Battle Born

by Dale Brown

"It's probably all related to the Team Spirit exercise," Plank said, but she could hear worry in his voice. "Lots of coded communications traffic that our military guys couldn't decode-if it was part of the exercise, I'd think we would be able to decipher that. But it's what we're not getting that's just as interesting as what we're getting."

  "Which is?"

  "Which is nothing much from North Korea," Plank said. "Every South Korean military base is jabbering away using a new code, lots of activity everywhere including lots of activity from units not involved in Team Spirit-but nothing from the North. Usually, the activity between the two is the same-one starts talking, the other reports it, the other reports that report, the other makes new reports, and so on until it finally subsides. Now South Korea's comm traffic has substantially increased, but the North is virtually silent. Only simple 'ops-normal' messages from their command centers. A few units belonging to First Corps on the move here and there, nothing big. Just unusually quiet."

  "Well, everything seems to be 'ops-normal' around here," Whiting said, looking around the observation room and trying to make sense of all the data displayed on the large computer monitors. She shook her head and gave up. "Anything else, Paramedic?"

  "Have you seen President Kwon yet?"

  "I'm not scheduled to meet with him until later," Whiting replied irritably. "He wanted to give a little pep talk to some of his troops before the big mass takeoff. General Park has been showing me around."

  "Can you let me know when President Kwon arrives?"

  This was quite enough. "Listen, Paramedic, I'm not in the mood for playing spy for you today. Everything looks normal around here. I'll tell you as soon as possible if I notice anything unusual."

  At that moment, the door to the staff observation room was flung open, and the U.S. Marine guard, stunned but apparently not badly hurt, was pushed inside. Several South Korean soldiers rushed in after him, M-16 rifles at the ready.

  PEOPLE'S ARMY BASE,

  SUNAN, DEMOCRATIC PEOPLE'S

  REPUBLIC OF KOREA

  THAT SAME TIME

  Why is that train stopped?" Colonel Cho Mun-san shouted. "Never mind, I don't care why. I want it moved within the next ten minutes or I will get some soldiers in here who can. Now move!" But even more black smoke poured out from under the locomotive pulling Unit Twenty, and Colonel Cho renewed his furious tirade each time another officer crossed his path.

  It was not the first time Captain Kong Hwan-li had ever seen a Nodong-1 missile up close, but it always thrilled him to be so close to his country's ultimate weapon. Although the missile was still in its canister in rail-march configuration, Kong could sense its power.

  Unlike the missile he had been trained on, the old exSoviet 8K14 Scud-B, the Nodong-1 was North Korea's first truly accurate land-attack ballistic nuclear missile. The FROG series rockets were unguided spin-stabilized weapons; the Scud series used simple gyroscopes, little more than toys, to keep the missiles pointed at their targets. Neither missile had an accuracy better than a thousand meters, and most times they were lucky to have it hit within two or three miles.

  Not so the Nodong-1. It had a true inertial navigation system, which used computer-controlled accelerometers to actually sense the motion of the earth to help improve its accuracy. In fact, the warhead of the Nodong-1 had a better stabilization and steering mechanism than the most modern Scud model. Although the Nodong was still a liquid-fueled rocket, like the Scud, it used less corrosive and more stable propellants and was easier to service in the field. The Nodong-1 was carried aboard a railcar, loosely disguised to look like a standard commercial cargo container. A single locomotive pulled the launch car, a reload car that carried two more missiles, a maintenance car, a command car, and a security car.

  Captain Kong marveled at the Nodong's simple yet elegant design. He had trained on the Nodong-1 back at Cheung-son, North Korea's nuclear development and training base, before he got his new assignment to Fourth Artillery Division headquarters. North Korea was developing even more powerful rockets, like the Daepedong-2-a rocket that could hit targets in North America with a fifty-kiloton nuclear warhead-but the Nodong was currently their best deterrence against capitalist aggression.

  Unfortunately, this particular unit was not performing well at all. All of the Nodong rail units were assembled inside a huge covered shelter, along with a number of decoy units that were sent out onto the commercial rail system all at once. But just as Unit Twenty had cleared the shelter, a brake booster system failed. Trains were not easy things to stop once they got started. It was deemed too dangerous to try to back the unit into the shelter if the brakes were inoperative, and it would take several minutes to get another locomotive hooked up. So this unit was now exposed to the world, available for any enemy reconnaissance or surveillance satellite passing overhead to get a good look.

  In fact, it appeared that most of the missile units deployed over the past few hours had irritating minor problems, which really disturbed Kong. Normally, the men of Fourth Artillery Division were the best of the best. Over the past several months, however, the quality of their performance had markedly decreased. Of course, morale was already at an all-time low because of the poor economy. While the military usually got the best, far better than the civilian population, these days even the elite units were suffering. This meant morale was bound to suffer still more, even among the best-trained and most highly motivated troops. This was the absolutely worst possible time to suffer a malfunction like the one they were witnessing.

  "Weaklings," Kong muttered. A bunch of malcontent soldiers bellyaching about not being paid. The People's Army provided the best the country could offer. Everyone had to make sacrifices. Didn't they realize who was responsible for the shortages and poverty? The capitalists in South Korea were deliberately sucking the life out of the North, to weaken it enough to make an attack easier and less bloody. How could the People's Army soldiers not want to do their part to save their homeland-to strike back at those who were responsible for their families' pain and hardship?

  At last another locomotive appeared outside the thick steel security gate. There were not enough rail sidings to move the malfunctioning locomotive out of the way, so Kong assumed the new one would simply be hooked up to the existing engine and go on its way. He pulled out his walkie-talkie and keyed the mike button. "Taepung, this is Seven," Kong radioed, using Colonel Cho's call sign. Taepung meant "typhoon." "I request permission to go to Unit Twenty to inquire about the new engine. I shall report to you what I find."

  "Proceed," Colonel Cho responded. "Report back to me in five minutes."

  "No, Taepung," Kong replied, and hurried over to the command car to talk with the battery commander. But when he was just a few meters away from the command car, Kong slowed, then stopped. Something was wrong here. There were no guards on duty. Thirty security guards were assigned to each Nodong battery, and four of them were assigned to patrol outside the command car while it was stopped. What in blazes was going on here? He sped over to the entry hatch and, as he reached it, heard several gunshots from inside.

  Kong pulled his walkie-talkie from its holster and shouted, "Gunshots! Gunshots! Inside the command car!"

  Just then the heavy steel entry hatch to the command car swung open, and several security guards and technicians jumped outside. One of them was shouting gleefully, "Freedom! Freedom!"

  "What are you men doing?" Kong yelled. "Why aren't you on duty?"

  One of the guards shouted at him, "Don't try to stop us now, lackey!" raised a pistol, and fired at Kong. He flinched as he felt the bullet whiz by his left shoulder, spun around, and threw himself on the muddy ground. He reached for his holster, finally controlling his trembling fingers enough to lift the flap and pull out his Type 68 automatic pistol. But the soldiers were long gone by the time he raised the pistol to return fire. Or had he moved slowly on purpose, hoping the security guards would think the shot had wounded him and leave? He didn't want to think he had been cowardly . .
, no. He was alive, and that was the most important thing.

  "Attention! Attention!" Kong radioed on the walkie-talkie. "There has been an attack on Unit Twenty's command car! All security forces, seal off the area and allow no one to leave or enter! Taepung, Taepung, please report to the Unit Twenty command car!"

  Pistol raised, Kong made his way to the command car. It was wide open and completely unguarded. Cautiously, he made his way inside. There was a small chamber inside the outer hatch, big enough for two or three men. This was the chemical/biological warfare air lock and decontamination chamber that would alternately spray a soldier with decontamination fluid and then blow his body with compressed air to remove traces of toxins or radioactive fallout. He was shocked to see that the inner hatch was open too. Even after what had just happened to him, all Kong could think about was how serious a breach of security and anticontamination procedures this was-both hatches open while . . .

  He could smell it before he saw it in the gloom of the command module. It was the stench of violent death: the putrid smell of feces and urine, the coppery smell of fresh blood, all mixed with the acid smell of gunpowder. The battery commander, his deputy commander, his noncommissioned officer in charge, and the communications technician-all were dead, still in their seats, with bullet holes in the backs of their necks just under the edge of their helmets.

  "What in the name of heaven?" Colonel Cho shouted, arriving breathlessly at the command car, a Type 64 Browning pistol in his hand.

  "Traitors," Captain Kong said. "Traitors to their uniform and their fatherland. The security troops appear to have turned against us. They slaughtered the battery commander and the command car crew."

  "In the name of Tangun, help us," moaned Colonel Cho, invoking the name of the mythical warlord of ancient Korea.

  Kong saw he was frozen in confusion and said, "Sir, we must establish contact with the rest of the division immediately." He stooped down and retrieved large silver keys from around the commander's and deputy commander's necks. Thankfully, the traitors hadn't thought to remove the missile launch keys from their victims. He gave one to Cho, who held it the way a child holds a fuzzy caterpillar for the first time-both scared and fascinated. "This uprising could have been organized throughout the command," Kong warned. "We must make contact with as many missile batteries as possible and assess our operational status."

  "I ... I do not know . . . We must contact headquarters ..."

  "There is no time!" Kong shouted. "Our first priority is to preserve our missile batteries from the enemy, especially if the enemy is within our own ranks. We must contact the division."

  Cho seemed utterly bewildered. Kong ignored him and started dragging bodies out of the command car, shoving Cho out of his way as he did so. The colonel did not protest. When he finished the bloody task, Kong went back to the battery commander's seat and got on the scrambled command net: "To all Fourth Artillery Division batteries, to all Fourth Artillery Division batteries, this is Taepung." Again, there was no protest from Cho when he heard Kong use his call sign. "We have been attacked by traitors and spies. All brigades, report status."

  It took little time for the reports to filter in because very few units responded. Kong estimated he did not hear from one-half to two-thirds of all companies. He was stunned. More than 180 missile batteries, representing one-sixth of the offensive and defensive might of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, were off the air.

  Kong soon found out why. When he switched over to the division security net, which linked the security forces of all deployed missile units, he heard: "Now is the moment to rise against your oppressors, fellow Koreans! Brothers, strike now! Your comrades to the south are moving to join you in your struggle for freedom and unity, once and forever! The borders are open, comrades! There is no longer a Demilitarized Zone. Korea is free! Korea is one! Now strike! Rise up against any who oppose peace, freedom, and unity. Strike against any, no matter what uniform or title they wear, who continue to oppress and starve their own in the name of mindless ideology. Disable all weapons of mass destruction, carry your personal weapons for self-defense, and march on the capital and bring down the repressive outlaw regime once and for all! You are not alone! Hundreds of thousands of others throughout Korea are with you!"

  Captain Kong Hwan-li was horrified. Capitalist propaganda-right on the division's security network! He switched channels to Unit Twenty's brigade command net and heard the identical broadcast. To his astonishment, the message, obviously on a continuous-loop broadcast, was being sent over several communications networks, both secure and nonsecure.

  No . . , not a recorded message. Several times the message was interrupted by live broadcasts. Units he could identify, all within Fourth Division-even some officers whose voices he could recognize-were reporting that they had taken control of their companies or battalions and were disabling their weapons and moving toward Pyongyang. Hundreds-no, thousands-of soldiers were defecting. He heard no officers higher in rank than captain. Some of them bragged about killing Major this or Colonel that-battalion and brigade commanders. There was talk of moving on the capital . . .

  Kong shut off the radio. This was impossible. It had to be the South, somehow broadcasting propaganda messages on the secure division comm net and persuading the soldiers to defect or to desert their units en masse! Kong refused to believe that the soldiers were acting of their own free will, or in the hope that they might actually unify the peninsula. There had to be some hidden signal in the broadcast altering the men's minds, brainwashing them into actually killing a superior officer and leaving a nuclear or biochemical missile on the field.

  "What is happening, Captain?" Cho asked, as if awakening from a deep slumber.

  "The capitalists have somehow brainwashed our soldiers into believing the borders have been thrown wide open and they should kill all the commanders and storm the capital," Kong replied. "I heard reports that several high-ranking division officers were killed or imprisoned by the traitors."

  To Kong's surprise, the old colonel's shoulders started to quiver. "We must get away," he said, sounding on the verge of tears. "We .., we should take a civilian vehicle and . . . No, we should take a military vehicle, go cross-country, try to make it to the Ministry of Defense or to First Corps headquarters. We will find help there." In between sobs, Kong heard him mutter, "My name . . , my good name . . , what is to become of me? . . , my retirement ..."

  Kong was repelled. All the old fool could think about was his pension and his reputation-whether his name would be remembered, forgotten, revered, or defiled in the minds of future generations.

  "It might be dangerous to go to Pyongyang, sir," Kong said. It pained him to call this man "sir." Instead of commander of a twenty-thousand-man ballistic missile division, Cho had turned into a trembling, fearful old man. "If the reports of traitors marching on the capital are true, we won't make it. Our best bet is to try to head north, away from the capital, to Sinuiju or even Kanggye." Sinuiju was the capital of the province of Pyongan Pukdo; it was right on the Chinese border, and there, Kong reasoned, they would find plenty of support and help from Communist Party supporters and the Chinese Army itself. Kanggye was the capital of Chagang Do province and the headquarters of North

  Korea's nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons facilities, probably the most secure and defensible base in North Korea. "If we can find an all-terrain vehicle, we can stay off the roads in case we encounter more deserters."

  "Very well, Captain," Cho said. "Find us a suitable vehicle with fuel and weapons. And deal harshly with anyone who tries to stop you."

  Well, that was the first bit of backbone the old fart has shown in a long time. "Of course, sir," he said. "But first, we must deactivate the missiles. Unit Twenty has one missile in its erector-launcher and one reload; Unit Seventeen is just a few kilometers away. It will be easy to-"

  "No!" Cho shouted, his eyes spinning in fear. "We will leave right away!" "Sir, we must deactivate the Nodong missil
es," Kong said. "If this is part of an invasion, we cannot let our live missiles fall into enemy hands. That would be a complete disaster!" He saw Cho was going to continue arguing, so he quickly added, "Sir, all I have to do is activate the missile's thermal battery without processing a launch command. In just over five minutes, the battery will discharge, the missile's onboard computer will be rendered useless, and no one will be able to launch it. The battery cannot be recharged-the missile must be completely dismantled to charge the battery. Impossible to do in the field. It is the fastest way to keep a live missile out of enemy hands, so it cannot readily be used against us."

  Cho still looked dazed. Deciding to act, Kong jumped off the deck of the command car to head for the launcher. He heard a weak "Wait, Hwan!" behind him-the first time that he could remember* Colonel Cho using his given name-but kept moving. Gunshots cracked behind him. He hunched down automatically and dodged left toward the side of the command car for cover, then turned. The shots were coming from Colonel Cho-the idiot was shouting and firing at the sky! Kong couldn't tell what he was yelling over the noise of the gunshots and the roar of fighter jets . . .

  Fighter jets! Kong looked up to where Cho was blasting away just as a small, sleek, single-engine fighter roared overhead. To Kong's shock, it was not a Chinese or Soviet-made fighter-it was an American-made F-16 fighter-bomber! It was low enough for Kong to see it was heavily laden with all sorts of external weapons; he could make out two large fuel tanks, two large missiles, racks of smaller gravity weapons, smaller missiles on the wings, jammer pods or datalink pods under the fuselage, and smaller missiles on the wingtips. Seconds later several more F-16s that looked similarly equipped streaked by a few miles farther east. The jets were flying no more than a few thousand feet above the ground, but well out of range of Colonel Cho's futile pistol shots.

  Of course, Kong knew exactly what they were-they were well briefed on South Korean military hardware: F-16C/Js, the capitalists' newest and most formidable weapon system. Each one carried two antiradar missiles that would home in and destroy surface-to-air missilet-racking radars. They also carried cluster bombs to destroy the missile launchers or any other soft targets they might encounter. Once their air-to-ground weapons were expended, each F-16C/J could transform into an air superiority fighter, with its 20-millimeter cannon and two radar-guided and two heat-seeking air-to-air missiles. The fuel tanks gave the F-16 very good range and loiter time.