by Tom Carroll
USS Hawaii (SSN 776), Vicinity of Ulleungdo Island
The four Navy SEALs sat quietly in the Mk-11 Seal Delivery Vehicle (SDV) as the pilot and navigator (also Navy SEALs) conducted a series of tests using checklists to ensure that the submersible was ready to detach from the Hawaii. A Virginia-class fast attack submarine, Hawaii had a crew of over 130 and was the first commissioned vessel of its name. The Mk-11 SDV was a recent improvement over the earlier Mk-8 version, providing increased range and improved navigation, communication, and an added electro-optical periscope. The Mk-11’s electrical motors were powered by lithium-ion batteries and could propel the small submersible at more than five knots. All in all, it was considered an effortless way to travel compared to swimming while carrying weapons, ammunition, and heavy equipment.
The four special operators riding as passengers were members of a squad from SEAL Team THREE based in Coronado. The pilot and navigator were from SEAL Delivery Vehicle Team ONE stationed in Pearl Harbor. All six SEALs had endured over two years of brutal training to become members of one of the most elite fighting organizations in the world. The SEALs had been trained to operate in all environments — sea, air, and land — for which they are named. Proficient combat swimmers and parachutists, SEALs could operate efficiently and effectively in any region of the world.
Rather than breathe compressed air from SCUBA tanks, on this mission the SEALs used rebreathers, which were closed-circuit systems that ran on 100 percent oxygen filtered through the device that removed carbon dioxide from their exhaled air. Because rebreathers didn’t emit the air bubbles associated with more traditional SCUBA equipment, they were much preferred for covert missions. Instead of wearing the more commonly used wet suits which allow some water to enter the suit and then become heated by the diver’s body, the SEALs used the much warmer dry suits that didn’t allow any water to touch the diver. The men wore insulating undergarments, which enabled them to retain body heat.
When the last systems check was completed, the SDV pilot contacted the Hawaii to request permission to launch and commence the next phase of the mission: to find and disable the underwater telecommunications cable that connected Ulleungdo Island to the Korean mainland.
U.S. Marine Corps Air Station Iwakuni, Japan
Two huge Boeing CH-47G Chinook helicopters were positioned in a remote corner of Marine Corps Air Station Iwakuni after being wheeled out of a large aircraft hangar. The two U.S. Army Chinooks were identical to the other aircraft in the squadron, except they had now been painted to look exactly like South Korean Army helicopters, including tail numbers and squadron insignia. The transformation was remarkably successful; the twin-rotor aircraft didn’t look like any other helicopters in the sky, and their Korean markings made the deception complete. The large Boeing Chinooks were basically lifting machines, capable of carrying up to 33 fully equipped combat troops or 20,000 pounds of cargo. A design that first flew in the early 1980s, the Chinooks could fly at over 175 miles per hour with an unrefueled range of more than 400 miles.
In the lead aircraft, eight men who were dressed in the uniform of the South Korean Marines sat with their backs against the helicopter’s fuselage as the machine rapidly ascended and headed for the target drop zone. All team members checked and then double-checked their gear as well as that of the Sailor to their left. A low altitude parachute jump on a dark night didn’t leave much room for error. A simple miscalculation or equipment failure could mean injury — or worse.
Master Chief Special Warfare Operator and squad leader Jim Farrell tugged on his parachute harness and then checked the safety on his 5.56 mm K1A submachine gun, ensuring that the weapon was ready for the jump. He wasn’t particularly familiar with the weapon used by the ROK Marines, but like all SEALs, Jim Farrell was a small-arms expert. He scanned the other members of his team to be sure they were checking their gear, paying particular attention to the two attachments sitting across from him. One Sailor, EOD Technician First Class Michael Buckley, was assigned because of his skill in safely handling biological weapons. The second team attachment was Cryptologic Technician - Interpretive Second Class George Telemann, who could verbally communicate with any South Koreans they might encounter. The Master Chief then looked at the SEAL sitting next to him, Petty Officer Doug Kim, and thought it ironic that Kim’s grandfather had emigrated to the U.S. from Seoul, yet Doug couldn’t speak a word of Korean.
When the first warning light illuminated, the eight operators stood up and shuffled their way to the rear of the helicopter, where the jumpmaster waited for them. After they checked one another for a final time, the jumpmaster opened the rear loading ramp, significantly lowering the cabin temperature.
On the jumpmaster’s command, they walked down the ramp and stepped silently into the dark and frigid night. After closing the ramp, the jumpmaster then asked the pilot to radio the command center that the SEALs had been dropped. The two Chinooks rendezvoused with a KC-130 Hercules tanker to refuel again before going on to the next phase of the operation.
Dive Boat “Sea Plunder” west of Ulleungdo Island
Ted Purcell had owned and operated his SCUBA dive company for more than ten years. His primary customers were people vacationing on Ulleungdo Island, hoping to earn initial or advanced SCUBA certification during their stay. Interestingly, he learned that the Korean and Japanese diving students preferred to take lessons from an American. He figured it was because of all the old TV shows about American divers.
The 35-foot dive boat slowly made its way to Ted’s favorite dive location as his students finished getting into their wetsuits for the upcoming night dive class. To qualify for advanced certification, the students were required to perform a total of five specific dives. Two dives were mandatory — a navigation dive and another dive in waters between 18-39 meters deep. Then, students could each select three additional dives from a variety of options. When the six students had originally asked to dive after midnight, Ted figured it must be some sort of millennial thing. He could never figure out the minds of young people.
Ted liked the dive site on the western side of Ulleungdo Island because that one single location could be used for wreck diving, night diving, and boat diving. As he approached the area, he eased the throttles to neutral, coasted over the GPS position on his navigation screen, and shifted the engines into reverse. He had already assigned one of his more experienced students to be stationed on the boat’s bow with a small anchor in hand, ready to drop the anchor when Ted indicated.
“Let go!” Ted shouted as the small dive boat backed down. Once the anchor cable had been paid out, and the anchor had grabbed the bottom, Ted increased the reverse thrust to ensure the anchor was set and then he shut down the engines.
“Okay, folks,” Ted began, his voice accompanied by the rhythmic lapping of the water against the sides of the boat. “Let’s get started with our dive briefs and then get into the water!” Soon, Ted and his six student divers were reviewing the logistics of the dive, the depth of the water, the length of time they’d be diving, and emergency procedures. After that, they each paired off with a buddy and helped one another into their cumbersome SCUBA equipment and gear.
When ready to go, and under Ted’s watchful supervision, each buddy team shuffled to the boat’s swim platform on the stern, stepped off into the dark water below, and then surface swam to the buoy that marked the anchor line. Ted nodded as each pair of buddies raised their buoyancy compensator relief valves above their heads, pressed the valves, and then descended feet first beneath the surface. After the third team disappeared, Ted released the air from his own buoyancy compensator and followed his students below.
Once he was underwater, Ted could see the three pairs of divers slowly moving further and further down while holding on to the anchor line, as the escaping bubbles from their SCUBA regulators obscured everything else around them. As instructed, the student divers waited on the ocean bottom next to the anchor until Ted had completed his descent, after which he led
them on a short tour of the immediate area. He checked the dive compass on his wrist and then slowly finned due north, using his underwater light to point out animal and plant life he thought would be of interest to his students.
Ted typically let beginning divers remain at this depth for only ten minutes, so they would be able to make a second dive on this trip without experiencing decompression sickness. When it was almost time to begin their ascent, Ted thought he saw something moving, perhaps less than 30 feet from the divers. He signaled for the group to stop, pointing his light in the direction of the unidentified motion to see if he could figure out what it was. He had at first thought it was another diver, but there were none of the telltale SCUBA bubbles coming from that direction. He lingered for several seconds more in hopes of spotting it again — whatever it was — until his dive computer let him know it was time to get the group moving forward. Ted decided what he saw must have been a sea lion or some other sea creature who had lost its way. He signaled to the group to start heading back to the anchor line to safely begin the slow ascent back up to the dive boat.
U.S. Navy SEAL Team THREE, Charlie Squad in the Vicinity of Ulleungdo Island
The four Navy SEALs lay motionless on the ocean bottom, waiting for the civilian divers to move on. CHARLIE ONE, Senior Chief Chris Rawlings, slowly lifted his head in time to watch the seven recreational divers head back to their anchor line and then slowly ascend toward the surface. Only when he was certain the SEALS hadn’t been spotted, he touched each man to signal “okay” so they could continue their search for the underwater cable. After several more minutes of searching, the lead diver stopped, rested on the bottom, and turned to face CHARLIE ONE. He flashed his light twice to indicate he had located the telecommunications cable.
Senior Chief Rawlings finned over and stopped next to the half-buried cable. He turned to CHARLIE THREE, who handed him a small metal device about six inches in length which he attached to the cable. After Rawlings had pressed several buttons on the small screen on the side of the device, he led the other SEALS back to the waiting submersible and its two operators. Climbing inside, Rawlings signaled two thumbs up to the SDV navigator who then pressed a series of buttons on his control screen, informing mission command that the device had been placed on the cable and the timer activated. The hard part over, Rawlings slowed his breathing and tried not to be distracted by how cold he was, while his team waited for the command signal to remove the device and return to the warmth and comfort of the Hawaii.
Sadong Beach, Ulleungdo Island, South Korea
Four teenagers sat huddled close together in the sand, trying to create some warmth and comfort for themselves on the dark and deserted beach as they passed around the last bottle of Soju. A product of Korea, Soju was one of the world’s most widely consumed alcoholic beverages, the favorite of many because of the sweet taste of the sugar that was added during the distillation process. On this particular night, Soju was the favorite of the four teenagers simply because it was the only alcohol available in their parents’ rental cottages. At 53 percent alcohol by volume, the six stolen bottles had done serious damage to the young men’s judgment and perception, adding to their shock at seeing a group of what appeared to be military parachutists land on the beach just yards away from their huddle.
Meanwhile, Master Chief Jim Farrell pulled his two control toggles and expertly flared his rectangular parachute as he landed gently on the beach. Watching the rest of the SEALS land, he noticed a small group of boys huddled on the far end of the beach, no more than 20 feet from where Petty Officer Doug Kim was about to land. Doug executed his landing, quickly gathered his chute, and then function-checked his weapon. He looked up to see the group of wide-eyed boys staring at him and then remembered he was wearing the uniform of a Korean marine. He considered saying nothing until the interpreter could be brought forward but then suddenly remembered something from his youth that he thought might work now. He stared at the boys, pointed his submachine gun at them, and angrily shouted a short phrase in Korean. The boys looked at one another, dropped the last bottle of Soju into the sand, and frantically sprinted back to the road toward their parents’ softly lit cottages.
Master Chief Farrell stepped up to the young SEAL. “Hey, Doug,” he whispered. “I thought you didn’t speak Korean.”
“I don’t. But when I was a kid, my grandfather always tried to teach me Korean, and he would use lines from American movies, and say them in Korean.”
The battle-hardened SEAL asked, “So what did you say to those kids? They took off like hell!”
“I just pointed my weapon at them and said, “Go ahead! Make my day!”
ROK Marine Transportation Lot, Ulleungdo Island
ALPHA SQUAD was spread out and hidden in the dense vegetation near the transportation lot’s main gate. Although intelligence had indicated the installation was unguarded at night and only secured by a locked, chain link gate, Master Chief Farrell was taking no chances. “There are old SEALS and bold SEALS,” as the saying goes, “but there are very few old and bold SEALS.” After checking the compound with his night-vision goggles and listening for any sounds of human activity, Farrell silently motioned to two SEALs to cut the gate’s padlock. He waited while they opened the gate, then led ALPHA SQUAD into the fenced compound.
The SEALs quickly moved to the three closest trucks, Korean versions of the M35 6X6 Deuce and a half truck used for decades by the U.S. military. The KM-250, manufactured by Kia, was identical to the American version of the vehicle, and even used a similar toggle switch in place of a keyed ignition to start the massive engine — or at least that’s what the intelligence report had said. Instead, the SEALs found the Korean trucks were equipped with traditional ignition switches — and they didn’t have the keys.
“Doug,” Farrell whispered, “hotwire those three trucks.” SEAL training had included a wide variety of skills that would be useful in carrying out special operations, including the technique of starting up a vehicle without the benefit of an ignition key. Within a few minutes, all three trucks were running and warming up. The squad of SEALs quickly climbed into them and drove out of the compound into the night. Riding in the lead truck, Master Chief Farrell turned on a red light to illuminate the map on his lap. Checking his GPS receiver to verify his position, he pressed a few keys on his satellite transceiver to indicate the team was heading to the weapons magazine where the stolen American warheads were stored.
10,000 feet AGL, Southwest of Ulleungdo Island
Dan Garrett was monitoring the Growler’s flight systems when he heard Katrina say, “Okay, JOKER, master rad is on.” She pressed the appropriate buttons on the system’s display to activate the radar and communications jamming pods, at which point all surface and air search radars on Ulleungdo Island ceased to function, and all military and civilian radios became useless.
“Is the skipper making music as well?” asked Dan.
“That he is, and it looks like both Growlers’ systems are fully operational.”
Dan wondered what the radar operators and the civilians on the island who were still awake must be thinking as their electronic systems stopped functioning. He knew the Hawkeye was watching the skies to ensure that the Growlers were notified of any aircraft entering the airspace. Nobody wanted to be responsible for an aircraft mishap caused by the signal jamming.
“We’ve done our part,” Katrina said, sounding relieved. “Now, let’s hope the snake-eaters have taken care of the cable-based comms.” Both Growler crews had been briefed on the SEAL mission to temporarily sever the island’s submarine telecommunications cable. Katrina was grateful that she was doing her part at 10,000 feet above the Sea of Japan rather than on the cold ocean floor below. “Hey JOKER!” Katrina said into the intercom. “My feet are getting cold — how about cranking up the cabin heat?” Dan had been focused on flying the pre-determined racetrack orbit to maintain optimal alignment between the Growler’s jamming antennas and their assigned targets. “Any
thing to make you happy, HURRICANE. As Glenn Fry best put it, the heat is on!”
When they finally had a break from all the activity, Katrina decided to take advantage of their time alone to ask Dan about test pilot school. “Have you made any progress convincing your father to help you? It’s hard to say how much longer he’ll be on board.”
Dan sighed, “Not really. Commander Robinson told me he spoke with my dad, but that he didn’t get anywhere with him. I’ll probably just submit the application anyway and take my chances that the selection board will have heard of my exceptional airmanship skills and give me a slot in the program regardless of my degree. If they don’t, I’ve decided to just tender my resignation from the Navy and start planning a career flying a bus in the sky.”
Katrina didn’t respond; she felt there was nothing she could say. She, too, was making plans to leave the Navy, but she believed Dan was someone who belonged in a high-performance aircraft in the service of his country. She decided that if she had an opportunity, she would try to talk with Dan’s father. It probably wouldn’t make much of a difference, but she had to try.
ROK Joint Command Center, Seoul, South Korea
“What do you mean, Ulleungdo Island is down?” The South Korean Air Force colonel stood up from his comfortable leather chair and briskly walked over to the Air Sector Defense section of the large command center. He had been on watch for the past eight hours and was looking forward to going home and getting some sleep. The twelve hours on/twelve hours off watch schedule was brutal, but in just one more day, he would have four days off to enjoy and spend time with his wife.