Red Phoenix Burning

by Larry Bond

  “Everything else seems more or less normal,” remarked Wallace pointing toward the screen on his left, where the upper half of the Wonsan skyline was cast in the greenish hue of the infrared display. All looked quiet and serene. “We could try and get a little closer if you’d like, Skipper. The main naval facility is tucked away in the back of the bay. And we don’t have the best vantage point from out here.”

  Both men turned and looked down at the digital chart on the navigation display. Since the BVS-1 mast also had the ability to receive GPS signals, their submarine’s exact position was constantly being updated. Wallace ran his finger along the fifty-meter line. “We could run right up along here without crossing over into North Korean territorial waters and still have some decent water beneath us.”

  Jenkins nodded his approval. Their mission was to keep an eye on the DPRK’s East Sea Fleet, and he had the authority to walk right up to the Conventional Twelve-Mile Limit if he believed he needed to do so. “Very well, XO. Bring her around to course three three zero. We’ll close on the coast up to, but not across, the CTML.”

  “Come about to course three three zero and close the coast to the CTML, but not across, aye, sir,” replied Wallace.

  As Hawaii turned to the northwest, she began to inch closer to the coastline. Jenkins also brought his boat shallower, putting another few feet of mast out of the water. He wasn’t too concerned about being detected. There were no active radars nearby and the soon-to-be rising sun would be behind him. The early morning glare would be more than adequate to hide the exposed masts from any snooping eyes.

  As the submarine drew nearer to the coast, the large flat-panel display began to show more and more of the city. An eerie greenish pulsating glow suddenly appeared on the screen. Its center was close to where the naval base was located. Both Jenkins and Wallace leaned forward as they tried to make out what they were looking at. It was bright green on the low-light display.

  “Is that a fire?” Jenkins wondered.

  “Possibly,” Wallace said slowly. “But if it is, it’s a damn big one.”

  Their concentration was abruptly broken by the squawk of the ship’s intercom. “CAPTAIN TO ESM BAY.”

  Jenkins pivoted and skirted around the fire control consoles and jumped to the ESM bay. “What do you have, Chief?”

  “Once we got a clear line of sight, we started to pick up some short-range tactical radios, Skipper, probably army shortwave sets. Petty Officer Johnson has been trying to make out what they’re saying.”

  A deep frown of confusion popped on Jenkins’ face. “The transmissions aren’t encrypted?”

  “No, sir. They’re in the clear.”

  The captain shifted his gaze to the young cryptologic technician; he seemed lost in concentration, listening intently to the Korean-language chatter a dozen miles away. “What are they saying, Petty Officer Johnson?” Jenkins asked quietly.

  “It’s very jumbled, sir,” Johnson responded. “The voices are rather excited, and very intense—shouting actually. It’s tough to be sure, but I think this major just ordered his men to fire on the naval base headquarters building.”

  The sailor’s report stunned Jenkins. He paused briefly, struggling to maintain his composure, then looked the petty officer square in the face. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that a North Korean army officer ordered his men to fire at the base headquarters? That he’s ordering his troops to shoot at their own countrymen?”

  Johnson swallowed hard, but answered firmly. “Yes, sir. I’m pretty sure that’s what he said.”

  Before Jenkins could press the young CT further, he heard his XO behind him shout out, “My God! Skipper, you better get out here and see this!”

  Jenkins bolted back to the command workstation just in time to see several bright flashes on the large-screen display. Moments later, another set of flashes flared up—they were explosions, possibly RPG or even mortar fire. Johnson had been right. The North Koreans were fighting each other.

  “Holy shit,” whispered Jenkins in disbelief.

  “What the devil is going on, Skipper?”

  “I have absolutely no idea, XO,” Jenkins replied more firmly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. I want you to prepare an OPREP-3 Pinnacle message ASAP. The whole chain of command needs to know that North Korea is flushing itself down the toilet.”

  16 August 2015

  Sixth Intelligence Squadron

  Osan Air Base, South Korea

  The sudden deep yawn caught Brigadier General Tony Christopher by surprise. Oh Lord, he thought, it was much too early in the morning to be staring at so many flat-panel displays.

  Awakened by the US Forces Korea senior watch officer immediately after Eighth Army raised the alert, he had rushed over to the Seventh Air Force’s Air Operations Center while his boss jumped into a waiting staff car and headed for Seoul.

  Tony frowned. He hadn’t even been back in country a month before the North Koreans started playing their usual games again. He should have expected it though; the Korean peninsula just didn’t seem to like him very much.

  The first time he’d been stationed here, he’d found himself dragged into a full-scale war. Of course, he could have said the same thing about Iraq. Then again, he hadn’t been shot down during the two conflicts he flew in the Middle East. Now it looked like the North Koreans were getting feisty again, and Tony wondered just how bad things would get this time. He was glad Ann was still back in the States.

  “Looks like you could use some coffee, General,” announced a staff sergeant as he placed a steaming mug on the table next to Tony.

  “Absolutely! Thanks,” replied Tony gratefully, grabbing the mug and taking a cautious sip. “Ah, and a fine brew it is.”

  “Glad you like it, sir,” the noncom said, smiling. “We go through a lot of the elixir of consciousness around here. It’s not exactly exciting watching a UAV video feed for hours on end.”

  “I can imagine,” grunted Tony as he took another drink. As a fighter pilot, he shared the dislike of unmanned aerial vehicles held by all true aviators. He couldn’t argue that they weren’t effective and useful, but the idea of “flying” from a ground-based station was anathema. Where was the exhilaration, the joy, the sheer fun you experienced when you climbed into a high-performance aircraft and roared skyward? By comparison, a slow, klutzy, unfeeling UAV, with a limited field of view, was a very poor substitute.

  “The remaining Reapers should be in position soon, General,” said the staff sergeant as he handed Tony a remote control. “You can use this remote to walk through the video feeds. The UAV’s position and altitude will be in the upper right-hand corner of the display, the heading scale will be top center, the target’s location . . .”

  “I think I got it, Staff Sergeant, thank you,” Tony interrupted curtly. He’d spent ample time becoming familiar with the MQ-9 Block 5 Reaper. He even had some stick time, if one could call it that, so he was well-versed in the unmanned aerial vehicle’s capabilities.

  The airman nodded and beat a hasty retreat. It was never a good thing to get caught patronizing a general officer.

  Tony smiled slightly. That minor incident should make his life a little easier in the future. As the brand-new vice commander of the Seventh Air Force, he fully expected to be put to the test by its officers and enlisted personnel, if only to see if the rumors they’d all heard about him were true. Being the air force’s only living triple ace with seventeen combat kills had definite disadvantages, the chief of which being that everyone would want to see if he really was that good. Politely nixing the good staff sergeant should help a little in that regard.

  As Tony continued slurping his coffee, he began thumbing through the live video stream from the six Reaper UAVs spread out along the DMZ. Fitted with a multispectral optical and infrared sensor package and a high-resolution multimode radar, the Reaper was truly an eye in the sky. Flying at thirty thousand feet, it could peer far beyond the North Korean border. Although the
MQ-9s could be armed with an assortment of precision-guided munitions, for this mission all of them were unarmed. Without the extra weight of the ordnance, each Reaper could stay on station for twelve hours. Right now, information was far more valuable than bombs.

  The initial sweeps were along the DMZ and just inside the border. Everything looked quiet—a little too quiet, Tony thought. The North Korean garrison buildings were visible, but there weren’t very many people moving about. And there were few, if any, guards and no patrols. This is just bizarre, Tony said to himself.

  “Sir! You’ll definitely want to take a look at the video from Merlin Two Seven. It’s the MQ-9 covering the east coast corridor,” called out one of the sensor operators.

  “Understood,” Tony replied. He switched over to the proper channel. But as soon as the image came up on the screen, his curiosity became confusion.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, half to himself.

  “Yes, sir,” spoke up the sensor operator. “That column of vehicles is heading north along Asian Highway 6, away from the DMZ. At their current speed, they’ll be in Wonsan a couple of hours after dawn. I . . . I can’t explain it, General.”

  “General Christopher,” interrupted the senior watch officer, “we’re getting similar data from the other Reapers. Merlin Three Two has an armored column heading north on Reunification Highway. It looks like they’re moving toward Pyongyang.”

  Tony launched out of his chair, a sudden surge of adrenaline relieving his weariness. “Major, I want a full accounting of DPRK units withdrawing from the DMZ. Get extra bodies in here if you need to, but I need to know which units are bugging out and where they’re going. Move!”

  “Yes, sir!” The major began issuing a rapid series of orders to his Reaper teams while reaching for the phone.

  Marching through the video feeds, Tony saw that four of the six UAVs showed similar scenes with North Korean army units heading north along major highways. Even around Panmunjom, the site of the earlier incident, troops were moving away from the DMZ. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, even though he couldn’t begin to explain what was happening. All he knew was the KPA was conducting a large-scale withdrawal from the DMZ. It was unprecedented, and unexplainable, and therefore unnerving.

  Fifteen minutes later, the watch team provided a very rough sketch of what was going on along the DMZ. It wasn’t precise, but the data was good enough for Tony to order an alert sent out to all Combined Forces Command units.

  He moved over to a video teleconference–capable computer, inserted his common access card, and logged into the secure computer network. Pulling up his address menu, he located the chief of staff, US Forces Korea, and hit the “Video Call” button. Tony waited impatiently while the connecting icon spun on the screen and the sound of a ringing phone filled the cubicle. After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, the ringing suddenly stopped. A text box popped up on the monitor.

  CONNECTION FAILED. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

  “Oh, for the love of . . .” Tony growled. He reached over, grabbed the handset for the secure line, and aggressively started punching buttons. The phone rang twice before a female voice answered.

  “US Forces Korea Headquarters. Chief of Staff’s office. How may I help you, sir or ma’am?”

  “This is Brigadier General Christopher at Seventh Air Force. I need to speak with Major General O’Rourke immediately.”

  “Yes, sir!” exclaimed the woman. “Stand by while I put you through.”

  Seconds later, a tired voice came on the line. “Hey Tony, what can I do for you?”

  “Dan, we have a major situation developing on the DMZ. Multiple UAVs are showing elements of the KPA First, Second, and Fifth Corps withdrawing from the DMZ and heading north. I’ve issued an alert based on this information to all CFC units.”

  The initial response to Tony’s report was dead silence. When O’Rourke finally spoke again, his voice was tense. “Please repeat your last message.”

  Tony grinned. He couldn’t blame the other man for wanting to hear it again. If he hadn’t seen the UAV video with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it either.

  “We have multiple Mike Quebec Niner eyes on target,” Tony said patiently, emphasizing every word. “They’re showing elements of the First, Second, and Fifth Forward Army Corps on the move. These units are heading north, I repeat, heading north, away from the DMZ. I’ve ordered an alert sent to all CFC units.”

  “The NKs are pulling back from the DMZ? That doesn’t make any sense,” O’Rourke said flatly.

  Tony shrugged. “I hear you, Dan, but that doesn’t change the facts. The North Koreans are abandoning their positions along the DMZ in droves.”

  “Okay, okay, can you send me some video clips? I need to get this to General Fascione ASAP!”

  “I’ve already got the Sixth Intel Squadron watch team putting together a representative collection,” replied Tony. “I was going to walk you through a couple of shots on the video link but I couldn’t get through to your account.”

  An exasperated sigh came from the other end of the phone line. “Yeah, my computer’s been disconnected. The headquarters element is moving from Yongsan Garrison to Camp Humphreys this week and this whole place is completely FUBAR. Have the Sixth IS send the clips to the USFK watch officer and he’ll get them uploaded for the bigwigs. They should be convening here in about an hour.”

  “Will do.” Tony hesitated for just a second. “But, look, please do me a favor and tell my boss before he sees the videos in the conference room, okay? Blindsiding a superior isn’t my normal operating procedure, and I really don’t want to do that to General Carter with less than a month on the job—it could make for a strained relationship.”

  “No problem,” O’Rourke assured him.

  “Thanks, Dan,” Tony replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a set of waving arms trying to get his attention. At the other end of the room, the Sixth IS major pointed to his watch and then held up five fingers. Tony nodded and gave the man the “okay” sign. “You’ll have the video clips in about five minutes.”

  “Great. That’ll do just fine, thanks,” O’Rourke said. Then, in a lower voice, he asked, “Look, do you have any wild ass theories as to why they’re moving away from the DMZ?”

  Tony sighed and shook his head. “This withdrawal goes against everything I thought I knew about North Korea. It just doesn’t make any sense. But if you want wild speculation, I can come up with two possible scenarios. Either we are seeing one of the best fake-out maneuvers in history, or something has gone seriously wrong inside the DPRK. Neither of those bode well for our long-term health and well-being.”

  16 August 2015

  US Forces Korea Headquarters, Yongsan Garrison

  Seoul, South Korea

  The USFK conference room was filled to capacity and then some. The twelve leather chairs surrounding the main table were occupied by either an American or a Republic of Korea general officer. The more junior staff officers were bunched together in four rows of seats at the back of the room or lined up against the walls. All watched with rapt attention as Brigadier General George Olsen, the USFK intelligence officer, or J2, narrated the video clips sent up from Osan.

  “In this clip, you can see elements of the Fifth Corps heading north toward Wonsan along Asian Highway 6. Based on rough estimates of column length, we’re looking at brigade-size units. Those vehicles are also packed in pretty close to each other, and they’re moving damned fast, considering it was still dark when this video was shot. Whatever the North Koreans are up to, they are in one hell of a hurry.”

  “What types of vehicles were seen heading north?” General Ji Sang-hoon, chief of the ROK Air Force, asked.

  “In this clip, sir, all the vehicles appear to be two-and-a-half-ton utility trucks, basically troop carriers. The majority of the other videos show the same thing,” Olsen told him. “But we’ve seen tanks, Chinese Type 69s, Russian T-62s or the North Korean
Chonma-ho variants, in battalion strength, in two other clips. That’s on the order of sixty tanks on the road, and they’re heading toward Pyongyang.”

  “That would suggest division-level redeployment, wouldn’t it, George?” observed Lieutenant General Robert Tracy, commander of the US Eighth Army.

  Olsen nodded. “That’s our current assessment. Based on some very rough OOB accounting, we’re estimating that between five and seven regular infantry divisions are currently on the move. This represents about one-third to one-half the regular strength of the three Forward Army corps along the DMZ. And I must remind you that this only takes into account what we’re able to see. The true extent of the North Korean redeployment could be even larger.”

  A low murmur broke out as the men and women crowding the room began talking with their neighbors. The J2 waited until the noise had settled down before wrapping up his presentation. “Are there any other questions?”

  “Just the most important one, George,” chimed in General Thomas Fascione, commander of the Combined Forces Command, and Commander, US Forces Korea. “Why?”

  Olsen shrugged. “To be honest, sir, we don’t know. The best theory we can come up with, based largely on the UAV footage, the incident at the Joint Security Area late last night, and the complete shutdown of North Korean radio and TV, is that there may have been a coup.”

  Speaking through a translator, the ROK Army Chief of Staff, General Yeon Min-soo, strongly disagreed. “Are you suggesting, General Olsen, that the North would dramatically reduce its combat strength on the DMZ to deal with a coup attempt? Surely the Pyongyang Defense Command and the KPA Third Corps are more than capable of dealing with such a situation!”

  The American intelligence officer nodded. “That’s true, sir. Those units should have been quite capable of dealing with a coup attempt.” He paused briefly. “But what we are suggesting is that the coup was successful.”