North Korean Blowup

by Chet Cunningham

  “Sergeant, get your major on the telephone, right now,” Quinn snapped.

  “Hell no. I can tell a con when I see one.”

  Quinn took out his billfold and pulled out a red card about twice the size of a business card. It was bright red with black lettering. He showed it to the sergeant.

  “Read this, Sergeant,” Quinn said.

  The sergeant began reading out loud. “This is a standing order that Doyle Quinn who is carrying this card has carte blanche with any United States government agency or any branch of the Armed Forces, and any request made by this person shall be carried out immediately. Any non compliance will be dealt with most severely.” The sergeant stopped.

  “Oh god. It’s signed by the president of the United States.” He stared at it a moment longer. Quinn had not let go of the card. He returned it to his billfold.

  “Now, Sergeant, do you wish to call your major or can you take care of this rush project immediately?”

  “Holy shit,” the Sergeant said. His eyes went wide for a moment, then he slammed his fist down on the counter.

  “Henderson, get on this right away. Do it now.”

  “Sergeant, we need these uniforms by eighteen hundred today,” Quinn said.

  “But I have only two seamstresses.”

  “Bring in half a dozen more. A great deal is riding on this, and your help is appreciated. Mr. Ho here will tell you exactly what he wants. The Korean script logo can be simple, but on the back of every tee shirt.”

  Soc Ho took a pen and pad of paper and put down the Korean symbols the wanted on the shirts. They made up two words.

  “Yes, we can do Tee shirts and long shorts. Damn, what color? Anything but blue. We have some green and put on the logo with silk screen in black ink. I know a printer. Shorts, shorts. I think we have some green ones, if not we’ll get some from the uniform and wardrobe section. I better get busy. You said eighteen hundred.”

  “Yes, Sergeant. And what is your name?”

  “Halverson, sir.”

  “Good. Sergeant Halverson. Have them ready by eighteen hundred.” Quinn looked at Tran. “Tran, you and Ho stay here and shepherd this through. See you back at the barracks with the goods.”

  “Aye, aye, Mr. Quinn.”

  When Quinn left the building, the sergeant shook his head. “Holy shit, who is that man? Who are you guys?”

  “Just a G.I. trying to get his job done, Sergeant. The uniforms?”

  The rest of the morning the platoon drew ammo and chose hide outs that would be strapped to their ankles. There were only three foreign made models in the arsenal. After kicking around the benefits and drawbacks of each, the platoon chose the H&K HK4, a 9mm model with eight rounds in the magazine.

  “I like it,” Beth said. “It just fits my hand and the recoil can’t be all that great. How many magazines do we get with each pistol?”

  They settled on two mags, since it would be an emergency weapon and not for sustained shooting. The pistol was about half the weight of the other hand gun.

  Chief Lawrence chose a H&K MP-5 submachine gun for Soc Ho. He figured the big man would like it. He took four extra magazines for it.

  They used the pickup Quinn still had to haul the ammo back to the barracks. They had brought their weapons, the H&K sniper, the H&K MP-5, and the H&K 21A1 machine gun in 7.62 NATO round. Six times the normal ammo draw for their combat vests and for the MG belts of rounds made the springs on the pickup sag.

  Right after chow served to them in their barracks by a mobile kitchen, the troops took another Korean language session. Some of the men caught on quickly, others were plodding. Most hoped they never had to use the language at all.

  “You get in a tight spot knowing just a few words of Korean could save your skin,” the instructor told them. He was Korean and spoke English perfectly. “Now, we’ll have a little role playing. I want two men up here who aren’t too good with the language.”

  Quinn watched for a while, and then took a pickup ride to the base Commander’s office. It was a courtesy call he should have made the first day they arrived. He’d been too busy.

  The Air Force one star General nodded curtly at Quinn when a pretty first lieutenant announced him.

  “Yes, Mr. Quinn. Heard you would be here. So far you haven’t disrupted my work too much. Are you getting everything that you need?”

  “Yes, general. Lots of cooperation. We’ll be out of your hair here in less than twenty-four.”

  “Whatever you need. I’ve had my orders right from the top. You can have anything you want on base outside of a nuclear weapon.”

  “It’s running well, General. Right now we’re waiting for seventeen soccer uniforms, then we’ll be set.”

  The general frowned. “Soccer uniforms. From the tailor shop.” He shook his head. I don’t know what you’re doing, and I don’t want to know. Best of luck in your operation.”

  “Thank you, General. I’ll be around a few more days, but our men will be moving out tomorrow. Thanks for the help.”

  Quinn almost saluted, refrained and turned and walked out the door. Top brass like that still made him nervous. Made him think that he was till a lowly corporal and scared spit less whenever any officer over the rank of first lieutenant looked his way.

  The language class ended at fifteen hundred and Hunter had them put on their combat vests with full ammo load and their assigned weapons for a hike. Chief Chapman dug out a spare combat vest for Beth and gave her a MP-5 he had picked up at the armory for her. She went on the march with the rest of them.

  They double timed around the perimeter of the base fence for a mile, and then settled into a ground eating march that took them another six miles before they came back to the barracks.

  “I feel like I’m in training for another Iron woman Triathlon,” Beth said. “Only no swimming.”

  The chow had been delayed until they got back and had their showers, then they ate. Tran and Soc Ho came back half way through the meal, each carrying a big bundle of uniforms, half of them packaged in waterproof plastic.

  Quinn ate quickly, and then called the embassy. He talked with Chalmers, a journalist coordinator at the embassy and also the head CIA man in Korea.

  “Quinn, good to hear from you. A signal said you would be in the area. Everything moving along for you?”

  “All in place, so far. How are my eleven Korean friends doing? Did they all get their passports and are they scheduled to fly out for the States yet?”

  “Small hold up at Immigration, but they should be cleared by tomorrow. Then they’ll fly out the next day. An interesting group but I have no need to know who or what they are. Let me know if you need anything, like a good steak dinner.”

  “Doing fine here. Checked in with the general, so I have that deed done. Take care of those eleven Koreans. They have done our country a high priority service.”

  “Done and done. Call me again before you leave.”

  Quinn’s next call went to Commander Vuylsteke who was in the BOQ waiting for his alert.

  “Commander, we’ve put all the pieces together. How long will it take you to steam up to China?”

  “We plotted it out and we’ll need about eight hours. Hunter said he wanted to cast off at 2300 in the IBS, so we should be getting under way from the dock at fourteen hundred. I’ll have two Seahawks here on the pad at thirteen thirty to transport your men and equipment to my ship.”

  “Sounds good, Commander. That’s for tomorrow. We’ll see your Seahawks here at the chopper pad at thirteen-thirty.”

  Quinn told the SEALs the schedule. They had been wearing one set of their North Korean clothes all day. Quinn called over Soc Ho.

  “Check out the clothes. If anything will look strange in the north, take the man back to the uniform store and get something that will pass muster.”

  Ho grinned. “Okay, okay. Right now.” He worked the room, watching the men as they cleaned weapons and checked their combat vests. They would wear them under the loose fi
tting North Korean shirts. Ho found two outfits that he didn’t like. He showed Quinn.

  “Do it tomorrow, too late tonight.”

  “Yes yes, tomorrow.”

  Beth Darby walked over to Hunter’s bunk and frowned at him.

  He looked up. “Hey, just thought about it. You don’t have to wear a combat vest if it’s too….too tight.”

  She laughed. “That embarrassed you. It’s no problem. I’m not that busty to cause a problem.”

  “They look fine to me.”

  “Yeah, thanks. That’s what my two older brothers told me when they tried to catch me naked when we were growing up. They never did. Can we talk?”

  “Sit down; just keep one foot on the floor.”

  “I’ve heard that one before, too.” She turned more serious. “What are our odds of our making it out to the coast for a pick up?”

  “Damn good. I’d say twenty to one we get there.”

  “The NK’s are not going to be happy when we blow that first bomb.”

  “True, then our real test starts. We’ll have to fight our way to the next stop.”

  “What if we get a KIA?”

  “We take him out with us. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

  “Including me?”

  “Especially you.” He shrugged. “Hey, I’m not worried about you. You did well on the range with both weapons. You’ll love the MP-5.”

  “May I speak frankly?”

  “Please do.”

  “I’m a little scared, like a lot. I’ve never been in a combat situation before. Sure I play with live nukes. That would scare the panties off lots of tough men. That I’m used to. Getting shot at isn’t.”

  “We won’t have to worry about that for three or four more days. Then we take it as it comes.”

  “Hey, I’ve never shot at anyone before. I’ve never killed anybody. Will I be able to do it if the time comes?”

  “The best way to think about it is it’s either him dumped by the side of the road with three rounds in his heart, or it’s me dead and rotting in that same ditch. Him or me. If it comes to that, you’ll vote for yourself every time. Don’t worry about it. Probably never happen. If it does, you’ll do fine.”

  Soft blue eyes had narrowed and she gave a sigh. “I hope to hell that I will.” She looked away, and when she looked back she had a hint of a grin. “How do you like my new hairdo?”

  Hunter laughed. “Forever female. Yes, it is right, it fits in and you won’t have to worry about keeping hair under cover. And I like your sleek, slender figure. You’re still all girl even though you’re dressed like a SEAL and doing a man’s job. Begging the commander’s pardon. I sometimes forget that you outrank me.”

  “Not on this mission, Hunter. You’re the boss. No rank here. I like that. What’s for tomorrow?”

  More language lessons. Then a short hike, some chow, a required nap, and out to the chopper pad at thirteen thirty.”

  She stood. “Thanks, Hunter. See you in the morning.” She walked through the row of bunks down to the room at the far end. The door even had a lock. She saw it was a bolt that evidently had been installed for her benefit. She paused and looked back at the SEALs. Girl, what have you let yourself in for? The President says he needs a favor and you jump at the chance. Now all you have to do is try to stay alive for the next week or so. Oh, and blow up two nukes on the way.

  She went in the room and closed the door. She didn’t push the bolt. She thought about Lieutenant Hunter. He was a good looking guy, and nice. She liked him. Maybe after they got back here from North Korea she could invite him out to dinner. She’d have to think about that. For right now it was getting the job done, completing the mission. First things first.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning spun past so fast that Hunter hardly could keep up with it. They had noon chow at the barracks and then got ready for their thirteen thirty takeoff. They loaded the pickup with the drag bags filled with weapons and ammo, then lined up for the bus that would take them out to the chopper pad. It squatted on the far side of the airport away from the runways. When the bus arrived, two Seahawk SH-60’s sat there side by side waiting.

  They loaded half of the drag bags in each craft, and then piled in by squads. Both navy destroyer captains were on hand to get back to their ships. Quinn bustled around like a mother hen making sure everything was on board and secure. Then he gave the signal for the takeoff. The time was thirteen twenty-nine. Quinn liked that.

  Twenty minutes later they landed the first chopper on board the Decatur DG-73. It was an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. The bird unloaded and then took off to return to its mother ship the destroyer Laboon DG-58 which would remain in port. The second chopper came in and landed and the destroyer moved out of the port heading for south China.

  With the drag bags stowed in a nearby compartment, the SEALs checked over the IBSs, to be sure they were inflated correctly and that the outboard motors were working. Then they reported to bunks for a mandatory six hour sleep period.

  “We’re going to be up all night and all day tomorrow, so we tank up on sleep and food before we launch,” Hunter told the men. “You know the drill, pass out for six hours and we’ll be ready to go.”

  Hunter woke up at twenty two hundred and went topside. It was raining. He grinned. Nothing helped a covert landing at night like a good rainstorm. If there were any coast guards or coast watchers they would be blind by the rain. When he returned to the compartment where the men had sacked out, they were up, and had on their combat vests and Korean clothes. They double checked each other for the third time.

  Beth Darby moved over beside Hunter for a final check on her gear. She peered up from under a floppy hat and he saw nervous tension building all over her face.

  “Hey, you kill nukes, remember? A little thing like a night landing isn’t going to even faze you.”

  “I’ve never been all that friendly with boats,” she said. “Swimming is fine, but a boat is another story.”

  “You’ll be with me in Alpha’s boat. No sweat. Just sit down and hang on.” He grinned. “That MP-5 looks good on you. Think it might catch on with the society set in DC?”

  She shook her head and a small grin seeped across her nervous face. “Doubtful,” she said. “Extremely not going to happen.”

  Hunter looked at his wrist watch. “We move up the ladder in five minutes. Everyone ready?”

  “Hoo-yah!” the troops bellowed.

  Hunter looked at Beth who had joined in the yell.

  Ten minutes later they had loaded in the two IBSs. Alpha had one extra person and so did Bravo with Soc Ho. That with the extra ammo made the rubber boats ride lower in the water than usual. The rain had moderated to a concentrated drizzle and the SEAL were pleased about that.

  Hunter spoke to the personal water proof radio mike on his shoulder. “Net check Alpha.” He listened as the seven men called in, then Beth responded. “Bravo, net check.” The eight men chimed in and then belatedly, Soc Ho came on.

  “Forgot to ask, can Mr. Ho swim?” Hunter asked.

  “Swim like whale,” Ho said. “Slow but get there.”

  “Good. Let’s push off and start your motors.” The coxswains in each boat started the thirty five horsepower motors that could send them through the gentle chop at eighteen knots. But with the added load tonight they would settle for about twelve. Each coxswain held a light stick that when snapped in the center combined chemicals to give off a soft blue light. They would keep track of each other with the lights. The closer they got to shore the less they would use the lights.

  Hunter looked down at Beth who crowded against him in the bow of the fifteen foot long Zodiac.

  “Piece of cake,” he said softly to her.

  “Yeah? Just keep your powder dry, sailor.”

  The rain continued, coming in heavier slants now and then pushed by the on shore flow winds. The coxswains had compasses that they used to head directly east. The shoreline was still ten miles away and
they could see no lights.

  A half hour later the coxswain passed the word to Hunter that they were half way there.

  Beth let out a small groan. “Only half way? I’m wet all the way through right down to my navel. I’m also freezing. Did I sign on for this?”

  “In a half hour you’ll be wet all the way to your eyelashes when we swim for the beach.”

  “Oh, damn. I’m bitching like a girl. Not much of a SEAL so far. Give me a few hours and I’ll be gung ho. Do people still say that? I think it came from the Chinese.”

  “People say it, we do it,” Hunter said.

  Hunter hit his shoulder mike. “We have four drag bags for each boat. The bags have air pouches that will help them float. We’ll be on the surface going in. Be sure each squad knows who has the drag bag. Change off if you wish. Bravo, do you read?”

  “Bravo here, that’s a Roger. We’re all set.”

  Ten minutes later Tran wedged up toward Hunter.

  “Hey, Cap. I’ve got surf noise coming in. We can’t be more than a quarter of a mile off the sand.”

  “Whoever is nearest the coxswain ask him if we’re within a quarter of the beach.”

  Sanborn replied. “Yeah, Cap. He says another two minutes. We’ve been on five mph for the last three miles. He says get ready to launch.”

  “Roger that, Sanborn. Sound off in Alpha who has the drag bags.

  “Lawrence one.”

  “Walden, I have one.”

  “Chang and Tanner have the other two.”

  “Sanborn, give me the word when the coxswain is ready.”

  “He says now, Cap. We launch now.”

  “Overboard everyone. Stay together and let’s take a swim to the sand.”

  Beth waved, kicked her feet over the side of the rubber boat and slid into the water with the MP-5 strapped to her back. Hunter waited until the last man slid over, then he went into the water and headed for shore. They swam the crawl stroke. No reason for quiet or low splash here. The rain kept falling. Hunter had trouble spotting all of the swimmers, but pushed ahead. He came on one man with a drag bag and took it and swam side stroke. The bag was about half submerged.