Into the fire, p.24
Into the Fire, page 24
Less than two thousand yards off the port bow of the Shang-class sub, USS Boise (SSN-764) had just lashed the Chinese boat with a highly focused active sonar pulse. A few seconds later, USS Santa Fe, hovering about the same distance off the starboard bow, did the same. The two pings rippled through the Chinese boat and were heard by all, especially the Chinese captain.
“Sonar room, this is the captain. What is happening? What does this mean?”
The sonar tech’s ears were still ringing, but he reflexively answered his captain. “Sir, this is most certainly the work of an American attack submarine. And since there were two such pings that came from different directions, two American attack submarines. They are in front of us and between our boat and what must be a third American submarine.”
Once Seventh Fleet became aware there was a Chinese nuclear submarine in the area, it had notified both Greenville and Santa Fe. Then the fleet commander ordered Boise to detach from the Reagan strike group in the central Yellow Sea and proceed north to join her sisters. While Greenville worked out the details of the last extraction and the covering action with its Tomahawks, Santa Fe and Boise, too, using Greenville as bait, planned and executed this acoustic ambush.
While the captain considered his options, two more loud pings, one from Boise and one from Santa Fe, reverberated through his boat. If he was in fact considering some other course of action, the second set of audio calling cards from the Americans put that to rest.
“Left full rudder,” he said to his helmsman. Then to his officer of the deck, “Make turns for fifteen knots and lay in a course that will take us back to Northern Fleet Headquarters at Qingdao.”
* * *
Within the hour, all personnel from the ASDS and the Zodiac were packed into the crowded hull of Greenville. It took another hour to get the ASDS secured to the afterdeck of the mother sub. Then Boise and an equally crowded Santa Fe proceeded to escort Greenville back south to the protective skirts of the Reagan strike group. And thanks to the skill of the Greenville’s medical officer, Sergeant Carson was sedated and resting comfortably and no longer in critical condition.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NORTH KOREAN MILITARY HEADQUARTERS—PYONGYANG
November 17, 1430 Korea Standard Time
The marshal of the Korean People’s Army sat huddled with his number 2, Vice Marshal Chung Su-yong, at KPA headquarters in Pyongyang. They had failed and failed miserably, and neither man dared speak of what might be ahead for them or for their families. And despite his vast array of political and military connections, General Choi Kwang was unable to learn of the supreme leader’s reaction when his aides had told him all the Americans were off the island and could no longer be used as bargaining chips. He could only imagine, but he imagined the worst.
He had just been given his new assignment: Contact General Hwa and tell him to contact a senior member of their U.N. delegation in New York. That man had all his normal diplomatic duties but was also Hwa’s conduit to the handler. The fact that the supreme leader had entrusted him to do this rather than going directly to Hwa himself did give him some slight hope he might salvage something from this ill-fated mission. But upon reflection, Choi knew this was but a rationalization. His fate was already sealed. All he could do was try to get his family safely out of the country. That would be difficult since he had every reason to believe they were already being watched by North Korea’s state security forces. Difficult, but not impossible, and he had already set that plan in motion. Now he had to carry out his orders. He trusted Chung enough to seek his counsel.
“You know what the supreme leader wants us to do,” Choi began, “and that General Hwa is the instrument. But I dread making that call.”
Chung was careful with his reply. He trusted Choi—up to a point. Yet he wasn’t certain where this conversation was going or whether this was to be a ploy where Choi was going to try to make him the fall guy to save his own skin. “Marshal, I understand completely,” Chung answered carefully. “If Hwa carries this through and they are successful, the Americans will almost surely retaliate, and we’ll lose more than just a few troops.”
Choi paused to consider the man’s response. Chung was good, but he was a consummate bureaucrat who had advanced in his career more for his administrative and technical skills than for his soldiering. The loss of their submarine with all hands; the complete annihilation of their first contingent of commandos, followed by the second; the loss of the Hinds and their crews; and, most recently, the final battle on the island all added up to more than “just a few troops.” On the positive side, he knew Chung’s career path had imbued him with good political instincts, and he needed to leverage them now. “General Chung, I trust your counsel, and I am just trying to anticipate questions General Hwa might ask. Why is the supreme leader ordering this attack?”
“Marshal, I have thought about it. While we can never be certain, consider this: We knew full well that, whether this attempt to seize the LCS crew succeeded or not, the United States would move to censure us in the United Nations for two reasons. One, the obvious one, for attacking their ship in international waters. But the other one would be for our attempt to extend our maritime claims. We need to have unopposed claims to the seabed if we are to—”
Choi interrupted. “Yes, but that’s all political. Why are we in the military even involved?”
“Marshal, you yourself have pointed out to our nation’s leaders more than once how antiquated our military equipment is becoming. Our political leaders want us to have modern military equipment, but they can’t pay for it. The recent debacle of trying to capture the American crew is but a demonstration of that. But now China wants our energy resources, and our political leaders want the modern arms and money, but mostly modern arms.”
“All right, I’ll give you that, but I still don’t understand what he hopes to accomplish in attacking the building, especially that building.”
“This is only a guess, but I will tell you it’s an educated guess based on what my political contacts are telling me. I think by attacking and attacking there, the supreme leader intends to tell the world that we will do whatever it takes to make good our claim on the territorial waters off our coasts. We need to make it clear to the international community we intend to mine that seabed and what the rest of the world—especially the Americans—think be damned. And now that the American president is scheduled to address the United Nations and condemn us, I think the supreme leader wants to deny him that pulpit. That’s probably why he wants this attack done now. You recall how absorbed Americans become when their territory is attacked. Look what happened in September 2001. They will be so immersed in mourning their losses they’ll all but forget we attacked their ship and are making these claims.”
“I see your logic, but I am dreading the consequences. Will you give me some privacy so I can call General Hwa?”
“Of course, Marshal,” Chung replied as he rose to leave.
General Choi called to summon Hwa to his office. He dared not speak of this over the phone, even a secure phone. He did not have his adjutant place the call, as was his custom. He wanted as few of his fingerprints on this madness as was possible.
* * *
The day before General Choi Kwang made this fateful call, USS Greenville and USS Santa Fe had arrived in Okinawa with the LCS crew. The Ronald Reagan carrier strike group had escorted them the entire way. The vice president, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the PACOM commander, and Vice Admiral Bennett were there to meet them. Accompanying this assembly of senior officials were military medical personnel, chaplains, and grief counselors. After only a few hours on the Japanese island, the LCS crew was loaded aboard specially outfitted medical-evacuation C-17s to begin their 4,800-mile journey from Okinawa to Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii. The president wanted them on American soil ASAP. There, after being debriefed by military intelligence as well as by professionals from several three-letter agencies, they would be united with their families, which were being flown to Hawaii for a brief reunion. After that, there would be a welcome-home parade in Milwaukee’s home port of San Diego.
That would be the joyous part. It would soon be followed by memorial services for the Milwaukee crewmen who perished during the ordeal. Compounding the sadness, there would be no bodies to intern. The bodies left aboard had been incinerated. There was talk of refloating the hulk that was the Milwaukee, much as the USS Cole was salvaged and returned to service after it was attacked by terrorists. But at the direction of the president, a barrage of cruise missiles from Seventh Fleet surface combatants was launched at the grounded LCS. It was burned to the waterline.
Now that the LCS crew was safely on American soil, President Wyatt Midkiff was free to do what he knew he needed to do. The Joint Staff was working to come up with an appropriate military response, but for now the president was most focused on his speech at the United Nations.
* * *
Just when General Choi Kwang thought nothing else could go wrong, something did. When he called General Hwa’s office, the general’s assistant told him Hwa was “indisposed.” Choi lambasted the colonel and demanded to speak with Hwa’s number 2. He got a brand-new brigadier general he didn’t even know personally, and he, too, was evasive about where Hwa was. Choi was furious. He told the man to find him, find him now, and have him return his call. The supreme leader had told him when he wanted this action taken, and until he could track down Hwa, Kim would continue to simmer. That prospect filled him with dread and put him on the edge of panic.
At that moment, Hwa was with his mistress in one of the KPA’s “hospitality houses,” kept solely for just such liaisons. He had left strict instructions not to be disturbed except under the most compelling circumstances. For his brand-new brigadier, this was one of those moments. He dialed Hwa’s private cell phone from the secure phone in his command center. The call caught Hwa at an awkward moment. He disentangled himself, grabbing the phone on the fourth ring.
“What is it?” he barked.
“General, sir…” the brigadier stammered. “Marshal Choi just called. He says it is most urgent and for you to call him immediately. I think he wants you to come to his headquarters right away. Shall I send the staff car to you at, ah, your location?”
Hwa didn’t know whether this was just another routine summoning to Choi’s office or something more important. He looked across his companion’s body to his uniform that lay strewn over the floor. He liked this woman because she played rough, but the foreplay had taken a toll on his clothes, especially his heavily medaled coat. He knew one look at his rumpled uniform blouse and the marshal would know precisely what he had been doing when he was supposed to be at his office.
“No, I will take care of this myself,” Hwa snapped as he ended the call.
Hwa shook his companion and sent her into the bathroom to clean up. Once she closed the door, he punched Choi’s office number into his cell phone.
The marshal’s adjutant answered the phone. “Marshall Choi’s office. Colonel Muk speaking.”
“Colonel, this is General Hwa. I need to speak with General Choi.”
“I think he is expecting your call, but he wishes you to come to his office. Are you en route, General?” Muk was an efficient and officious gatekeeper who was well-practiced at anticipating his boss’s demands. He phrased what he said as a summons, not a question.
Sitting there in his boxer shorts, Hwa exploded. “You don’t need to know whether I’m en route or not, Colonel. That’s way above your pay grade. Is the marshal in, or not?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Then tell him I’m on the line.”
The officious gatekeeper wasn’t going to let some major general step all over him like this. Rather than just buzz General Choi on the intercom, he strode purposefully into the marshal’s spacious office.
“Major General Hwa is on the line, General. Apparently he’s not en route here yet.”
“Why not?”
“He did not say, sir, but he seems quite agitated. Shall I put him through?”
“Yes, put him through now! And close that door behind you.”
Choi was simmering already when Hwa came on the line. But when Hwa was terse with him, he exploded. “Where are you? I demand that you come to my office immediately!”
“It is just not possible, General. I can come in—in about two hours—but not right now.”
“Are you disobeying a direct order? I’ll have your rank for this. Get here now, at once!”
“That is not possible, General. Now what is it you wish from me?”
Choi felt his head was about to explode. He knew the supreme leader would have his rank, and likely a great deal more, if he didn’t get this done. Covertness and all this security crap be damned, and he said what he had wished to say to Hwa in person over the phone.
“It is not what I want, you fool,” Choi shouted. “The supreme leader wants you to unleash your people in New York. Their objective is the building of the United Nations. You have your instructions. Get it done, damn you!” And he slammed down the phone.
* * *
Now it was Hwa’s turn to worry. He anticipated the supreme leader would want to move and move quickly. He dared not question his orders, but these things didn’t happen with the snap of a finger. He had worked with, coached, and all but micromanaged Seung and his team, albeit through a cutout to Seung’s handler. It was a well-thought-out and well-crafted plan and one that would leave no fingerprints indicating this had been orchestrated by the Hermit Kingdom. But that would happen only if it was executed with precision.
But now these fools were meddling with his plan and asking for the impossible. Didn’t they understand the meticulous preparations and the volume of explosives that had to be moved into position? People and equipment had to be staged and the times of normal vendor deliveries had to be coordinated. A successful operation like the one they were planning depended on timing and a great many small but important details. He would do his best, but he would have to take shortcuts he didn’t like.
* * *
Trevor Harward had been asking for a meeting with the president since early morning, but Wyatt Midkiff was absorbed with fine-tuning the speech he was to deliver at the United Nations the next afternoon. Harward couldn’t blame him. The speech needed to condemn North Korea for the attack on an American ship and all that had happened during the attempted rescue of the LCS crew, but it also needed to do a great deal more. And the United States’ allies had to be aligned with what the president would say. It might well be the most important speech of Wyatt’s presidency, Harward found himself thinking, and he needed to support his boss in that effort.
President Midkiff felt much the same way. There was also the issue of retribution and, with it, the United States’ standing in the world. His predecessor had been raked over the coals, appropriately Midkiff thought, for being weak in crises as diverse as Syria, Rwanda, and Ukraine. Midkiff, in contrast, had been elected on a platform of giving the United States more backbone internationally. He had done just that with his actions after the two domestic attacks on the United States earlier in his administration. The attack on USS Milwaukee was of a different nature. It was not an attack on U.S. soil but one that took place on the other side of the world. Public opinion polls, however, were running two to one for punishing North Korea.
It was late afternoon when Harward finally managed to get some time with the president, and they huddled in the Oval Office’s small conversational area. The secretary of defense and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had briefed the president on a range of retaliatory options the day before. Now he needed to make a decision.
“Trevor, the secretary and the chairman laid out a good range of options, but I have to tell you I’m torn about whether we should act at all.”
“I could sense you were uncomfortable during the briefings, Mr. President. To tell you the truth, I’m torn also. On the one hand, North Korea attacked our ship on the high seas with the intent of capturing our crew and holding them hostage, and we lost many good sailors and several airmen in our A-10s because of their actions. But on the other hand, we took everything they threw at us, got our people safely out of there, and inflicted a high cost on their military. I don’t think it’s lost on anyone the North Koreans aren’t a first-rate military power. We can hurt them as bad as we’d like and there’s nothing they can do about it, short of invading the South.”
“I take your point, Trevor. But the American people seem to be inclined to extract a price for this.”
“Yes, I know they are. Now, here is an option you may not have considered,” Harward replied, as the two men lapsed into an extended conversation.
* * *
Aaron Bleich knew the situation between the United States and North Korea was still fluid, and he had his entire Geek Tank focused on that nation and especially on communications into and out of the various military headquarters in Pyongyang. He had divided the monitoring responsibilities for those networks across his entire team and had tuned up the automated collation algorithms to focus on a few key threads.
Now he waited. Would it be one of his Geek Squad rock stars or his prized machines that alerted them to any North Korean moves? No one had left the Geek Tank for the last twelve hours and takeout containers and plastic sports-drink bottles littered their crowded subterranean warren. Bleich was scrolling through a number of databases he had assigned himself to monitor when his question was answered with the door to his office springing open. It was Hasan Khosa.
