B004V9FYIY EBOK

by Unknown

  Washington, D.C.

  “The underground bunkers supplying their troops are here, here, and here,” said the briefer at the Pentagon war plans office. Seated in the small auditorium were each of the Joint Chiefs or their designees, their deputies and several operations directorate personnel along with the President and Chief of Staff. The briefer was pointing to a large-scale map of Korea on the wall. “With the help of the latest satellite, we were able to find these positions by watching the trucks move in and out.” He motioned for the lights and a slide to come up beside the map. “As you can see, all of these trucks are appearing from what looks like a garage beside this mountain. It is actually an access to this large underground facility.” An infrared image came up. “These enhanced photos of the general area show a different coloration covering a four mile area. We believe this is an underground food distribution warehouse.”

  He pointed to the map again. “We found ammunition storage facilities here, here, and here. These are also underground. The missile launching sites were located last night when the second wave was launched. They center on this mountain area here,” he said pointing deep in the mountainous area of North Korea. “There are a number of underground centers that we have been able to find including a refinery, fuel storage, ammunition manufacturing, and arms manufacturing. There is also an aircraft factory in operation forty miles north of Pyongyang in this valley. Unfortunately, these are relatively deep underground. They are considered bomb proof and can be sealed off on a moment’s notice. We feel these targets must be neutralized as soon as possible,” the briefer concluded. With no questions, he sat down at the side of the room.

  “OK, I agree we need to take these out. My question is, how do we do it?” the President asked. “We will not use nuclear devices again.”

  General Foote stood. “Mister President, we won’t need to now. I have been working with Admiral Johnson and we may have a solution. It requires two C-130s to go to each of the sites and drop one guided weapon each. We are modifying the weapon to incorporate a FLIR-mounted guidance head and additional control surfaces. This bomb weighs in at about 21,000 pounds with an 18,000 pound payload. We hope that the appearance of just a couple of airplanes will not cause the enemy to close the doors to the underground facilities and we can get this weapon to fly into the tunnel leading into the facility. If so, I can guarantee the facility will be permanently shut down.”

  “With an 18,000 pound payload, I guess so,” said the President. “Why something that big?”

  “Our problem is they are deep, and conventional weapons and probably even nukes couldn’t get to them. The pattern we have seen over the past two nights is that they open the doors to deliver the goods every night once it’s dark. The trucks go in and out via two separate entrances. We have also noticed that there are about twenty ventilators that are used to provide air for the spaces. We have pinpointed those. So there are only two ways they are vulnerable. First when the doors are open and via those ventilators. We propose sending the C-130s in to drop its weapon at high level and then help guide it in. We are programming those weapons to fly into the tunnels and hopefully go deep enough to explode inside the facilities. Either these weapons will explode inside the main facility or they will detonate in the tunnel causing the tunnel to collapse. Either way we cut off the supplies from that facility. Then we send in B-2s with one Big BLU each. This weapon can penetrate 100 feet into the ground before exploding. This second weapon is to back up the first and cause more damage, if possible. Then we will send in carrier aircraft to hit those ventilators. If we can hit these, we should prevent the North from using the facility indefinitely. This will give us the time to finish the job.”

  “How long will it take to set this up?”

  “Within a week, Mister President. We are starting to see a reduction in the numbers of men going across the border. Generals Richardson and Monahan have moved their troops into position to cut them off and surround them. We are sending in one additional unit to complete the circle. If we can hit these at about the same time, the North will be in very dire straights,” said Foote.

  “What are your guys going to be doing?” the President asked Johnson.

  “We’re the ones who will close down the ventilators with the aircraft, and the battleships will make sure the corridors stay open. There’s also one underground facility within range of the guns. I want them to take out as much as they can,” he said. “Then it’s harassing the enemy until he folds, sir.”

  “I take it everyone is all set and waiting for me to say go?” the President asked. “Then by all means do it. Take what time you need, but eat them up. We’ll sort out the rest later,” the President said.

  General Black stood along with the others. “Ladies and gentlemen, this operation is approved. I want final plans and start date on my desk by close of business tomorrow. Meeting adjourned,” he said. The President got up and shook Black’s hand. Admiral Johnson caught Butler’s eye and pulled him into the corner. “Did you see the message?”

  Butler nodded. “This morning. I got the report redacted to me and personally took it to the members on the Hill. I’m not sure how long it will take, but there is widespread approval. I have a feeling it will be pretty quick.”

  “This may help it along some,” Johnson said. He handed an envelope to Butler, who opened it and read the content. His face broke into a wide grin. “Let me get the boss to sign this,” he said. Two minutes later he returned with the document signed. “I will take this up and get it approved first thing in the morning. Is it legal?”

  “Of course. Special board took a look at five guys for meritorious work. The Joint Chiefs made the recommendation and two will get it. The other three will be up next regular rotation,” he said. “During a war we can have special reviews.”

  “Will he keep his command?”

  “For the time being. I have an additional job for him. We can keep the man busy,” Johnson said.

  “You know you just made the President’s day.”

  “I love brownie points and I like this job. I may just keep it a while.”

  Butler shook the CNO’s hand and rejoined the President. The evening drive across Washington was a little more pleasant. The leaves were starting to turn a little and the air was crisper. Butler wished he could roll the windows down in the limo and let the air in, but the glass was just too thick.

  USS Iowa

  Rear Admiral Shranski and his staff were about to leave the Iowa and head to the carrier. A helo was on the way to pick them up. Shranski was packing the last of his gear when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  An excited radioman entered the cabin grinning from ear to ear. “Admiral, this message just came in to the ship and is info to you, sir. My Chief thought you might want to see it first.” He handed it over to Shranski and waited.

  Shranski took the piece of paper and began to read. As he did, his own face broke into a wide grin. “You are quite right. I appreciate you letting me see it first. Maybe I need to go see your Captain,” he said slapping the sailor on the shoulder. Shranski quickly walked up to the bridge where Hammond was talking with the XO. Both men stood as the Admiral walked up.

  “Captain, we’re about ready and I was wondering if I could say a little something to your crew before I leave?”

  “Sure, Admiral, you’re welcome to,” Hammond said. He called over the Bos’n who blew “attention.” Hammond handed Shranski the microphone.

  “Good morning, Iowa, this is Rear Admiral Shranski speaking. As you know, my staff and I will be leaving you this morning and I wanted to personally thank each of you for your help and support while we were aboard. You made what could have been a difficult task very easy for us. I appreciate all your efforts to help us get our study done and out of the way. I also want to thank many of you who helped show me around this fine ship and to share a little bit of what some of you call the Iowa spirit. But there’s one other thing that I wan
t to do. I received a message this morning that I want to share with you before I leave,” he said.

  Shranski unfolded the paper he was carrying and began to read. “From Commander, Naval Military Personnel Command to Captain Roger T. Hammond, USN. In accordance with the recommendations of the flag officer selection board and approval by the Congress, you have been selected for the rank of rear admiral lower half effective immediately. You will submit to the requirements of BUPERS Manual, so forth and so on. Congratulations Rear Admiral Hammond,” he said handing over the paper and hanging up the microphone.

  “Hot damn! The XO exclaimed.

  Applause broke out on the bridge and cheers could be heard along the deck and in some of the corridors. Hammond stood staring at the paper with an awestruck look much like a deer in headlights. His mouth was open, but no words escaped him.

  Shranski almost laughed. “Damn, Roger, cat got your tongue?”

  That broke the spell. Hammond grabbed his hand and began to pump it. “Jeez, Mike, you sure do know how to surprise a guy.”

  “I was, too. One of your radiomen brought it to me just a couple of minutes ago. I was just glad to be the one to make it official. Hope you don’t mind that I let the cat out of the bag.”

  “Not at all, Mike,” he said still surprised. “Shit, this is unbelievable!”

  “Just shows in a war they’ll promote anybody, SIR,” the XO said with a smile.

  Hammond and Shranski gave him a mock scowl. “Can you take this guy with you?” Hammond asked.

  “I don’t want him. Maybe you can just loose him overboard or something,” Shranski said nonchalantly. Then all three of the men started to laugh.

  “Sir, the helo has launched from the carrier. ETA is only about 10 minutes,” said the phone talker.

  “Sounds like I need to leave,” said Shranski.

  “XO, go ahead and bring the ship into the wind and go to flight quarters. I’ll walk the Admiral down to see him off,” said Hammond.

  The ship went to its flight quarters stations and the flight deck crew manned up along with a repair party. In a few minutes an SH-60 approached the fantail of the ship and was guided into position by one of the crewmen using hand signals. The helicopter touched down and kept running as Shranski and his team crawled aboard. A flight crewman handed a package to one of the Iowa crew and stepped back aboard the aircraft. After a few minutes, when all was ready, the engines increased their power and the helicopter lifted off the deck and began making its way back to the carrier.

  Hammond waved as they departed and the Chief handed him the package from the carrier. It was marked for RADM Hammond. Hammond opened the taped box. Inside was a blue flag with one star, a new hat with an admiral’s ‘scrambled eggs’ some new shoulder boards and stars for his collar. The note read, “Thought you might use these. Congratulations! RADM Griffin.”

  The Chief looked at his CO with admiration. He watched as Hammond ran his hand over the blue flag, then recovered the box and tucked it under his arm as he walked away. The man is good as shit, thought the Chief as he watched Hammond leave. He had seen a few great COs in his time, especially one of the last ones aboard this ship. In his opinion, Hammond even beat that one. For once, the Navy made a good decision and he was happy as hell about it.

  Iwokuni, Japan

  The bomb was the size of a small truck. It had a small set of wings and some fins on the tail, but it still didn’t look like any kind of bomb or missile the loaders had ever seen. Then again, the C-130 was not like any bomber they had seen either. The bomb was placed in the cargo hold of the aircraft facing forward. A parachute pack on the back end of the weapon would be used to pull the bomb out of the aircraft. One of the men removed a cover and polished down the clear nose cone on the front of the weapon. It contained the FLIR seeker and data link that would tie the bomb to a controller sitting at the front of the cargo bay. When finished, the cover was carefully replaced.

  The C-130’s crew completed their preflight list and was going over it again to make sure nothing would go wrong. No one liked the thought that this thing might have to go down with them in an engagement. Most wished the weather would sock them in.

  For several days C-130s had been flown over the areas without incident. It was to gather information and to get the North used to seeing the unarmed planes around. A final check was made and the weapons handlers walked out of the rear of the aircraft. The rear ramp and doors were closed and a tractor was hooked up to move the aircraft out of the hangar and onto the ramp. The crew was already in position and switching on several systems.

  Kadena Air Force base was totally dark. When the engines started, the lights came on illuminating nearly thirty C-130s on the ramp ready to take off. They began moving in a line down the taxiway to the end of the runway. On signal they increased the revolutions on their engines and began their take off roll, lifting off far down the runway. When the last plane had left, the lights around the field blinked out, returning Kadena to total darkness.

  On Anderson Air Force Base, a flight of eighteen B-2s had just completed their own lift off. Each aircraft carried only one bomb apiece. They were scheduled to arrive only fifteen minutes after the C-130s had dropped their weapons. The crews shared the same thoughts – that these weapons not go off anywhere near their aircraft.

  USS Iowa

  RADM Hammond’s first assignment was to take command of Task Force 75.2.1, made up of Iowa, Missouri, North Carolina, and Alabama along with the Little Rock and eight other cruisers and destroyers. The force steamed up the eastern coast of Korea in total darkness and arrived off Wonsan by 9:45 pm. Two RPVs were launched earlier and gathered infrared information on their designated target – the concrete naval pens holding both the submarines and the remaining patrol boats.

  The pens had been built to look like ordinary buildings, but the ceilings to them were estimated to be at least twenty-five feet thick. Further on, the piers had been purposefully built higher off the ground so that the boats could move underneath. Large ships were permanently moored beside them so it would look like a normal pier from above. Because of the earlier bombings and the loss of the majority of their fleet, the North Koreans had pressed their remaining assets into these underground enclosures for safekeeping.

  The RPVs were flown over the facilities and from an angle, could see the openings that were actually cooler than the rest of the facility, still warm from the sun. In two cases, lights could be seen inside the darkened entrances. People came and went from six separate openings beside the facilities, and trucks were unloading beside three of those.

  The task force steamed ten miles off the headland in a column formation. Upon satellite signal, all the big guns turned and pointed toward Wonsan Naval Base. Inside the turrets, a different kind of shell was being loaded. Before this, the ships had been firing regular high capacity shells. But two weeks earlier each battleship took on 300 armor piercing shells. Where the regular shells weighed 1,900 pounds each, these weighed 2,700 pounds. They were designed to penetrate heavy armored plate up to twenty-two inches thick, but this time the rounds would have to go up against reinforced concrete. In tests, at the optimum range, these shells could penetrate over thirty feet of the stuff.

  Hammond moved his ships between fifteen and twenty miles from the target. This was done for a reason. The high angle of the shot would mean the big shells would fall almost straight down on the top of the concrete pens. Hopefully they would go all the way through and go off inside. If nothing else, the pens would never be the same again.

  Sitting in Strike, Hammond and the XO sat waiting for the prescribed time to open fire. This was to be a coordinated attack of all the underground facilities. Nearly everything would hit at about the same time. The effect was to strike swiftly and suddenly from almost everywhere, confusing the enemy and putting a little of the “fear of god” into them. By traveling without running lights and with the moon not yet up, the battleships remained unseen on the horizon and relatively immune
from attack. They watched the television screen with the images from the RPV, seeing people scurry around, oblivious to what was coming.

  “This is almost like shooting chickens in a coop,” the XO said. “I almost feel sorry for the average sailors.”

  “Yeah, but we can’t think that way. It has to be done and we’re the ones who were told to do it,” Hammond said. “Is everyone set?”

  “Yes, sir. All ships report ready,” the XO replied. He glanced at the clock on the bulkhead. “One minute.”

  Hammond picked up the encrypted radio handset and held it for the last few seconds. As the second hand swept upward, he pressed the button to activate the circuit. “All stations in Sierra Whiskey, this is Sierra Whiskey. Commence fire, I repeat, commence fire. Out.” Then he turned to the Strike Officer. “Batteries released.”

  From shore it appeared as if a volcano had exploded far out to sea. The flame of the guns clearly illuminated the ships and signaled their charges were on their way. Once again, the well trained crewmen went through the loading cycles to load the guns as rapidly as possible, sending more of the armor piercing rounds on their way.

  The sounds of tearing linen came through the air as the shells climbed high into the air before angling down on their targets. From that distance, the shells wouldn’t penetrate as far, but not by much. The first rounds landed on top of the warehouse-like structures and burrowed almost straight down. They went in twenty feet before the explosives in the warhead detonated. Unfortunately, the thickness of the concrete was more than what was anticipated by ten feet. The men inside the facility heard the explosions but felt secure when the ceiling only rained down dust.

  Thirty of the initial rounds hit the target, disrupting nearly the entire top layer of concrete on the pens. The second set of rounds dug a little deeper into the facility, burrowing through the rubble and into the unharmed concrete. This time, the rubble sitting on top was lifted almost entirely off the building. Inside, the men looked up in horror as cracks began to appear in the ceiling.