North Korean Blowup

by Chet Cunningham

  Commander Vuylsteke chuckled. “Hunter, I want to talk you out of that man. I need him in my fire direction control center.”

  “Sorry, Commander,” Hunter said. “Tran’s work load is heavy right now. Does the timing work for you? It’s about what we did on the last run north.”

  “Looks good to me,” Wells said. “We both checked our IBS boats this afternoon and ran the engines. All are A-okay. We’ll feed you good and get you some bunks if you want some sleep.”

  “Ho, you have anything to suggest?” Hunter asked.

  “Hear many soldiers there. Hard to get in. Soccer team best. find one bus to use. Friend has bus in Sunan.”

  “Best if we don’t have to shoot our way in,” Senior Chief Chapman said. “Ruins the element of surprise.”

  “Besides brining out three hundred troops,” Chang said.

  “Get on shore. Ho grab ride to Sunan. Men hide brush. Ho bring bus. Drive to gate. Ho talk much to get inside.”

  “How long to get the bus?” Bancroft asked.

  “Luck with ride in. Three hour back to hide spot.”

  “So we might get the bus moving the next morning and get to the complex, work inside, do our duty and bust out of there for the beach that afternoon or evening,” Hunter said.

  “We’ll have two SATCOMs tuned to pick up your departure time,” Vuylsteke said. “Two choppers to the beach and a quick get away to the twelve mile limit where our destroyers will welcome you back.”

  “Sounds good,” Quinn said. Now all we have to do is make it work.” He looked at Ho. “You sure this soccer team idea is the best way to breach their security?”

  “Only way, Mr. Quinn. “Too many guns. Tank, quad fifty, many men.”

  “Okay, just hope you have a plan B in case this doesn’t work.”

  “Plan B is to shoot our way in and search and destroy as quickly as we can,” Hunter said.

  “Any questions?” Quinn asked. “I hear none. We’ll all get together day after tomorrow at thirteen thirty. I’ll go along on one of the ships.”

  “Sure you don’t want to come on shore with us, Mr. Quinn?” Tran asked.

  “SEAL work is above my pay scale, gentlemen. Thank you all.”

  After the meeting, Hunter sent his team back to the barracks and he cornered Quinn by himself.

  “Quinn, this is way over my pay scale, but I have a suggestion.

  You know what Ho has done for us already. Without him we’d have been shot to pieces before we got to our first bomb. Now he’s getting us into the base. He’s a smooth talker in his own language. Here’s my suggestion. Both Ho and Dr. Sung have provided the United States government with tremendously important services. I hope that we can repay them with some hard cash, say a half million dollars each. We should even throw in fifty thousand for brother, Youg Tae. Can you swing it?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. Dr. Sung surely is deserving, and you say Ho has done you a great service. Yes, I’ll ask the president to authorize it. I got word that Dr. Sung and his family members are all in Washington DC, where Dr. Sung is cooperating in a series of debriefings. Yes, the President is pleased so far. I think he’ll authorize it in a minute, but it must all be covert as hell.”

  “Good, let me know when you’re sure it’s a go.”

  Back in the barracks the SEALs had time to relax. Most of them worked over their weapons and combat vests. About 1600 Beth came back from her sight seeing tour. She had put on her Navy suntan skirt and blouse with the railroad tracks on her collar. The men whistled when she walked in.

  “Thank you one and all. Do you know why a wolf whistle is a lot like the roar of a jet passenger jet?” She paused for dramatic effect.

  “Because it’s nice to hear, even though you know you’re not going anywhere.” The SEALs hooted and cheered.

  She waved at Hunter and they talked.

  “Found our dinner spot. Best in Seoul, Mrs. Jennings says. Oh, you’ll need a jacket and a shirt and tie. Pants too I guess.”

  “I think I can manage that. Six thirty?”

  “Right. And I have wrangled a sedan and a driver.”

  “You think of everything.” He looked at his watch. “I better get over to the BOQ and see where I can borrow some uniform stuff. A tie?”

  “Very classy joint.”

  It was classy. Hunter was glad he still had wads of the Korean won notes. On the drive in, they sat close together and he reached over and kissed her cheek. She shook her head, turned his face and kissed his lips.

  “Yes, that’s more like it. I’ve been wanting to do that for what seems like months, actually only about seven or eight days.”

  He kissed her again and she pushed in against him. They came

  apart and he put his arm around her.

  “This could turn out to be an extremely interesting evening,” he said.

  She lifted her brows. “Kind of what I was hoping for. I don’t go chasing after every gorgeous hunk of man I see. This has been different. The mission, the danger, the shooting. That wasn’t how I wanted to remember you.”

  They came to the restaurant, a flamboyant exterior with neon lights and dancing birds. Inside it was lush with tropical plants and flowers, a waterfall and a dozen tables set around a small stage.

  She whispered to the hostess who led them past the tables, into a side room that had a low table, several soft chairs, and a sofa. A private dining room. The hostess said their waiter would be there shortly and left.

  Hunter looked around and let a grin slip over his face.

  “Commander, you high ranks really go first class.”

  She stood close to him. “Enough of that. Kiss me once before we have dinner.” He did.

  Dinner turned out to be a feast. They started out with a soft red wine, then a cold soup appetizer, then potato skins with cheese and bacon filling followed by King crab legs, and then the main course, huge lobsters shelled at the table. Desert was some kind of sweet creamy mixture Hunter couldn’t identify. Coffee topped off the feast.

  Hunter was fascinated how she put away one course after another. She pushed a button on the low table and two waiters came and cleared away the dinner things.

  Beth looked at him across the mahogany table. “You’re going back out there in two days where other men with guns are going to shoot at you. I don’t want you to come back in a black body bag.”

  Tears seeped down her face. He moved to her side of the table and sat on the low pillows and held her. He brushed away the tears and kissed off the last of them.

  “Hey, you know how careful we are.”

  “Sanborn.”

  He took a deep breath. “Yes, it happens. Only it never will happen to me. I’m too stubborn.”

  She kissed him gently, then stood and went to the door and threw a foot long bolt. When she came back she had opened half the buttons on her military blouse and sat down beside him.

  “I want this to be a night that neither of us will ever forget.” She kissed him and her tongue drove deep into his mouth.

  The next day the SEALs were up and having breakfast at 0700. They had a short workout, a five mile run and then showers and chow time again. The afternoon session with the Korean language coach was over quickly. The SEALs had little desire to learn to speak the difficult language. They hadn’t needed it before, and the chances were that they wouldn’t need to talk face to face with a North Korean this time. The next day they had a short workout and a final check on their gear and ammo. Two of the hideouts had been lost and were replaced. They asked for and received three AK-74s, the new version of the Russian rifle, and six filled magazines for each. By noon they were chomping at their bits eager to get into the race.

  At noon they had a big meal, then put on their Korean outfits including the newly laundered soccer uniforms, ratty shoes, and floppy hats of all shapes and sizes.

  At 1330 they arrived at the far side of the huge air field at the chopper pads. Two SH-60 Seahawks sat there waiting for them. One squa
d got in each chopper with Ho and Quinn with Hunter. Quinn sat on the floor of the bird which usually was used for anti-submarine operation. He took deep breaths and Hunter saw him turn just a faint shade of green.

  “Not used to these damn things yet,” Quinn said. “What I do for my country.” He shook his head. “Maybe in twenty four this will all be over and I can get back to civilization again.”

  “This ride will be over in about ten minutes.” Hunter suddenly frowned. “Maybe, yeah in twenty four it just might all be over.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Landing on the destroyers and bunking out on the trip north seemed routine now on the third trip on this ship. Hunter talked with Captain Vuylsteke a while, affirmed the launch time and then went back with his men. The only special equipment they carried this time were four quarter pound chunks of C-5 plastique explosive each and one timer/detonator per man. Any one of them could blow the average building to the moon with a full pound of C-5.

  As before they sacked out in Navy bunks for three hours, then had an early dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, three kinds of vegetables, and all the apple betty desert they could eat.

  By 2130 Hunter contacted Bradford who was with Bravo squad on the other destroyer. He used the SATCOM. Bradford responded on the second call.

  “Yeah, Brad here. Go.”

  “You okay and ready for the twenty two hundred launch?”

  “We’re ready here.”

  “See you in the soup in a half hour.”

  They signed off and Hunter had Walden put the SATCOM into its waterproof container and strap it to his back.

  “You guys ready to get this job done?” Hunter asked.

  He got a loud “hoo-rah” from the men.

  “Hell yes,” Senior Chief Chapman said. “I promised my old lady I’d take her on a real vacation this month.”

  “Ready, Cap,” Mohammad said. “About time we take these north guys out of the nuke business.”

  “Good. Everybody keep your heads down. I won’t stand for another KIA. You hear?”

  At 2120 the SEALs loaded the last of their gear into the rubber boat. No drag bags this time, just double loads of ammo and their C-5. The only other equipment was a cloth bag with three regulation soccer balls. Ho had scrounged.

  Five minutes later they dropped the IBS boats into the water off the stern and the SEALs went down a rope ladder into the bobbing craft, took their assigned place and held on. Promptly at 2130 the coxswain gunned the motor and the craft moved away from the big ship, heading due east toward shore ten miles away. They would hit eighteen knots most of the way in the calm sea. When they were within a mile of the beach they would drop to five mph and glide in with almost no motor noise.

  They picked up the other IBS and charged the coast in a loose formation about twenty yards apart.

  “Take us thirty minutes to hit the beach,” Tran told Hunter. “That is if we don’t run into any bad water. Big waves or a bad chop will lengthen our time.”

  The moon was out full, which Hunter hated, and the water looked like a big fat lake with almost no swells and no whitecaps. The men checked each other’s gear as they waited. They all wore their Korean clothes. The soccer uniforms were strapped to their backs in waterproof wraps. They wore their issue boots and would change them in the bus once they climbed on board.

  “About two minutes to the surfline,” the coxswain said passing the word up to Hunter.

  “We take a swim in two,” Hunter said in his waterproof personal radio. They were new models that would both send and receive underwater. He didn’t understand how they worked, but they did. The new lapel mikes on their shirt collars were sensitive and rugged.

  Hunter watched ahead. He could hear the gentle waves braking. Nothing like the four to seven foot ones they had at Coronado, but big enough to hear. “Cut the engine,” he called. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  The SEALs slid over the sides of the rubber boat and gathered, and when the last man swam up, they stroked toward shore with a steady crawl that ate up the water in furious chunks. Assigned weapons and AK-74s were strapped on their backs.

  Just outside the breaker line, Hunter held up a hand and the men stopped. He scanned the beach but saw no signs of any troops or guards. He spotted Bravo squad about thirty yards north. He waved the squads forward. The first two men caught a wave and body surfed in, hitting the sand and laying there like pieces of driftwood. More of the wet logs washed on shore. Hunter scanned the beach again. Twenty feet of sand, then a line of brush with a few trees beyond.

  “Hit the trees,” he said in his lapel mike and they stood and raced into the cover and concealment of the band of brush and trees along the beach. There they paused.

  Bravo squad came in a moment later, moved south and hooked up with Alpha and Hunter ordered squad roster calls. All chimed in on both squads.

  “We move east,” he said to his mike. “We have part marsh land and part cultivated from here to the coast road which is six miles according to the map. Let’s hike. Tran out front by fifty. Regular squad formations. Move it.”

  Tran ran through the line of trees and onto a harvested rice paddy where inch high stubble showed in the night light. He kept moving due east, but detoured to the left around a marshy area. He warned the troops about it and hurried on. Every fifty feet he knelt down, listened intently, and watched ahead. He could see forty or fifty feet in the bright moonlight. There was nothing to worry about. No houses, no buildings, just a continuing succession of diked rice paddies that had been stripped of every grain and every stalk. He wondered if they ate the straw or burned it?

  Tran stopped suddenly, one foot in the air as he heard something ahead. It came again and he grinned. It was a wailing drawn out call of a male wolf. He’d heard calls like it in Wyoming. Their Korea lessons told them there were still wolves in North Korea, but they were finding fewer and fewer places they could live untouched by the expanding population. He moved on.

  Fifty yards from the highway, Tran stopped and waited for the squads to catch up. “I’m holding out fifty, Cap. Figured Ho might want to take a look at the area and find us a hidehole.”

  “We’ll be there in five.”

  A short time later Ho checked the area. He pointed south. “Many trees. Hide there.”

  Hunter viewed the area with his binoculars. Binoculars magnify the chosen area, and they also magnify the available light. The grove of trees looked uninhabited.

  “Let’s move that way. Ho you stay with us until we settle on our spot. Then you’ll know where to find us with the bus.”

  Ten minutes later they flaked out in the thick stand of pine and hardwood trees. It would serve well to hide them until Ho returned. He hurried out to the highway. There had been numerous lights of cars and trucks going by on the road.

  Tran shadowed him and stayed well back. He watched Ho holding up his hands in the headlights. He stood at the side of the road asking for a ride. Three cars went by, then a small truck stopped and Ho talked to the driver a minute. He got in and the rig moved out.

  “Ho has his ride,” Tran said on the radio and hiked back to the main body to wait for the big Korean’s return.

  Bradford put out a perimeter defense, and everyone settled down for a nap. There were two guards and the rest sacked out.

  Hunter sat with his back against a tree and an MP-5 in his lap. He thought about Beth. She was a delight. He admired the way she had bonded with the men in the sometimes rough give and take of the banter. She did her job on the nukes with dramatic efficiency. She had weathered her first man-kill with a grim determination. Then there was the dinner the other night and the romp on the sofa in the locked private dining room. He grinned. She was something. He just might arrange to see her again when they got back to Washington. She hadn’t said where she lived, but it had to be in the general area of the capital.

  They waited. It was a trait that was battered into the SEAL psyche from day one of training, and hammered home wit
h each mission where patience wasn’t only a virtue it was a matter of life and death.

  After two hours Bradford changed the guards and let the first two get some sleep. Bradford put Tran and Dengler out to watch for Ho and the bus.

  “Think he’ll come back or just fade away into his home town?” Dengler asked.

  “Oh hell yes he’ll come back. He’s having the time of his life. He’s never had so much fun. It sticks out all over him.”

  Ho had changed back into his civilian clothes before he went to the highway. The driver of the old pickup truck wasn’t much more than twenty.

  “Where you going to late at night?” Ho asked the man.

  He grinned in the faint light of the dash. “Going to see my girl friend in Sunan. Had to work late.” He looked over at Ho. “Why you out here in the country with no car?”

  “Broke down, have to get some parts to fix it.”

  “Bad time to find parts. Probably have to wait until morning.”

  Ho agreed. The kid didn’t seem suspicious of him. He hoped it held.

  A half hour later they were in Sunan. He asked the kid to let him off two blocks from his friend’s house and thanked him. It would not be polite to offer him any money for the ride. Ho hurried down the street and found the lights all out at his friend’s house. He had no watch but figured it must be past midnight. He went to the back door and pounded on it.

  It took him three times before he saw a light go on and heard a door slam. A minute later the door opened a crack.

  “Yeah? Who are you?”

  “Hey, buddy, it’s Ho. I’ve got a problem.”

  Minutes later in the small kitchen, they talked over cold beers.

  “So, I can’t tell you why I need it, but I need your small bus. Have some important people to move tonight.”

  “You in trouble with the police, the secret service guys?”

  Unsan was a long time friend but a little suspicious. One thing he liked was money.

  “Look little buddy. I’ll buy the damned bus from you. It’s a pile of junk and always is broken down, but I need it. How much do you want for it?”