by Larry Bond
Kevin Little’s Korean was good enough to keep up with Won, but he was still grateful for the pauses that gave the Chinese interpreter a chance to work. General Long reacted strongly to the phrase “over long ranges,” but Little could see him work to control it. The BM-25 and KN-08 were both crude by modern standards, but the former could cover almost all of China, as well as Japan. The latter could hit targets as far away as European Russian and India. Neither had been tested before the civil war, but four Musudan missiles had managed to find their way to Guam—operational test completed satisfactorily.
As for payloads, he’d heard a lot of speculation since the crisis began about how many nuclear weapons the DPRK possessed, or how big they were, or what they could fit into the nose cone of a missile. To Kevin’s thinking, it didn’t really matter. A nuclear explosion anywhere, of any size, would be a disaster. He found it hard to imagine the calamity more than one would create.
Won had moved on to the defenses in the area. There was the Sunchon air base nearby with a squadron of MiG-29 Fulcrums. Like so many military installations in the North, most of it was underground, with only the runway and a couple of hangars vulnerable to attack. Based on other such installations, the entire squadron could be sheltered underground. Both the runway and taxiway had been pummeled during earlier strikes.
The air defenses also included an unknown number of surface-to-air missile launchers that emerged from behind concrete doors just long enough to fire, and then were retracted to reload. Batteries of radar-guided guns were emplaced in hidden revetments on the hillsides, with mobile AAA guns that could be set up for aerial ambushes, and then moved before they could be targeted.
The Chinese, Koreans, and Americans had all lost both UAVs and manned aircraft to the air defenses. Cruise missiles had a difficult time threading their way through the terrain to reach their targets, and even if they could, they didn’t have the ability to penetrate the hardened bunkers. It was just as hard for manned aircraft as well. Flying at a safe height would expose them to the full force of the defenses. Missions were still being flown, but bringing the pilots back safely meant choosing their targets carefully, and giving them a lot of support they wouldn’t usually need. And even with Cho’s information, the striking aircraft lacked the exact coordinates to put GPS-directed weapons onto the bunkers—a near miss just wasn’t good enough.
The colonel was winding up his part of the brief, and the captain-interpreter relayed, “General Long would like to know if the source you mentioned earlier had any information on the holdouts’ timetable.”
“No, General,” Won replied apologetically. He explained, “The working theory has always been that they were having problems with the ballistic missiles’ guidance systems. Our capture of the ballistic missile expert Ga confirmed this, but it is much harder to gauge the holdouts’ patience, especially about something as irrational as revenge.”
General Sohn spoke up. “I believe that the remnants of the Kim faction have no expectation of survival. History has often shown the military forces of a dictatorship collapsing when they sense that the end is near. That is not the case here.
“I believe these troops are defending the last bits of their territory so fiercely because they are buying time for their leaders to prepare a retaliatory strike. I realize that this is an assumption based on another assumption, but what evidence we have fits this theory.”
Rhee barely waited for Colonel Won to sit down before beginning, and he spoke so quickly that Kevin wondered if there was a getaway car behind the tent with its motor running.
“Operation Kut will begin just after dark with an assault by the Chinese all along the Chongchon River front, concentrating on Anju in the northwest. This will occupy the holdouts’ attention while US forces to the south and Korean forces to the west and east move into final attack positions. Two hours later, regardless of Chinese progress, the American and Han forces will attack, concentrating on taking the towns of Sukchon in the southwest and Sunchon in the southeast. Both are road junctions and the largest towns in the area. They are important military targets in their own right, but the attack on Sukchon will hopefully mask our operations near the real target.”
As he explained the first part of the operation, Rhee tapped the keyboard. A long blue line appeared along the Chongchon River, and then a second line appeared marking the western edge of the redoubt, and two more bordering the south and east. “All forces will have heavy artillery and air support.”
General Tae spoke up, asking, “What kind of losses do you expect to your air support?” Little was impressed with Tae’s diplomacy. The subtext to the question was “Remember the air defenses? You could lose a lot of planes.”
“Much of the first wave will be air-launched decoys. Both the Americans and Chinese have them in numbers, and some are being transferred for use by Korean aircraft as well. They can mimic the flight path and profile of a fighter. We expect the holdouts to waste missiles on them, and hopefully reveal any camouflaged gun emplacements.
“We will expend almost all our stocks of decoys, and will also have many of our remaining UAVs in the area to observe. The UAVs are smaller and won’t be flying attack profiles, so they should live long enough to do their job.”
Rhee nodded toward General Sohn. “Once the commander is satisfied we have identified as many of their air defense installations as possible, he will signal a massive artillery barrage. This will use every long-range tube we have, and the multiple-barrage rocket launchers as well. We will not use aircraft to attack the air defense positions, although we’ll use any surviving UAVs to check the results.” He smiled. “It’s best not to hunt duck hunters with ducks.”
He nodded toward the Chinese general. “I apologize for not sharing this plan with you before the meeting, but to be honest, we’re still working on the details. It means a lot of your heavy artillery will be out of position to support your own troops, but it should reduce your aircraft losses significantly.”
Through his interpreter, Long answered, “It is satisfactory, although I would suggest that any artillery positions that are discovered also be targeted.” Sohn nodded his concurrence.
Rhee continued, “My team will follow the artillery strike in, and land here.” He marked a spot on the map just two kilometers from the missile bunker. “We’ll be using a full company from my Ninth Special Forces Brigade for this attack. We’ll approach the landing zone from two different routes through the mountains. This will increase our chance of success, just in case one group runs into functional air defenses.” He traced paths that wound through the landscape from the west. Both ended in a meadow that was shielded from the bunker’s view by a sharp ridge.
“In addition to our flights, attack helicopters will supplement the troops’ advance with close air support strikes along the outer defenses, and the air base here”—he tapped the location at the south end of the valley—”will also be attacked by Korean special forces and aircraft. All this is in addition to the general attack by Korean, Chinese, and American troops into the Redoubt itself.”
General Long spoke again, this time asking, “This is a sound plan, but what if the simple fact of an attack makes them decide to launch the missiles? How much warning will we have if they intend to launch?”
Rhee frowned. “It depends on the missile type and number of missiles . . . maybe forty-five minutes, possibly an hour.” He called up the schematic of the missile complex again. “The missiles are likely assembled and mated to their transport-erector-launcher, but they won’t be fueled, since this would make them too heavy to raise to launch position. The TELs will have to emerge from one of these three doors, which are all armored, drive a few hundred meters away, and bring the missiles vertical before they can be fueled. If they’re clever, they’ve already prepositioned fuel and oxidizer tanks, and pre-surveyed the launch coordinates down to the centimeter.”
He paused for a moment, and Colonel Won added, “At the very best we’re looking at an hour,
tops.”
Rhee then picked back up. “However, once my team arrives, we can bring any launchers that emerge under fire, and before we get there, the UAVs will be watching. If there is any sign that the launchers are setting up before we get there, General Sohn will order a continuous hold-down barrage of the area. That will obviously affect the ground troops’ support . . .”
Long interrupted. “The ground attacks are simply holding exercises—not feints, but secondary to the real objective. I concur. But what if the barrage is not successful?”
Rhee responded, “Colonel Little has confirmed that several US radar planes will be watching the area closely. They’ll be supporting the attacks, of course, but they can also track any ballistic missile launches. They will quickly calculate the impact area and provide a warning.”
Then the colonel shrugged philosophically. “After that, the nation that is targeted will have to respond to the threat separately.”
Kevin smiled grimly. Not only did China have dozens of potential targets, but their best antiballistic missiles were purchased from Russia, and were barely enough to cover Beijing, and perhaps a few other cities. Even the vaunted Russian S-400 couldn’t guarantee a sure kill, and nobody had forgotten about the unsettling appearance of decoys in the earlier missile attacks. He fervently hoped North Korea hadn’t developed any other surprises.
“Then I wish to propose an alternative plan,” Long began. He stood, and the interpreter relayed his words. “You have developed a fine plan, with as good a chance for success as any military operation can have, but nothing is certain. All we can know for sure is that it will be a desperate fight, with many losses.
“However, in this situation, there is a need for both urgency, and certainty. With the permission of the Korean government, and on their behalf, I believe that the surest and simplest course is to use a ballistic missile, which cannot be intercepted or shot down by the Kim holdouts. Our DF-5 can place a five-megaton thermonuclear device within half a kilometer of that missile complex, and no amount of rock will be enough to shield them.”
Rhee, appalled at the suggestion, stood openmouthed for half a moment. He wanted to reply, but in that pause Tae, sitting next to the Chinese general, stood and backed away, recoiling from the very idea. “Absolutely not! You can’t protect yourself by destroying half our country!”
Long didn’t need the interpreter to understand that while Tae’s was the most extreme reaction, nobody was nodding agreement. Evidently, he’d expected this, because he calmly replied, and then waited for his interpreter to relay his response.
“Seoul, even Anchorage are at as much at risk as Beijing if the missiles are the longer-ranged Hwaseong-13, what the Americans call the KN-08. The mountain valleys will contain the blast, and the region is thinly settled.”
Long continued quickly, before anyone else could reply. “If I relay these coordinates to our rocket forces, they can have a missile targeted and ready to fly in less than half an hour. Flight time will be something less than fifteen minutes.”
He’d been speaking to the entire group, but now he turned and addressed General Sohn directly. “Consider my suggestion carefully, General. It doesn’t have to ‘end tonight.’ It can end in an hour, and how many lives will be saved?” Long sat, still holding Sohn in his gaze, and waited for an answer.
Nobody spoke. Finally General Sohn stood. He spoke carefully, as if still forming a response. “I will speak for the Korean government and unilaterally reject your proposal. You oversimplify the decision. While such an attack would solve the military objective, I’m fighting for the future of a newly united Korea. This weapon would create a wasteland not just from the impact, but the fallout the bomb would create.
“Even this ‘thinly settled’ region holds tens of thousands of civilians. Should they all perish because of the holdouts’ desire for revenge? This operation is not designed to annihilate our opponents. With some luck,” he nodded toward Rhee, “the colonel’s plan will destroy the missiles and frustrate the diehards’ plan for revenge. I am sure that Colonel Rhee’s men, even in the center of the holdouts’ resistance, will accept the surrender of anyone who offers it.”
Sohn’s voice rose a little. “Our war has always been one of liberation, not conquest. I know that some of my men will become casualties, but they know they are fighting to save the rest of our countrymen. He gestured to General Long. “Some of your men will become casualties as well, but that is the price China pays for her security. Buying your safety with thousands of Korean lives is simply unacceptable!”
Long nodded his understanding. “We respect the decision of the general and completely understand his rationale. But I must inform you, with all respect, that of necessity I will pass the information on the target’s location back to my commander. While we will spare no effort to make tonight’s operation a success, I already know that my government will spend a sleepless night monitoring our progress.”
Long took care to look in Kevin Little’s direction as well as Sohn’s. “Please inform your governments that if we detect a missile launched from within the Redoubt, whether it is aimed at Beijing or not, our rocket forces will unilaterally respond with an attack as I’ve already described. If your operation fails, if the Kim holdouts begin launching, then China will act, for the protection of our country and all of Asia.”
Rhee rose defiantly, insulted as much by the Chinese general’s recommendation as his innuendo that Rhee’s plan wasn’t good enough. Staring straight at Long, he said tersely, “We won’t fail.”
6 September 2015
Seventh Air Force Headquarters, Operations Center
Osan Air Base, United Han Republic
“This is no way to run a railroad,” muttered a frustrated Tony Christopher. He shifted about the overloaded desk, lifting one folder after another until he found the spreadsheet he was after. Supply issues were whittling away at his F-22 contingent as one ship after another dropped offline due to maintenance gripes. And even though the requisition for the repair parts had been submitted, there weren’t enough of them on hand to keep the aircraft up—more parts had to be shipped from the contractor in the US. Just in time maintenance my ass, thought Tony.
His bad mood wasn’t caused solely by the USAF’s annoying maintenance system; no, the main source of irritation was that he was a fighter pilot flying a desk during a war. It wasn’t that Tony didn’t appreciate the importance and necessity of what he was doing; “experts study logistics,” or so he was told. But it didn’t change the simple fact that he would much rather be strapped into a jet, hip deep in a furball in contested skies. It’s what he did . . . emphasis on did.
“Saint!” shouted General Carter as he strode into the ops center.
“Yes, sir.”
“I need you to get your butt to Kusan, ASAP. We just received a mother of a strike package and I want you down there to help organize it. This is a maximum force effort with a tricky time-on-target schedule; we can’t afford any screwups. You leave immediately.”
“Understood, General,” replied Tony as he quickly turned to leave. Since the beginning of the conflict, he kept an overnight bag packed in his office, and it would take him only a minute to grab his gear. He was just reaching for the doorknob when Carter called back to him.
“And Saint, no shenanigans. You’re to keep both feet firmly on Mother Earth, clear?”
“Of course, sir. No shenanigans.”
“Good. Now off with you.”
Chapter 21 - Stronghold
6 September 2015, 1915 local time
Kunsan Air Base
Gunsan, United Han Republic
The emergency response vehicles wailed as they charged down the taxiway toward the subsiding orange fireball. At the far end of the runway, a returning F-16C had just plowed into the field, tumbled, and burst into flames. Tony held his breath as he watched the ejection seat shoot skyward moments before the jet blew up and prayed the pilot had escaped unharmed. That was the third aircraf
t the 35th Fighter Squadron had lost that evening, and the massive attack on the Kim redoubt was still to come.
The preliminary strike was a large-scale suppression of enemy air defenses, or SEAD, raid by seven squadrons—three US, two Korean, and two Chinese. The objective was to make the holdouts believe a massive air attack was underway, and trick them into engaging with their SAMs and AAA. The ruse worked well.
Apparently, it never occurred to the defenders that almost all of the “targets” that their radars detected were decoys. They held nothing back, and an eruption of missiles and shells poured out from the mountains against the phantom raiders. Once the weapons’ locations were exposed, the aircraft began launching anti-radiation missiles and GPS-directed bombs against the radars, missile launchers, and guns. The result was a bloodbath. The initial battle damage assessment intelligence cell concluded that over eighty percent of the air defense assets were either destroyed or damaged. But even though the SEAD raid had “severely degraded” the Kim air defenses, it wasn’t without cost—eight aircraft were either missing or known to have been shot down.
Tony looked on as the F-16C fighters taxied to their hardened aircraft shelters and came to a stop. As soon as the engines had shut down, an organized horde of aircraft maintenance specialists and ordnance mechanics swarmed over the aircraft, furiously prepping them for their next mission. The pilots jumped down from their aircraft and headed straight to a waiting van. The vehicle whisked them over to the squadron’s ready room for a quick debriefing; the squadron intelligence shop was working frantically to update the raid’s damage assessment.
Seeing the flurry of activity, Tony was dragged back to the last war. He vividly remembered being the one hurrying over to the ready room with his wingman, Hooter, both of them bubbling over with an adrenaline overdose. Now, he was a general officer, one of the senior leaders, who sent young men and women downrange in their Falcons to fight. At that moment, he would gladly trade his star for an aircraft.