Red Phoenix Burning

Chapter 16 — Reaction

“Are we prisoners here?” Ye Dong-soo didn’t waste any time. The big, weathered farmer had been appointed by the rapidly growing crowd outside Kary’s tent as their spokesman, not that they needed him to articulate their position. They all wanted to go home.

There was no way to answer Ye’s question directly. “Yes” was untrue, and “no” would be treated as a denial of what seemed obvious to him.

He was frustrated, heading for angry, but Kary tried her best to answer emotion with reason. “If you go north, the army will stop you at the border. The government has declared all of the former DPRK as a war zone. They have a huge problem taking care of the people that are still there, and deserting KPA soldiers are preying on civilians. And where there was fighting, there are damaged roads and unexploded shells…”

Ye hardly listened. “We heard all that yesterday, from the general in that long-winded speech! But Pyongyang has surrendered. There may be fighting in the north, but our village is well south of there. We are trapped here, while the Southern army loots and burns our homes!”

Kary was surprised at the accusation. “That’s simply—”

“We’ve seen the pictures on the broadcasts. Whole streets in Chorwon were on fire!”

“That’s from the fighting,” she insisted.

“Nobody’s putting out the fires. We have to get back to protect our homes. And my crops should be harvested.”

She persisted. “There’s no transport to take you back. Every truck in the army is taking soldiers or supplies north.”

“That’s a lie!’ he countered angrily. “There’s a whole row of trucks at the base, right next to the camp. Give them to us, if you don’t want to do it yourselves.” Ye was almost pleading now.

“The motor pool?” Kary asked. “They aren’t mine to give. Besides, how many can each one hold? Fifteen? Twenty? How many people are in this camp? When it’s finally time for you to return, the army will send hundreds of trucks.”

He didn’t look convinced. She tried a different tack. “Please, Ye Dong-soo-ssi, you know I’m helping people reunite with their relatives here in the South. Individuals and families are leaving the camps every day.”

“Yes, a handful at a time,” Ye argued. “The trucks would be quicker.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “Walking would be quicker.”

“It’s what I can do,” Kary insisted. “Colonel Little said my job was to care for you and your countrymen — food, shelter, better medical care than you’ve ever had. And I’ve added more: classes for the children, and any adults willing to go.”

“Propaganda,” Ye grumbled. But he was calming down. “Everyone here took terrible risks to come south because a civil war is no place for a family. We are grateful for what you have given to us, but it’s time to go home!” His emotions boiled up again, and he slapped the table for emphasis.

“I will meet with the Korean army commander right away, and ask him what can be done to speed up the process.” Kary sighed. “At the very least, he can give me — and you — a timeline and progress reports. Maybe he could come back and explain exactly what they are doing.”

“No! No more speeches!” Ye insisted.

“When I find out, can I count on you to pass on what I do learn?”

Ye scowled. “You know where I’ll be,” he answered, and stalked out of Kary’s tent.

Others of her staff were waiting their turn to see her, but Kary told them to wait for half a moment while she stood and went over to the table where they kept a pot of coffee brewing. It was relatively fresh, and much better than the Chinese instant coffee most in the North drank.

The last two days had been an emotional roller coaster, and she could only hope that the ride was bottoming out. The victory in Pyongyang had been welcomed in Munsan, if not celebrated as wildly as nearby Dongducheon, or Seoul, or really every city in the South.

Alcoholic beverages were discouraged in the Munsan camp, and that may have also dampened the celebrations, but people from the North had a different context. They had been brought up being taught that South Korea was an enemy, and now its army had invaded and conquered their capital city. Even Northerners who hated the Kims felt conflicted. They certainly didn’t feel liberated.

The news media didn’t help her cause, describing the “collapse” of DPRK resistance and heavy KPA casualties, or announcing that the front lines were now north of the capital. Too many government officials, egged on by eager reporters, had already declared victory. Even when confronted with news about the Chinese invasion, they predicted that their all-powerful army would drive them out of “United Korea.”

Within hours, some people in the camps had simply left, walking out the same way that they walked in. They were inevitably picked up by ROK military police near the border and returned to Munsan; sometimes the worse for wear.

The same thing was happening to South Koreans who headed north to look for relatives, but Southern citizens were just told to go home, not taken to a camp where the disgruntled could gather and reinforce each other’s frustration.

Less than twenty-four hours after the fall of Pyongyang was announced, Kary’s tent had received a steady stream of people wanting to leave, and asking if she could please arrange transportation back north. There were so many helicopters and trucks and airplanes going in that direction. Certainly there was room for a few passengers.

Kary had appealed to Little’s deputy for help. In all the chaos it was hard to find a point of contact with the South Korean army, now once again in charge of Munsan and the other refugee camps. The new reserve colonel had been sympathetic and helpful. He’d even called a meeting to explain to everyone why they had to remain at Munsan, at least for the foreseeable future. Food supplies in the north were problematic, and he couldn’t guarantee their security. No, he couldn’t give them a definite date when they could go home.

It hadn’t gone well.

And today it was even worse. Munsan offered shelter, food, and many other positive things. But it was also crowded, uncomfortable, and smelly. People had to stand in long lines for anything worthwhile, and even with the classes Kary had organized, there was little to do. Those things were acceptable if the alternative was living in a war zone, but the war was almost over, wasn’t it?

She sat back down and one of the staff came over with a question. The children needed a playground. Could space be found? Kary was pretty sure she could get the city leaders in Dongducheon to contribute some equipment.

Another reported there were still incidents of food hoarding. It was understandable that people so used to scarcity would want to have some food reserved if the situation changed — or if they were planning to make a trip, Kary realized.

But there were few places in camp where food could be stored that were even close to being sanitary. Not only had there been incidents of food poisoning, but insects and even rats had appeared. How could she give people confidence in their food supply? And were the times of hardship really over?

As the afternoon progressed, she listened to the problems the staffers posed and either resolved them or, more usually, added them to a list, Kary watched the clock. Not only was her stomach complaining, the evening meal was only served until 1930.

She was missing Cho again. He spent a lot of time on errands for her, or the camp commander, who had found him useful. The South Korean officer openly admired someone who had worked against the Kim regime directly. There was no longer any talk of him being arrested.

Kary usually waited for Cho Ho-jin to appear before going together to dinner. She also often found him waiting near the ladies’ quarters when she came out in the morning. At meals, he asked questions about governments and laws, or life and work in the South and faraway America. In return, he fed her tidbits of camp gossip. Many made her laugh, while others helped her understand the life of a refugee.

By 1910, she gave up waiting for him and headed for the mess tent. She made it a point to eat what everyone else did. She needed to see that the camp’s residents were being properly fed.

The tent was full of people eating, and there were still a fair number waiting to be fed. She got in line, picking up a tray. Maybe it was good that she’d come in so late. The mess line had been open for over two hours, and the cooks weren’t keeping the serving area as clean as it should be. And they were running short…

She heard a commotion over at the far end of the mess tent, and then a gunshot. Her heart froze. She dropped her tray and headed in that direction.

Or tried to. Most of the people in the tent were running away from the source of the noise. Only her height allowed her to dodge and push upstream against a river of humanity. As she got closer, she could see some sort of fight had broken out, a dozen or more men, young and old, punching and wrestling. It wasn’t clear what they were fighting about, and she couldn’t see anyone with a pistol, or any other weapons.

She had to stop it, somehow, and was trying to figure out how when a phalanx of soldiers, in body armor and carrying batons instead of rifles, ran in the front gate of the camp. In wedge formation, they pushed their way through anyone that didn’t get out of their way fast enough, and drove straight into the center of the scuffle.

Teams of soldiers began pulling individuals out of the fight. While two men immobilized a combatant, another zip-tied his hands, blindfolded him, and turned the now helpless prisoner over to other soldiers, who had roared up in a truck.

It was brutal, but efficient. Kary wondered how long they had trained…

Something pricked the back of her neck. As she automatically tried to step forward, away from the irritation, a callused hand materialized around her throat. It firmly held her against the sharpness, and squeezed just hard enough to threaten her windpipe without preventing her from breathing.

“Don’t speak.” She tried to pull away and the hand tightened more. It felt like it was made of stone. Her movements also jostled her assailant’s other arm, and she felt a sharp pain on the back of her neck. “This knife is very sharp. Turn around.”

To reinforce the order, the hand slid out to her shoulder and spun her a half circle. It pushed her roughly forward. “We’re going out the front gate.” Still in shock, and hardly given time to understand, she complied, or more accurately, didn’t resist.

She half stumbled and began walking. The knife and the hand holding it dropped down to her upper back, while the other hand relaxed its grip, but stayed firmly on her shoulder.

Frightened, almost numb, she looked at the people around her, but their attention was on the fight and the soldiers breaking it up. The knife, if that’s what it was, enforced her silence. A few people glanced in her direction, and presumably saw whoever was close behind her, but had no reaction.

After a few steps, she asked, “Why…”

The hand pinched her shoulder, hard. He pushed her roughly and they began walking more quickly. “I said, do not speak!” the voice said harshly. “Save it for the motor pool. You are going to sign out all four trucks for this evening.”

It was Ye Dong-soo. She’d spoken to him long enough that afternoon to recognize his voice. They were walking quickly, almost to the front gate and the Korean army base outside. Other people were nearby, but almost everyone’s attention was still drawn to the fight. It was starting to get dark, too.

“They’re stopping civilians at the border.” She’d said as much that morning. Wasn’t he listening? The shock and paralysis of the surprise was passing, but fueled by adrenaline, her mind was racing. Could she persuade him to let her go? Could she yell for help somehow without getting stabbed? People were passing by them all the time. Why didn’t they notice?

At least he didn’t squeeze her throat this time. “You are coming with us. If we are stopped, you’re going to tell them that the army has given us permission to return home. I’m sure you will be able to convince them,” he added almost brightly.

She looked at the people walking by. Everyone was heading toward the altercation in the mess tent. She thought about winking or making some sort of weird expression. After all, Ye was behind her. He wouldn’t see it. But their first reaction would be to ask her what was wrong. That wouldn’t help her at all, and would just involve someone else.

Then she saw Cho Ho-jin. He’d just turned the corner and was heading toward them, walking quickly. He was some distance ahead, but they were still close to the camp. He had to pass by her to go in the front gate.

But what could she say? Did he have the pistol with him? No. She remembered it was back in her footlocker.

“We don’t have any paperwork to take the trucks, or to cross the border.” Cho was only meters away.

“I’m sure you can talk us through. The people at the motor pool will listen to you.” She tried to look straight ahead, and not at Cho.

Then he passed them without even looking in her direction, heading toward the commotion with everyone else. How many tall American women were in this camp, anyway? Was he too distracted to notice them?

Her heart sank and her legs seemed to lose their strength. His sudden appearance had meant salvation, but he’d passed by. More afraid now, she thought furiously. Keep Ye talking.

“What about drivers?” she asked, trying a practical approach.

“They’re already waiting near the motor pool,” Ye answered. “We’ll be moving in minutes, and loaded… ”

Ye’s reply ended with a strangled “Gurk!” His hand on her shoulder tightened, then was torn loose. The motion pulled her around, and she saw Cho standing behind and to one side of the farmer. He had one hand on the front of Ye’s throat, pulling him back hard, so that he fell backwards over Cho’s outstretched leg. Cho was twisting his upper body as he pulled Ye down, literally throwing all his weight into the movement.

Her kidnapper, surprised and wide-eyed, landed hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Cho then delivered a vicious kick to the side of Ye’s head, and the farmer went limp.

Kary realized she was screaming, as much out of surprise and reaction to Cho’s fierce attack as she was from fear. She forced herself to stop, as those around her, including several ROK soldiers, saw what had happened. Ye and his alarmingly large knife were quickly taken into custody, while Cho promised to bring Kary to the provost’s office as soon as she’d had some time to recover.

She shivered, swallowing hard, and found Cho was supporting her, one arm around her waist and the other under an elbow. She did feel a little unsteady.

Cho was almost frantic. “Are you all right? Did you get cut anywhere?” Even as she tried to answer the question, Cho swung her around to check her back and neck for injuries.

“What about your throat?” he asked, studying her throat and then her shoulder. “Does it hurt anywhere?” He was holding her by her shoulders, his face full of concern.

Without thinking, she hugged him, hard, wrapping both arms around him and burying her face in his neck. She wasn’t crying, not exactly. It was half for support — no, it was all for support, and right now he was an iron pillar. “I thought you didn’t see me,” she said after a moment.

His arms were around her now, too. “I would never walk past you. You’re easy to find, especially in a crowd of Koreans.” That made her laugh, a little, and she eased her grip to something less desperate.

“Your expression was completely blank,” he explained. That was my first clue. And that nappeun nom was right behind you. You’d never let someone get that close.”

“Really?” she remarked, looking at the two of them. They both laughed, and realized that a small crowd surrounded them. As they released each other and she stood straighter, she heard cheers and questions. The ajummas all wanted to make sure she was unharmed, and everyone congratulated Cho on his neat takedown of her assailant.

She realized that she was still holding Cho’s hand, but was reluctant to let go. She was also a little embarrassed. Public displays of affection in Korea were usually limited to handholding, or a quick peck on the cheek. Embraces like theirs often earned a scolding from more conservative citizens, but under the circumstances, allowances could be made.

Cho also noticed her holding his hand, but made no move to break away. He smiled and said, “If you’re all right, you should go to the provost’s office.”

“Please come with me?” she asked.

The Seventh Air Force was now fighting a round-the-clock war. Lieutenant General Randall Carter and his deputy, Brigadier General Tony Christopher, had agreed long ago that at least one of them would be in the ops center at all times. With advanced sensors and night vision gear for pilots, nighttime was just another operational environment. In fact, it was a little safer than flying during the day, with a lower risk of visually aimed potshots. And the air was smoother, without the thermals from daytime heating.

And it didn’t help that Washington was thirteen hours behind Seoul. The message Tony was reading had been sent at three in the afternoon, Washington time.

He’d already sent word to wake the general. They were supposed to be getting at least six hours of sleep out of every twenty-four, but it was a goal they didn’t always reach. For something like this, the boss had to be told right away.

General Carter hurried in, still shaking off sleep. Both he and Tony had quarters in the same building as the ops center. “Flash precedence?” he asked.

“The Chinese rejected the latest note,” Tony explained, handing Carter the hard copy. “All of a sudden, Pyongyang falling doesn’t seem like such a big deal.”

“It does change one’s perspective,” Carter remarked as he read the message, then took the time to read it again while Tony waited silently. “At least they’re giving us decent ROEs for the Chinese. Beijing is going to regret this,” the general predicted.

“They can still cause a lot of problems,” Tony replied with caution.

“But they can’t justify taking and holding Korean territory, at least not easily in this day and age, and we can cause problems for them as well.” Carter said the last part in a very positive way. Turning, he looked at the unit status board and pointed. “What are the Nineteenth and Twenty-Seventh doing?”

Both squadrons were equipped with F-22 Raptors and had been among the first reinforcements the Seventh Air Force had received, along with a flock of transports and aerial tankers.

“No changes, General. Rotating escorts for the E-3C AWACS and E-8C JSTARS aircraft, four reconnaissance sorties later today, and the rest on standby.” With total air superiority, the Raptors had little to do, but that could all change quickly.

“Reinforce the escorts from pairs to four-ship formations, and have the rest of the aircraft in the squadrons come up to alert plus fifteen at 0900. Send that out now, then tell the mission planning cell to double the escorts on all missions that will be anywhere north of Kaechon at 0900 or later.”

Tony made notes as the general spoke, nodded, and then simply looked at his boss.

The general was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Saint. I can’t tell you much, but you might want to look up ‘horizontal escalation.’ And between now and then, you and I are going to sit here and think of every dirty trick the Chinese could play on us, and what we can do to stop it.”

The wall behind the news anchor displayed a map of the South China Sea, framed by China on the north, Vietnam to the west, the Philippines to the east, and Malaysia far to the south. The blue oblong was dotted with small islands and archipelagos, and on the network’s map, two of the islands, both in the east near the Philippines, were highlighted by glowing red boxes. Insets showed close-ups of a triangular atoll and US warships steaming in formation. A scrolling banner across the bottom of the page read, “Naval Confrontation in the South China Sea — US and China Ready to Fight?”

“We’re breaking into our evening coverage to tell you about this latest development in the ongoing faceoff between China and the United States. Only hours after Beijing flatly refused to discuss their advance into the former North Korea, US Marines landed on a small island, not really even an island. It’s a tropical atoll called Scarborough Shoal, after a British ship that ran aground on it in the late 1700s.

“US Navy warships showed up early this morning local time and began escorting Chinese-flagged fishing boats out of the area. Those that refused were boarded. The ‘Notice to Airmen and Mariners’ posted by the US government declared an exclusion zone around the entire area while the US and Philippine Navy conducted ‘joint maritime security operations.’” The anchor read the text verbatim, but without any understanding.

“With us this evening is Dr. Eric Anderson from the Naval War College, a widely published expert on China and the long-running South China Sea dispute, to put this action in context.”

Anderson was slim, well dressed, and evidently used to being interviewed. He didn’t waste time or words. “The waters around Scarborough Shoal are being heavily fished by the PRC, Taiwan, and the Philippines. The atoll lies 530 miles from the nearest Chinese territory, and 130 miles from the Philippines.

“The exclusion zone bars other ships, including Chinese and Taiwanese vessels, from the area, and will allow the Philippine fishermen to operate without fear of harassment by the Chinese Coast Guard or other PRC paramilitary ships. That’s been a real problem for them.”

He paused for a moment. “It’s a minor economic hit for China, but a big boost for the Philippines, an important American ally in the region.”

The anchor asked, “Is there a lot of fishing around the Spratly Islands, where the second exclusion zone was declared?”

Anderson nodded. “Some, and also the possibility of oil or mineral deposits. They’ve never been properly explored or developed because China, the Philippines, and others have been squabbling over them for decades.

“Lately, China’s been expanding the islands in the Spratly archipelago, adding airstrips and radar stations in what the international community calls ‘disputed territory.’ Beijing is trying to claim squatter’s rights, but that only works if the other side, like the Philippines, is weaker.

“The US is guaranteeing that the Philippines will have full access to the resources in those two areas while shutting the Chinese completely out. It shows that America, which so far remained impartial in these territorial disputes, will now come down hard on the side of its allies. It also reminds China that the US Navy is still…”

The anchor held up a hand while she listened to her earpiece. “Dr. Anderson, my producer says the Chinese ambassador to the UN has just released an official statement. He’s sending it to me now.”

She turned to read the flat-screen display to one side. After a moment she reported, “It’s not very long. They condemn the ‘unlawful seizure,’ and so on, then say they will not be intimidated, and threaten ‘grave consequences.’”

Facing her guest, she asked, “What do you think that means, Doctor?”

“It means we’re playing on a different level now.”

President Wen asked the question flatly. “How much more do we stand to lose?”

The foreign minister, already apologetic, answered, “I can’t say, Comrade Chairman. We didn’t believe the Americans would react that strongly, or quickly. My analysts are studying US official statements and other sources, trying to understand what they missed.”

“Maybe the US president has been reading Sun Tzu,” added Defense Minister Yu. “Our possessions in the South China Sea were vulnerable. They used them to send us a message.”

Wen responded, “A message, a reminder, or a threat?”

“That depends on how we wish to view it,” the defense minister answered. “But the Americans don’t want to fight us any more than we want to fight them.”

“But they are fully involved now, as you correctly predicted they would be. But with the fall of Pyongyang and the surrender of KPA units to ROK or US forces, the situation has changed, and not to our advantage.”

The defense minister reminded them all, “This isn’t about that capital or the Korean People’s Army; it’s about nuclear weapons in the former DPRK. We haven’t found any in the territory we’ve occupied — none. And we’ve heard nothing from the Americans or the South Koreans, so it is likely they haven’t found any either.”

“Comrade Chairman, our troops are near Dong-an and Yak-san, only ten kilometers from the Yongbyon nuclear facility. Our best chances of finding nuclear weapons is there. We must seize the facility before we even begin to consider a cease-fire.”

“Even if it means firing on South Korean forces, General?” asked Wen. “The intelligence reports suggest the South Koreans are now supporting the former KPA units, providing them with provisions and ammunition. What if our soldiers come in contact with ROK Army units? Are we now to engage them as well?”

“If we move quickly, that may not be necessary, Comrade Chairman,” answered the defense minister. “The advance of US and ROK army forces has slowed, due to the need to organize and supply former KPA units. If we get across the Chongchon River, and then stop, establishing a defensive line from the coastline through Anju to Tokchon, we maximize our chances of finding the nuclear weapons, while minimizing the possibility of an altercation between our forces and the Americans and their ROK ally.”

Wen frowned as he considered Yu’s suggestion. After a brief moment, he nodded slowly and said, “Unless we wish to change our goal, we must continue.”

Several CMC members shook their heads; the defense minister repeated strongly, “The security of China against a nuclear attack is paramount.”

The president stood. “Then that’s it.” He ordered the foreign minister, “We must make every effort to remind the world that we are doing this on behalf of all Asia. We will not rest until the Kim’s nuclear stockpile is found and destroyed.”