by Unknown
The third set of rounds struck the top of the facility. Because most of the concrete was gone or severely crushed, these rounds struck the remaining concrete and burrowed into the chambers beneath, passed through the submarines or other craft moored inside, and detonated on the bottom of the concrete facility. The blast cracked the thin floor and blew down interior walls. It also sent energy upward into the bottoms of the ships above, crushing the keels and splitting them open to the sea. In almost every case, the fuel tanks were ruptured and fuel began to fill the interior spaces.
The fourth salvos struck the facility again, setting fire to the fuel and continuing the destruction in other compartments within the pen. The sixth salvo made it into an underground weapons storage. Suddenly an explosion greater than many had ever seen erupted on the waterfront, flinging boats, missiles, and people high into the air along with the rest of the roof of the pen.
Aboard the Iowa, Hammond saw the roof lift off the facility through the camera of the RPV flying half a mile from the explosion. “Oh my god,” he muttered as he saw the carnage unfurling before him. He watched the fireball climb over the facility and he grabbed the handset. “All stations Sierra Whiskey, this is Sierra Whiskey. Cease fire. I say again cease fire. Shift to secondary target, over,” he said. The other ships began calling in their receipt of the message.
“Have Weaps shift to the second set of pens,” he said calmly. The RPV suddenly moved the camera across the waterfront and center on a long flat pier. Deep in the ship, the fire control technicians entered the bearing and range of the new target into the Ford Rangekeeper. Almost immediately, a solution was being generated and fed into the turrets. The big guns moved slightly and waited for the order to fire. That order was given only a few seconds later.
The flat surfaced pier became filled with deep cavities as the thirty-six rounds struck home. On the tenth salvo flames could be seen shooting out around the hulls of the ships that had been moored as a deception. The RPV camera caught several doors opening and people frantically running out into the deadly hail of shells. No major explosions occurred with this bombardment. Instead, flames began shooting up through all the penetrations and craters on the top of the facility. Hammond had the ships continue their bombardment until there was no doubt the facilities were destroyed. Then he ordered his ships to turn away and head back to sea.
Pyongyang, North Korea
The doors to the main storage facility were actually opened early. Truckers lined up along the main road to drive in one end and out the other. They had been told that their consignments must reach the troops in the south intact and as soon as they could get them there.
As the big doors opened in the two entrances, the trucks hurried in and to their position on the warehouse floor. Men with forklifts immediately began filling the trailers with pallet after pallet of food. The drivers had never seen this much food in their lives. It was sitting in a vast underground structure stretching nearly a mile in each direction. A second set of crews was on hand to tie down the pallets or make sure the trailer doors were closed. Within ten minutes the trucks were loaded and ready. The drivers pulled forward to the exit doors and exited rapidly so the next set of trucks could move into place and be loaded. This process had been going on every evening for the past few weeks and the supplies were not yet half depleted.
The political officer for the facility was sitting with the facility managers in the control center watching television monitors to make sure everything flowed smoothly. He was very happy with how the operation was going. The state needed these supplies as soon as they could be delivered and he was urging the managers to move faster. After several weeks of operations, they had refined the process to an efficient operation that would go on as long as it was dark outside. Lately, to meet quota, they were forced to open the doors a little early. But there was little risk of detection. With the exception of a few cargo planes that had flown over the area, no warplanes were anywhere near the operation. The plan was that, if warplanes were detected, the operation would cease and the big blast doors closed, ensuring the facility’s safety. Since the facility was 100 feet underground, nothing had a chance to reach them. More importantly, the facility was under the Kim Il Sung Stadium. No one would ever imagine the largest food storage facility in the world was there.
The Political Officer occasionally berated the managers for being too cautious. Nothing could slow them down. Even when a call was received by the listening posts outside the city reporting propeller driven aircraft flying overhead, he told the managers to ignore it. American bombers were not driven by propellers. He ordered them to maintain their operations. They could not be seen from the air. The entry and exit portals were 100 meters from the stadium and angled down at a ten degree incline straight into the warehouse floor. The lanes were 200 meters long. No light could escape.
The four C-130s made their way over the city following the river to their targets. They were flying at 20,000 feet. Using a FLIR camera in the front of the airplane, they were able to locate their targets and turn toward them. At ten miles, the rear cargo ramp doors opened and the ramp lowered to position. On cue, the parachute was released and the Massive Ordnance Air Burst (MOAB) bomb was dragged from the rear of the plane. As it left, the parachute detached as the bomb’s electro-optic seeker was locked onto the opening it saw directly in front of it. At the same time, the plane banked sharply to be heading in the opposite direction so the operator would be able to control the bomb as long as possible.
The Political Officer walked outside and cupped his ears to hear the four turbo-prop engines of the C-130s flying away. He took a deep breath and stretched. It would be a nice cool evening, he thought. The third wave of trucks just left the facility and in a few minutes the next one would be headed up the ramp. His thoughts were interrupted as a whooshing sound went by his ears.
The weapons operator on the C-130 watched the screen and the infrared image clearly showed the residual heat in the air of the tunnel. He was surprised as the bomb passed through the center of the tunnel opening. He clearly saw the walls shoot past and what looked like a floor full of supplies appear at the end just before the image was lost. He switched back to the aircraft’s system and watched as the ground appeared to lift and shudder all around the stadium. Flames shot not only up the tunnels, but also out the exits of the stadium where the vents were hidden. Then the sides of the stadium began to topple inward as the ceiling of the giant facility began to collapse.
The planners thought there were two underground facilities and had placed bombs down each of four tunnels. The ignition of four 18,000 pound warheads inside the facility had turned the enclosed space into an inferno. The blast had been contained enough so that the pressures created their own ignition and fire. Local seismologists registered an earthquake of 2 on the Richter Scale around Pyongyang, disrupting some electricity and shaking the ground for a mile in any direction. The same seismologists were also surprised to see additional small earthquakes in a number of places across North Korea.
Tongho-Ri, North Korea
In a small airfield near Tongho-Ri, four Ilyushin-23 bombers were being prepared for duty. The old light bombers, NATO code named “Beagle,” had been pieced together from the remnants of twenty others that had been destroyed earlier in the war. The Beagle had been developed in the late 1940s in the Soviet Union and were being maintained by only a very few countries. The North Koreans had been phasing them out; however, the situation had now changed. The North Korean Air Force had been shamed by the Party Leadership and its leaders were desperate to prove themselves again. Already a very few fighters were pieced together and being sent to guard the capital. If this worked, the air force would strike a blow against the American Navy as their shore-based batteries had.
Strapped to the bomb bay of the old bomber was one P-15 missile. The P-15 was a variant of the SS-N-2 Styx missile. It was not designed to be launched from a bomber, but the technicians had been able to jury rig the missile to
ignite when launched and search for the American ships. The bomber’s own radar would help launch the missile in the right direction. In this case, there might be no need. Since an American attack on the naval facilities in Wonsan, an air and surface search radar was operating. The bombers were going to follow that signal and launch within 40 miles of the ships.
The pilots and crews crawled into their airplanes and completed their preflight list. Then, one-by-one, they started the two engines. The missiles were actually heavier than what the craft was designed to carry, but it was deemed a necessity for the mission to continue. The airplanes reached the end of the runway and ran the engines up to full power. It took nearly the entire runway before the small bombers finally lifted off the ground. Once in the air, the pilots had to maintain 80 percent on the engines just to keep their ships flying. They banked in a circle until all four airplanes were in the air, then lined up and flew in a “V” formation toward the signals from the American radar.
USS Little Rock
The SPS-43 air search radar aboard USS Little Rock picked up the airplanes as soon as they left the ground over 100 miles away. The position was plotted and the CO informed. A sleepy Captain Jack Ziemer walked into CIC scratching his chin and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Ziemer was brought out of retirement to command the old cruiser and he missed the regular nights of sleep he had grown used to as a civilian.
“OK, what’s happening?” he asked with a yawn.
“Looks like four contacts coming from this air base above Wonsan. They circled a while, then started heading for us,” said the petty officer of the watch.
“Humph,” Ziemer growled and scratched the stubble on his chin. “Headed right for us?”
“Yes sir, Captain. Right at us. Their course is 120, speed about 250.”
“Do these guys have a missile launching capability? I thought we knocked out their varsity.”
“Yes, Captain, but it looks like they got something together. From the speed it isn’t very modern, but I don’t really know what they might throw together,” the petty officers said.
Ziemer grunted again and looked at the young man approvingly. “I agree. Just keep thinking like that and I’ll sleep better.” He hit the bitch box. “Bridge, combat, this is the Captain, sound general quarters and get ready for a missile launch,” he ordered.
In seconds the ship was pounding with the feet of 500 sailors rushing to their general quarters stations. The ship was ready in less than five minutes. In Combat, Ziemer was talking with Ops.
“Lock them up and ready the fantail,’ Ziemer said.
On the after part of the ship the two huge SPG-49 radars swung around and pointed toward the planes still eighty-five miles away. On command the powerful radars were switched on and the beams locked onto the lead two aircraft. Inside the magazines, two Talos missiles were readied. As they slid along the rail to the doors, several men attached the fins that would control the missile in flight. When complete, the doors on the main deck under the radars opened, guides extended, and two white Talos missiles slid along the guides and onto the rails of the launcher. Once on the rails, the doors closed and the huge missiles turned towards their targets.
“This is Sierra Hotel, request birds free tracks one and two,” said the Operations Officer in the radio handset.
“Sierra Hotel, this is Sierra Whiskey, birds free tracks one and two,” came the response on the receiver.
“This is Sierra Hotel, roger out,” said Ops. He turned to the Captain.
Ziemer nodded. “Weapons free.”
The Operations Officer never believed he would actually get to do it, but he turned to the weapons control officer. “Weapons control, launch missiles.”
“Weapons control aye, in three, two, one.” The man flipped a protective cover and pressed the firing key twice. The two missiles had already been designated to the two targets. When the button was pushed, the squibs on the first then the second Talos missile ignited the rocket motors.
The gleaming white missile some called the “flying telephone pole,” streaked into the night sky. The crewmen on deck followed the trail of the rocket as the booster fired. After a short time, the booster fell off and a ramjet engine provided the thrust. Inside the nose of the missile, the seeker was aimed at the target and the missile was flying inside the beam of the radar. The electronics inside the missile were old, but worked. The missile just kept flying at a speed of Mach 2.5. At sixty miles, the seeker could see the target. At seventy-five miles, the seeker saw that it was close enough and detonated the 300 pound warhead. Both planes were blotted from the sky.
The second two airplanes were behind the others and watched their compatriots meet their end. Screaming over the radio, both pilots toggled off their missiles and turned their airplanes heading back to base.
Aboard the Little Rock, Ziemer made the call. “Sierra Whisky, this is Sierra Hotel. We have inbound Styx from the bearing of the contacts. They are too far away to reach us. Request birds free tracks three and four, over.”
“This is Sierra Whisky actual, I want those two. Birds free, tracks three and four, over.”
“This is Sierra Hotel, roger out.” Ziemer turned to the watch. “Weapons free.” Two seconds later two more missiles were on their way.
“Sierra Whiskey this is Sierra Hotel. Birds away tracks three and four, over.”
‘This is Sierra Whiskey, roger out.”
Once again the Talos missiles streaked towards their target. Both airplanes were rapidly making their way back to base. The two Styx missiles dropped to 1,500 feet and continued on the bearing they were fired. Unfortunately, the onboard radar did not pick up any targets. The missiles maintained their heading until their fuel ran out.
The two North Korean pilots pressed their throttles as far as they could go, hoping they would be too far away to be a target. They were screaming over the radio to have the runway lights turned on at their airbase. Both men saw the lights and began a rapid approach.
At just over 100 miles, the warhead of the first missile went off taking the tail off its target. The second went off just above the last bomber, ripping through the thin skin and perforating the fuel tanks on both wings. Raw fuel entered the engine compartments and ignited, filling the air with flames and melting through the wings and engine supports. Within seconds, the wings fell off the plane within sight of its home base.
Aboard Little Rock, the fire control radars were switched to standby and the ship returned to its regular steaming watch. No other targets presented themselves that night.
Chapter 20
October 12 - Cutting the Cord
South Korean Lines
The bombardment had begun at midnight and lasted for six hours. Artillery saturated an area ten miles wide by ten miles deep along a line just south of the DMZ in the direction of Seoul, some 140 miles away. It was as if there had been no night. The flashes from the muzzles of the artillery were nearly constant and anyone nearby could clearly see what was happening all around the guns and their encampments. One soldier thought it was like seeing things through several strobe lights.
The B-52s hit the most congregated valleys along the way. Other aircraft hit the artillery positions and the hilltop emplacements. A recon drone was flying over the areas pinpointing the enemy positions. Once identified, the position was hit by the artillery, bombed, or marked for attention by the Special Forces units brought into the area.
In the early light as the men mounted their trucks and tracked vehicles, they could first hear a deep rumble from far above. Faintly they could see aircraft high in the sky moving over their position heading westward. Then the sound grew louder. Suddenly flights of aircraft flew over much lower to the ground. The artillery barrage had stopped just before the airplanes flew over. One of the men shouted, “They’re F-18s!”
The men looked skyward again. They were used to seeing A-6s and F-4s making attack runs, but the F/A-18s shot across the sky heavily laden with ordnance. The aircraft had b
een grounded because their technology no longer functioned, but now they were back and itching for vengeance. The men watched as two of the aircraft dropped their bombs just a short distance from where they stood and felt the ground shake with the explosions.
As the F/A-18s flew on, they were followed by another welcome sight. From behind the troops came the sound of rotary winged aircraft and two squadrons of Apache attack helicopters flew over their positions and through the enemy lines. The men watched as some stopped and fired at something on the ground, then moved on. More helicopters were seen farther down the line doing the same thing.
“OK, let’s go, let’s go!” shouted someone in one of the lead trucks. The trucks along the line started and the men hunkered into the backs. Bradley fighting vehicles led off down the road, followed occasionally by an M-1 and trucks full of troops.
Ricks was now allowed to sit in the front of a vehicle instead of the rear. At least he had a cushioned seat. The guys in back were sitting on wooden benches. As he climbed into the front, he glanced over at a truck in the second column. Hufham was looking back at him and gave him a wave. Ricks smiled and gave a wave back at his friend, silently wishing him luck.
The truck bounced roughly on the pockmarked road they were using. More of a trail than a road, it led through the valley and eventually met up with a little more stable surfaces if the artillery and bombs didn’t ruin it. The line of vehicles moved quickly through the sparse undergrowth along the line into what Ricks could only describe as a Martian landscape. Korea was usually lush and green. But here the trees were practically gone and the scrub denuded. In spots human bodies and wrecked equipment were lying in the rubble. Most noticeable were the thousands of pot holes that covered the land. Like some sort of brownish moon, they covered nearly every inch of soil and were dotted with things that were either burning or already burned to cinders. Ricks had never seen destruction like this.