by Dale Brown
“No chance that missile came from China?”
“Unlikely, sir. Same for the others. Their trajectory is too low for such short range… One moment, sir… Sir, we are receiving reports of a chemical weapons detonation three kilometers northeast of Tonghae. Estimate a Vx nerve gas attack.”
“Poison gas?” Kwon gasped. “It cannot be! Against Pusan? Where are the winds blowing?”
“From the north, sir… Sir, the release may have hit well east of the Kyejwan Mountains,” Park went on, trying not to distract himself with the enormity of the death and destruction in one of his country’s most beautiful cities. “The mountains may have protected Pusan from serious damage.” Most of Pusan was located inside a mountainous bowl — the name “Pusan” means “cauldron”—and it was possible that the mountains, some rising as high as three thousand feet, might have diverted the deadly nerve toxins. But if they blew in and settled past the mountains, they would be trapped inside the bowl and their effects would linger.
“Casualty estimates there?” But the president already knew the answer. Pusan had a population of about four million; the Tonghae district, about a quarter of a million.
Kwon Ki-chae felt the fury rise in his throat. It was very probably a miss, but targeting Pusan was an attack not against Korea’s military or government, but against its economic center. Pusan was an international port city, like San Francisco or Rio de Janeiro, situated on a natural and beautiful harbor. Preferred as an international port of call rather than a military port complex, it never had much of a military presence — it was never occupied by the Communists during the war, like Seoul. It was Korea’s largest port and second largest city, with a vibrant international trade, over twenty foreign consulates, mild weather, and friendly, hardworking citizens. Its population was packed in between the sea and the mountains, a relatively small area, which made a nerve agent attack that much more deadly. As much as attacking the capital itself, targeting Pusan was a bloodthirsty blow against the people and an attempt to chop off Korea’s economic lifelines to the rest of the world.
“This is General Kim,” Defense Minister Kim Kun-mo said, cutting into the conversation. “I am sorry, sir, but I asked to be patched in by the communications center. Are you safe, sir? Have you taken shelter?”
“I’m fine for now, General,” Kwon said. They heard his voice and the background noise change, as if he was maneuvering through a crowded room to a more private place — no doubt his secret service agents were clearing a path for him. “General, do you realize we have almost used up all of our Patriot missiles? We still have Hawks to protect against aircraft, but we are defenseless against any more ballistic missiles. We need to find those rebels. We need to locate all the missing ballistic missiles before the capital is in ashes!”
“Sir, we cannot say for certain whether the missiles were launched from inside our country or whether they were launched by Communist rebels,” Kim said. “To me, it appears more likely this is the work of the Chinese. They could have brought mobile ballistic missiles into our country to launch from our own soil, just to confuse us. The threat is from China, sir, not from some ghostly rebels. We should retaliate at once against the Chinese forces arrayed against us.”
“Excuse me, General; I was told the evidence suggests that the missiles did not come from China.”
“Are we positive of this, sir?” Kim asked excitedly. “Are you sure those were not Chinese rockets? How can you explain a launch against Japan? Had you ever heard about the Communists targeting Japan?”
“No,” Kwon admitted. The North did once launch one of its early Nodong-1 rockets over Japan, but there had never been any evidence that the Communists ever seriously considered Japan a threat.
“Sir, I suggest we launch an attack that will deter the Chinese from attempting any more missile attacks on Korea: draw a line back along those missiles’ flight path into China. Pick a military base or airfield, preferably one where we know missiles or attack aircraft are based. Then attack it with several of the captured Communist missiles with conventional warheads.”
“General, this sounds extraordinarily dangerous,” Kwon said. “If China should retaliate, the capital could be destroyed within minutes. Chinese troops could easily swarm across the border and occupy the northern half of the peninsula before we could respond.”
“Sir, elements of the Eleventh Corps have been deployed to Changbai, just north of the border near Hyesan,” Kim said, referring to a map placed before him by his aides. “Approximately thirty thousand troops along a forty-mile front, tank-heavy. Reinforced with air assets from their parent corps at Linjiang, but generally fairly isolated. If they moved south, however, they would be expected to cut off half of Yanggang Do province and all of Hamgyong Pukdo province with ease. The Chinese built a nuclear reactor southwest of Hyesan, and it has long been suspected of being a possible weapons-grade material breeder. This unit lies roughly along the reverse flight path of the rocket aimed at Japan.”
“So? What would be the deterrent factor in such an attack, General?” Kwon asked. “Will killing several thousand Chinese troops make our borders any safer? Do you think that China will not be sending in more reinforcements, every one of them howling mad at us for killing their brothers?”
“Sir, the concept of deterrence says you must demonstrate the willingness to use war to achieve your objectives,” General Kim said. “Having weapons of mass destruction is not enough — we must demonstrate our willingness to use them. This is our opportunity.”
“But against China? If they invaded our territory, perhaps…”
“We are not certain they did not do this!” Kim argued. “It is more likely than not they did launch this attack, as a probe to test our resolve if nothing else. But even aside from that, China is indeed massing troops on our northern border. That is a certainty. These events may be tied together, or they may not. But one thing is certain: we must act. We have a legitimate target. We should act, Mr. President!”
There was a long pause; then: “How do you suggest we respond, Kun-mo?”
“A chemical weapons barrage, sir,” Kim replied immediately. “It should be large enough to do great damage, but not enough to trigger a drastic retaliation or risk spreading to Korean territory. No nuclear weapons, unless the Chinese retaliate — we should not show our entire hand right away.”
“General Kim,” Kwon gasped, “did I hear you say you are recommending a chemical weapons attack… against China?”
“Sir, they have launched a chemical attack on us — we must respond with equal force,” Kim argued. “Besides, they have almost fifty thousand troops poised to attack us right now. There are no other weapons we can use short of nuclear weapons to stop them.”
“Kim, listen to yourself!” Kwon shouted. “You are recommending mass murder! I will never agree to this unless our country is faced with imminent annihilation! Never! Now, give me another recommendation, and do it quickly!”
Kim Kun-mo shook his head in exasperation. “The chances of success are far worse, sir, unless we—”
“General, give me another recommendation now, or turn in your resignation!”
Kim swore under his breath, thought for a moment, then said, “Some of our short-and medium-range missiles are armed with fuel-air explosives, designed to clear minefields with overpressure — it creates a devastating punch in a relatively small area. I suggest we use weapons such as these, augmented with high-explosive or cluster munitions.”
There was silence at the other end of the phone.
“Sir, we can call an emergency meeting of the cabinet,” Kim suggested. “We can do it over the phone, or we can have you transported to the capital. We can wait—”
“We are talking about killing thousands of Chinese troops, General!” Kwon snapped. “Don’t you think this requires a little consideration?”
“Sir, killing a few thousand Chinese troops is nowhere near an adequate punishment for the potential deaths of four million citizens
of Pusan,” Kim said.
There was more silence. In the background, Kim could feel the terror permeating the subway station and wondered what it would be like to die by chemical or biological weapons poisoning. Dead was dead, true, but would it not truly be more humane to die quickly, by a nuclear or fuel-air explosive burst, than die slowly, painfully, from the very air you breathe?
“Yes, I want the attack to proceed, on my direct orders,” President Kwon Ki-chae said resolutely. “I take full responsibility for the consequences. The attack will commence against the Chinese forces you outlined immediately.”
* * *
The attack was swift, concentrated, and deadly. A salvo of thirty Scud-A short-range rockets was fired from Kangwon Do province south of the burned-out area of Wonsan, and Hwanghae Pukdo province near Songnim, south of Pyongyang. Each Scud-A rocket carried a small nonnuclear warhead weighing a little over one thousand pounds — but the warhead was one of the most devastating nonnuclear devices in the world.
Called a fuel-air explosive, the weapon was simply three bomblets filled with high-energy rocket fuel with an explosive detonator. As the warheads descended toward their targets, the bomblets were ejected one by one and descended via a small stabilizing parachute. An electronic fuse cracked them open, allowing the fuel to mix with air and disperse into a fine mist, and then the cloud was ignited by a small explosive charge. The resulting explosion was hundreds of times more powerful than its equivalent size in TNT, creating a fireball, a shock wave, and a mushroom cloud similar to a small nuclear detonation.
Anything aboveground within one hundred feet of the explosion was instantly incinerated; any unprotected human within one hundred and fifty feet was killed or suffered massive burns. The explosions devastated the Chinese forces garrisoned or bivouacked in the Changbai area, and fires broke out in the town itself, sending thousands of civilians fleeing their homes.
Of the more than thirty thousand troops in the area, nearly five thousand lost their lives instantly; another eight thousand suffered massive burns and other injuries. Death would come mercifully only to some of them; for many others, the agony would continue on for weeks, even months. Doctors would soon become mercy killers.
* * *
As had been the procedure since the end of the Korean War, either the president, the new vice president, or the prime minister had to man an underground command center during military alerts or times of crisis. Korean Vice President Pak Chung-chu, the former first vice president of North Korea, was in the Osan military command center with Minister of Defense Kim. Pak was watching in fascination and shock as the attack against the Chinese infantry commenced.
“When… when will we know how many casualties there are?” Pak asked.
“In Pusan? In Tonghae?”
“Linjiang, the Chinese troops along the border. The ones you are firebombing.”
“You care more about the Chinese invaders than you do our own people, Mr. Vice President?” Kim asked derisively. “What is this infection of cowardice spreading through Government House these days? What is going on with you politicians? You all want to roll over and play dead.”
“Don’t be an ignorant pig-fucker, General,” Pak retorted. “I want to see Korea protected from invasion as much as you!”
“Then why don’t some of you damned politicians ever show it?”
“If this politician recalls correctly, you are a damned politician,” Pak pointed out.
“In name only, Mr. Vice President — in name only.” Kim looked at Pak for a moment, then nodded as if recognizing something in the vice president’s face. “You were a military man yourself, if I remember correctly — Navy, right?”
“Correct,” Pak said. “Moved from commanding a bilge in a little coastal patrol vessel to commanding the Yellow Sea fleet.”
“Sent a few Communist commandos into the South, I’ll bet.”
“Seventeen sorties in two years. Lost only one minisub and nine men. The Korean People’s Army was much better then — and your forces were much worse. What is this all about, General?”
“Then you know what I’m talking about, sir,” Kim said. “You know better than all of us that we cannot appear weak to the Communists, or they’ll crush us. We have to say what we mean and act on it. Do you agree?”
“I have always said we should negotiate from a position of strength, yes,” Pak said. “You have something on your mind, General? Spit it out.”
“Do you think we should be tougher on China? Do you think we should be content with firing a few gasoline bombs into their encampments…”
“Fuel-air explosives are not exactly gasoline bombs, and you know it,” Pak pointed out.
“… or should we be targeting their air bases, their rear-echelon maintenance and logistics bases, and especially their command and control facilities, with special weapons? That’s exactly what they tried to strike in Korea — and then added Pusan for good measure!”
“We still have not proved it was the Chinese who launched those attacks,” Pak pointed out. “I agree that targeting the infantry at Linjiang is a good idea and a good preemptive strike, but don’t try to paint this as a retaliatory strike. The Chinese probably didn’t attack Pusan, and you know it.”
“But China is the adversary! They need to fear us as they fear Russia and the United States. And the only way to force that is to strike at them with weapons of mass destruction. Don’t you agree?”
“I agree that if we promise to use weapons of mass destruction if we are invaded, then yes, we should use them,” Vice President Pak said. “The deterrence factor doesn’t work if you don’t deliver what you promise or threaten. And if China indeed attacked Pusan and the other cities, then yes, we should retaliate similarly. But President Kwon was correct not to use special weapons now! Why on earth did you push to launch a chemical weapons attack before we have all the facts?”
“Because acting timidly never works,” Kim said. “If we are attacked, we retaliate, swiftly and powerfully. We need to be able to do that. But with Kwon, we may never be able to do it. The one problem we military leaders face is that all too often, war is left to the politicians, to men like Kwon Ki-chae.”
“President Kwon is a great man, a great leader!”
“But he tempers his military decisions with political calculations that have nothing to do with the strategic or tactical realities,” Kim said quickly. “A perfect example is the employment of our special weapons. With one-half of the necessary execution codes in Kwon’s hands, we are all but assured that we will never get to use them. That is a monumental tragedy for our country, is it not?”
“I get it. I understand now,” Pak said. “You want the codes. If the president balks at giving you authority to launch the next time, you want to be able to do it anyway. Correct?”
“If I did truly believe that Kwon would launch a nuclear attack against China if the time came, I would never suggest such a thing,” Kim said. “But I cannot say that. I truly believe Kwon would hesitate — in fact, I think he has absolutely no intention of ever firing or even testing a special weapon. He would call an emergency cabinet or National Security Council meeting, perhaps even put it before the leadership in the legislature — but in the end, he would never do it.”
“But you think I would.”
“I know you would,” Kim said resolutely. “Look what you have sacrificed to be standing here now. You would not want to see the Chinese march through Pyongyang or Seoul again, as I’m sure you have seen once before. I don’t think the Chinese would deal with you very gently.”
“How perceptive of you,” Pak said with an exasperated grumble. But he knew it was so. Pak Chung-chu had been a trusted member of the Communist Party in both North Korea and China. He had burned a major bridge behind him when he burned that party identification booklet. It was a formidable act not just of defiance, but of treason to the state — the Chinese would never let him live to forget it. “So. What is it you want to do? Assassinate him?”<
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“Don’t be an idiot,” Kim said — but Pak could see his eyes burning with excitement, and he thought, Yes, that’s exactly what you want me to do. “But you can get the codes from him. You have joint custody of the codes.”
“I only have them if the president is incapacitated, out of the country, out of communication with the command center, or voluntarily chooses to turn responsibility over to me for whatever reason,” Pak said. “I do not ‘jointly’ control them.
“Nonetheless, you want me to march into Kwon’s office someday — perhaps someday soon—and get the codes from him using whatever means or justification I care to invent or use. Correct?”
“You act so damn self-righteous about this,” Kim said irritably. “I am not talking about treason — I’m talking about defending our country, our homeland. You certainly understand that.”
“And because I betrayed President Kim Jong-il, I am somehow predisposed or more willing to do it again to President Kwon Ki-chae, is that it?”
“Dammit, you are impossible!” Kim exploded. “You know what I’m saying!”
“I want you to say it, General Kim,” Pak snapped. “Make no mistake — we are talking treason. We are talking about a violent, illegal overthrow of the legally elected government. We deserve to die at the hands of the people for what we are talking about doing.
“But it so happens, General, that I agree with you. Kwon will never use the weapons we possess. We would then all be overrun and crushed by China, and persons like myself, former citizens of North Korea and especially former Communist Party members, would surely die.
“What I want from you, General, is your word. If it is done, if we betray Kwon, take the codes, retaliate against whatever enemy we face, and somehow survive, I want your word that you will do everything in your power to support me as president of United Korea. I will in turn support you as vice president.”
“I’ll do better than that,” Kim said. He pulled out a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and wrote and signed a message on it. “It’s in writing now, Mr. Vice President. Will you do the same for me?”