported the contact to higher command. "Subchaser
No. 35 has approached a 300-ton vessel which is used for radar operation. ...
it is believed the vessel was not armed and that it was an American
vessel."

At 12:12,
SC-35 signaled the
Pueblo,
"What nationality?"

Bucher
ordered the ensign raised and then the hydrographic signal. Next he called the
photographer to the bridge to get some shots of the incident and ordered the
engines lit off in preparation for some fancy maneuvering if necessary. Despite
the worrisome guns pointed his way, he thought that this was simple harassment
and decided to report it to Kamiseya. After all, the captain of the
Banner
had
told him about a number of similar incidents.

"A
guy comes steaming back from that kind of thing," said NSA's Gene Sheck,
referring to the captain of the
Banner,
"and he says to the skipper
of the
Pueblo,
'Lloyd, baby, you got nothing to worry about. They do
that every day. They'll come out. They'll harass you. You wave back. You blink
a few things at them and they'll go away. Everybody knows that. We knew it.
They do it to our reconnaissance, airborne reconnaissance missions. Nobody gets
excited about that."

But, added
Sheck, "Here come these guys—only they weren't playing."

At 12:20,
Chief Warrant Officer Gene Lacy noticed a number of small dots on the horizon,
approaching from Wonsan. Through the big eyes, Bucher identified them as three
North Korean P-4 motor torpedo boats headed his way.

Seven
minutes later, on its third swing around the
Pueblo,
SC-35 hoisted a new
signal: "Heave to or I will open fire on you." Lieutenant Ed Murphy,
the executive officer, again checked the radar and confirmed that the
Pueblo
was 15.8 miles from the nearest land, North Korea's Ung-do island. Bucher
told the signalman to hoist "I am in international waters." Down in
the Sigint spaces, First Class Petty Officer Don Bailey, who had just
transferred to the
Pueblo
from NSA's USNS
Valdez,
kept in
continuous contact with Kamiseya. "Company outside," he transmitted
to the listening post in Japan, then asked them to stand by for a Flash
message.

Although
Bucher had no way of knowing it, as far as the North Koreans were concerned the
game was already over. At 12:35, the shore station reported that
"subchaser has already captured U.S. vessel." About that time, the
three torpedo boats had arrived and were taking up positions around the ship while
two snub-nosed MiG-21s began menacing from above.

Bucher
passed the word over the internal communications system to prepare for
emergency destruction. He then turned to his engineering officer, Gene Lacy,
and asked him how long it would take to scuttle the ship. Lacy explained that
the
Pueblo
had four watertight bulkheads. Two of those would have to be
opened to the sea. They could be flooded with the ship's fire hoses, but that
would take a long time, about three or more hours. A quicker method, Lacy told
Bucher, would be to open the cooling water intakes and outlets in the main
engine room and cut a hole into the auxiliary engine room from the main engine
room. Once this was done, Lacy said, the ship could go down in forty-seven
minutes. But the problem was that many of the life rafts might be shot up
during an attack; without enough life rafts, and with the bitter January water
cold enough to kill a person exposed to it in minutes, Bucher gave up on the
idea.

New flags
were going up on one of the torpedo boats: "Follow in my wake. I have
pilot aboard." Then a boarding party transferred from the SC-35 to one of
the torpedo boats, and PT-604 began backing down toward the
Pueblo's
starboard
bow with fenders rigged. Men in helmets with rifles and fixed bayonets stood on
the deck. Next came the signal "Heave to or I will open fire."

Bucher,
hoping to somehow extricate the ship, ordered hoisted the signal "Thank
you for your consideration. I am departing the area." Bucher knew there
was no way his tub could outrun the forty-knot torpedo boats. He considered
manning the 50mm machine guns but decided against it, believing it was
senseless to send people to certain death. He was still hoping to somehow make
a "dignified" departure. Yet, with the North Koreans about to board
his ship, he still had not ordered emergency destruction down in the Sigint
spaces. Bucher gave the quartermaster instructions to get under way at
one-third speed.

As the
Pueblo
began to move, the torpedo boats began crisscrossing the ship's bow and
SC-35 again signaled, "Heave to or I will fire." Bucher ordered the
speed increased to two-thirds and then to full speed. SC-35 gave chase, gaining
rapidly on
Pueblo's
stern. To the side, sailors aboard PT-601 uncovered
a torpedo tube and trained it on the ship. Down in the Sigint spaces, Don
Bailey's fingers flew over the keyboard. "They plan to open fire on us
now," he sent to Kamiseya.

SC-35 then
instructed all North Korean vessels to clear the area. He said he was going to
open fire on the U.S. vessel because it would not comply with North Korean navy
instructions.

Seconds
later the boat let loose with ten to twenty bursts from its 57mm guns. At
almost the same moment, the torpedo boats began firing their 30mm machine guns.
The men in the Sigint spaces threw themselves on the deck. Personnel on the
flying bridge dove into the pilothouse for cover. About four minutes later,
general quarters was finally sounded. But Bucher immediately modified the
command, forbidding personnel from going topside. He wished to keep anyone from
attempting to man the 50mm guns.

SC-35 let
loose with another burst of heavy machine fire. Most of the rounds were aimed
over the ship, but something struck the signal mast. Bucher collapsed with
small shrapnel wounds in his ankle and rectum. Everyone then hit the deck.
"Commence emergency destruction," Bucher ordered. Bailey notified
Kamiseya, "We are being boarded. Ship's position 39-25N/127-54.3E.
SOS." Over and over he repeated the message. In the Sigint spaces, sailors
were destroying documents. Bailey was pleading. "We are holding emergency
destruction. We need help. We need support. SOS. Please send assistance."
It was now 1:31 P.M.

In the
Sigint spaces, the emergency destruction began slowly and with great confusion.
Fires were started in wastepaper baskets in the passageways outside the secure
unit. About ten weighted ditching bags were packed with documents and then
stacked in the passageways. Using axes and sledgehammers, the cipher equipment
was smashed.

Back at
Kamiseya, intercept operators heard the subchaser notify its shore command that
he had halted the U.S. ship's escape by firing warning shots. One of the
torpedo boats then informed its base that two naval vessels from Wonsan were
taking the U.S. ship to some unidentified location.

By now,
U.S. forces in the Pacific were becoming aware of the desperateness of the
situation. Flash messages were crisscrossing in the ether. Although some 50,000
U.S. military personnel were stationed in South Korea, most near the
demilitarized zone, the ongoing war in Vietnam had sapped American airpower in
South Korea. The U.S. Air Force had only six Republic F-105 Thunderchief
fighter-bombers in the country. These "Thuds," the largest
single-engine, single-seat fighters ever built, were capable of carrying
18,500-pound bombs. But at the time, they were armed only with nuclear weapons,
to take out targets in China in the event the balloon went up. Removing the
nuke-alert packages and replacing them with air-to-ground weapons would take
hours.

Also on
runways in South Korea were 210 combat-ready South Korean fighters and
interceptors that could reach the
Pueblo
before dark. "The Koreans
requested from the United States permission to save the
Pueblo,"
said
one U.S. Air Force fighter pilot. But the U.S. officer in charge of American
and UN forces in South Korea, Army General Charles H. Bonesteel III, refused to
allow them to launch. He feared the South Korean air force might respond
"in excess of that necessary or desired" and thus launch an all-out
war, impossible to contain.

The next
closest aircraft were in Japan, where the U.S. had seventy-eight fighters
parked on runways. But because of agreements with the Japanese government prohibiting
offensive missions from bases in that country, these were also unavailable on
short notice.

Four
hundred and seventy miles south, steaming at twenty-seven knots toward Subic
Bay in the Philippines, was the USS
Enterprise,
the largest aircraft carrier
in the world. On the rolling decks of the nuclear-powered flat-top were sixty
attack aircraft, including twenty-four F-4B Phantoms capable of Mach 2 speed.
But by the time the confused messages regarding the
Pueblo
reached the
carrier, it was too distant for its aircraft to reach the
Pueblo
before
it would arrive in Wonsan.

That left
Okinawa, which was nearly as distant as the
Enterprise.
Although it was
part of Japan, at the time it was also an American protectorate and could be
used to launch hostile attacks. The island was home to the 18th Tactical
Fighter Wing, made up of combat-experienced fighter jocks who had flown
numerous missions against targets in Hanoi and Haiphong in North Vietnam. Some
wore the famous "100 Missions/North Vietnam" patch on their flight
jackets. Others, who had flown across the Red River on missions into the heart
of North Vietnam, wore the "River Rats" patch.

An
orange-red flash exploded from the end of a huge J-75 turbojet engine and a
deep-throated roar vibrated across Okinawa's Kadena Air Base. The first of a
dozen F-105s screeched down the runway. The pilots wanted to fly straight to
the
Pueblo,
attack the North Korean torpedo boats, and then fly to Osan
Air Base in South Korea for refueling. But instead they were ordered to refuel
first at Osan.

By now
Bucher realized that there was no escape. He considered that any further
resistance would result in the needless slaughter of the crew. Depending on how
well the destruction was going in the Sigint spaces, he decided, he would offer
no more resistance and would surrender the ship. At 1:34 P.M. he ordered
"All stop" and instructed the signalman to hoist the international
signal for "Protest." The 57mm fire halted but the 30mm fire
continued sporadically. Bucher estimated that he was now about twenty-five
miles from the North Korean shore. "We are laying to at present
position," Bailey transmitted. "Please send assistance. We are being
boarded."

Bucher
left the bridge and ran to his stateroom to check for classified information.
Finding nothing revealing the
Pueblo's
true mission, he handed a few
documents and his personal sidearm to someone in the passageway and ordered him
to throw them overboard. On his way back, he looked in on the destruction
taking place in the Sigint spaces and then headed back to the bridge. On SC-35
was the signal, "Follow me. I have pilot on board." Bucher complied
and ordered his quartermaster to make a slow, five-degree turn. Bailey notified
Kamiseya, "We are being escorted into probably Wonsan." A few minutes
later he again pleaded for help: "Are you sending assistance?"
Kamiseya replied, "Word has gone to all authorities. COMNAVFORJAPAN
[Commander, U.S. Naval Forces Japan] is requesting assistance."

At NSA
headquarters near Washington it was the middle of the night when the CRITIC and
Flash messages began stuttering from cipher machines. "For ten days,"
said NSA's Henry Millington, who conducted a highly secret study of the
incident, "nobody knew where they were."

"That
happened around two o'clock in the afternoon, Korean time," recalled Gene
Sheck of NSA's K Group, "which was like two o'clock in the morning here. I
got a call to come to work and I came in and General Morrison was at
work." At the time, Major General John Morrison was NSA's operations
chief. "And General Morrison decided that he was going to be the guy in
charge of the
Pueblo,
whatever problem we had with them. He called all
kinds of other people, but Morrison was kind of running the show at that
particular time." A short time later, Marshall Carter arrived—but he
didn't stay long. "You know," he told Morrison, "there's no
sense both of us standing here while this thing is trying to work itself out.
You stay here, gather all the data, and I'm going to be back in at six-thirty
or seven o'clock in the morning."