Thunder in the Morning Calm (23 page)

“Late afternoon breeze picking up at sundown,” Jung-Hoon said in a voice so calm he could have been ordering a Big Mac in the drive-through at McDonald’s. Gunner shook his head. The total lack of fear displayed by both men was amazing. It was as if they were both unfazed by the fact that they were on a sinking aircraft on a faraway sea thousands of miles from home, and if that CO
₂
tank didn’t work soon, they would never see home again.

“You boys might want to get life jackets on,” Jackrabbit said as he twiddled with the line.

Another large swell lifted the plane up toward the darkening sky, followed by another dip down into the trough of the swell, followed by another
sloooooooooshhhh.

More water in … more water draining back out.

But each time, more water stayed in the plane. By now, about a half inch covered the floor of the cabin. To make matters worse, the nose of the plane had sunk several inches lower into the sea.

“We are starting to sink,” Jung-Hoon said, again in a voice of calm.

“Hang on, boys,” Jackrabbit said. “I’m working on it.” He kept fiddling, twisting something attached to the long black hose.

The plane started rising again on the next swell.
Sloooooooooooshhhh.
Another sheet of cold water sloshed in.

“There’s a bad connection where the hose from the tank is screwed into the extension hose. Hang on.” Slumped over, Jackrabbit moved across the watery floor of the plane and put his hands on the valve of the CO
₂
tank. “Let’s hope this works or we’re gonna have a long swim.”

Let’s hope … and pray, Gunner thought.

More water sloshed into the cabin. Jackrabbit twisted the valve again.

Hissssssssssssssssssssssssss …

The graying skies and twinkling starlight cast a grayish but still visible hue on the lifeless rubber form floating on the water. Daylight had surrendered to nightfall. But the fading vestiges of dim light revealed that the boat remained a useless, lifeless sheet of rubber floating about an inch now above the sinking wing.

“Come on … dangit … come on …”

Now for the first time, Gunner sensed uncertainty in Jackrabbit’s voice.

Corbin Hall
Suffolk, Virginia

T
he silence of the morning calm tormented her. How could she sleep after hearing this ominous news?

Loneliness overwhelmed her. Who could she talk to? All of Tidewater was asleep at this hour, and when they awoke, many would head to Lynhaven and Greenbrier Mall and Military Circle and the other malls for those day-after-Thanksgiving sales that marked the beginning of the commercial rush toward the Christmas season. The thought of hundreds of thousands of shoppers traipsing the malls in a shopping frenzy while her youngest was in harm’s way made her sick to her stomach and intensified her utter isolation.

She thought about calling Gorman, but what good would that do? Why ruin his sleep? And maybe Gunner wasn’t near that missile. In fact, CNN did report that the ship was still afloat, but with
some
loss of life. And
some
loss of life implied there were lots of survivors.

Did it not?

That meant that statistically, Gunner was probably all right.

Did it not?

But if Gunner was okay — as he surely must be — then why this uncontrollable twisting in her stomach?

Margaret Pendleton McCormick could do only one thing. With the undecorated fir tree standing like a silent sentry across the room, she got down on her knees on the Persian rug in front the coffee table, and
she cried from the depths of her heart. Then she wiped her tears and looked up.

“Heavenly Father … since you took my earthly father away from me all those years ago, I’ve had no one to lean on other than you.” She looked down. More teardrops splattered on the mahogany coffee table. She wiped it with her hand. “You say to be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, and with thanksgiving to bring all our requests to you.

“Well, heavenly Father, I am calling on you right here and now. And on this lonely morning after Thanksgiving, protect my boy, Father, and bring him home safely. Please. For you know that your servant is too old and too feeble to lose another family member in the service to his country.

“Please do not make me sacrifice yet another loved one on the altar of freedom!

“In the name of Christ Jesus, the one who is and who was and who is to come, I pray. Amen.”

Beechcraft Bonanza G36
the Sea of Japan

C
ome on!” Jackrabbit blurted out. He kept twisting the cord and had turned the CO
₂
off and on several times. Nothing but hissing and a flat sheet of rubber still floating on the sea under a dark sky.

From the cockpit, Jung-Hoon pointed a flashlight at the tubing to give Jackrabbit light to work. More water flooded the cabin. The plane had sunk another inch.

“Let’s try this baby one more time.” Jackrabbit reached over and turned on the valve again.

Hissssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

Jackrabbit looked out onto the wing. Nothing. He blurted out another obscenity. “If y’all are praying gentlemen, and I’ve not always been much of a praying man, I suggest you start now. I’ve done about everything I know how to do. We’re about out of time, and we’re about to go down.”

Another wave raised the sinking plane up. Another trough brought more water sloshing in.

Hissssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

“Hand me the flashlight, Jung-Hoon.”

“Sure thing, Commander.”

Gunner aimed the beam of the flashlight inside the plane. Would this be his last vision of life? There were three life preservers in the back. “Let’s get these life jackets on,” Gunner said. “Maybe we’ll get picked up by the North Korean Navy. It looks like our mission here is over.”

“Commander,” Jackrabbit said, “I’d rather borrow one slug from an M-16. That water out there’s too cold to survive very long, and even if the North Korean Navy is out there, I’m not lettin’ em take me alive.”

Gunner looked over at the pilot. “Jung-Hoon? You want a life jacket?”

“No life jacket,” Jung-Hoon said. “I agree with Jackrabbit. Give me a rifle.”

Slosh …

A larger wave, the largest yet, raised the plane almost on its side. Gunner dropped the flashlight on the floor. When he picked it up, he pointed it out toward the wing.

The rubber … it was moving!

“Jackrabbit! Check the raft!”

“Yeeeeee hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” Jackrabbit screamed. “We struck pay dirt!”

Gunner pointed the flashlight back outside. Sure enough, a rubber tube was inflating like a balloon coming to life and starting to turn the flat rubber into a genuine Navy SEAL Zodiac boat.

“Unbelievable!” Gunner shouted.

“All right!” Jackrabbit yelled with renewed enthusiasm. “That sucker’s finally blowin’ up! I’m going out, finish it up, then pull the boat off the wing and get in. Start passing stuff to me. We gotta get everything in that boat before this puppy sinks.”

“I’m with you, my man!”

Gunner heard a splash as Jackrabbit dropped out of the plane’s door and into the Sea of Japan. Jackrabbit pulled the Zodiac off the wing and guided it to a position just behind the cockpit.

The boat was fully inflated now, and Jackrabbit pulled himself up
and rolled over the side. “Dang, this water’s cold!” Jackrabbit said with the excitement of a kid who’d gotten a ten-dollar bill from the tooth fairy. “Why don’t one of y’all get over here in the boat with me. No point in having both of you drown if the plane goes down.”

“You go, Commander,” Jung-Hoon said.

“No,” Gunner said, “you go. The two of you have a better chance of finding those prisoners. Besides, you might have to steal a plane and fly out, and I don’t know how to fly a plane.”
Slooooshhh.
More water in the plane. “Come on, man, get a move on or we’re both going down. Now!”

“As you wish, Commander,” Jung-Hoon said. He crawled past Gunner and slipped out the door of the plane.

Splash.

A moment later, Jackrabbit reached his hand over the side of the boat and pulled Jung-Hoon aboard. “All right, Commander. You ready?”

“Ready,” Gunner said.

“First, unscrew that CO
₂
line. There’s no point getting pulled down with the plane. I’ll have Jung-Hoon here hang on the propeller to keep us from drifting off.”

“Check,” Gunner said. He leaned over, turned off the valve, and unscrewed the line tethering the boat to the plane. “Done.”

“Start with that outboard motor and gas tank … it’s in the bottom of the crate that the boat was in.”

Gunner looked into the crate. “Got it.” He picked up the small outboard and headed to the door of the plane.

“Don’t drop that thing in the water, Commander. It won’t float.”

“I’m not dropping it. He passed the motor out of the plane toward the boat. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jackrabbit said. “There’s a fuel tank in there too. We need that.”

Gunner got the fuel tank out, which was full of gasoline, and lugged it over to the open door and passed it out of the plane.

“I got it,” Jackrabbit said. “Okay, now let’s start loading weapons.”

NKN Frigate
Najin
the Sea of Japan

T
he captain of the North Korean Navy’s frigate
Najin
stood on the bridge of his ship, scanning the western horizon with his binoculars. The whole notion of looking in the general direction of the strange disappearing blip he believed was somewhat pointless. Sunset was more than five minutes ago, at 1715 hours, and the waxing crescent moon did not yet provide much light. Nevertheless, he was the captain, and it was his warship. He could do what he wanted, whether what he was doing was pointless or not. Actually, it was Dear Leader’s warship, he reminded himself.

He lowered his binoculars and checked his wristwatch, then looked back out to sea with renewed resolve. Since Dear Leader had entrusted him with this type of awesome power and responsibility, he was determined to not let Dear Leader down.

Yet, the mysterious blip on the radar screen that had been visible for such a short time confounded the captain. And the executive officer. And the other officers on the ship
.
The radar operator on duty in the radar room was the only one who saw the blip and actually tracked it for a couple minutes. He had since checked his equipment and determined that the blip was not the product of equipment malfunction.

The executive officer joined the captain on the bridge. “Anything else?” the captain said.

“Nothing else from the radar room, Captain,” the executive officer said. “It has gone quiet out there again.”

The captain brought his binoculars to his eyes again.

“Bridge. Radio room.”

“Radio. Bridge. Go ahead,” the captain said.

“Sir, we received a flash message in from T’oejo-dong.” This news grabbed the captain’s interest. For T’oejo-dong was the naval headquarters for North Korea’s East Sea Fleet, the ships responsible for security in the Sea of Japan.

“Bring it up immediately,” the captain ordered.

“Right away, Captain.”

“Interesting,” the captain said as he laid his binoculars down on the chart table and lit a cigarette. “I wonder what that could be about.”

“Perhaps they are ordering us to reinforce the Yellow Sea fleet against the Americans.”

“You and I both know that is just a dream. Pyongyang never transfers any ships from the East Sea Fleet.”

“Yes, I know, Captain. Of course everyone always thought that our next great naval encounter with the Americans would come here in the East Sea since we are the ones who guard the Motherland from the US stooge allies in Japan.”

“Yes, of course,” the captain said, sucking in a satisfying drag of nicotine. “Such is our luck.”

A petty officer from the radar room joined them on the bridge and flashed a proud salute to the captain. “You wanted this, sir.” He handed the captain an envelope.

“Thank you, petty officer. Return to your station.”

“Yes, sir.”

The captain ripped open the envelope and laid the message on the chart table next to the helm.