Red Phoenix Burning

by Larry Bond

  It took about fifteen minutes or so to reach the cluster of tents used by female personnel. It was roped off and clearly marked with signs in several different languages, all saying “No men after 2200!” Below that, somebody had written in marker “How about 2215?”

  While Cho waited, she hurried to her tent. Two women, both army officers, were reading, while her fourth roommate was absent. Squatting down and unlocking the footlocker next to her bed, Kary rummaged under her few clothes and other possessions for the pistol. Wrapping it in a spare pair of scrub pants, she closed and locked the lid, then hurried out.

  Even though she’d agreed to give him the weapon, she was still troubled. If someone was shot by Cho, that was her responsibility. Cho wasn’t a violent person, but she knew he was capable of shooting someone if he had to. And should she even have a weapon, or allow Cho to have it? She was sure the army would discourage civilians from having them, but she also believed that if she’d asked the colonel for permission, he might have allowed her to keep it—reluctantly—but certainly not a North Korean civilian, who had been a spy for the Russians.

  It wasn’t a long trip back to where Cho was waiting, and her worries must have shown in her expression, because as she passed him the bundle, he asked, “Please, trust me.”

  “I do,” she said, and her worries vanished.

  Chapter 12 – Shock and Awe

  27 August 2015, 0530 local time

  East Coast Fleet Flagship Great Leader

  20 NM Northeast of Wonsan Airport, North Korea

  Vice Admiral Gong Kyeong-pyo looked back at the dark silhouettes as his “armada” sailed in three long columns toward its objective. Never before had so many ships of the Korean People’s Army Navy sailed together in such a massive formation. He felt immense pride as more shadows became visible against the slowly brightening sky. Twilight was in full bloom, the eastern sky glowing a deep crimson. Dawn would peek over the horizon in another half hour, and then their attack would begin.

  The admiral considered it a small piece of good fortune that all his ships were still together after their three-hour transit in the dark. It was the only good news he’d had for some time. Four days earlier, South Korean forces had bombed the submarine bases at Mayang-do and Chaho. Fourteen of the East Coast Fleet’s Type 033 Romeo-class submarines were either sunk or severely damaged, along with many of their infiltration midget submarines. The following day, the imperialist puppet’s ground troops seized the naval base at Changjon. What had initially started out as an internal revolution had now become a three-way fight—only the third party had much more weight to throw around. Both the General Staff and KWP factions’ strength had already been weakened, and would continue to do so with each passing day as the two sides engaged in vicious battles.

  The fascists were taking advantage of the DPRK’s internal crisis to pick the meat off their bones. That was why the General Staff committee had approved the amphibious assault at Wonsan. They had to quickly defeat the Korean Workers’ Party forces there and then establish a strong defensive line against the approaching invaders. Given the last reported Southern rate of advance, the imperialists would reach Wonsan in only a few days.

  The east coast’s mountainous terrain was slowing the Southern forces a little, but intelligence reports put ROK Army scouts at the outskirts of Tongchon and Hoeyang. Senior naval officers had pushed hard for the amphibious assault, even though they acknowledged it was a risky plan. If the General Staff followed their own more conservative approach, they would find themselves squeezed between the KWP and the fascists. The committee chose the lesser of the two evils.

  “Comrade Vice Admiral,” announced Senior Captain Song Dong-shin as he walked on to the frigate’s bridge wing. “We are approaching the turn point. Distance to turn is five kilometers. The only contact we hold is a surface surveillance radar on the southeast coast of Ryo-do.”

  Gong grunted. The radar on the large island outside the entrance to the harbor was expected. Reconnaissance Bureau sniper troops had watched as the radar, and its accompanying missile battery, were emplaced on the island—moved from one of the coast defense sites near Wonsan. It was the only seaborne defense that the KWP faction had; the patrol boats berthed at the Munchon naval base had all been scuttled by their crews.

  “Very well, Song. Order the gunboats to proceed. Their orders are to support the sniper troops in neutralizing the missile battery. Then deploy the missile squadron to port, just in case the imperialists show up.”

  “At once, Comrade Vice Admiral!”

  Gong raised his binoculars and surveyed his fleet again—almost fifty ships. It would be more accurate to call them “boats,” as only a handful of the vessels displaced more than one hundred tons. Flashing lights began flickering astern. His orders were being sent out. Soon the Soju-class missile boats would peel off to port and screen the fleet from any enemy approaching from the south. At the same time, the two gunboats were to head straight for the missile battery.

  Their small guns had little chance of silencing the battery, but they would provide the necessary diversion to allow the concealed sniper troops to attack and eliminate the radar, the missile launchers, and their crews. It was unfortunate that the two old veteran ships would likely be destroyed in the process, but their loss would not be in vain. A klaxon sounded behind him; the flagship was going to battle stations.

  Special Patrol Craft 1001

  West Side of Ryo-Do

  The battered man leaned on the silent radar repeater for support. His body ached every time he moved. He stared out the bridge window, still wishing he had died with his crew. The captain also felt ashamed that he hadn’t been able to carry out his orders to scuttle his ship. The newly modified missile patrol craft had been docked across the harbor, undergoing repairs to one of the diesel engines and other systems. He didn’t receive the order directly. Their communication system was down, but he did notice the other patrol boats starting to settle at their berths, and the smoke rising from the boats stored on shore. Before he could pass the word, KWP troops had stormed aboard and started shooting. Every last member of his crew was executed and he was severely beaten, but left alive. They needed him.

  “So what do you think of our strategy, Comrade Captain?” asked the political commissar. He wore the rank of major, but Captain Hak had no idea what his name was.

  “I’m not your comrade, Major,” Hak spat out defiantly.

  “No, I suppose not,” retorted the short, scrawny young man. His arrogant smile grated the captain. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Hiding behind an island is for lesser vessels,” scoffed Hak. “This ship was built for speed and stealth. She was designed to dart in undetected, fire her missiles, and dart out. You waste her best attributes sitting here in the shallows behind a rock.”

  Special Patrol Craft 1001 was one of three surface effect ships in the North Korean navy, a high-speed patrol craft that rode on a cushion of air, reducing her drag in the water. Her hull was shaped to reduce her radar cross-section, but the added guns and other equipment on her deck largely negated any benefit.

  “Perhaps, Captain. But even a cheetah stays low, hiding in the tall grass, pouncing only when its prey is within reach. We’ll use your ship’s speed, but only when our targets are in sight.”

  “And then you will die,” Hak observed confidently.

  The political commissar was losing patience with this fool. The only reason Hak was alive was so he could direct the special patrol craft with its four Kh-35, or SS-N-25, antiship missiles into position and fire them. After that, the major had no further use for him.

  “Comrade Major!” interrupted a sergeant. “The missile battery command post reports two contacts approaching at high speed.”

  “See, Captain. Now it begins.” That irritating smile again. “Please get us ready to attack.”

  Surface Action Group Alpha

  Republic of Korea Ship Choi Young, DDG 981

  40
NM Southeast of Wonsan Airport

  Captain Park watched the large flat-panel display with amazement. If anyone had told him the Korean People’s Navy could put forty-seven ships into a single formation, and sail under full EMCON, he would have dismissed them as an imbecile. But there it was, right before him. Three long columns of ships moving, more or less, in a straight line and not a single radar was emitting. “Astounding,” he whispered quietly.

  The video feed from the Super Lynx’s FLIR sensor turret allowed Park to keep a close eye on the enemy fleet while keeping himself radar silent. The North Korean ships had just finished executing a turn to starboard. It wasn’t pretty, but they all managed to stay in formation. There was no doubt now; they were heading for Wonsan. Judging by the infrared video, there were at least two dozen amphibious ships. The North Korean General Staff had apparently learned a thing or two from the US Navy; they were attempting to flank their opponent from the sea. Park found himself begrudgingly impressed.

  “Captain, the four patrol craft that broke off from the main formation have been identified as Osa I–type missile boats. They’re establishing a screen approximately five nautical miles off the formation’s port side,” reported the tactical action officer.

  Park glanced at the main plot; the SAG still had plenty of distance before coming into radar range of this new screen, should they begin transmitting. “Very well, TAO. We’ll remain on this course for a little longer. Have the other two ships gone to general quarters?”

  “Yes, sir, all ships are at battle stations, with radars and weapons warmed up and in standby.”

  The captain grunted his acknowledgment.

  Great Leader

  “Comrade Vice Admiral, all ships have completed the turn,” reported Song.

  “Excellent, Senior Captain!” smiled Gong, pleased that everything seemed to be going as planned. “Have the bombardment squadron assume their position at the head of the formation. Stand by to execute the rocket barrage. Also alert the hovercraft and light landing craft to prepare to assault the beach.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Within moments, the eight Chaho-class attack craft passed by the flagship to port and assumed a line-abreast formation ahead of the fleet. Each boat was armed with a BM-21 rocket launcher that would salvo forty 122mm rockets in a single burst. The concentrated barrage was to be launched just as the hovercraft reached the beach. The slower Nampo light landing craft would immediately follow, along with the six Chong-jin–class gunboats providing dedicated naval gunfire support. Three larger Hantae-class landing ships would bring up the rear, with half of the troops and the twelve main battle tanks.

  The fifteen Kongbang hovercraft carried two battalions of Reconnaissance Bureau amphibious sniper troops, or North Korean special operations forces. The beach had a low grade and an unobstructed approach to the Wonsan airport. The hovercraft would be able to run right up to the closest buildings before discharging the sniper troops. Their first task would be to establish a beachhead for the slower light and medium landing craft that would follow. If all went well, over 2,100 troops and a dozen tanks would be dumped behind the KWP defensive positions. The amphibious troops would be in a perfect position to roll up the seaward flank, just as units from the First Corps conducted a general assault along the entire defensive perimeter on the landward side.

  “Admiral! Missile alert!” shouted Song.

  Gong burst through the bridge to the starboard wing and saw the four bright flashes in the early morning sky as the missiles were launched from Ryo-do. He hoped the two gunboats saw the flashes as well; otherwise they’d be dead in a little over two minutes. The admiral shook his head; there was nothing he could do to help them. He needed to concentrate on getting the troops ashore.

  “Senior Captain, signal the fleet, all ahead flank! Energize radars!”

  Special Patrol Craft 1001

  Hak saw the bright glare from the missiles’ booster rockets as they rose from the island. Shaking his head he mumbled, “Idiots.” They’d just wasted half of their firepower by launching an attack on what were undoubtedly decoy ships. The politically reliable KWP soldiers didn’t seem to understand what was happening; at least he hoped that was the case.

  “Ah, see Captain! My comrades have already begun the attack. It is time for us to move out,” squealed the major. Hak almost laughed at the man’s naïveté.

  “Very well,” acknowledged the captain. “Helmsman, ahead two-thirds, steer course one zero zero.”

  The young soldier looked down at the control panel, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to find the throttle. Grumbling, Hak walked over, followed closely by the political commissar. Pointing to a lever, Hak said, “This. Move it up two notches.”

  As the ship began to move, the loudspeaker suddenly blared, “MULTIPLE RADAR EMISSIONS, BEARING IS TO THE LEFT, FIVE DEGREES.”

  “There are our targets, Captain, as expected,” smirked the major.

  Choi Young, DDG 981

  “Captain! Missiles have been launched from Ryo-do. They are not heading in our direction! And we have numerous ESM hits on surface search radars, all coming from the DPRK fleet.”

  Park looked up and saw the four missile icons as they moved slowly from the island. They were Russian Styx variants, or perhaps KN-01 cruise missiles. Either way, they were slow, high fliers, easy targets. But most importantly, they weren’t coming toward his ships. Still, someone had just launched missiles and the large formation had lit off all their sensors, and that changed everything. “Stand by to energize radars!”

  Great Leader

  As soon as the boosters cut out and fell away, Gong lost sight of the missiles in the darkness. Flashes from near the horizon meant the two gunboats were firing their guns and chaff launchers. Silently he urged them on. Thirty seconds later, two bright flashes suddenly bloomed. At least two missiles had hit, and flames could now be seen dancing along the darkened skyline. Turning back toward the island, Gong saw a glowing line of fire along the coast of Ryo-do. Raising his binoculars, he could see the launchers were burning furiously. An explosion or two later, and the command vehicle was engulfed as well. Satisfied, Gong watched as the hovercraft screamed by his frigate at forty-five knots.

  Special Patrol Craft 1001

  “Energize the surface search radar,” ordered Hak. The KPW soldier looked at the major, awaiting confirmation of the order.

  “Is that wise, Captain?” asked the commissar. His hand hovered near his holster.

  “If you want to shoot missiles, then we don’t have a choice,” lied Hak.

  “Very well. Energize the radar, Sergeant.” The soldier looked around for the transmit button. Completely frustrated, Hak walked over and pushed the man out of the way, turned on the radar, and put his face on the viewing hood.

  After a few sweeps he barked, “Firing bearing, green one zero, range thirteen kilometers.”

  “What kind of foolishness is this, Captain?” yelled the major as he pulled his pistol. “What do you mean by green?”

  Hak rolled his eyes. The man was utterly clueless. He screamed, “Green! As in starboard! To your right!” The captain raised his right hand to emphasize his point. “The firing bearing is right one zero degrees, firing range is one three kilometers! Have your men enter that data in the fire control computer and quickly. You don’t have much time before they figure out what is going on and shoot missiles at us!”

  The political commissar hesitated, then nodded curtly to the phone talker, who passed the firing data to the missile control console. Moments later the soldier reported, “Missile firing data entered.”

  “Fire!” shouted Hak.

  Great Leader

  “Comrade Vice Admiral, we have a surface search radar close by, bearing green zero zero seven degrees” reported Song. The vice admiral marched over to the frigate’s radar repeater and looked along that bearing. A faint blob showed briefly. He knew exactly what he was looking at.

  “Urgent missile attack!” comma
nded Gong. “Firing bearing, green zero zero seven degrees, range one zero kilometers. Fire four missiles!”

  The two North Korean combatants fired almost simultaneously, with four missiles leaping from each ship’s launch tubes. The missiles climbed rapidly, jettisoned their boosters, and dropped just as quickly back down to low altitude, skimming the water’s surface. It took only forty seconds for the missiles to cover the distance between the two ships.

  Gong watched with fascination as the four missiles launched from the hostile patrol craft passed just in front of the Najin-class frigate’s bow. The seekers soon activated, but not before they had passed—they never had a chance to see the target.

  Special Patrol Craft 1001

  Hak eyed the major as the commissar watched the missiles fly off toward the fleet. The KWP commissar waited impatiently for the expected glorious result, but there were no explosions. Enraged, the major turned and roared, “How could we possibly miss all of those ships? You intentionally sent them off in the wrong direction!”

  The angry man lunged toward Hak and struck him across the face with his pistol grip. The captain was thrown to the floor, dazed.

  “You shall die for your treason!” snarled the major.

  The North Korean captain struggled to regain his senses from the blow. Once his vision came back into focus, he saw the crimson-hued face of the political commissar. Then Hak started laughing. It was the last thing the major heard.

  Great Leader

  Gong looked on with smug satisfaction. Two of the missiles had slammed into the surface effect ship, essentially disintegrating it. Looking through his binoculars, all that remained was a pool of burning fuel on the water, dotted with bits of floating debris. Now there would be nothing to stop him from putting the troops ashore.

  Choi Young, DDG 981

  “Missile alert! Active seekers bearing two nine zero. Missiles identified as SS-N-25s,” shouted the ESM operator.

  Park’s head snapped back toward the master display; four bearing lines pointed in the direction of the incoming weapons. “How did . . .” The captain shook his head; there would be time to ask questions later, assuming they survived. For now, he had to act.