Red Phoenix Burning

by Larry Bond

  They crossed a major highway, a two-lane paved road, and the land began to rise. Their goal for the night was a 230-meter high hill that lay to the east of Chongju and overlooked the first garrison they were supposed to observe. About nine kilometers from the beach, it was as far as they could get in the short night and still have time to set up a decent secure hiding place.

  They were just over a kilometer from the shore, moving cross-country, when Guk, still in the front, suddenly gave the signal to stop and went to one knee. Rhee dropped as well, and froze in place until Guk whispered in the headset radio: “Movement. Four forward.”

  Rhee was fourth in line, and he moved as quietly and quickly as he could until he was next to Guk. The lieutenant didn’t have to explain why he’d stopped. A group of people was crossing a field ahead of them, moving right to left. Rhee could see several adults and a gaggle of children. Based on their size, they ranged from their teens to toddlers. They were still some distance away, but they appeared to be carrying bundles and suitcases. He saw no weapons.

  “Civilians going cross-country?” Guk asked.

  “Heading west or northwest. They’ll reach the shore soon,” Rhee predicted. “I’ll wager one of them has a boat, or knows where one is.”

  The commandos could hear the group now, speaking softly but still talking far too much if they were trying to avoid detection. They were about thirty meters away, and unless they changed their direction, would pass well ahead of Rhee’s team. What bits of conversation he heard confirmed his theory that they were heading for a boat, and the lament that one had to be alive to harvest any crops.

  Rhee checked his watch. This was not helping their timetable. He patted Guk’s shoulder and whispered, “Good work. Keep up the pace, but there may be more.” The lieutenant started out again, and Rhee let the others pass before taking his place at the rear again.

  There were more, enough so that Rhee wished they’d brought a small UAV to give them an aerial view. Not only would it have allowed them to go around the singles, pairs, and families moving through the darkness, but the colonel wanted to see just how many there were. Was there a pattern? Were there so many because they were close to the coast? If the civilians were all moving away from a central point, that would be a place he wanted to investigate.

  As it was, when Guk spotted someone, all they could do was stop, make sure the civilians were not heading straight for the team, and then wait for them to pass. While Rhee and the others saw signs that the civilians—now refugees, Rhee corrected himself—were being watchful, none showed any sign of detecting their presence.

  Guk was steering them past one group by leaving the road and paralleling the tree line, when he stopped and called for the colonel again. It was the same words, “Four forward,” but Rhee could tell something was wrong.

  They hadn’t shown up on Ma’s night vision goggles because the bodies were cold, but Guk had spotted them by their shapes against the smooth ground. Rhee saw a jumble of bodies, large and small, and ordered “Ma, on lookout” on the headset radio.

  While Corporal Ma kept watch, the other three first checked the bodies for any sign of booby traps, then gently untangled them.

  It looked like a family group, two older adults, three more in their twenties, and a teen boy. All were civilians, and had been shot. Two piles of clothes and small belongings lay on the cloths that had bundled them together.

  “No valuables,” Oh reported.

  “This was done by soldiers,” Guk concluded.

  “Concur. Robbed and shot,” Rhee answered. “Gather any identity documents you can find.”

  “The soldiers didn’t bother taking those,” Guk commented, handing several to Rhee. His disgust was plain.

  The colonel didn’t expect the papers would be of much intelligence value, but the sheer fact that refugees were being murdered by soldiers, probably deserters, was important. He also carefully marked their location. These poor souls had family, here in the North and perhaps even in the South. They might have lost their lives, but Rhee would make sure they were not lost forever.

  Rhee was reluctant to leave them where they lay, but there was no time for anything else. He ordered Guk on point again, and they resumed their trip through a land in upheaval.

  Two kilometers from their destination, Guk halted them again. “Gun emplacement ahead.”

  That surprised Rhee. That hadn’t been on the satellite photos. Of course, they were American satellite photos taken over a week ago. Rhee had been told during the briefings that newer ones weren’t available. They might not exist, or ROK intelligence might not have asked for them. A request might have started a discussion about why they were needed, and the Americans might not have been too happy about Rhee’s mission.

  After Guk confirmed it was quiet, Rhee joined him and the two studied the scene ahead.

  It was indeed a gun emplacement. Inside an earthen berm, Rhee could see the mass of an artillery piece. The long barrel made him think it was an antiaircraft weapon. There was no sign of its crew, presumably still asleep. The pair low-crawled forward slowly, watching for any movement, and angled a little to one side.

  As the angle changed, the gun came into clearer profile, and Rhee identified it as a KS-30, a heavy 130mm antiaircraft gun. They were usually operated in batteries of four or six, and about fifty meters past the first he saw another emplacement. But still no movement.

  Rhee didn’t like the idea of a gun emplacement so close to where they were going to set up for the day, but the hill he’d chosen on the map was an ideal spot, and he was reluctant to give it up.

  But where were the sentries? An AA battery had almost a hundred personnel, and in the field, even in friendly territory, they’d post at least one or two sentries per gun. They couldn’t all be slacking off somewhere, could they?

  They were falling farther behind schedule. They couldn’t waste any more time on this, or the morning twilight would catch them still setting up. Maybe if they’re that sloppy, they could still use the preselected location.

  Rhee and Guk hurried back to the other two as quickly as stealth allowed, and with Guk keeping a dedicated watch on the battery, Rhee led them east toward the hill, a kilometer away. He relaxed a little once they were on its wooded slopes, and they quickly reached the crest. Rhee told the lieutenant to pick a spot and set up a hide, and while the other three did that, the colonel took out a night vision telescope and tripod and found a spot to study the gun emplacement.

  With the elevation, he could look down and see the ring of six guns, with the fire control van in the center. Tents and ammunition storage were laid out, with the gun’s prime movers and other transport parked off to the side. There were no lights, or signs of movement. The lack of any illumination could be due to proper light discipline. But no movement at all?

  Guk reported the camouflaged hide was completed, and Rhee inspected their handiwork, making a few suggestions as if this was just another training exercise. The telescope was brought back to the hide and trained on the nearest cantonment, which held one of the three regiments that made up the 425th. It was farther away, but it was getting lighter, and almost to their relief, Guk reported seeing vehicles and personnel moving about.

  While Guk studied the garrison, Rhee had Ma transmit another signal that they’d reached their first night’s objective. He told the master sergeant to find a good spot and keep a close watch on the nearby emplacement. He was sure they’d only been lucky so far.

  Ma reported “Message received,” and Rhee told him to take a nap while he kept watch. It had been a long night, and he’d learned to pace himself. It was another skill to teach these men, and . . .

  Master Sergeant Oh’s voice came over the headset. “Sir, you need to see this.”

  That didn’t sound good. After telling Ma to delay his nap until he returned, Rhee carefully made his way to Oh’s position. It was fully light now, and any movement, even among the trees, could be seen at some distance.

 
As he approached, Oh handed him a pair of binoculars and simply pointed down the slope, a strange expression on his face.

  There was nobody in the emplacement. Not only no movement, but no soldiers. At this hour, the battery should be lining up for breakfast, and crews should be servicing their weapons. But it appeared to be completely deserted.

  There was certainly no risk of being spotted, but what was going on? Rhee didn’t like surprises, especially in the middle of the DPRK, and he felt a chill. He told Oh, “Come with me.”

  Trying to balance speed with caution, they hurried down the slope and approached the nearest gun emplacement. At this point, Rhee had to abandon concealment, and hope that any North Korean solder he met would be below the rank of major. After that he’d find out what he could and talk his way out. But he had to know more.

  The nearest of the six AA emplacements was empty. The gun appeared functional, with ready ammunition stacked nearby, but no crew. Standing on the berm surrounding the gun, Rhee scanned the emplacements to either side. They were deserted as well. Oh, his shotgun at the ready, seemed ready to shoot anything that moved, but nothing provided a target.

  The fire control radar van was empty, its generator off. A few papers were scattered about, and the two collected them for any intelligence they might provide. There was still no movement. The bivouac area was about a hundred meters from the guns, centered on the mess tent. Rhee headed for the headquarters tent, set a little off from the others. Alert as they were, they didn’t notice the smell until they were only a few meters away. Rhee looked over at Oh, who had the same expression on his face.

  They knew what was inside, but still took care approaching the door, weapons level, then glancing inside before entering. On one side of the tent, maybe five meters on a side, was a pile of bodies, all in uniform. Bloodstains marked bullet wounds. Powder burns showed that many had been shot at close range.

  Rhee ordered, “Watch the door.” While Oh kept a lookout, Rhee searched the bodies. Their sidearms were gone, but he collected some documents. He counted five bodies: a captain, a staff sergeant, two sergeants, and a corporal. By rights, a captain would command this battery, with a senior lieutenant as his deputy.

  The tent’s contents, two cots, a camp desk, and other items, were scattered and broken. Two personal lockers lay open, their contents tumbled out. Rhee found a few more documents, then said, “Mess tent next.”

  They covered the distance in seconds, as if under fire, and paused for only the briefest check before going inside. It was larger than the officer’s tent, designed to feed the battery in shifts. The inside showed some signs of disorder, but Rhee ignored that, instead heading back to the cooking area while Oh watched the door again. A truck was parked alongside the tent, and it confirmed Rhee’s hypothesis.

  He walked back toward Oh, the master sergeant’s gaze firmly outside. “Most of the food is gone. Only the heaviest items are left. They shot those that didn’t want to join them, and deserted.”

  Oh muttered an expletive, shaking his head in disbelief, then said, “Those crazy bastards. An entire unit mutiny?” Such a thing was inconceivable in the ROK Army, much less a police state like the DPRK. “Where will they go?”

  Rhee shrugged. “They could have scattered, back to their homes, but it’s more likely they’re headed for the Chinese border. It’s only eighty kilometers from here. I’ll bet there are a few trucks missing. Those bodies haven’t been dead more than twelve hours. If they did this last night, maybe about the same time we landed, they could be at the border now. And who’s going to stop a couple of army trucks?”

  Oh’s eyebrow’s went up at the idea. “I pity any checkpoints they reach.”

  “Let’s get out of here. I want to find out what’s going in that garrison.”

  The master sergeant added, “And sooner or later, they’re going to wonder why nobody here is answering phone calls. We shouldn’t be here.”

  They almost sprinted back to the hillside. As they reached the wood line, Rhee used his tactical radio. “Pack up. We need to move away from here. I’ll explain why later, but KPA units are likely to come and search this area any time now. And tell Ma to prepare the radio. I’ll want to sent a message.”

  Guk replied immediately. “Understood. I was about to call you. You won’t believe what’s going on in that cantonment.”

  “I will now,” Rhee answered.

  Chapter 5 - Breeze

  20 August 2015

  Pyongyang, North Korea

  Cho Ho-jin had scouted out the spot before darkness fell across the city. It was a government building, officially part of the Education Ministry, but now it lay in ruins after being battered by tanks and heavy artillery. It was hard to believe that the educational apparatus represented a target for either loyalists or rebels. Then again, he thought sourly, in Kim’s regime there was no guarantee that the building had ever been remotely connected to education. It was just as likely to have been a state security prison or a special weapons laboratory.

  The gutted concrete shell had burned out, but the ashes were still smoking. There were dozens of such ruins across Pyongyang, some much more extensive. Since reaching the capital yesterday, Cho had heard tank fire and the rattle of small arms almost constantly.

  On reaching Pyongyang, he’d changed his identity from that of an agricultural inspector to a factory executive. He needn’t have bothered. Government offices were closed or outright abandoned, and official commerce had virtually ceased.

  He’d made a report to his handlers in Directorate S while still outside the city, describing what he could make out of the ruined structures, and even taking pictures of the smoking skyline with his Chinese cell phone. The device had been modified by the Russians with a better antenna and an encryption chip that was triggered by a special prefix when he sent a text message. It was also untraceable. Its location couldn’t be fixed, even by his Russian masters, and the phone did not store messages or photos. If it was taken from him, it would tell his captors nothing of what he’d sent or received.

  At Telitsyn’s prompting, and with reluctance, Cho had entered Pyongyang proper, trying to scout the situation without drawing attention to himself. Fortunately, the fighting between the warring factions was such a huge distraction that nobody had questioned his coming and goings, and many citizens had eagerly shared information in the hopes he’d do the same. Slowly, Cho had built up a picture of the battle and its effects.

  Every part of Pyongyang had seen fighting, with regular army, internal security, and police units fighting each other, attacking government and commercial buildings that either served as centers of political power or had been turned into military strongpoints. Casualties could only be estimated, but he was certain they were easily in the thousands—and more likely in the tens of thousands. No attempt had been made to count the dead. No one had even bothered to put out most of the fires, treat any of the wounded, or rescue those certainly buried in the shattered buildings.

  Then had come Kim’s broadcast.

  Cho had been waiting in a food store near the edge of town, withdrawing from the danger near the city center. The proprietor was openly selling his goods at wartime prices, accepting only yuan or dollars, but he had food to sell, and he had plenty of customers. Like everyone else, Cho had come for the chance of a meal, and to learn what he could.

  While he waited, the speaker mounted on the wall of the store, silent for several days, suddenly crackled to life. There was one like it in every factory, commercial establishment, and school, as well as most homes. In ordinary times these speakers played patriotic music, culturally uplifting plays, and carefully regulated news, especially about Kim Jong-un’s many accomplishments.

  But now they heard the Supreme Leader’s voice. Instantly, silence had fallen across the little store. Everyone had stood motionless, staring at the speaker in disbelief.

  Kim’s short speech had been followed by a standard song, “Labor toward Self-Sufficiency”—just as if t
here’d been no four-day interruption. The reactions in that little store had been very strange, Cho remembered. Before Kim declared himself alive, the people waiting in line for their turn at the counter had chatted, sharing concerns and gossip and news. Afterward, they had stood in complete silence.

  Later, he’d joined the others outside, sitting quietly and wolfing down his tiny portion of rice and pickled vegetables. Listening for any scraps of conversation, he noticed that the gunfire was much reduced, more an occasional staccato burst than a constant drumbeat. And by the time he finished, the sounds of combat had almost vanished entirely.

  That had to have been the result of Kim’s speech.

  Was the military standing down, he wondered? Would the fighting in Pyongyang end?

  But the people around him hadn’t looked relieved. Surely, for most of them, a cease-fire was good news. And yet they had still looked troubled. Finishing their own small meals, they had drifted off in ones and twos, as though afraid of attracting attention.

  Now, in the gathering dusk, Cho watched the street carefully, but Pyongyang’s residents were already at home or hiding in shelters. The reactivated loudspeakers had proclaimed a nighttime curfew, but that was unnecessary. Several days of civil war had taught civilians caught up in the fighting harsh lessons. Anyone moving after dark, or worse yet, showing a light, risked becoming a target. None of the combatants had shown any concern for collateral damage.

  The streets were clear and quiet. In the fading twilight, Cho picked his way into the ruined government building, choosing his path carefully, until he was in a part of the structure that was only scorched, and didn’t seem in danger of collapsing.

  Sitting down, safely away from observing eyes, he began composing a very long e-mail to Moscow. He had a lot of information to send Telitsyn and Malikov—the identities of some of the army and security units involved in fratricidal combat, what he’d learned about the extent of the destruction, and most importantly, Kim’s speech and the reaction to it by ordinary North Koreans.