Red Phoenix Burning

Chapter 21 — Stronghold

The emergency response vehicles wailed as they charged down the taxiway toward the subsiding orange fireball. At the far end of the runway, a returning F-16C had just plowed into the field, tumbled, and burst into flames. Tony held his breath as he watched the ejection seat shoot skyward moments before the jet blew up and prayed the pilot had escaped unharmed. That was the third aircraft the 35th Fighter Squadron had lost that evening, and the massive attack on the Kim redoubt was still to come.

The preliminary strike was a large-scale suppression of enemy air defenses, or SEAD, raid by seven squadrons — three US, two Korean, and two Chinese. The objective was to make the holdouts believe a massive air attack was underway, and trick them into engaging with their SAMs and AAA. The ruse worked well.

Apparently, it never occurred to the defenders that almost all of the “targets” that their radars detected were decoys. They held nothing back, and an eruption of missiles and shells poured out from the mountains against the phantom raiders. Once the weapons’ locations were exposed, the aircraft began launching anti-radiation missiles and GPS-directed bombs against the radars, missile launchers, and guns. The result was a bloodbath. The initial battle damage assessment intelligence cell concluded that over eighty percent of the air defense assets were either destroyed or damaged. But even though the SEAD raid had “severely degraded” the Kim air defenses, it wasn’t without cost — eight aircraft were either missing or known to have been shot down.

Tony looked on as the F-16C fighters taxied to their hardened aircraft shelters and came to a stop. As soon as the engines had shut down, an organized horde of aircraft maintenance specialists and ordnance mechanics swarmed over the aircraft, furiously prepping them for their next mission. The pilots jumped down from their aircraft and headed straight to a waiting van. The vehicle whisked them over to the squadron’s ready room for a quick debriefing; the squadron intelligence shop was working frantically to update the raid’s damage assessment.

Seeing the flurry of activity, Tony was dragged back to the last war. He vividly remembered being the one hurrying over to the ready room with his wingman, Hooter, both of them bubbling over with an adrenaline overdose. Now, he was a general officer, one of the senior leaders, who sent young men and women downrange in their Falcons to fight. At that moment, he would gladly trade his star for an aircraft.

“General Christopher!” came a shout from behind him. Tony turned to see the wing commander, Colonel Graves, jogging in his direction.

“What’s the status of that pilot?” Tony called out while pointing toward the crashed fighter.

Graves’ expression was one of relief, but the roar of a passing F-16 made it impossible to hear his response. It wasn’t until he got closer that he could finally answer. “He got out clean, sir, but landed as hard as you’d expect. He’s over at the infirmary now, being treated for some minor cuts and bruises. He’ll be sore in the morning, but otherwise he should be fine.”

Tony unconsciously rubbed his right arm, recalling a similar injury he sustained when he ejected from a crippled aircraft so many years ago. He shook himself from his musings and asked, “So, what’s the damage, Colonel?”

Graves and Tony walked into one of the shelters, mostly to get away from all the noise. “Confirmed three birds lost, including the Thirty-Fifth’s squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Ortiz. His wingman said his aircraft was hit on the way out. No one reported seeing him eject, and he has yet to report in. Right now he’s listed as missing.”

“Damn it!” Tony cursed in frustration. The next strike had to be airborne in an hour, and the loss of the squadron commander was a severe setback. The Eightieth Fighter Squadron had taken off thirty minutes earlier and would soon be over the target area to plaster anything they found in the open. No one expected this attack to get the ballistic missiles, but it would force the Kim faction to keep them buttoned up in their hardened caves. The artillery bombardment was carefully timed to occur just as the second wave of strike aircraft cleared the area. Thirty minutes later the ground troops would begin their assault. By then the 35th was supposed to be back on station, loitering to the south, waiting for the SOF guys to provide the precise location of the bunkers’ armored doors. The schedule was very tight, and unforgiving. In the back of Tony’s mind was the Chinese threat to level the whole area with one honkin’ big nuke.

“How good is the deputy squadron commander, Andy?” he demanded.

Graves hesitated for just a moment, but the delay spoke volumes, “Major Jackson is a good man, General, but he’s barely been with the squadron for a month and…”

That was enough for Tony. Pivoting quickly, he spotted the crew chief working on the F-16 in the shelter. “First Sergeant!” he shouted loudly.

The man turned about, annoyed by the interruption. However, once he saw Tony waving to him, he broke out at a run. “Yes, General. What can I do for you?”

“Get me a ship.”

Tae watched with satisfaction as the second wave of aircraft bombarded the redoubt’s outer defenses. The explosions were so numerous that they continuously lit up the night sky. The sheer amount of ordnance being dropped on that parcel of land was difficult to comprehend. He momentarily felt sorry for the Kim faction, pinned down in their holes, thinking they might yet somehow endure to cause untold death and destruction on all their enemies.

That their ultimate defeat was inevitable wasn’t in question; it was whether it would come by way of the American/Han plan, or the Chinese plan. The general still shivered when he thought about the Chinese suggestion to drop a five-megaton nuclear warhead on the redoubt and be done with it — an option they refused to take off the table.

Major Ryeon walked up quietly beside his general and stared in amazement. He was also having trouble grasping the weight of firepower pouring down on his former countrymen. “How could anyone survive such a pounding?” he asked.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” remarked Tae as he kept his eyes on the flashes blooming on the horizon. The delayed rumble that followed could easily deceive someone into believing a storm was approaching — a bad one.

“And yet, you’d be equally shocked by how much of the Kim faction’s strength will remain intact. Don’t get me wrong, they will suffer many casualties, lose many fortified positions, but they will still be a force to reckon with. Our approach won’t be a leisurely stroll in the countryside, Major.” He briefly looked down at his watch and noted the time. The air strike would be ending soon.

“Are the unit commanders gathered?”

“Yes, sir, they’re assembled in the command tent,” replied Ryeon.

“Excellent! Then let’s not keep them waiting.” The two men turned and walked quickly for the makeshift tent city a hundred meters behind them. As they approached, a guard lifted the flap. Inside a South Korean officer ordered loudly, “Attention!”

“Be seated!” Tae barked, gesturing for everyone to sit. As the men took their seats, the general noted the blend of uniforms — soldiers from the North and South fighting together. He was still struggling with the concept, even though he’d worked hard to make it happen, and silently conceded that it would likely take him the rest of his life to reconcile his mixed feelings. Although hastily built from various former DPRK and ROK units, his command was nearly a full-strength corps, with a brigade of the North’s best tanks, four infantry divisions, and several batteries of excellent South Korean artillery. Many of these men had served with him from the beginning of the civil war and he knew how worn out they were, even though their faces beamed with excitement. They had just one more battle left to fight.

“Comrades, in less than ten minutes the artillery barrage will begin. Our units are already in position for the final assault on the Kim stronghold. As soon as the artillery commences firing, Major Ro will lead two Reconnaissance Bureau comp… Correction, two Han special forces companies against the Sunchon airfield. Once the airfield has been taken, we will step off and attack along the southeast corner. The Chinese have already begun their assault to the north, and surveillance reports indicate the Kim holdouts have committed some of their reserves. We will attack from the opposite direction and force them to use what little they have left to try and fend us off.

“We must make them believe that our three corps attacking from the east and south are a crushing threat to their survival, so we must strike fast, and we must strike hard. The goal is to force the Kim faction to pull assets away from their western flank and thin their lines for the special forces assault group. We cannot hold back tonight. We must hit the enemy with every drop of our strength.”

Tae paused and stepped away from the map board, approaching the first row of chairs. Looking intently at his audience, he spoke with a tempered voice. “For many of you, the adversary we face includes individuals we once knew as comrades, colleagues, and perhaps even friends. I understand your mixed feelings — the confusion, even the awkwardness of working with our Southern kinsmen. I understand, because I share them as well. But you must put that all aside tonight; for tonight we fight for our land.

“For the people in those mountains do not share our dreams for the future,” stressed Tae as he pointed toward the redoubt. “In fact, they are doing everything in their power to prevent that dream from coming true. They either cannot, or will not, see the possibility of a new way of life — one without constant fear, one without ‘the state,’ one with hope. After tonight, if you wish to stop being a soldier, and do something of your own choosing, you will be free to do so. But tonight, I need you to fight one last time to free our people from the deadly plague that is the Kim regime. Are you with me?”

The cheering was deafening.

Cho looked out the window of the Surion helicopter and saw the greenish-hued terrain pass by in a distorted blur. He didn’t even want to think how low they were, or how fast they were going. Both were undoubtedly in the “very unsafe” category as far as normal civilian operations was concerned. What was I thinking? he thought to himself. Cho raised his night vision goggles and closed his eyes. He struggled to concentrate on happy thoughts as the helicopter bounced about unevenly in the night air. Stay calm. Don’t think about your stomach. It would look very unprofessional if he threw up on the Ghost Brigade command staff.

The twenty-four helicopters flew in two long columns a mere fifty meters off the ground. Each of the formations was led by three US Army AH-64D Apache Longbow gunships as escorts for the nine troop-carrying Korean Surions. The Americans would also provide close air support should the Korean assault group run into resistance, and act as a backup just in case something went wrong with the strike aircraft. Each of the Surion helicopters carried two pilots, two gunners, and nine commandos. Between the eighteen transports there was a handpicked company of the Ninth Special Forces Brigade — about to be unceremoniously dumped into the heart of the Kim redoubt.

A hand grabbed Cho’s shoulder and gently shook him. Opening his eyes he saw Master Sergeant Oh in the dim light; he was holding something in his hand. “Here, chew on this. It’ll help keep your gut from rebelling.”

“What is it?” asked Cho.

“Ginger gum.” The commando smiled broadly. “It’s our best defense against lunatic pilots. They’re always trying to get us to vomit. They think it’s a cute game. Sick bastards!”

“Thank you,” Cho replied gratefully. He popped the stick of gum into his mouth and immediately felt a tingling sensation from the strong spice. It didn’t take long for the soothing effect to quell his upset stomach.

“Sergeant Cho, what unit do you belong to? I don’t recall ever seeing you before with any of the ROK Special Forces brigades, and your accent sounds northern,” inquired Oh.

Cho looked at the senior enlisted man with wariness, uncertain if Oh was just trying to make small talk to pass the time, or if his question was of a more probing nature. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my affiliation, Master Sergeant. Let’s just say I’ve been to where we are going.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it’s always a good thing to have a guide in a strange land,” Oh replied politely. Then leaning closer, and with a more serious tone, he said, “Since you’re probably not a special warfare operator, stay close to me and do as you’re told. Before you do anything, and I mean anything, make sure Colonel Rhee or I give you permission. And for God’s sake, don’t do anything heroic. If you follow these instructions to the letter, there is a reasonable chance you’ll survive this mission. Am I clear?”

“Perfectly,” Cho answered with a note of irritation. As far as Oh was concerned, the new sergeant was an amateur who needed a last-minute introduction to Special Warfare 101. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time, so the next best thing was a harsh warning. Cho understood Oh’s motivation; the man was a consummate professional and expected the same from his colleagues. Clearly Oh didn’t like having an “untrained” individual on this mission. But even if he meant well, the gruff delivery left Cho’s ego bruised. He didn’t like being treated like a child.

Rhee waved his hand, grabbing everyone’s attention. Pointing to a tablet, he marked their location and said, “We’ve reached the break-off point. The other formation will peel off and take their own route in. The ride is liable to get a bit rough once we start flying down these valleys, so make sure all your gear is secure. We land in sixteen minutes.”

Cho braced himself. Now it’s going to get rough?

It had been awhile since Tony felt so good. He was in heaven, literally. The sixteen F-16Cs of the Hellcat strike were organized into four flights, flying high above Incheon as they headed north to their loiter station. Each flight had one bird with two GBU-31 2,000-pound armor-penetrating bombs for the hardened missile storage bunkers, and three aircraft with four GBU-38B 500-pound high-explosive bombs for everything else. Once the SOF guys pinpointed the location of the armored bunkers, fifty-six bombs would descend on them like a pack of wild dogs, or cats, in this case.

General Carter was fuming, and he let Tony know it as the strike passed by Seoul. But Carter wasn’t so angry that he ordered Tony to abort. No, Carter knew this raid had to work, or else. And as much as he would hate to admit it, both men knew Tony was the right guy, in the right place, at the right time. Oh, there might be a disciplinary hearing afterward; perhaps a letter of reprimand would find its way into Tony’s record, maybe. But in the end, he was at peace with his decision. This would be his last chance to fly a combat mission, and any punishment the air force could come up with would be well worth it.

Still, Tony knew there would be hell to pay when Ann found out about his little junket. And Randy Carter would make sure Ann knew about it. “C’est la guerre,” Tony mumbled to himself.

“Puma lead, this is Lighthouse. Hold you on course three four five, speed five hundred, angels thirty. Nightstalker one and two have delivered the package and are holding to the west. There are no friendlies above angels five. There are no bogies to report,” concluded the air battle manager on the E-3C Sentry.

“Roger, Lighthouse. Hellcat strike proceeding to station,” replied Tony.

“Puma lead, DPI coordinates will be relayed by Dog Pound via JTIDS.”

Tony acknowledged the report that the E-8C JSTARS command and control aircraft, code named Dog Pound, would be relaying the aim points from the special ops team to his strikers by digital data link. All the pilots had to do was release the weapons within parameters and the GPS guidance would do the rest. With the team on the ground providing a differential GPS correction, the bombs should land within a handful of inches of the target — more than close enough.

As Tony was signing off, the air battle manager chimed back in once more with a cheery, “It’s good to see you back in the saddle again, Saint. Good luck. Lighthouse out.”

Smiling, Tony radioed his instructions to the other three flights. They’d be on station in fifteen minutes.

Tae was pleasantly surprised that the commandos took so little time to secure the airfield. On the one hand, the general was pleased with their rapid progress; on the other he knew the air base had been practically unprotected. Only a minimal troop complement had defended it, and rather badly at that. Most were untrained conscripts; they were zealous, but had no chance against Ro’s professionals. Very few surrendered.

“Comrade General, Major Ro reports the bridging units will be in place shortly and his commandos are ready to forge ahead,” reported Ryeon.

“Very good! Tell Ro to have his commandos scout out these two main roads to the southwest.” Tae pointed on a map to the roads that climbed into the foothills. “I need to have a better idea of what defenses are up there. We’ve met almost nothing! They must be concentrating their forces up there in those heights. And get some of those miniature UAVs up there as well!”

“Yes, sir!” shouted Ryeon on the run.

Tae shook his head. Where were the Kim forces? he silently wondered. Both the Chinese to the north and the American and Han armies to the east and south had met very light resistance and were advancing quickly into the hilly terrain. Either they had grossly misjudged the Kim faction’s strength, or they were holed up in a reinforced central core. Tae was betting on the latter. Frowning, the general started trotting over toward his aide. “Major Ryeon! Get me a vehicle! We’re heading in!”

Rhee’s half of the company worked their way quietly up the ridgeline a little over a kilometer from the landing zone. Major Maeng’s half landed about four kilometers to the east and would be making their way to the northwest. With any luck both groups would get a fix on the target and set up their real-time differential GPS transmitters. The US fighter-bombers tasked with making the main attack would have the most precise target fix possible.

They met no opposition as they landed, and a quick survey of the area showed it had been hit repeatedly by aircraft ordnance. Many of the destroyed positions they inspected were decoys — the gun emplacements made of steel barrels and piping. Rhee had expected some of this, but the lack of any bodies made him wonder where the Kim faction had put its strength. Did the earlier Chinese attempt to cross the Chongchon River draw most of their assets to the north? Rumblings of artillery from all around him told him the battle along the perimeter still raged.

Cho hung close to Master Sergeant Oh and an American colonel named Little. After jumping out of the helicopter, Cho briefly considered hugging the ground. The ride in through the valleys was unspeakably bumpy. Rhee’s warning that things would get “a bit rough” was a gross understatement. Cho reminded himself to thank Oh for the ginger gum again. Without it, Cho would have certainly embarrassed himself.

Cresting the rise slowly, Rhee pulled up his night vision binoculars, made a quick sweep, and then focused on where they needed to go. What he saw answered his earlier question. Some two hundred meters ahead was a heavily reinforced defensive line with real machine gun emplacements and what looked like mortars. The defensive positions were hidden in a grove of trees and had multispectral camouflage netting over the top. Rhee couldn’t see the bunkers behind the tree line — their intended overlook position.

Dropping back down, he motioned for Little and sergeants Cho and Oh to get close. Whispering he said, “We have a little problem. We can’t use our preplanned survey site. There is a strong defensive position in the trees ahead. We’ll have to maneuver to the secondary site to our right.”

“Rhee, that grove of trees is almost a semicircle,” observed Kevin. “We have to assume the Kim defenses will follow along the tree line. There isn’t a lot of cover to our right; you’ll have to set up the DGPS transmitter in the open. You’ll need a little distraction to shift their attention from that part of the line.”

“True. Any suggestions?”

“Colonel,” volunteered Cho. “There is a slight ravine that curves along this rocky outcropping, here. It’s not on your map, but it will offer some cover while allowing a clear line of sight to the target area.”

Little nodded. “Yes, that should work. Particularly if we combine it with a diversion to the left.”

“Care to take that on, Colonel Little?” Rhee asked.

“Absolutely. I can take the four FLASH teams and set up over here.” Kevin pointed to a rock ledge that would give them a slight elevation advantage. “If the incendiary rockets don’t scare the shit out of them, they’ll have to stay hunkered down. The blast should wreck their night vision, and the Apaches can use the heat signature for suppression fire if we need it.”

“Excellent! Master Sergeant Oh, you go with Colonel Little…”

“Sir, if I may,” interrupted the Korean senior NCO. “I think it best I stay with you and the DGPS transmitter. I can get it set up and calibrated faster than anyone else here. Staff Sergeant Jeo is more than capable to assist Colonel Little.”

“Very well, Master Sergeant. Colonel Little, you take two-thirds of the men and make a lot of noise. The rest of us will set up the DGPS station.”

They had been milling about smartly for almost half an hour. Fortunately, the trip from Kunsan to the loitering station only required the fuel in the two drop tanks, leaving a full internal load for the attack run and return trip. Still, just hanging around wasn’t Tony’s idea of fun. So far, there was no word from Dog Pound. He knew the SOF team had to hike their way to their survey sites, set up their gear, and calibrate it before they could transmit the data. He just hoped they weren’t taking the long way around.

The explosion was far off to Tae’s left, but pieces of dirt and rock rained down on him and Ryeon. The X Corps had plunged almost ten kilometers into the hills before they ran into any real resistance. The defenses weren’t along the mountainside as he expected, but were placed at ground level by key intersections of the limited road network. This suggested a lack of experience, or time, or both. Regardless, Tae’s forces were now fully engaged and, at the moment, pinned down.

A South Korean officer wiped off the dust from his micro-UAV display and pointed to several mortar batteries just behind the ridge off to their right. The video feed showed the mortar crews loading and firing furiously. There seemed to be no attempt at adjusting their fire, just an emphasis on volume. Tae was dismissive. “Very sloppy. Probably some incompetent political commissar! Major Ryeon, have the Second Field Artillery Group put counter-battery fire on that location immediately. And where are my tanks?”

“General, the Fourth Armored Battalion is coming up now with twenty Chonma-ho tanks. They’ve been alerted to the positions of the machine gun emplacements.”

“Very good. Tell the battalion commander to engage those emplacements at his earliest opportunity and have him set up his 122mm howitzers here.” Tae pointed to a flat piece of land behind him and to the right. “I want fire laid down on that ravine, right here, where the road runs straight between these two hills. That’s a perfect place for an ambush.”

“Yes, sir, at once,” responded Ryeon as he grabbed the battlefield radio handset.

Tae didn’t bother to wait for his aide; he’d catch up when he was done. The general slapped the South Korean sergeant on the back and roared, “Come, Sergeant, let’s see what more mischief we can cause with that toy of yours!”

Kevin kept low as he and Lieutenant Guk and Staff Sergeant Jeo hugged the rocks, positioning themselves to direct fire as necessary. The fifty commandos were spread out in a rough line some seventy meters long. The FLASH teams were placed at regular intervals. Although an old weapon, the four-barreled bazooka-like flame assault shoulder weapon was perfect for close-in fighting. It could fire incendiary rockets out to a range of seven hundred fifty meters, but it was aimed with a standard reflex sight, which meant it wasn’t all that accurate. However, in this situation, Kevin was counting more on the shock value of the weapon. Besides, they were firing from much less than half the maximum range; hitting wouldn’t be an issue.

“Ghost One Alpha, this is Ghost One Bravo. We are in position and ready to initiate,” he said over the secure radio.

“Ghost One Bravo, initiate,” ordered Rhee.

Kevin flashed a small light toward Guk and Jeo. They flashed back; the troops were ready to commence firing. Kevin then held down on the light and the four commandos with the FLASH launchers perched them on their shoulders, took aim, and fired. Chaos descended on the Kim positions.

Rhee saw one explosion after another erupt along the left side. The FLASH launchers kept up their volley of rockets, while disciplined rifle fire came from Little’s troops. The Kim defenses fell into total panic and began spraying machine gun fire and rocket-propelled grenades inaccurately back in the general direction of their assailants. The colonel motioned, and his men took off at a run across a short opening and down the hillside. They scurried down loose rock and gravel and finally down into the ravine that Cho had mentioned. The location was perfect.

While Master Sergeant Oh and two corporals began setting up the DGPS transmitter, Rhee positioned his men to defend against any potential attack. He then took his binoculars and looked down into the small trough behind the elevated grove of trees. There he saw the doors of the armored bunkers were open, and four missile TELs positioned at their launch pads some hundred meters away from the cave entrances. Three of the missiles had been raised into a vertical position and were being fueled. He watched as the fourth was raised to the vertical. They were bigger than any mobile missile he’d seen before.

“Ghost One Alpha, this is Ghost Two. We are in position and ready to take ranges, over,” squawked his headset. Major Maeng’s team was set up and ready to use their laser rangefinder to take the measurements.

“Ghost Two, stand by,” Rhee instructed.

“Standing by. Ghost Two, out.”

It took Oh just a few more minutes to finish setting up and check the calibration; after one last inspection, he signaled Rhee he was ready. The colonel waved for him to take the ranges.

“Stay here,” Oh told Cho. The master sergeant then crawled on his belly to a small cluster of rocks several meters away. Peeking over the top, he raised the laser rangefinder and started measuring the distance to the bunker doors and launch pads. Within moments of Oh triggering the rangefinder, machine gun fire began peppering their location. The master sergeant was hit in the shoulder and thrown to the ground — out in the open. Without thinking, Cho dove across and pushed Oh out of the line of fire. The man had been hit twice and was badly wounded.

“Didn’t I tell you not to do anything heroic!” Oh gasped in pain.

Cho didn’t reply but grabbed his first aid kit and tore open the master sergeant’s uniform near the wound sites. Oh pushed back and grunted angrily, “Take the damn ranges, you moron!”

Feeling frantically around the ground, Cho found the cable and pulled the laser gun toward him. Rhee signaled him to hurry as the commandos began returning fire. Crawling to the rock, he raised the laser and, exposing as little of himself as possible, began shooting the ranges. A bullet ricocheted off a boulder to his right, stinging his face with small shards of rock. It took all of twenty seconds to get the ranges. Once Rhee gave Cho thumbs-up, the former spy threw down the laser gun and crawled back to Oh.

“There, are you happy now, Master Sergeant?” exclaimed Cho. Oh didn’t respond. Fear seized Cho as he hunted for a pulse on Oh’s neck — there wasn’t one. Oh was dead.

Rhee had little time to see what was going on with his master sergeant. Once the shooting had started, he ordered Ghost Two to take ranges and transmit. He also alerted Maeng to expect return fire; the Kim faction apparently had laser-warning sensors.

One of the corporals flashed Rhee an OK sign. They had the data and were ready to transmit. Rhee pushed his finger skyward and yelled, “Transmit!”

“Puma lead, this is Dog Pound. DPIs received, data being transferred by Dolly. Commence attack by flight, over.”

“Roger, Dog Pound,” said Tony as he quickly looked at the center flat-panel display. The data link, brevity code Dolly, had uploaded the sixteen-digit UTM coordinates for his four GBU-38B bombs into his computer. He took a brief moment to scan each designated point of impact to make sure they were close to each other. He had no desire to drop a bomb on the friendlies hiding nearby. “Dog Pound, DPI coordinates confirmed. Commencing attack run.”

Tony then took a deep breath and called out to the other flight leaders. “Commence attack by flight. Puma will go in first, then Lynx, Leopard, with Jaguar bringing up the rear. Let’s not keep the snake-eaters waiting.”

As he listened to their acknowledgments, Tony pointed his F-16 to the northeast and punched it to full military power. He looked to his left and right and saw the shadowy outlines of the other three jets in his flight. Keying his mike he radioed his wingman, “You go first, Wookie. You’ve got the two big boys.”

The flights of Hellcat strike quickly formed a line and, guided by their heads-up displays, flew to the release point. One by one, the onboard computer automatically released their bombs. Tony pulled his ship up and to the left as soon as he felt the bombs fall off the racks. Again looking over his shoulder, he tried to watch the other flights during their runs, but it was too dark. All he could do was listen in as each flight lead announced ordnance release, and when they were clear. Once Jaguar flight was done, Tony radioed the E-8C JSTARS.

“Dog Pound, bombs away.”

Before the JSTARS aircraft could respond, the E-3C air battle manager broke on line. “All flights, this is Lighthouse. I have six bogeys, bearing zero three zero, range fifteen miles, speed four hundred, angels seven. Negative IFF.”

Kevin flinched as an RPG hit the rock face to his left, the shock wave travelling through the solid wall. The defenders had apparently calmed down a little, as their fire was becoming more accurate. So far, they hadn’t ventured from their protective cover, but that would only be a matter of time — and there were a lot more of them than his band of commandos. They needed help.

“Nightstalker one, this is Ghost One Bravo, request immediate close air support. Target is illuminated with incendiaries,” shouted Kevin. What he heard in reply was disheartening.

“Negative on CAS request, Ghost One Bravo,” said the helo pilot. His voice betrayed his disappointment. “Airspace is closed due to inbound strike. I suggest you duck and cover.”

Oh great, thought Kevin.

Two more commandos were hit as the Kim forces pushed toward their position. The holdouts were attempting a rush, but it was poorly coordinated, and Rhee’s men beat them back. He’d heard the decline for close air support over the radio; the air strike was on its way. All they had to do was hold their ground for just a little longer.

Cho hugged the small boulder closely as the bullets whizzed by. He managed a few shots with his assault rifle, but had no idea if he hit anything worthwhile. But when an RPG round fell short, he knew he had to get back behind better cover.

Just as he was about to make a run for it, the attackers made another charge. The accurate fire from the commandos dropped many of those rushing their position, but there were simply too many, and a number of attackers managed to get over the rocks. The fighting devolved into a hand-to-hand skirmish. Again the commandos had the qualitative advantage, but the Kim faction had numbers.

Cho watched as Rhee took down three with his pistol and then crush the windpipe of a fourth with a forceful knife-hand strike. But it was the fifth soldier that caught the colonel on his blind side, delivering a sharp blow with the rifle butt. Stunned, Rhee was thrown to the ground. The soldier paused to take careful aim, but before he could shoot, Cho ran across and slammed into him, driving the man headfirst into the rock. Dazed, the soldier shook his head, pulled his combat knife, and rushed toward Cho.

He lunged to his right, the quick move causing the soldier’s main thrust to miss, but he swept the blade downward and caught Cho’s left leg squarely in the calf. The pain was incredible and he let out a scream of agony. Cho hit the ground hard. He struggled to get back up, but with his right leg under his body, and his left useless, he couldn’t move quickly. The soldier approached with a wicked smile; Cho looked frantically for a weapon of any kind. None were within reach. All he could think of was how cruel this war had been to Kary. Just as the soldier raised the knife, a sharp crack from Rhee’s pistol put an end to his lethal intentions.

Rhee then looked around and saw many of his men were wounded, but the latest charge had been beaten back. He glanced at his watch, and then yelled at the top of his lungs, “EVERYONE DOWN!”

Then the ground started shaking.

The bombs fell in such a rapid interval that it seemed like one big, long explosion. The 2,000-pound penetrators tore into the mountainside and ripped the walls apart, causing a landslide. Bodies, living and dead, bounced off the ground as the shock traveled for kilometers. Then the high-explosive bombs hit the launch pads. The fuel and oxidizer tanks of the KN-08 missiles were shredded. Freed from their containment, the hypergolic chemicals poured onto the ground and mixed, enhancing the explosive effects many times over. Rhee felt the intense concussive blast and heat from the exploding missiles, even though they were over five hundred meters away, and shielded by over a meter of hard rock. No one on the other side of that wall could have survived. After what seemed like an eternity, the ground stopped shaking.

Tony snapped his head hard right and saw six sets of blue flames below him. The fighters were coming up fast, at full afterburner. “All flights, tally on bogeys, four o’clock low.”

Reaching over to the control panel, Tony dumped his empty drop tanks and pulled his ship into a hard right bank. He was the farthest away from the approaching enemy aircraft and had to quickly get back into position. He watched in horror as two of the bogeys flew right into the trailing element of Jaguar flight. The other four kept on coming, right toward him. They had no intention of running, or returning alive.

“Stick with me, Wookie,” exclaimed Tony as he continued his right bank and pushed his nose down. His maneuver threw off the approaching pilot, who tried to pull a steep turn while at afterburner.

“Saint! You have a bogey slipping into your six o’clock!”

Oh shit! Tony thought to himself. I’m being double-teamed! “I could use a little help here, Wookie!” he said.

“Rog. I’m engaging!” Soon after, Tony heard “Fox Two!” indicating a heat-seeking missile had just been launched. The sudden bright flash told him Wookie had got a kill. “Splash one!”

Tony finished his barrel roll and found himself just off the bogey’s port quarter; the pilot had overshot his target. Lining up the target in his HUD, Tony selected an infrared-guided missile and waited for the loud growl that told him his AIM-9X had locked on to the target. As soon as the welcome noise filled his headphones, Tony pulled the trigger and announced, “Fox Two!”

The missile leapt off the rail and flew a straight path to the hostile aircraft, aided by the concentrated heat from the afterburners. Tony watched as the bright plume of the missile’s exhaust merged with the target, disappeared, and then exploded, shredding the enemy fighter. “Splash two!” he called out.

Lynx and Leopard flights soon reported the downing of the remaining two aircraft. His body loaded with adrenaline, Tony did a full search of the night skies, looking for any more hostile aircraft.

“Puma lead, this is Lighthouse. All bogeys have been splashed. Repeat, all bogeys have been splashed.”

“Roger, Lighthouse. Thanks for the update. Where did those jokers come from?”

“Dog Pound picked them up before we did. Looks like they used a highway as a runway. They didn’t come from any of the nearby air bases.”

“Sneaky little bastards,” grumbled Tony as his blood pressure finally began to drop.

“That they were, Puma lead. Oh, and congratulations on number eighteen, Saint!”

Tony shook his head; it hadn’t even sunk in yet that he’d scored another kill. “Oh, yeah, right,” he mumbled. “I must be getting old.” Then keying his mike, Tony ordered, “All flights, this is Puma lead, return to base.”

A huge mushroom cloud erupted from the mountain ahead of him — a monstrous pillar of bright orange and red flames. A thundering roar soon followed, the sound echoing off the surrounding hills. At first, Tae could only look on in utter despair. He feared the Chinese had carried out their threat and used a nuclear weapon to destroy the missile site. Disheartened, he waited for the shock wave and wall of fire to put an end to his life. And he kept on waiting.

But as he watched the cloud dissipate, he realized that blast wasn’t a nuclear device, but the exploding remains of the Kim nightmare. In a most unprofessional manner, Tae let out a shout of joy and gave Ryeon a bear hug.

There would still be some more fighting, but it was all a mop-up campaign now. The new United Han Republic would survive. His land would survive. With a light heart, he started walking back up the road.