North Korean Blowup (21 page)

They hit a serious pot hole and Ho scowled. “Road bad,” he said.

Hunter agreed with him but this was much better than hiking the twenty six miles to the next town. Quicker, too.

He looked at Beth. “So, the first bomb is dead. Your job half done. How did it go?”

“Better than I expected. I had no idea what kind of a set up they would have, or what kind of triggering and detonating devices they might use. Turned out to be fairly vanilla. The kind of hardware that is available over much of the world.”

“We didn’t actually see the bomb disintegrate,” Hunter said. “Are we sure that we killed it?”
               “Dead and gone. The parts I disassembled and the wires I cut and the way I put the C-5 chunks in there leave no doubt in my mind that the nuke is totally destroyed. It would be easier to start a new one than to try to repair that old one.”

“That should make you feel good.”

“Yes to some extent. On the other hand that’s my job, to destroy the nukes whether ours or theirs.”

“Look at it this way. By dumping that nuke, you probably saved a million South Korean lives.”

She turned and looked at Hunter.

“You believe that they might have dropped that one or another one on Seoul?”

“A distinct possibility. They might gamble that world opinion would prevent the US from retaliating with a bomb on their capital and they would be one move ahead in the big chess game to unify Korea under the north’s iron fist.”

“Now you’re getting political.”

“Everything any nation does is political, especially North Korea whose leaders have a giant, long standing inferiority complex that they try to compensate for.”

Hunter turned to his mike. “Hey, all of you compatriots riding back there in coach class. I assume that you are cleaning your weapons. Anything that was fired needs work. At the same time I want half of all weapons back there to be locked and loaded, ready for immediate use. Capish?”

“Hi” one SEAL said into his radio.

“Wilco boy san,” another said.

“Gotcha Red Ryder.”

“Yeah, I’m on your team.”

Hunter grinned at the responses, then dug out his cleaning kit and worked over his Bull Pup until he was satisfied with it, then put in a fresh magazine with five rounds and chambered one round and put on the safety.

Beth picked up her MP-5 subgun and punched the release to take out the magazine. Hunter took the weapon and checked the magazine. It was half full.

“You got in some shots back there,” he said.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I hit anyone.”

Hunter cleared the round from the chamber, then cleaned the short gun, put in a full magazine of rounds, and chambered a round. He put it on safety and laid it on the cab floor between them.       

Tran and Ho still wore their North Korean army uniforms. They would need them for a food stop. After that it was up for grabs.

“Ho, can we still use the soccer team idea?”

“Soccer team, yes. Best way to slip through.”

“Good cover.”

“Yes, cover. Good word.”

Ho looked ahead and squinted. He frowned and pointed. “Road is gone. Washed out maybe.”

The big truck came to a stop and Ho and Hunter got out to take a better look. The road way wound around a small valley before heading into the mountains again. A stream along the far side of the road had cut a two foot deep gouge through the dirt road. Ho looked at the shallow ditches on both sides, but even if they could get through the ditch and into the fairly level spot along the road, they would then have to cross the shallow creek.

Ho and Hunter walked the route and checked the slope of the stream bank and the depth of the water.

Hunter shook his head. “Too steep and too damn deep. We need a better plan.”

Back on the road they looked at the other side of the road, but found almost the same problems. Ho studied the cut through the road. It was a little over two feet deep and twelve feet across. He went to the back of the big truck.

“Tanner,” he called. “Shovels?”

Tanner popped up from the bench along the side. “Oh, yeah, the ones we found back at the mine. Here somewhere.”

Five minutes later Ho and Tanner were working on the near side of the cut. They dug into the edge of the abrupt drop, sloping it back, shoveling away the dirt and rocks and throwing them into the cut in the road ahead.

Ten minutes later two more SEALs manned the shovels as Ho supervised. It took another twenty minutes for them to slope back the cut for six feet, making it a gradual two foot decline to the uneven bottom. In the twelve feet span they filled in two holes and leveled off another section, then attacked the far edge of the washout.

A half hour and three different shovel shifts and they had the far side of the roadway slanted up for six feet. Ho and Tanner looked at it and nodded. Tanner took the wheel, ordered everyone out of the back of the six by, and started the engine. He put it in second gear and edged forward down the slope then gunned the engine as the truck jolted across the uneven bottom. At the far side he paused, then fed more gas to the engine and in low gear jolted up the incline and back on the roadway. The SEALs cheered.

 They all got back in the truck and it rolled forward. Ho still had the wheel. Hunter looked back at the gouge out of the road. “More than one way to skin a cat,” he said.

Ho looked at Hunter in disbelief. “You skin cat?”

Hunter and Beth laughed.

“No not really Ho,” Beth explained. “It’s just a saying. It means more than one way to get hard job done. Like you and the guys did back there.”

“Good. Ho like cats.”

They rolled along again as the road climbed into some real mountains.

“Tall mountains soon,” Ho said.

“These look big enough to me,” Hunter said. That’s when he realized something. “Hey, we haven’t seen a single car or truck since we left that last town. Does this road really go somewhere?”
               “Go there,” Ho said. “Not much people here.”

“You can say that again,” Beth said. She looked at Ho. “Another of our sayings. It means I agree with what you said.”

Ho grinned. “American people talk English funny.”

They kept driving. By the time Beth figured out that they had come ten kilometers on the odometer, the mountains were rearing up ahead of them in what looked like impossible heights. They still hadn’t met any cars. They went around a small curve and at the side of the road just ahead sat an old weather beaten and paint splotched pickup. It sagged on the left rear flat tire.

“Go around slow,” Hunter said. He had the MP-5 ready just below the window so no one outside could see it. They big truck crept by the pickup and Hunter saw a man lift up from the front seat where he was either hiding or sleeping. He rubbed his eyes, and waved at them. Then he jumped out of the rig and swung both arms frantically.

“Stop and back up,” Hunter said. “He might know about the condition of the road ahead. Everyone stay in the truck,” Hunter said to his shoulder mike. The big truck stopped and Hunter stepped out and waved for Ho to come as well. They walked back to the Korean man. He was in his fifties, Hunter figured and had on worn clothes. A frazzled hat covered his head and he had a scraggly beard. Hunter guessed he was no more than five feet four inches tall, and thin as a cornstalk in October.

He called to Ho, who answered. Ho translated.

“Says he needs help. Tire flat and he doesn’t have a jack. He has a spare.”

“Tanner and Jefferson off the truck, now. We have a problem.”

Ho looked at the flat tire. Beside it lay an inflated tire and wheel.

“Flat tire,” Hunter told the two SEALs, “and we have no jack. Let’s get some limbs or trees or something to lever that rig up so you guys can change the tire.”

“Great, but where’s the lug wrench?” Tanner asked.

Ho asked the old Korean man about a wrench. He bent and tried to twist off the lug nuts with his fingers. The Korean man nodded and said something and reached into the cab and pulled out a four way lug nut wrench.

“Need some help,” Jefferson said.

The Korean man stared hard at Jefferson. He frowned and looked at Ho and said something.

“Hold out hand he touch,” Ho told Jefferson. “Never see  black man.”

Jefferson reached out his hand and the Korean man stepped up and rubbed his black wrist, checked his fingers and grinned. The black didn’t come off. He jabbered something and laughed and looked down at the rest of Jefferson.

Ho laughed as well. “He asked if you all black?”

Jefferson grinned and lifted his Korean shirt to show his bare stomach. The Korean man howled with laughter and nodded.

“Di jobe,” he said. It was Japanese for something like all right.

The SEALs fanned out along the roadway into the woods looking for study poles they could use to lift the rig.

“Hell, we can just lift it up and hold it long enough to get the new tire on,” Jefferson said. He worked on the lug nuts. Found them rusted on and he had to stand on the four way wrench to break each one free. When he had them all loosened, he took off all but two.

“Get over here you sad sack SEALs,” Jefferson bellowed. “We can lift this little critter up and hold it. Six or eight of us and I’ll jerk the wheel off and slap the new one on in about twenty seconds.”

The SEALs gathered around, found hand holds and waited for Jefferson. He took off the last two lug nuts.

“Lift,” he bellowed. The SEALs picked up the rear of the little truck easily and Jefferson pulled off the flat tire and rim. Ho had the spare tire positioned to the side and rolled it over where Jefferson matched the lug bolts with the holes in the new wheel and slapped it in place. He spun on two lug nuts, then the others and tightened two of them.

“Down,” he said and the SEALs let the pickup down on the new rubber. He tightened the last two nuts and then handed the lug wrench to the Korean man.

The small Korean bowed deeply, chattered something and looked up at Jefferson and grinned.  Jefferson held out his hand. The Korean man bowed again, reached out and stroked the bare black arm and laughed.

“Ask him about the road ahead,” Hunter told Ho.

They talked a few minutes, then the little man got in his truck, ground the engine over three or four times until it started. He waved and turned around the six by and drove up the road.

Ho nodded. “Little man say almost no cars on road. Much rain comes soon. Road bad to next town Nangnim. He thank for help. Say wife not believe black man in Korea.”

“Saddle up,” Hunter said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”            

Mo looked at Hunter. “Show?”

Beth explained it to him as they crawled into the cab. A minute later Ho ground over the engine. It caught the first time and they continued up the road as it wound up stiffer grades as it came into the foothills just below the tall peaks.

Hunter looked out the window.

“The old man said it was going to rain. Clouds have been building over the mountains. Wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t raining up there right now.”

“Will that affect us down here?”

“I remember that water runs downhill. We did see that washout we just crossed. We’ll watch it.”

A mile up the road, through some switchbacks and steep grades, the rain started.

“Not exactly a summer shower,” Beth said.

Lighting cracked higher in the mountains and the thunder rolled. The rain hit them hard with large splashing drops, then the wind whipped it into a frenzy and Ho pulled to the side of the road and stopped.

“No see,” he said.

“You guys dry back there?” Hunter asked his shoulder mike.

“Dry is a relative term, you cab people,” Senior Chief Chapman said. “We’re relatively dry, yes, but there are a few leaks. This going to be a long one?”

“Looks like it. But most thunderstorms move quickly. We’ll see about this one. Hey, I’m no weatherman.”

Ho turned off the engine. “Save gas,” he said.

Five minutes later the rain let up a little. Ho nodded and turned the key. The engine caught and sputtered and died. The second try the engine roared at full pitch and the rig rolled ahead. They could see the road, but the rain still came down.

“If there’s a spot you could get off the road, maybe we should park it for a while and wait out the storm,” Hunter said. More lightning peppered the skyline as the thunderstorm took on a deeper growl as it dumped rain on the peaks.

“Ho watch for spot.”

A half mile later they found one. The upgrade had leveled off for a few hundred yards and a large gully opened up to the right. There was a turn out there probably made when they constructed the road through here. Ho pulled off the road a dozen feet and slid under a pair of tall pine trees.

“Let’s hope lighting doesn’t hit one of those pine trees,” Beth said. “I saw it hit a barn in Nebraska one day. We were all huddled in the granary out on the farm watching it rain. The lighting bolt hit the weather vane on the barn and a ball of fire tore down the outside of the barn, jolted through a door and burned a huge hole in a feed bin.

The smell of sulphur was all over the place. We were lucky the barn didn’t burn down.”  

“Thanks for those reassuring remarks,” Hunter said. Beth punched him in the shoulder.

They listened to the rain. Hunter frowned.

“Cap, you hear that,” Tran asked from the back.

“Just now, something.” Hunter rolled the window down a few inches and listened.

“It’s up the canyon,” Tran said.

“Right. I can’t see anything.” Then he could. “Ho, start the engine, get us back on the road away from this gully” Hunter roared.  “There’s a wall of water twenty feet high thundering down that canyon out there.”

Ho turned the key to start the engine. It ground once, twice, caught for a moment, then died.

“Get us moving, Ho,” Hunter bellowed. “That twenty foot high wall of water with trees, stumps, and branches in it is less than fifty yards away and charging directly at us like an out of control  hurricane.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

The engine ground over again, caught and the big truck surged forward. Hunter saw the twenty foot high wall of water slamming toward them like a runaway freight train maybe forty feet away. An uprooted tree with a ten foot wide root mass that acted as a sail in the water slashed forward. The water tore out small trees, rolled boulders down the slope and raced toward the highway and the six by.