The Pacific Rim Collection

by Don Brown

  “Come on … dangit … come on …”

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

  CHAPTER 16

  Corbin Hall

  Suffolk, Virginia

  The 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

  Come on!” Jackrabbit blurted out. He kept twisting the cord and had turned the CO2 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 CO2 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

  The 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 D
ear 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.

  FLASH MESSAGE

  FROM: HEADQUARTERS EAST SEA FLEET — T’OEJO-DONG

  TO: NKN FRIGATE NAJIN

  DATE: 25 NOVEMBER

  TIME: 1717 HOURS

  SUBJ: RADAR BLIP SPOTTING EAST SEA

  SE SECTION OF TANCH’ON-HUNGNAM SECTOR

  1. Be advised multiple shore-based radars have spotted aerial blip between 1700 – 1705 hours, location East Sea, southeast quadrant of Tanch’on-Hungnam Sector.

  2. Blip last spotted at coordinates 40 degrees, 08 minutes north latitude, 129 degrees, 40 minutes east longitude.

  3. In view of the current situation in the Yellow Sea, this occurrence is of highest concern.

  4. You are instructed to proceed immediately to that location to investigate.

  5. You are instructed to take all measures necessary, including use of force, to protect and defend the interests of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

  6. Intercept, sink, or capture any vessels or aircraft that refuse to provide identification or that proceed toward coastal waters of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

  7. Report findings to Headquarters, East Sea Fleet, nlt 2300 Hours, 25 November.

  It is so ordered,

  Rhee In-gu

  Commanding Admiral

  East Sea Fleet

  “Looks like we are in business, XO.” The captain handed the orders to his second in command. “Helmsman. Plot a course to 40 degrees, 8 minutes north latitude, 129 degrees, 40 minutes east longitude. Advise of distance and course setting.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the helmsman said, then started punching the coordinates into the ship’s GPS guidance computer. “Stand by, Captain.” A few seconds passed. A revolving circle rotated on the computer screen. And then the coordinates appeared.

  “Coordinates plotted, Captain,” the helmsman said. “That position is ten miles to our east.”

  “Very well,” the Captain said. He hit the intercom button, opening a channel to the radio room.

  “Radio. Bridge.”

  “Radio. Go ahead, Captain.”

  “Send flash message to East Sea Fleet Headquarters, T’oejo-dong. Acknowledge receipt of your orders and proceeding to coordinates stat.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Helmsman. Plot course zero-nine-zero degrees. All ahead full.”

  “Aye, sir. Plotting course zero-nine-zero degrees. Engines all ahead full. Aye, Captain.”

  The Najin began her turn in the water, her bow cutting a course toward the east. The captain picked up the microphone and clicked the button activating the ship’s loudspeaker system. “Now hear this! This is the captain speaking! Our shipboard radar and land-based radar have detected a mysterious blip that appeared and disappeared on our screen just a few minutes ago, ten miles to the east of our current position. Fleet headquarters in T’oejo-dong has determined that we are the nearest vessel and has ordered us to steam to that position to investigate. All lookouts, pay close attention to anything suspicious on the sea or in the air. I know it is dark, and I want all lookouts sweeping the seas with searchlights. Our orders are to report back to T’oejo-dong no later than 2300 hours. This is the captain speaking.”

  Beechcraft Bonanza G36

  the Sea of Japan

  Cold water now stood three inches deep on the floor of the cabin, and the Bonanza’s nose section sunk deeper into the sea with each rise and plunge of the aircraft.

  “Commander! Hurry! Get the heck out of there!” Jackrabbit yelled.

  “Almost done,” Gunner said. “A few more MREs and we’ve got everything.”

  Gunner sloshed to the back to grab the MREs. Each packet contained a ready-to-eat 1,200-calorie meal, albeit not tasty, wrapped in airtight and watertight packages. Mr. Kim, if that was his name, had purchased sixty-three such packets, enough for a seven-day supply of three meals a day for the three of them without having to forage or steal anything to eat from the North Koreans.

  The waves were getting much larger. “The wind’s whipping up, Commander!” Jackrabbit yelled. “Leave the rest!”

  Jackrabbit’s right, Gunner thought. Better get out of here. “I’m coming!”

  As Gunner reached for the doorway, a wave raised the plane up much higher than any of the previous waves. The monster wave felt like the surge of a tsunami. At the crest, the plane suddenly dipped, then tipped, sliding down the back of the wave like a roller-coaster car starting a long drop. Gunner lost his balance and tumbled into the tail section of the cabin.

  Seawater gushed through the open door with a fury. The plane’s tail section sank quickly, tipping the nose up, dumping the seawater in the nose compartment down into the cabin.

  Gunner had pulled himself up, but then fell back down and slid again into the back of the flooded cabin. He fought to keep his head up for air. The cold water pouring in through the door was like a strong undertow keeping him from fighting his way out.

  “Help!” he screamed. “Help me! Help!”

  CHAPTER 17

  USS Boise

  depth 100 feet in the Sea of Japan

  Skipper, target is starting to move. She’s setting a new course. Looks like course zero-nine-zero degrees. She’s moving out pretty fast, sir. Looks like all ahead full.”

  From the center of the sub’s control room, Commander Graham Hardison, the experienced captain of the Los Angeles – class nuclear-powered submarine USS Boise, calmly finished his swig of steaming black coffee and set it on the plotting table behind the periscope. Boise had been patrolling the waters off the east coast of North Korea for a week now, monitoring the naval activities of the Democratic People’s Republic. At depths varying from one hundred to three hundred feet, she was invis
ible to the world. Only those in the United States Navy with a need to know knew her location.

  “Very well, Lieutenant.” Hardison acknowledged the sonar officer, then turned to the sailor sitting in the chair in the far-left corner of the control room. “Helmsman, let’s get in her wake and follow her. We’ll see where she goes. As loud as that old bucket is, she’ll never know we’re down here. Set course zero-nine-zero degrees. All ahead full.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. Setting course zero-nine-zero degrees.” The sub started a turn in the water. “All ahead full. Getting on his fanny right now, sir.”

  “Very well,” Hardison said. “Steady as she goes.”

  Beechcraft Bonanza G36

  the Sea of Japan

  Only a small portion of the Bonanza’s cockpit and the propeller were still above the surface. The plane was almost vertical in the water. Gunner clung to the pilot’s seat, trying to keep his face and nose up in the rapidly shrinking air pocket. He pressed his head against the windshield and sucked in the precious oxygen from the six or seven inches of space that was not yet flooded.

  The torrent of water gushing into the plane had been like a powerful fire hose blocking him from even trying to get out the door for fear he’d lose his grip and be tumbled backward again. He clung to the seat, his heart pounding so hard he could feel the rapid beat. He was cold all over. He began shivering despite the thermal wetsuit. He wasn’t sure if fear, shock, the cold water, or the realization that he was about to die had caused the shivering.

  Gunner knew he had one chance. In a few seconds, as the last air pocket filled with water, the water would stop rushing in through the door. The pressure of the fire hose that had pushed him back would be gone. His life or death hinged on his ability to swim back through the cabin to the open door and pull himself out before the plane sank to the bottom, taking him with it.

  With the air pocket gone, if he could not get out within thirty seconds, he calculated, his life would be over.