by James Rosone
As Chucky moved next to Maverick, he whispered, “Do you see the launcher being set up?” Maverick indicated he should move over and look for himself. As he peered through the night vision scope, he could make out several soldiers placing camouflage netting over the mobile missile launcher. He could also see what appeared to be a very menacing looking ballistic missile.
“I wonder if I am looking at a nuclear warhead on that missile,” Chucky thought to himself.
“Yeah, I see it. It looks like they just moved an SA-13 and a ZSU in as well,” he whispered as he panned the scope around the area, looking to see what else was around.
He then turned to look at Technical Sergeant Jordan “Jordy” Mitchel. “How soon can you get us a strike package to hit that launcher?” he asked his TACP. Jordy had been assigned to their ODA team numerous other times, and was a very competent TACP. While deployed in Afghanistan, he had called in a series of air strikes that had saved their lives on more than one occasion. He had the respect of the ODA team (even if he was Air Force).
Jordy looked at his watch, and then the map he had lying on the ground next to him. “Five minutes. We have an F-117 on standby. Let me confirm that’s the target we are looking for,” he said as he scooched over to Chucky to see the launcher with his own eyes.
After confirming that it was indeed a missile launcher with a missile on it, he moved back to his position. “Before I call this in Chief, do we have eyes on any additional launchers? It would be best if we only call in one strike and hit all the launchers we spot at one time,” Jordy said, making sure the team chief knew they were about to give away their presence.
“That’s a good question,” Chucky thought. He gently pushed the talk button on his throat mic, “Team One has eyes on designated target Alpha. Do any other team elements have eyes on any other designated targets?” he asked his teammates.
A voice calmly came over the radio. “This is Team Two. We have eyes on a small cluster of vehicles moving into a tree line. We count one SA-13 and two ZSU’s. We have not seen a mobile launcher just yet, but believe one may be part of the convoy. Out.”
Another voice buzzed in. “This is Team Three. We have what appears to be one platoon’s worth of enemy soldiers moving below our position, roughly 500 meters. How, copy? Over.”
Chucky knew the enemy soldiers could pose a serious problem for them if they discovered their locations. Their mission was to observe and report, not engage the enemy. There was no possible extraction for them, at least not until the frontlines moved closer to them.
“Copy that, Team Three. Please keep an eye on them and do not engage. Out.”
Maverick turned to look at Chucky. “What do you want to do, Chief?” he asked.
“I wish we could see further into the valley,” thought CW4 Lee. “There could be additional launchers out there, and we have no way of knowing it.”
“We need to wait to see if a second launcher shows up at Team Two’s location,” Chucky directed.
“I sure hope we aren’t missing other launchers deeper in the valley Chief,” Maverick grunted, still mad that they had to abort their original OP. They had chosen that position because it would have given them a view of the entire valley, as opposed to this location, which only gave them a view of roughly half of it.
“Can it, Maverick. We can’t do anything about it,” Chucky retorted.
He then turned to his TACP. “Jordy, make sure Henhouse knows what we have, and the coordinates for this launcher. Let them know we may have a second launcher, but we are waiting for confirmation before we call in the strike package. See if they can direct a satellite to this area and try to look for additional launchers at the top end of the valley. Tell them we are out of position to see that area,” he directed. He wanted to make sure their air support had the targeted grid now, so when they called in for the strike, they wouldn’t have to waste time providing the aircraft with multiple target grids.
Jordy just nodded and lifted his handset to his face, whispering into the receiver exactly what Chuck had just told him.
The F-117 pilot on the other end acknowledged the information and said, “I have enough fuel to stay on standby for another fifty minutes before I need to do another mid-air refueling.”
The team sat there for thirty minutes as the pre-dawn light turned to dawn and the light slowly began to illuminate the trees and valley below them. Had they not jumped with long-range listening devices and extremely high-end night vision and thermal capable spotting scopes, they probably would have missed the mobile launcher moving into the valley. Now, as the sun began to creep into the sky, the light started to reveal more soldiers moving into the valley than they had originally thought were there.
These enemy soldiers and additional military equipment where clearly moving towards the sounds of war, further South towards the DMZ. The Air Force was pounding enemy troop positions deep behind the DMZ, in an effort to destroy them before they could reinforce their comrades at the front. This constant aerial bombardment had its own strange rhythm to it, almost like a base or kettle drummer pounding out a disjointed tune. From time to time, they could hear the roar of jets high above their heads, moving towards some unknown target. Chucky looked down at his watch and saw the war had started a little over four hours ago.
He was just about to reach for the talk button on his mic when a familiar voice came over the radio. “This is Team Two. We have positive visual on a mobile missile launcher. It looks like they are getting the missile readied for launch. Recommend we call in the strike package now before they fire. How, copy?” asked the team leader.
“Maverick, is our launcher being readied to launch? Team Two just said theirs appears like it’s going to be launched soon,” said Chucky, hoping against all hope that they had not waited too long to call in the strike package. They were supposed to destroy the launchers with the missiles still on them.
Maverick leaned back down to the spotting scope and peered through it, “No, it’s still down, although I see some soldiers starting to uncover the camouflage netting around it. They could be getting it readied for launch,” he replied.
Chucky keyed up his mic. “Team Two, send the grid to Jordy. We’ll have them strike your target first. How, copy? Over” he said, wanting to take their missile out first.
A minute passed as the team lead relayed the grid coordinates to their TACP, who typed the information into his targeting computer and transmitted the information to the pilot of the Nighthawk who was loitering somewhere above them. Jordy then came over the net, “Bombs away. Standby.”
Close to two minutes went by with nothing happening, while the SF men laid on their bellies waiting for the final warning before impact. Then, they heard Jordy announce, “The bomb should impact in five seconds.”
It may have only been five seconds, but it felt like an eternity waiting for a 2,000-lbs. laser-guided bomb to hit its target.
Team Two had painted the mobile launcher with their laser designator, and watched as the bomb dropped right on top of its target. The explosion was thunderous, and echoed throughout the valley. Black smoke began to billow upwards as the shockwave expanded outwards, destroying everything within a thousand feet of the impact. Trees around the impacted area were flattened, along with three air defense vehicles that had been meant to protect the launcher from American and ROK aircraft.
The crew manning the mobile launcher Chucky’s team had been monitoring suddenly moved with a lot more purpose as they reacted to the explosion. They quickly pulled and yanked the netting off the launcher as other soldiers began to raise the missile. These guys were not going to wait around for everything to be perfect; they wanted to get their missile launched and then find a way to escape with their lives.
“Jordy, tell your guy to drop his next bomb. That missile is going to launch!” Chucky yelled, hoping that they had not somehow fouled up their chance to take this missile out.
“What if this missile launcher was carrying a nuclear warhea
d?” thought CW4 Lee in a panic.
“I already did, Chief. The bomb is on the way…should hit in sixty seconds,” he replied, much to Chucky’s relief.
The seconds ticked by, and then they witnessed an epic explosion as the bomb hit the launcher, obliterating it and everything near it. There was chaos on the ground as enemy soldiers were thrown into trees like ragdolls from the blast’s concussion. Flying debris, shrapnel, and flames were injuring many other soldiers, several of whom could be seen running like insane men as their clothes were on fire. Some of their comrades jumped to their aid, throwing them to the ground while they tried to put the fires out.
“We have two inbound fast movers that are going to attack several additional launchers the satellite folks found. Standby for more impacts,” Jordy announced loudly over the mic.
Suddenly, they heard a loud roar of an F-16 as it flew low over their heads into the valley below. Two large objects fell from under the wings of the aircraft. What looked like several cluster bombs detonated over a densely forested area. Two large secondary explosions could be seen billowing upwards, then finally a third fiery blast lit up the skyline as another vehicle exploded.
As the F-16 pulled up from his bombing run to gain altitude, they saw multiple SAMs emerge from the trees, chasing after the aircraft. The F-16 fired off a series of flares and chaff canisters, in an attempt to distract the enemy missiles. Several of the Korean missiles hit the flares, exploding harmlessly as the F-16 continued to gain altitude.
A second F-16 then swooped into the valley from a slightly different angle, gearing up for its own attack run. As the aircraft entered the valley, they saw four SAMs emerge from the treeline, heading straight for the F-16. Before the pilot could even react, two of the missiles slammed into the aircraft, causing it to burst into a fiery comet, which rained down jet fuel and debris in a long, high-velocity trail from the forward motion of the aircraft.
To their surprise and amazement, the first F-16 swooped in for a second attack run at what Chucky assumed must be another mobile missile launcher.
“If it wasn’t a launcher, then chances are, he would have turned for home and not risked his life a second time,” thought CW4 Lee.
Several SAMs again rose from the trees and raced towards the F-16, which banked hard while dispersing additional flares and chaff canisters. The pilot released a series of bombs, though it looked like he did not get as good of an alignment on them as he had the first time around. They burst into flames in the trees, but no secondary explosions could be seen.
The pilot pulled up hard, turning his aircraft nearly vertical while hitting his afterburner. Two additional SAMs leapt from the ridgeline he had just flown over and raced quickly after the aircraft. Just as it looked like he was going to outrun the missiles, they went to terminal velocity and detonated, spraying the F-16 with shrapnel. The aircraft began to disintegrate quickly. Just as the F-16 was about to explode, they saw the pilot eject.
While the aircraft began to fall to the earth below in a fiery ball of flames, the pilot began his slow descent to the ground and near-certain captivity (if the KPA did not kill him outright). Chuckey’s team was way too far away to get to the pilot quickly, although they would try anyways.
Then, maybe a couple of miles deeper in the valley, they heard the roar of a rocket. They spotted the body of a missile as it began to gain altitude, and they knew it was a ballistic missile that had just launched.
Just as they got ahold of their higher headquarters to report the missile launch and the destruction of the two F-16s, they saw five more launches.
In that moment, they all hung their heads, knowing that despite their best efforts, they had only been able to identify and destroy two missiles while another six more had successfully launched. All they could do now was relay the information to their leaders at Henhouse, and pray the vaunted missile defense systems could shoot them down.
Once he had completed the depressing call to the higher-ups, Chucky grabbed his mic and announced, “Everyone, pack up your gear. We are going to head in the direction of the downed pilot and see if we can possibly link up with him before he is captured.”
Minutes later, they were on the move towards the pilot as they saw a brief flash rush across the sky. Then they heard a low, deep rumble. What they didn’t realize is that they had just witnessed the nuclear detonation that destroyed the South Koreans Northern Air Command on Wonju Airbase.
*******
An hour had passed since they saw the F-16 pilot eject, and figured they were close to where the pilot should have landed. Chucky told Maverick, “Switch to the pilot’s emergency frequency, and see if you can make contact with him.”
After three attempts, a voice came over the radio, shaken and scared. It was the voice of a woman--the pilot that had been shot down was a female pilot. Her voice was shaky as she relayed her surroundings to Maverick. He asked her a series of questions trying to get her to describe the surrounding area and explain if there were any KPA soldiers near her.
“I haven’t seen any enemy soldiers, although I heard some voices maybe ten minutes ago,” she responded.
After identifying a few common landmarks, they figured they were within a mile of each other. Another thirty minutes went by as Maverick and two other members of their ODA team moved through the woods to find her. They spotted her, well before she spotted them, and approached her cautiously. When it was determined there were no additional enemy soldiers in the area, they guided her to them.
As she approached their location, she still hadn’t spotted them. When they did reveal themselves, she nearly jumped out of her flight suit at the sight of the three hidden figures that just suddenly materialized right in front of her.
“These guys are good,” she thought to herself as they began to guide her back to the rest of the team.
Chucky saw her approach their hide, he stood up briefly to signal her to come and kneel down next to him. He held his hand out and shook hers. “That was some seriously impressive flying Major…Lopez,” he said as he read the name tape on her flight suit.
She smiled and quickly replied, “Well, I still got shot down, so I don’t know that it was that good.” He could see the smirk on her face in the early morning light.
“I still cannot believe you guys found me. I knew there was an ODA team in the area that had found the launchers, but I thought I was going to be captured for sure when I ejected,” she said, some fear still perceptible in her voice. “I can’t thank you guys enough for rescuing me.”
Chucky snickered. “Before you thank us, just realize you are now a part of our team. We are deep behind enemy lines and our mission is to observe and call in airstrikes. I have no idea when we will be extracted, but you can bet it’s going to be at least a week, maybe more, before we are even in helicopter range,” he said giving her a quick update on her new-found situation.
“I’d rather be stuck out here for a few weeks with you guys than a POW. Are there no officers with you guys?” she inquired, hoping she had not just insulted the team leader who had rescued her.
Smiling at the question, Chucky answered, “I am an officer.” He chortled. “We are short commissioned officers in the teams. One in four of our officers were sent to Europe to replace the losses in the Special Operations Forces prior to this war kicking off. Since I’m a CW4, I’m running the show for my A Company.”
Major Lopez nodded, understanding full well the extent of the losses from Europe. She had already lost a few friends in Europe, and then today her wingman was killed. She knew she was going to be stuck with these guys until they could be extracted. Her goal at that point was to make sure she was an asset to them and not a liability.
“What do you want me to do now Chief?” she asked.
He pulled his ruck pack off and unstrapped a Benelli M4 Super 90 combat shotgun he had brought with him as a secondary weapon. He held up the weapon to her and talked quietly. “This is a semi-automatic 12-gauge shotgun. Here is the saf
ety,” he said as he pointed to it. Then he walked her briefly through the function of the shotgun. “It has one round in the chamber, and seven rounds in the tube. This is the extra ammunition I brought with me. It’s also the only additional ammunition we have for it, so use it sparingly.” Then he handed her the shotgun and the Bandelier of extra ammo.
“Maverick here,” he said pointing to the SF soldier who had fetched her, “will be your body man. I want you to stick closely to him and do exactly what he says. Also, listen to our other teammates. You need to stay quiet; do not talk above a whisper. Only once Maverick tells you it’s ok can you speak in a normal voice. We are going to move to our next OP and get set up for our next mission. Do you understand everything, Major?” His tone indicated she needed to do as she was told.
“She may be a Major, but she is on our turf now, and if she wants to live, she needs to listen to us,” CW4 Lee thought.
Major Lopez took the shotgun, examining it briefly and placed the extra ammo around her shoulder along with her 9mm pistol. She nodded in acknowledgement of what Chief Lee had told her. She was just glad they had found her and not the KPA. As a woman, she knew if she had been captured she probably would have been raped mercilessly by the enemy soldiers.
The team started to move to their next observation point, quietly hoping they had not been discovered while retrieving the downed pilot. The next several hours were spent moving slowly through the forested hills and valleys of the area, until they reached their next OP. Once there, they began to spread out and form a defensive perimeter. They pulled out their spotting scopes and directional microphones and went back to work, looking for mobile missile launchers and targets of opportunity.
DEFCON One
Colorado Springs, Colorado
Peterson Air Force Base
North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD)