Dragon Sim-13

17

Tugur had taken over the army commander's office. He sat behind the desk, wreathed in cigarette smoke, with maps of the area spread out in front of him. He glanced up as the army commander walked in. The man seated himself across the desk and peered at the colonel for a few seconds before beginning his situation report. Tugur could tell that the man resented his presence but was too afraid of Yang to make an issue of it.

"All units are in place, Colonel. Two hours early. They are ready to move out when you give the order. We have also received a report from the crash site. They say that the explosion and fire make it impossible to determine the type or nationality of the aircraft. It appears to have been a helicopter. There are some human remains scattered about the area. Again, it is impossible to determine the number or nationalities of casualties."

Tugur shook his head. "Unacceptable! Tell that idiot up there I want to know how many casualties and the type and nationality of the aircraft. I don't care if he has to put the pieces together, both the aircraft and bodies, by hand."

"Yes, Colonel. I told him that they must remain up there all night if need be, until they have the answers we require. Since it will be cold tonight, I am sure they will work somewhat harder."

Tugur allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "Good. Anything else?"

"Should we not begin the sweep now? All units are in place and awaiting your command."

"Go ahead and get them started." Tugur stirred. "I need to make some phone calls." He waited until the army commander was out of the office, then dialed Yang's number.

"Sir, this is Tugur. The search has started."

Yang's voice acknowledged the news. "Good. We have another problem. I have an eyes-only message from Prime Minister Li Peng demanding any information I have on the terrorists who committed this act. It asks specifically for any indication that students might have been involved."

Tugur digested this new information. His fears grew stronger and more defined. Obviously Yang had not forwarded word on the helicopter. Knowledge is power, Tugur knew. But getting caught withholding knowledge could be very dangerous. They were in over their heads here.

Apparently Yang had come to the same conclusion. "I sent the prime minister a message telling him of the recent discovery of a crash site and also detailing our efforts to catch the terrorists. I hope that will satisfy him." There was a pause and Tugur could almost hear Yang thinking over the phone line. "Why would Li Peng be so interested in this situation? I would think he has enough problems in Beijing to occupy him. None of this makes very much sense. Why would foreigners destroy our pipeline?"

"I do not know, sir." Tugur had no answers and felt that it was a waste of time to speculate. He did not want to mention his personal fear — that the sabotage had been conducted by dissident Chinese soldiers trying to destabilize the government. The only things Tugur didn't understand were where the men had stolen the helicopter, and where they had been fleeing to when they crashed.

Yang hung up the phone. Tugur was more disturbed than ever by Yang's scheming. It was much easier being a simple soldier. Yang was trying to use this incident to advance his career, a move that could easily backfire. There was quite a bit of political maneuvering going on in Beijing, with some of the more liberal generals trying to lever

out the Old Men. Despite their long association, Tugur didn't know where Yang's allegiances lay. Yang had sent divisions down to Beijing to help settle the unrest there, so he was at least putting up the appearance of supporting the current regime. Tugur shook his head. He didn't like it.

Tugur entered the operations center for the army. The radio calls were going out, and the three divisions of the 46th Army had begun moving. From Yanji, down two hundred kilometers to Mount Paektu, the roughly thirty thousand men of the army turned to the west, away from the North Korean border, and moved toward the mountains.

The last people Jean Long expected to see in the doorway of her office were Lieutenant Colonel Hossey and Sergeant Major Hooker, accompanied by a Special Forces warrant officer. The surprise on her face was evident as her first sergeant knocked on the door and escorted them in. Her company was working this Saturday, which wasn't unusual, since they had worked nine Saturdays in a row, trying desperately to keep up with Department of the Army standards for operational readiness.

The ride to ChunChon from Seoul had been harrowing. Hooker had negotiated the narrow mountain road with a skill that any native-born Korean would have been proud of. The normal two-hour ride had taken them only an hour and a half. Five minutes ago they had finally driven down the bustling main street of ChunChon and, at the end of the street, arrived at the only gate to Camp Page.

Jean stood up and greeted them. Hossey introduced her to Warrant Officer Trapp.

"John didn't tell me you were coming up here on an exercise when I talked to him last, sir."

Hossey shut the door behind the departing first sergeant. "I'm not here on a training exercise."

Jean took in the three men's haggard faces and somber expressions. "Did something happen to John? Is he all right?"

"We don't know," Trapp answered.

Jean stood stock-still. "You don't know! What do you mean you don't know? Where is he?"

Hossey fielded that one. "He's in China."

Captain Long sat back in her chair and let that sink in.

Hossey turned to Trapp. "Give her a brief summary of what's happened."

Hooker held up his hand. "I think I'd better go out and stay by my car, just in case some roving MP decides to get a little nosy and check out what's under the blankets in the back seat." He slipped out the door and shut it behind him.

Trapp began a quick narration of events. Jean remained composed throughout the story, occasionally asking a question for clarification. When Trapp finished, she sat silently for a few seconds. Then she reached into her desk and started to rummage through the drawers. She pulled out a large-scale aviator's map. "Give me those grids again."

As Trapp repeated the numbers, she plotted them out. Then she pulled out a ruler and started calculating.

"I've already done some plotting," Trapp told her, "and there's no way to get in and back without a refuel. And that was using the 1st Group's special ops Blackhawks with external tanks. It's too far."

Jean agreed. "I figure almost five hundred and fifty-nine nautical miles in from here, then the same coming back. Hell, our Blackhawks can only go two hundred and sixty total miles on their normal fuel tanks." She was struck by a thought. Getting up, she walked to the door and called to her first sergeant. "Top, what's the status on 579?"

First Sergeant Lucky spit a stream of tobacco juice into the Coke can he carried. "Ma'am, she's ready to go for that goddamn dog and pony show down at Tango Range tomorrow. I didn't get to tell you earlier this morning, but the colonel ordered everything put on that damn bird. This morning our armament guys wasted three hours loading that thing up with those new Stingers. They just finished about a half hour ago. It's sitting over in the secure holding area now."

"What about the internal auxiliary tanks?"

The first sergeant looked at his commander as if she'd grown wings. "Ma'am, we weren't told to put in the auxiliary tanks."

"I just got off the phone with the colonel, and he says he wants them in."

The first sergeant cursed resignedly. "Damn, ma'am! We've haven't put those things in since we deployed last year to Okinawa. That's going to waste another two hours of maintenance time."

"I told the colonel that, but he insisted. This is one of those arguments we're not going to win."

The first sergeant spit another gob into the can. "Yes, ma'am. I'll get them started on it. Make it look real purty for the colonel. You know how many hours of good maintenance time we've wasted getting 579 ready for this display? I'm surprised they didn't have us paint and wax the damn thing."

"Don't say that too loud or someone might hear. Thanks, Top."

Jean closed the door and looked at the two men who had been following the conversation without much comprehension. She explained. "We've got an aircraft going down to Tango Range tomorrow to be part of a military display for a bunch of high-ranking Korean officers. I'm going to have my people put in the four internal auxiliary tanks. Normally we don't use them."

She pulled a manual off the bookcase behind her. "With internal auxiliary tanks we add quite a bit of range. That gives us, let's see, nine hundred and thirty-six nautical miles total. Still not enough. Plus, the internal tanks fill up the entire cargo bay."

She shut her eyes in thought for a second and mused out loud. "The internal tanks are basically rubber fuel bladders in a metal frame. If we drain two or three on the way in, the people we're going to pick up could deflate the tanks and cram aboard. We'd have to get down pretty low on fuel anyway because of the weight problem. Damn! All we need is one refuel on the way in or out, and I think I could fly it."

Hossey protested. "Hold on a second there, Jean. We didn't come here to get you to fly the mission. We wanted you to go with us to your battalion commander and convince him to give us an aircraft and crew."

Jean barked a short laugh. "With all due respect, sir — bullshit! Let's be real. We have a snowball's chance in hell of convincing my colonel to give up a helicopter to violate North Korean and Chinese airspace to rescue some Special Forces soldiers trapped there. Do you think he'd believe you? What would you do if someone came into your office with that kind of story? This is the 'real army.' We don't do things without orders in triplicate. Even if he halfway believed us, which I doubt, he'd have to confer with his boss, who'd have to confer with his boss, and so on. Look at all the trouble you've been having dealing with your own special operations people.

"Besides, what's the matter with me flying? Just because I don't have a certain bodily appendage doesn't mean I can't fly a helicopter as well as, if not better than, most men. The only problem we've got is convincing someone else to be as stupid as me. Stupider actually. I've got a definite reason for flying this mission.

"I can't fly alone. The Blackhawk is a two-pilot bird. You can't reach all the switches from one seat. Besides, that's much too long a flight to try with one pilot. I'm going to have to find another fool to go along." She looked at her calculations and started doing some more figuring.

Trapp had a small smile on his face. This female captain sure was damned spunky, he thought. He'd never worked with women in the army before. In fact, he had never been particularly fond of the whole concept. But he had to admit he admired the way the captain had answered the colonel. She was right, too. He glanced over at the colonel. Hossey raised his eyebrows and shrugged at Trapp, as if to say, I'm not going to argue with her anymore.

Jean looked up. "It's roughly a five-hour flight from here to the pickup zone, then five hours back out. That means we'd have to leave early this evening to make it in and out during darkness. By eight at the latest. I've never flown that long continuously. Nobody here has."

She shook her head irritably. "None of that matters anyway if we don't find a way to refuel on the way in. Even flying over to Japan won't work. China is closer to the north and east than Japan is. I'd have to fly south to Japan and then hop north. That would add more than eight hundred miles to the trip. We'd never make it by tonight. Besides, we'd never get fuel. Once we steal the bird we won't have an authorized flight plan."

Trapp suddenly jerked forward in his chair. "I know where we can get refueled."

Three more kilometers and they'd be at the pickup zone. Going downhill was much easier. The terrain had become less steep, and the bright sun and hard walking had warmed up everyone. Riley called a rest halt beneath a tall tree. He took out Olinski's monocular and climbed up the tree to get a look around.

Looking ahead to the east from his perch, Riley tried to spot the pickup zone. As the elevation dropped, the vegetation had gotten thicker, and he couldn't tell whether there was a clearing where the map said it should be. He could see the river off to their left front, sloping down toward Yanji in the north. The unimproved dirt road was there also— Riley could catch glimpses of the brown snake crossing the undulating terrain.

Riley looked farther to the east and froze. He spotted a plume of dust. Then another. And another. He spent five minutes studying the activity, then carefully shimmied down the tree.

Mitchell was waiting for him. "What you got? See the pickup zone?"

Riley shook his head. "But I can see the river and the road, so we're only about three kilometers away from where it's supposed to be. We've got visitors coming." Riley had immediately captured the entire team's attention. "I can see dust raised by vehicles heading this way. About ten kilometers past where the pickup zone is supposed to be. They seem to be moving real slow. I'd say we've got a cordon of troops heading toward us. They must have definitely found the crash site and figured out we were somewhere around. Really didn't take any genius on their part to figure out we'd head for the coast."

Comsky was the first to grasp the obvious implication. "Do you think we'll make the PZ before them?"

"Yeah, we can definitely make the PZ before them," Riley assured him, "that's not the problem. The problem is to keep them from seeing us when they sweep by. They're moving pretty slow — I'd say about two kilometers an hour. It gets dark in about five hours, so it's going to be close."

Olinski raised himself slightly on his good arm. "They'll stop for the night. I don't think they'll keep up their sweep in the dark. They'll stop and set up a guard line, then move out tomorrow morning at first light."

Mitchell considered this. "So it's a question of whether they make it to the pickup zone before dark. If they don't, we're OK because we'll be there. If the Chinese do make it there, or farther, we're going to have to go through their lines tonight."

Riley nodded. "I think we ought to hold up here and keep watch on the search line. Wait until dark and then move down. With a little luck the Chinese will stop before the PZ."

C.J. was tired and irritable. "All that's nice and fine, but what happens if we make it to the PZ and no bird comes tonight? We'll still

have to deal with the Chinese tomorrow. Maybe we ought to head back the way we came and try to evade them."

Riley disagreed. "No way. It kicked our ass coming down here. We can't go back up. Besides, what's up there? They'll catch up with us eventually. We might as well go for broke tonight. If the aircraft doesn't come tonight, we'll try to slip through and head on down to the coast like originally planned. We can't run forever."

Chief Warrant Officer Colin Lassiter was finishing running up a Blackhawk on the flight line when Captain Long finally tracked him down. He watched the approach of the captain through the windshield. She was with another warrant officer. Lassiter did a quick scrutiny of the man's uniform badges — you could learn a lot from a man's badges. No flight wings above the man's left shirt pocket: a warrant officer who wasn't an aviator. He noted the Special Forces patch on the man's left shoulder and the same patch on his right shoulder, indicating combat service in Special Forces. He wondered if that meant he had been in Vietnam.

Lassiter was too young to have been in Vietnam. He'd been in the army sixteen years, twelve of them as an aviator. He'd taken up flying because he liked excitement and he loved flying. He still loved flying but the excitement had worn thin. He was fed up with the army and planned on getting out after this tour in Korea. He was tired of all the games he had to play. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got out, and he really didn't care as long as he could fly.

He watched the captain and Special Forces warrant come up to the aircraft as he started to shut the bird down. Lassiter respected Captain Long. None of the warrants in D Company had been thrilled when they got a female commander, but their original antipathy had grudgingly given way to acceptance. Some still didn't like having a woman in command and never would, but after only two months in command, the captain had earned the respect of most of the men in her unit. Lassiter respected Long because she made decisions and didn't bullshit people. She told the truth as she saw it and was fair. That was unusual in officers, in Lassiter's experience — which was another one of the many reasons he was getting out of the army. On top of her command abilities, Lassiter also respected Captain Long's flying skill. She was one of the best pilots he had ever flown with.

With the engine finally shut down, Lassiter stepped out of the aircraft.

Long introduced the two warrants. "Jim Trapp, this is Colin Lassiter." She turned her direct gaze on Colin. "Jim is in my husband's unit down in Yongsan. He's come to me with a problem. I might be able to help him out but I need some assistance. I came to you first because I thought you might be willing to give us a hand."

Lassiter gathered together his flight gear, throwing his helmet in its bag. "What do you need?"

"I need a copilot to help me steal a helicopter and fly it to China to rescue my husband and some of his team members."

Lassiter put down the bag. Captain Long had a good sense of humor, but this was a little strange. "Come on, ma'am. That's pretty good. What do you all need?"

Trapp looked Lassiter in the eye. "She isn't joking. We were in China on a classified mission. Their helicopter crashed. Mine made it out. They've been written off as far as everyone else is concerned, but we know that some of them are alive. We can't get anyone else to react in time. We have to go in tonight."

Lassiter looked from one to the other. It sounded like dialogue from a bad movie. But he could tell they weren't joking. "You're serious," he said incredulously.

Jean Long looked at him piercingly. "Please, Colin. My husband is there. They've got three wounded men. We've got to go tonight to get them out."

Colin shook his head. "Why me? Why'd you come to me?"

"Because I know you're getting out and are fed up with this stuff. You're bored. You aren't married. You're a good pilot. And truthfully because you're probably the only one crazy enough to do this with me."

Colin considered this. "The last one is certainly true. I'd have to be crazy as hell to do this." He rubbed his chin in thought — things were looking more exciting by the second. "China, heh? I've always wanted to see China. What's the plan?"

"Let's go to my office and we'll show you."

The plan had been done scientifically. The 46th Army had five divisions. Two had been sent to Beijing. That left three infantry divisions at an authorized strength of ten thousand men each. Minus those sick or injured, the few on leave, and those slots that were unfilled, 26,345 were left to participate in the search. One wheeled vehicle per company was authorized to carry equipment and for radio control. Everyone else was on foot.

Taking out the truck drivers, division staffs, and various other support people, there were 24,395 soldiers on foot. Dividing the two hundred kilometers they were to cover by that many soldiers gave each man a search area approximately eight meters wide. With this gap between soldiers, the 46th People's Liberation Army marched toward the mountains.

The cordon already had run into twelve hunters and two trucks from mines in the mountains. The army commander was taking no chances. All had been taken into custody until their identification could be verified. Each regimental commander checked off the phase lines as their units crossed them. The pace had been set at two kilometers an hour.

Like a rising olive-green tide, the army swept the foothills of the mountains.

Hossey, Trapp, and Hooker had spent the hours profitably. They war-gamed the situations they might face and devised plans to meet them. They decided that Trapp and Hooker would fly with the Blackhawk until the refuel point. Hossey wanted to go with them, but Trapp convinced the colonel that he had another important mission.

"Sir, you need to stay on the phone and get someone to believe that those men are really on the ground. I don't know what the hell is going on at US-SOCOM with them denying any knowledge of the operation, but you have to try to get to the bottom of it. We also need you to prepare for the return of the helicopter so it doesn't get shot down trying to get back into South Korean airspace."

Hossey was forced to agree with Trapp's logic. He took Hooker's car and headed back to Yongsan.

It had taken Lassiter and Long an hour to finish their flight plan for the mission. They plotted their route in and out of the target area and studied the maps they had available. The lack of good imagery was a handicap. Luckily the pickup zone appeared to be located just by the intersection of a river and an unimproved road. The plan was simple. They'd fly up the coast and turn left when they saw the lights of the North Korean town of Najin on its promontory. Circumnavigating the town, they'd fly almost due east until they saw the river, then turn left and fly until they hit the dirt road. Jean felt that they would have enough points over land to be able to update the Doppler en route and get them close to the PZ.

They planned to lift off just prior to 9:00 p.m. local. In the hours remaining they had a lot to accomplish. The internal tanks had to be filled on 579, the helicopter they would be using. They had to file a false flight plan with base operations so they could take off. They had to draw their night-vision goggles. Trapp and the sergeant major had to load some equipment on board the bird. And all this had to be done without arousing the suspicions of anyone in the unit.

Fortunately, the military mind-set aided them in their endeavors. No one questioned them as they went about preparing for the mission. The fact that it was a quiet Saturday afternoon helped. Jean let Lassiter handle the helicopter while she went over to flight operations and filed a flight plan. She told the NCO on duty the same story she had used on her first sergeant: She and Lassiter were taking 579 down to the range early and would spend the night there. Jean knew the story would last long enough for them to make the east coast of Korea. After that she wasn't sure what the reaction would be, but hopefully by then they would have disappeared from all radar screens as they hit the wave tops.

Lassiter had the support platoon bring over a fuel truck and pour in JP4 fuel until all four internal tanks were bulging. When that was done, he started preflighting the aircraft. As he was checking the engine fluid levels, Hooker and Trapp arrived, carrying a bulky duffel bag. Lassiter eyed the bag and the two Special Forces soldiers. "What's in there?"

Hooker tapped the bag knowingly. "Just some what-if stuff."

The army commander updated Tugur on the latest situation report. "The sweep has progressed twelve kilometers from the border road. They are making approximately two kilometers an hour." He turned to the map. "We estimate they will be somewhere along this trace by dark. So far they have managed to turn up some hunters and miners. There has been no sign of the terrorists."

Tugur grunted his acknowledgment.

The commander continued. "I have a recommendation to make." Tugur gave him an encouraging nod. "Since we found the wreckage in this location, I think we ought to narrow the search in order to concentrate our forces. The terrorists are on foot. They cannot be moving fast enough to have gone much farther than, say, from here to here." The commander outlined his estimate on the map. "I suggest we pull our forces from these areas here to the north and south and concentrate them in this center area, from twenty kilometers north of the indicated point to twenty-five kilometers below it. This will allow us to have a much better net."

Tugur agreed with the officer. "Your reasoning is valid. Give the orders."

Watching the search line creep forward had been agonizing. From his perch Riley watched in growing dismay as more trucks pulled into the area, dropping off additional troops. He climbed down from the tree and reported to Mitchell. "They're going to make the pickup zone before dark. They're only two kilometers away from it now. I figure they'll go maybe another kilometer beyond by dark. And there's more bad news. Looks like the search is being concentrated here. For the last hour more troops have been coming into this area. The density of the search line has almost doubled."

Mitchell sighed. "Do you think we can break through tonight?"

Riley shook his head. "Before these reinforcements I would have said maybe. Now I doubt it. We're definitely going to make contact. I don't relish the idea of running toward the pickup zone, carrying Olinski, and fighting off the Chinese at the same time. We could force our way through, but they'd track us down and wipe us out before we went five hundred meters." Riley kicked the tree Mitchell was leaning against. "Damn! We've got to come up with a plan."

Mitchell agreed. "Let's bring everyone together and talk it over."