Red Phoenix Burning

Chapter 14 — Second Battle of Pyongyang

Tae stared at the map in stark disbelief. The picture it presented was devastating. The general looked slowly over at his aide. Tae’s next orders would spell either survival or doom. He had to know if he was seeing an exact representation of their situation. With a low but steady voice, Tae demanded, “Is this information accurate, Major Ryeon?”

The newly promoted North Korean officer was caked in dirt; a fresh wound on his forehead was covered with a field dressing. He looked worn out and hungry, but it was his crestfallen expression that drove home what he had to say. “I’m sorry, Comrade General, but the intelligence from our Second and Third Corps colleagues has been verified by our cyber warfare soldiers. The map is unfortunately accurate. Pyongyang is almost completely surrounded by imperialist forces.”

Tae almost growled as he threw the map to the floor. He knew this was coming, but it didn’t make accepting the humiliating reality any easier. He paced around the bunker, rubbing his sore shoulder. Those blind KWP fools had ruined their best chance of organizing a proper defense of the city. Tae had very few options left to him, and none had even a poor chance of success. He knew what he had to do, but the soldier in him found it repulsive. The general suddenly felt very tired.

“There is one more thing, General,” said Ryeon quietly. “I regret to inform you that Lieutenant General Yoo Ryang-ho is dead. He was killed in an artillery attack on his headquarters earlier this afternoon. Colonel Mok has taken command of the Third Corps.”

Tae nodded silently, his stern face disguising the pain he felt. He couldn’t afford to lose Yoo, not now, not after the warring factions had finally pulled together.

It was the day after the disastrous meeting with Lee and Jeup that a runner approached Tae’s position waving a white flag. The message was simple. A senior military member of the Korean Workers’ Party faction asked to meet Tae at the place and time of his choosing to discuss terms for a truce. Tae’s reply was equally simple — same location, one hour.

When he arrived at the Taedongmun Park plaza, he saw a single man standing in the open. The man was wearing a Korean People’s Army uniform, an encouraging beginning. As Tae approached, he soon recognized the individual as a classmate and colleague: Lieutenant General Yoo Ryang-ho. Tae hid his surprise as he continued picking a path through the rubble his people had created only the day before. He was careful to scan the area as he walked, the botched double-cross still fresh in his mind. But Yoo was the closest thing to a good friend a senior North Korean military officer could hope to have. Tae hoped this was still the case.

“Greetings, General Tae,” spoke Yoo as he rendered a snappy salute.

“Greetings to you as well, Comrade Lieutenant General,” replied Tae. After returning the honor, he added, “I’m pleased to see you are still alive, Yoo-dongmu.”

“Thank you, sir.” Yoo approached Tae slowly, arms up, hands open. “I regret the foolish actions of my political leaders yesterday. The military council was not consulted on their plan. I would have cautioned them not to underestimate you, and that you rarely do things in a small way.”

Tae had to laugh; Yoo always had a way with words. “I suppose a battalion-level artillery barrage could be considered excessive by some.”

“Perhaps,” Yoo smiled as he stopped less than a meter from Tae. “Nonetheless, it was quite effective. I am here to listen to your proposal.”

General Tae was momentarily surprised. That Yoo was here didn’t change the fact that the KWP faction was fractured. Could this man speak for them? He had to know. “Do you have authority to negotiate, Comrade Lieutenant General? What about the Korean Workers’ Party leadership?”

“I am authorized to conclude a truce with you, if I believe it is in our best interest. As for the ‘political leadership,’ those ignorant fools will no longer interfere with military matters.”

Tae nodded. He understood Yoo’s explanation to mean the party’s leaders were either dead or imprisoned. He really didn’t care, as long as they were out of the way. “Very well, Yoo-dongmu. Here is my proposal.”

Fighting a bad case of déjà vu, Tae described his plan to merge the military forces of the two factions and establish a defensive line against the South Koreans and the Americans to the south and the Chinese to the north. Initially, he skipped the part about negotiating a truce with the US and South Korea, and then together pushing the Chinese out. He decided that breaking the news slowly would have a better chance of success.

Yoo listened without saying anything, but as soon as Tae finished, he asked, “Tell me, Comrade General. Do you truly believe we can hold out against the imperialists? I’m sure you’re aware that they are outside the city, just beyond those hills.” Yoo pointed southward.

Alarm bells went off in Tae’s mind. Yoo’s question, under normal circumstances, would be considered treasonous, punishable by death. Tae didn’t know if Yoo was opening an avenue to discuss surrendering to the ROK and US forces, or verifying Tae’s suspected lack of commitment to the DPRK. The easily seen movements of Yoo’s arm could have been a signal. Was his “friend” about to end his life? Tae’s intuition fought back the fear and told him to stay put, so he stood his ground — there was no crack of a rifle, no explosion. He was still alive.

He sighed deeply before answering Yoo. “No, my friend, I do not believe we can keep the imperialists at bay for more than a day or two. This is the terrible irony of a civil war; all casualties are doubled, all ammunition expenditure is doubled, all the damage to our country is doubled.

“We have worn ourselves out to the point that we are now outnumbered and outgunned by a technologically superior foe. The best I can hope for is to put up enough resistance to get the fascists to think twice about trying to take the city. Then I’ll present our terms. If I’m successful, perhaps we will have help in defending against the Chinese.”

Yoo nodded; he seemed resigned to Tae’s assessment. “Not exactly a recipe for victory, is it?”

Tae chuckled again. “Only if you’re trying to make a bitter stew.”

A pained look flashed on Yoo’s face. “I… I find it unbearable that I failed to protect my country. That I had a role in its destruction.”

“We can discuss who is to blame later, Yoo-dongmu,” countered Tae. “Right now, I need your help to save what is left of our home.”

Coming to attention, Yoo saluted once again. “I accept your terms, Comrade General. What are your orders?”

Amidst the rubble, the two men embraced.

“Sir, what are your orders?” Ryeon’s question jerked Tae back to reality. He didn’t have the luxury to mourn the loss of a fine soldier and friend. That would have to wait. Grabbing the map off the floor, Tae motioned for his staff and unit commanders to assemble around him.

“Unit status, Major,” barked Tae with confidence. His men were exhausted, at the edge of human endurance; they needed to draw strength from him for the coming battle.

“Per your orders, sir, the remnants of the 815th Mechanized Infantry Corps and two understrength brigades from the 820th Armored Corps have moved north to shore up the badly damaged 425th. With the exception of one understrength armor battalion, most of the Pokpung-ho and Chonma-ho main battle tanks have been sent to defend against the Chinese advance.

“The remaining units of the 820th have been distributed between the center and flanks to support each of the infantry divisions. All tanks are in prepared positions and camouflaged against aerial reconnaissance. We have five near full-strength infantry divisions, one at each front and one in reserve,” concluded Ryeon.

Tae nodded as his aide pointed to the unit locations on the map. “What’s our tank strength?” he asked.

Dejected, Major Ryeon looked downward and swallowed hard. The rest of the staff didn’t look much better. “We can only field 207 tanks, mostly older Chinese Type 88s and Type 69s. A great number of our armored vehicles are damaged or have broken down and require a repair facility. And we are extremely short on fuel and ammunition, sir. The unpleasant fact is that most of the tanks don’t have full fuel tanks or ammunition loads.”

Tae fought the urge to laugh. It was either that or cry; the situation was beyond absurd. The pitiful number of older Chinese tanks, with their rifled 105mm guns, was hopelessly outmatched. They might be able to scratch the paint on the vastly superior K1A2 and K2 tanks that would lead the ROK assault. His only hope was that the South Koreans didn’t have enough shells to kill all of his tanks. “It will have to do, Major. Use some of the damaged tanks as decoys; they can still serve a purpose by absorbing South Korean ordnance.”

“Yes, sir, Comrade General.”

“Comrades,” blared Tae as he turned toward the fatigued assembly. “Make sure your men are well entrenched. Keep your heads down until after the rocket barrage, then let go with everything you have. Hold your positions for as long as you possibly can, then fall back to the next defensive line. I expect every man to fight hard and well, but understand this; I will not condone any suicide charges.”

The general walked along the line of his commanders, looking each one in the eye as he spoke. “The simple truth of the matter is that we are too weak to win this fight. Our goal is to make it as hard as we possibly can for the Southerners to enter the city. We want them to stop and think about the casualties they’d suffer if they tried to take it. Once we have their attention, I’ll go out and present our terms. Understood?”

There was an awkward silence as the twenty-four men looked at Tae with a stunned expression. Never before had a general officer said there was no hope of victory. Never before had a general officer expressed concern for the health and well being of his men. They all had been taught from a young age that life was a gift from the state, to be used by the state as it saw fit. If a man was called to sacrifice his life for the benefit of the state, he was to do so gladly. General Tae’s words were unlike anything they’d heard before, and ironically troubling. They just didn’t know how to respond. Finally, Major Ryeon blurted out, “Yes, sir!” The others followed immediately.

“Very well. To your posts, Comrades,” ordered Tae.

Rhee looked through his artillery scope at Pyongyang; the smoke from the interdiction barrage earlier had long since cleared. There was no sign of fighting, or movement, in the city, at least the part he could observe. The attack on the North Korean capital was still an hour away; it had taken General Kwon longer than he’d anticipated getting permission, and more delay getting all the units coordinated and in place. The US combat units had to catch up with the tactical situation, then given their assignments in the battle plan. More people take longer to orientate and move — a simple fact of military science. Nonetheless, the delay grated Rhee; the North Koreans were up to something. He could feel it.

“Colonel, here is the latest UAV report,” said an SOF private, offering a folder.

Rhee snatched the document and began reading it. The barrage had failed to stop the traffic on the Yanggak Bridge, one of the last remaining major spans on the Taedong River, and KPA troops and tanks had moved across, taking up prepared positions right in front of him. The South Koreans could have continued the bombardment, or hit the bridge with airdropped munitions, but they needed that bridge. He frowned, shook his head, and grunted; maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as he first thought.

“What’s wrong, Rhee?” asked Kevin. He saw the grimace on his friend’s face and knew the news wasn’t good.

“It would seem, Colonel Little, that some enterprising individual has managed to convince the two sides that fighting us would be preferable to each other. It looks like KWP faction forces have crossed the Taedong River and assumed defensive positions alongside the General Staff faction.”

Rhee handed Kevin the report. The American’s Hangul wasn’t that great, but the pictures said all that needed to be said. Rhee was right. A lot of tanks and men had crossed the river, which could only mean that a truce had been arranged. The other photos showed numerous built-up areas just outside the city limits that looked like revetments. Most were camouflaged, but some were more hastily put together than others. He could see what looked like tanks in some of the revetments; he suspected there were more in the others.

Numerous makeshift bunkers dotted the landscape in and around the tanks. Each probably held a heavy machine gun, or possibly an ATGM crew, with overlapping fields of fire. Whoever was in charge knew what he was doing.

Kevin passed the report back to Rhee. “That is a very respectable defensive perimeter, Colonel. This won’t be a cakewalk.”

“Agreed, Colonel Little-ssi,” replied Rhee. There was a hint of frustration in his voice. “Nevertheless, General Kwon in his note says the attack will go on as planned.” The Korean colonel pointed to a cover memo at the front of the report.

“The Chinese have taken Taechon, and are moving south very quickly. We cannot delay in taking Pyongyang. Kwon said additional air support would be provided, but that is the best that can be done.”

“Well then… humph,” grunted Kevin as he stood up, “I guess we’d better get ready.”

“Yes, indeed. I trust you brought your personal protective ensemble?”

Kevin winced at the thought of having to put on the nuclear, biological, and chemical protective gear. It was a hot, stuffy day, and the NBC gear would only make it worse — a lot worse. “Yes, I brought it. What MOPP level are we going to?”

“Level two. For now,” Rhee answered. “All three factions have used chemical weapons against each other. I seriously doubt they’ll have any objections to using them on us.”

The floor shook violently, and the air became filled with dust from the powerful shock. A large aircraft bomb had gone off right in front of the Pyongyang Koryo Hotel that Tae was using as a forward observation post. Originally a Kim family showpiece for foreign visitors, the twin-tower, high-rise hotel had been heavily damaged during the earlier fighting. Now the rubble provided excellent protection for Tae and his staff as they watched the battle unfold from the vantage point of an eighth-floor suite.

After picking himself off the floor, Tae took a quick look around at his men. None of them appeared injured, but their ears would ring for several more hours. Gathering his binoculars, the general went back to the wall lined with sandbags and stared out to the south — he should be able to see them any moment now. The preparatory bombardment by aircraft and artillery had been impressively intense. Tae was briefly envious of the amazing firepower he had just witnessed. But now that it had slackened off, the ROK Army would begin their assault. Major Ryeon stumbled up beside his general and leaned against the sandbags. He wiped a fresh layer of dust from his face.

“That was uncomfortably close, sir,” he remarked.

“Yes, it was, Major. And no, I won’t move to the bunker,” replied Tae with a smirk.

“Comrade General, we cannot afford to lose you.”

Tae kept grinning, but never took his eyes from the binoculars. “I appreciate your sentiments, Major, but I have to see what is happening myself. The timing of our actions depends on it. I cannot direct a battle from a hole in the ground!”

“Yes, sir,” mumbled Ryeon.

“Stop acting like a halmeoni, it’s unbecoming a soldier of your rank.” Tae smiled as he teased his aide, calling him a grandmother. The lightheartedness ended quickly, though, his expression becoming more serious. “Any reports on casualties from the bombardment?” he asked.

“Not yet, General. I can only hope that the imperialists attacked many of the decoy positions.”

Tae grunted his acknowledgment. Then turning to face Ryeon he inquired, “And the special weapons?”

“All special weapons have been removed from the artillery units and placed in secure storage in the rear, per your orders.”

The general sensed the uneasiness in Ryeon’s voice; Tae knew his order had not been popular. “I understand your reluctance to follow that order, Major Ryeon, as well as some of the other unit commanders. But it was essential that there be no possibility of a misunderstanding or error. The use of special weapons would severely complicate our negotiations.”

“There has been some grumbling, Comrade General,” admitted Ryeon. “If I may ask, sir, why don’t you want to use the special weapons? It would make our defense far more robust.”

“We need to push our Southern kinsmen, and their American allies, back through traditional means. This will have a far greater impact on their confidence. And while special weapons would likely kill more of their soldiers, it would also anger them. I want them to be careful, not incensed. Besides, using chemical weapons would only delay the inevitable. Pyongyang cannot be held indefinitely. It’s to everybody’s advantage if we end this without a protracted battle. Ahh…” Tae pointed to a wall of smoke forming along the city’s outskirts.

“Our guests are coming. Alert all units. And remind the rocket artillery commanders to fire their rounds quickly and then abandon their launchers. The Americans’ reputation for rapid, accurate counter-battery fire is well justified. Our artillery crews will have precious little time to do their job.”

“Yes, Comrade General, at once!”

The heavy smoke from the obscuration fire blocked Rhee’s view of Pyongyang; he could only hope it was having the same effect on the city’s defenders. Looking closely, he could see the lead elements of the 13th Mechanized Infantry Division moving quickly over the open field. So far, there was no response from the unified KPA units.

“Anything from the teams?” he asked impatiently, walking over to the digital map display. Ghost Brigade had inserted four reconnaissance teams inside the city two days earlier, strategically positioned to observe the movements of KPA personnel and vehicles. Well hidden amongst the rubble, they had a commanding view of the southern approaches to Pyongyang, and their reports had provided crucial intelligence that complimented the UAV information.

“No, sir,” answered Lieutenant Guk, staring at the secure data display. “Last report was no further movement detected.”

Kevin scanned the area with his binoculars. K2 Black Panther tanks were in the lead, followed close behind by a second wave with K1A2 tanks and K21 infantry fighting vehicles. Moving at forty kilometers per hour, it would take them only eighteen minutes to reach the city’s outskirts. The K2 tanks were closing fast on the smoke; but the North Koreans remained silent. The American colonel shook his head. “I don’t get it, Rhee. Back in the day, they would have started firing by now. I didn’t think the KPA had changed their battle tactics all that much.”

Rhee shrugged. “Perhaps they are very low on ammunition.”

“I don’t buy that. If you let the enemy get too close, you won’t have time to shoot more than a few rounds before he’s on top of you. It doesn’t make sense to save ammo if you get overrun.”

Suddenly, Kevin saw smoke trails rising up from the north-northeast — a lot of them. “Holy shit!” he yelled. Rhee looked up and watched as hundreds of rockets sailed skyward. The secure radio then abruptly squawked to life. “Gulf Niner Hotel Zero One, this is Gulf Niner Tango Six Two, incoming artillery rockets. I repeat, incoming artillery rockets.”

General Tae watched with satisfaction as the initial barrage of over one thousand rockets spewed out from Yanggakdo Stadium. Located on Yanggak Island, in the middle of the Taedong River, the large stadium concealed four battalions of BM-11 and BM-24 rocket launchers in its tunnels and sheltered parking areas. Now completely covered in smoke from the rocket motors, Tae hoped the crews had abandoned their launchers quickly. They wouldn’t have time to reload.

The rockets began exploding around the South Korean armor units, throwing columns of flame and smoke skyward. He briefly allowed himself a moment of smug pride. No doubt the imperialists would be wondering how his battered army could pull off such an attack without the aid of an active sensor or radio. He savored the irony of the low-tech method used by Captain Ro and his special forces team. The commandos had dug themselves into the hills to the northeast of the invader’s position, patiently waiting until their lead elements were aligned with a preselected landmark, marking their location. Ro then signaled it was time to begin the attack with a simple mirror and sunlight.

“Major, order the Seventeenth Armor Brigade to advance on the flanks. Antitank missile crews are to follow behind. Artillery, stand by to engage the follow-on units!”

The staccato of exploding rockets sounded like popcorn in a pan. The heat and smoke from the detonations blocked both visual and infrared sensors; Rhee couldn’t see a thing for the interference. Behind him he heard the rapid firing of howitzers — ROK and US Army 155mm self-propelled artillery were about to rain steel on the KPA’s parade. One didn’t need a counter-battery radar to see where the massive barrage had originated.

Lieutenant Guk waved excitedly for his commander, and both Rhee and Kevin hurried over to the communications tent. Guk didn’t even bother to explain; he just hit the mike key and said, “Gulf Niner Tango Seven Four, this is Gulf Niner Hotel Zero One, repeat your last.”

“Gulf Niner Hotel Zero One, this is Gulf Niner Tango Seven Four. I have hostile movers, Papa Hotel, company strength, on the left flank.”

Rhee shook his head; things were getting ugly. Then Guk pointed to the notepad where he had scribbled the first message and held up six, then two fingers — team Six Two was making a similar report. Damn it! cursed Rhee silently.

Grabbing the radio mike, he switched to the main attack frequency and barked, “All units, this is Gulf Niner Hotel Zero One. Hold hostile movers, Papa Hotel, company strength, on both flanks. I repeat hostile movers, Papa Hotel, company strength, on both flanks.”

The radio net burst into furious activity as the advancing armor units started looking for the enemy tanks. Kevin saw the worry on Rhee’s face; the earlier bravado had long been erased. “Pokpung-ho main battle tanks?” he asked.

“Yes, Colonel Little. We’ve walked right into a hornet’s nest,” remarked Rhee. Then turning to his ISR team he shouted, “Get a UAV in there. Now! I need to see what’s going on!”

Running across Pyongyang’s ruined outskirts, the K2 tanks had formed defensive wedges, while the K21 IFVs stayed in two parallel columns, their guns trained outward. The K1A2 tanks branched out along the flanks, keeping a sharp eye out for the KPA tanks reportedly coming their way — behind them lay eighteen disabled or destroyed armored vehicles. The wall of smoke was thick, with fires raging all around them from both sides’ artillery barrages. But at the far ends of the wall, several streams of white smoke flew out from the dense haze. The smoke grenades billowed a thick cloud, obscuring what was behind from both visual and infrared sensors. The Pokpung-ho tanks were making their entry.

Streaking out of the white curtain came fifteen tanks, seven on the left flank, eight on the right. They immediately adjusted their turrets to line up with their targets and opened fire. The 125mm smoothbore guns fired armor-piercing sabot rounds that had little chance of penetrating the front glacis armor of a South Korean tank, but the tungsten darts easily pierced the sides. Six ROK tanks were killed almost immediately, but not before they had returned fire. South Korean AH-1F helicopter gunships had also joined the fray, firing TOW antitank missiles. In less than a minute, all fifteen of the KPA vehicles, their best tanks, were obliterated. But it was just enough time.

While the ROK armor concentrated on the Pokpung-ho tanks, two dozen Reconnaissance Bureau antitank missile teams ran out of the smoke curtains, dropped to the ground, aimed their missiles, and fired. Their Soviet AT-4 Spigot missiles would have little chance of hurting the tanks that were now rushing toward them head-on. Instead, they targeted the far more vulnerable IFVs. Holding their ground while .50-cal machine guns bullets and 40mm cannon rounds kicked dirt and rubble into the air around them, the teams focused solely on guiding their missiles, hitting eight K21 armored personnel carriers. The missiles’ HEAT warheads shot hot molten metal through the hulls, killing the vehicles and many of their occupants. Still more in each vehicle were wounded. The North Korean missile teams had no chance to celebrate their success, as they were ferociously beaten back with heavy casualties.

Moments later, the lead Black Panther tanks plunged through the thick smoke. As soon as they emerged on the other side, North Korean Type 69 and Type 88 tanks began firing. Their efforts were futile. As the solid shot bounced off the ROK tanks, they began firing self-sharpening armor-piercing sabot rounds that sliced through their older foes even after passing through sandbags and broken concrete. The Chinese-made tanks quickly burst into flames once hit, often exploding their ammunition and blowing their turrets high into the air.

Some of the hidden ATGM teams attempted shots at the speeding K2s, but the tank’s active protection system intercepted any missile that managed to get close. With the origin of the missile tracked by the millimeter wave radar, a high-explosive round would follow immediately thereafter, eliminating the missile launcher’s crew.

As the other vehicles popped out into the clear, the IFVs deployed, putting down a withering fire while dismounting the onboard infantry. Some of the North Korean AT-3 Sagger missile crews managed to hit a ROK armored vehicle, but these were few. Fewer still were the number of vehicles disabled or killed. Helicopter gunships flew low along the North Korean line, launching high-velocity rockets and strafing with 20mm Gatling guns. The intense barrage forced the North Korean soldiers to keep their heads down, suppressing their fire. This allowed the ROK infantry to storm the now-exposed positions and destroy them one after another. The KPA front line was collapsing rapidly.

Even though Tae intellectually understood that the enemy’s assault would quickly overrun his first defensive line, watching it happen was entirely different. His troops were completely outclassed, and yet they had succeeded in bloodying one of the imperialist puppet’s best units. He could see ghostly images of the vaunted Black Panther tanks burning through the haze. Tae nodded his approval; his men had done well. Now it was time to pull back.

“Major Ryeon, have the mortar batteries lay down suppression fire on the lead imperialist forces. Order all frontline units to fall back to the second defensive line.” Tae paused and quietly rebuked himself, he had to stop thinking like this. The old propaganda won’t help him achieve his goals. And while shedding the habits of decades wouldn’t come easily, he had to start setting the example for the rest of his men.

“And have the Twenty-Third Artillery Brigade fire their barrage on the follow-on ROK units. Start in close and walk the salvoes toward the hills. Four rounds per gun, then have the crews go to their shelters.”

“Yes, sir, at once.”

“Oh, and Major, order the surface-to-air missile troops to engage any helicopter that gets within range. They’ve roamed the skies freely long enough.”

Rhee’s jaw tightened with each tank and IFV that was hit. His body was tense with pent-up frustration. Even when he looked through his spotting binoculars, he didn’t seem able to stand still. Kevin noted his friend’s agitation with empathy; he felt it as well. In the last war, he and Rhee were the ones down on the battlefield, fighting on the front lines. This time, their positions and responsibilities pushed them toward the rear, to directing the forces in combat. As if sensing Kevin’s thoughts, Rhee quietly muttered, “I should be down there. I can’t tell what’s going on so far away, and with all the smoke.”

“That’s not your job, Colonel,” Kevin chided. “And in the thick of it, you’d see less than you could from up here.”

Little was stating the obvious. Rhee shot him an annoyed glare, but it subsided quickly. His American colleague was also entirely correct. “You could at least be more sympathetic, Colonel Little.”

“That’s not my job either,” replied Kevin sarcastically. Another loud rumble echoed from the direction of Pyongyang. A large cloud of smoke and flames reached skyward. Something big had just exploded.

“That was one of our helicopter gunships,” lamented Rhee.

Kevin looked through his binoculars toward the city. It was hard to make anything out, but the occasional flash and explosion told him the fighting was still going on strong. “Is it me, or have the North Koreans recently become more stubborn?” he asked.

Rhee nodded his agreement. “Yes, they seem to be more determined to fight now. They’re not running or surrendering like they did earlier.”

“That suggests a good commander is calling the shots.”

“Agreed. Unfortunately for us, he appears to be quite competent. The other corps commanders on both flanks have reported similar stiff resistance.”

“Colonel Rhee!” shouted Guk from the comms tent. “Team Seven Four reports the KPA units are withdrawing, moving back to a second line of prepared positions. The team lead says the troops are withdrawing in good order. They’re not running away.”

“Pass the information on, Lieutenant,” ordered Rhee, shaking his head. “Use the primary frequency. We need to let the lead units know the KPA isn’t done fighting just yet.”

No sooner had Rhee given the order than another round of North Korean artillery began landing on the advancing infantry divisions. And just as before, ROK and US artillery let loose with an intense counter-barrage.

“No, they’re not done fighting yet,” repeated Rhee.

Tae stood motionless and watched the fighting for hours. His men were putting up a good fight, but with each passing moment, ROK Army units pushed closer and closer to the Taedong River. He knew his men were on the verge of exhaustion, as he could now see imperialist infantry advancing unimpeded from building to building from his observation post some three kilometers away. It was only a matter of time before his units simply collapsed.

To the southeast he could see some of his tanks valiantly engaging South Korean K1A2s. It was pointless; their guns simply couldn’t penetrate the Southern tanks’ advanced armor. One by one, the old Chinese tanks were gunned down. As Tae looked further to the east, he saw what was left of the Tower of the Juche Idea. A monument to the Kim concept of political, economic, and military self-reliance, it had been shattered, just like his country.

Here he was, fighting a losing battle to convince the imperialists that it would be better for them to join forces. Tae needed to ally his forces with those of his state’s former enemies to the south, to fight their former communist allies to the north. He was fighting because he needed the South to help him preserve what was left of his country. The irony couldn’t have been more bitter.

“Comrade General,” interrupted Major Ryeon. “Colonel Mok reports that his units have taken over thirty-three percent casualties and that they are almost out of ammunition. Other commanders have made similar reports of high casualties and low ammunition. Most of our tanks have been destroyed, and those that are left have few shells, if any.”

Tae sighed deeply. They had done all that they could, all that was possible. Now he had to save what was left of his men and hope it had been enough. “Signal all units to retreat as planned. Have the mortar batteries lay down smoke to cover the withdrawal. Tell the engineers to drop the two spans on the Yanggak Bridge.”

Ryeon saluted smartly, then departed at a run to pass on the general’s orders. Soon Tae saw puffs of white smoke bloom on the river’s southern banks. Hundreds of boats and rafts then appeared as the survivors made their way slowly across the Taedong. In the waning twilight, bright orange and yellow bursts of light flickered along the two causeways of the Yanggak Bridge. Through his binoculars, Tae saw that major portions of both had been destroyed. It was now impassable. If the imperialists wanted to cross over the river, they’d have to bring up bridging units. That would take time, and they would be vulnerable — another point in Tae’s favor.

“Sir, all your orders have been carried out,” reported Ryeon.

“Very good, Major.”

The young officer paused; he still found it difficult to question the intent of a general officer. But curiosity finally got the better of him. “Comrade General, what do we do now?”

Tae turned and smiled. “Now we wait, Major Ryeon. We let the Southerners and the Americans take stock of their situation. And give them the opportunity to consider the prospect of taking this city by force, street by street, building by building. Then, in the morning, we’ll present them with another option.”