B004V9FYIY EBOK

by Unknown

  “Yeah, I guess you’ve earned your keep,” the President said. “At least I’ve had somebody I can beat up every so often. You’ve thrown a few punches yourself.”

  “Only to keep the bad guys at bay, sir,” Butler laughed.

  “Well, at least we got rid of a few of those. How long do you think it will take to get to Seoul?”

  “No telling. Those guys have been doing a great job so far. But remember, we still have to go across the DMZ and on up toward the Chinese border. There’s no telling how much these guys will be able to resist once we get into their home territory. You fight harder in your own backyard,” Butler said. “We have a briefing this afternoon at 4. Just be wary of anyone telling you it will be over in a month.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement. You say tomorrow will be the turning point?”

  “Yes, sir. They should have had time to set up their infrastructure. Our guys will have to be on their toes,” Butler said. “I talked to the Navy and Air Force and they have a few things up their sleeves to weed out the rest of the defenses. Right now the biggest problem I see is the ground forces. Somebody said it right. You can bomb and you can shell, but it takes ground troops and occupation to win wars,” he said.

  “Did you see the casualty reports? We’ve lost about 800 so far,” O’Bannon said. He knew full well that Americans would quickly turn away their support with too many casualties.

  “Yes, sir, but if you remember we lost 29,000 dead and over 100,000 wounded on D-Day. Even Inchon during the Conflict cost us over 500 killed and we landed only about 40,000 on that one. Last night we landed over 200,000 troops in three locations with hardly a scratch. Claire Richardson’s plan was brilliant. She was able to get the troops landed right under the noses of the North Koreans. All of our casualties have been after the invasion and during the move inland. Also keep in mind almost half of those casualties came with the sinking of two of our ships during the missile attack last night. In all, these guys have done really well,” Butler said.

  “Ok, what’s the next step?”

  Butler got very serious. “Boss, we let them do their jobs. The best way to screw things up is to start fighting the war from here. Give Richardson and the others the chance to do things the way they are trained. They’ll get the job done,” he said. “One thing we can do is make sure the good word gets out. That guy Murrow is helping a lot. He’s reporting the way people feel and how what we are doing is helping. If he’s like his relative he will be honest and positive. But keep in mind he will eat us up if we really screw the pooch. I know there will be some of our esteemed politicians who will be complaining about the ship losses and focusing in on the rough spots. I asked the Pentagon to let the reporters send their stories in as quickly as possible. Right now there is good news and we need to get that out. If we get indications from the naysayers, we need to counter it with truth and facts as soon as we can,” he said.

  “I agree. A friend of mine on the Hill called this morning and told me of a couple of people we need to watch out for. I have feelers out,” the President said. “It’s a shame some people feel like they have to be a stick in the mud.”

  “Yes, sir,” Butler agreed. He glanced at his watch and then turned on the radio beside the table. “It’s time for our friend in Pusan.”

  The men listened to the local radio station and the advertisements leading up to the broadcast from Korea. The announcer began the program and turned it over via short wave.

  “This is Pusan, Jason Murrow reporting. A miracle happened in Pusan this morning. It was in the form of music.” The sound changed to a distant band playing a Doobie Brothers tune named “Rocking Down The Highway.” “In the midst of an invasion and after a night of raining devastation, the people of the beleaguered port city of Pusan woke to the sound of a ship’s band playing across the harbor. It wasn’t military music or marches, but the sound of American rock music full of youth, hope, and joy. The music echoed across the waters and through the streets bringing people out of their battered homes and down to the waterfront to listen.

  These people came from their homes to find relief and peace for the first time in months. They crowded the waterfront clapping and dancing to the American music as the unknown band played. For over an hour the music filled the harbor drawing thousands to its message of hope and joy. Then as the American battleship left the harbor, the people stayed and celebrated a new world for themselves and the rest of South Korea.

  After months of siege, there has been liberation. After months of hardship, there is a new feeling of optimism and goodwill among the people. Through simple songs, the young Americans on the ship passed their own hope and enthusiasm to the people of this city.

  Now as I walk through the streets I see smiles instead of frowns. People walk tall instead of slumped. Vendors are on the streets again selling their wares and the fishermen have returned to their boats to bring in their catches. Throughout the area people have begun picking themselves up and stepping forth to rebuild. During the day word has reached the people of Pusan of neighboring towns and cities being liberated. They have begun hearing from families they had considered lost. Optimism is growing with each word of hope, and it all started with the notes played by a few simple sailors. America returned to Korea last night and brought with it a refreshing new outlook. America and its allies are helping the Koreans reclaim their identity and their heritage. The miracle of freedom has begun again.

  This is Jason Murrow, good night and good luck.”

  The radio was switched off. “My God. What ship was that?” the President wondered.

  “I’ll find out,” Butler promised.

  San Pedro, California

  Mayor Patricia Crowell heard the music and listened to the commentary. She knew exactly what ship it was. At the end of the broadcast her telephone rang.

  “Did you hear?” asked Jack Latham from his shipyard office.

  “That was our guys,” she said. There was a tear in her eye.

  “Damn, I can’t believe this. What can we do for them?” he asked.

  “I don’t know right now, and I doubt they would accept anything. It makes me glad we were able to get those guys that equipment. Maybe we could send them some better instruments or something.”

  “Maybe. I’ll ask around. In the mean time do you want me to see about getting copies of those broadcasts? Might go really well in the museum,” he said.

  “I’ll call. I can call in a couple of favors over at the affiliate. It kind of makes me wonder if Iowa is a part of the rest of the broadcasts. Either way, those copies will be good to have,” the Mayor said. “I can’t wait till they get home.”

  There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. “You still writing?” Latham asked.

  “Got a couple of responses, too, but he can’t really say much in a letter.”

  “Didn’t anybody tell you long distance relationships can’t work?” Latham prodded.

  “You know me. I’m a glutton for punishment.”

  Latham laughed. “Pathetic,” he said. “Well, I’m going to share this with the guys over here. We may have a party or something.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. I better get back to business,” she said.

  “Okay, if I hear anything else I’ll call.”

  After hanging up the telephone Patricia Crowell pulled a letter out of her desk and opened it. It was the third one she had received. After writing six letters she had finally gotten the first reply. Then surprisingly she received a second a week later. Since then she had faithfully written a letter every other day. This one had been on her desk this morning when she came back from a meeting.

  Crowell looked at the handwritten letter and began reading it.

  Dear Patricia,

  I must write quickly since we are getting underway and the mail is going ashore. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your letters. I never put much into receiving mail before, but now I anxiously look forward to each mail delivery. We are getti
ng underway for our mission now and I don’t know how often the mail will be picked up. Please don’t stop writing.

  Everyone aboard is really eager to get over there and get the job done. I must admit I am, too. These guys have worked hard. I don’t know what happened in San Pedro before I got there, but whatever it was made this crew the best. I hope to make you and the people of San Pedro proud of us.

  I have been re-reading your letters often. They help me relax and think of home. I like knowing what’s going on there and I share that info with the guys onboard. I know it makes me feel like San Pedro is my home now. Maybe I’ll settle down there after the war. I may even ask you for some advice on where to stay.

  The word is we should be in action within a few days. I promise to write as often as I can to let you know how we are doing. Who knows? You may even hear about us in the news. In any event I hope this will be over soon.

  On a personal note, I want to thank you for being a friend to an old sailor. Your caring thoughts help make the days and nights easier. I look forward to the day when I can see you again.

  I’ll write when I can.

  Roger

  The letter had been dated a week ago. She folded it and put it with the others in her personal drawer. She could only imagine what he was going through now. The actual fighting had begun. Somewhere the ship they restored and its crew were probably engaging the enemy. The fear of Hammond being hurt suddenly reared its head in her imagination and she had a difficult time pushing the brief thought away. She couldn’t lose him now.

  After a moment, Mayor Crowell pushed away from her desk and walked to her public relations office. Her request was simple. Fortunately someone had already made the arrangements and the recordings and articles were being gathered and filed. Several of the staff members noticed an extra spring in the Mayor’s step when she left the office.

  Chapter 15

  August 18 - Playing Catch Up

  Pyongyang, North Korea

  The Defense Headquarters was a shambles. Two Tomahawks hit the structure and toppled one end, but there was still access to the bunker underneath. Men and women were running around frantically, not really accomplishing anything. In the Battle Center a group of senior military and political officers were huddled around a large map table. Two east coast radar sites began reporting aircraft inbound. Hua Te Nua positioned himself at the head of the giant table with a map of the Korean peninsula. He was shouting orders to everyone.

  “I want every fighter up and after the planes in the east!” he shouted.

  “Comrade Minister, our planes near the east coast are already alerted and taking off,” an old general said.

  “Just the east coast? I said I want them all up!”

  “But, Comrade Minister, that would leave us vulnerable if…” He didn’t get to finish the sentence. Hua Te Nua pulled the revolver from his holster and shot the man between the eyes. As the old man dropped to the floor Nua shouted, “I expect my orders to be obeyed! Get this garbage out of my sight and get the rest of those planes up!”

  Immediately men began dashing around the room grabbing telephones and issuing orders. Watching as plotters were positioning symbols on the table, the incoming aircraft were plotted over the Sea of Japan, steadily making their way inbound. In a few minutes North Korean aircraft had taken off and were outbound toward the incoming threat. Airplanes from all over the North were soon in the air moving east.

  “The Wonsan Threat Center is reporting American B-52 airborne search radars bearing 122 degrees,” an operator reported in the Battle Center.

  “Is everything up?” Nua shouted.

  “Everything, Comrade Minister,” said the General.

  “There are aircraft coming through the chaff cloud,” reported the telephone monitor in the room. The men huddled closer to the man as he repeated the data. “Multiple aircraft, estimated high altitude,” the man announced. “We are getting jamming.”

  “B-52s. Those are very old American bombers,” Nua said with a swagger. The other men in the room stole glances at one another. They were all thinking two things. Some of the fighters going to intercept those bombers were older than a B-52 and Americans would not be that stupid. The Air Force general picked up a telephone and issued orders for the intercepting planes to watch for fighters escorting the bombers. More than 80 fighters were up and on their way. None of the fighters ever heard the message. A Navy EA-6B Prowler switched on its jamming gear. It had already interfered with the radar signals. Now it was going after the communications.

  The flight of ten B-52s was preceded by a flight of ten Korean Air Lines 747s that were modified to carry large amounts of chaff. They closed to within 100 miles of the coast and turned south, dispensing the chaff through specially rigged dispensers in their cargo holds. Upon completing their first run they doubled back and spread another layer. Once their task was complete, they all turned back toward Narita, Japan, their pilots relieved that they had not tangled with North Korean fighters and glad they had been allowed to take part.

  The B-52 pilots were being fed information from a Navy E-2C Hawkeye loitering 150 miles off the North Korean coast. Passing through the chaff cloud the B-52s began launching cruise missiles. Once launched, the airplanes turned around and flew back through the chaff cloud. By now, the fighters were within seventy miles of the big bombers, closing rapidly. The lead pilot actually saw some of the missiles fly past on the way to their targets. He called out over the radio for his flights to close up and mete out revenge against the Americans. Immediately after his radio call, he and his MIG-21 were blotted from the sky.

  Twenty F-14 Tomcats from VFA-25 off the carrier USS Ronald Reagan were waiting just inside the chaff cloud. They received the data link from the Hawkeye and waited until the bombers made their turns. The F-14 pilots then switched on their radars and let go with Phoenix missiles at a range of eighty miles. The old missiles streaked up to altitude and then plunged down on their targets. Out of the eighty missiles launched, sixty-eight found their target with only twelve being either double targeted or failing. The MIG-17s, 21s, and 23s fell from the sky. The rest watched in horror as the F-14s followed their missiles in and began closing rapidly. They were expecting bombers and possibly a few fighters, but these planes had already decimated their force and were coming in after them. Several of the remaining MIGs attempted to engage, but the Americans were in no mood to play. The highly maneuverable F-14 with its variable geometry wings began flying circles around the Koreans, and one by one the Koreans were shot down either with Sidewinders or guns. Soon the few remaining enemy aircraft turned and dashed for home. The F-14s did not follow.

  The last to arrive in the area were the MIG-29s. All those aircraft came from the west coast of Korea and spent fuel to try and catch up to their comrades. They arrived to see a few MIGs heading home and the American fighters too far ahead to pursue. As they arrived at the east coast they searched for any additional targets out to sea, but none were sighted. That was when the second surprise hit them.

  Forty F-4 Phantoms came streaking up the center of the peninsula hugging the ground. They turned to see the retreating MIGs above them. One flight pulled back on their sticks and hit the afterburners. Within seconds they heard the warble in their headsets letting them know they had a Sidewinder lock and let the missiles go. Only a single MIG-23 survived, damaged, to return home. The rest of the flight turned right and headed for the coast. Getting their cues from the Hawkeye, the Phantoms pulled up to find themselves behind the MIG-29s and let loose with more Sidewinders. Of the six available MIG-29s, five were destroyed with one so damaged the pilot left the area trailing smoke and maneuvering erratically. The Phantom pilots turned south again.

  In the North Korean Battle Center Minister Nua was livid with rage. He was screaming at everyone present. “You are all incompetent! You allowed all of this to happen. All this time the people purchased these expensive aircraft and all you did was let them shoot you down! You told the people you could
protect their borders and you failed!” he screamed. Calling the guards into the room he ordered all of the senior officers arrested. During the screaming the enlisted men receiving the reports from the field were too stunned to perform their jobs. They stood motionless as several of the senior officers struggled with the guards. One was shot when he tried to pull his service revolver. In the confusion the men failed to hear the reports of additional aircraft inbound. Not that it made any difference. The fighter protection for North Korea had practically ceased to exist.

  The sixty Tomahawk cruise missiles from the B-52 raid descended unopposed to an altitude of 100 feet and flew to their targets – the remaining North Korean airfields. The information from two SR-71 flights had pinpointed exactly where the temporary airfields had been set up. Because of the EA-6B, communications that would warn of the missiles was disrupted and they were flying below the radars that were hastily set up.

  At the largest of the airports were a large number of bombers and other attack aircraft being readied for missions against the South. Fueling had been completed except for some old Soviet IL-28 bombers that were being quickly refurbished on a far end of the field. Near the terminal, airborne troops were boarding several AN-24 transports getting ready to be dropped behind the lines. Everyone looked harried and a little nervous. The flight crews had worked feverishly to ready as many aircraft as possible, repairing several from parts salvaged from damaged aircraft. The morning launch of their fighter aircraft had been a wake up to the men that the war was on its way. Most had confidence that their fighters would be able to protect them. Some of the attack aircraft were starting their engines when a strange popping noise was heard.

  Like the first night, the first of the Tomahawks began dispensing sub-munitions along the runway, spreading them nearly half way along its entire length before pulling up, stalling and falling back, crashing into the ground and adding to the destruction. As the munitions approached the ground, the shaped charges in the munitions exploded downward with great force, gouging holes in the pavement and sending shrapnel flying in all directions. The second Tomahawk slammed into the control tower. The third and fourth spread their sub-munitions along the ramp directly over the fueled and armed aircraft, transports, and men.