Red Phoenix Burning

Epilogue

She hadn’t been waiting for him, not exactly. There was more than enough to keep her mind occupied. With the final defeat of the Kim holdouts, the army had started talking about repatriating the Northern citizens, which was good news, but this had added “travel agent” to her job description. The army wanted her input on who should go home first, and where they wanted to go, and didn’t understand why it was such a difficult question to answer.

She’d shifted her chair a little so she had a clearer view of the door. And she checked her phone more often than before, although she knew he didn’t even have one. He could borrow someone’s cell phone, after all.

Late in the afternoon, absorbed in a file that was supposed to list the home provinces of everyone in each camp, and didn’t, she noticed a shadow across her keyboard and looked back over her shoulder. It was Cho.

Startled, she shrieked “Eep! How long have you been standing there?” Then happiness replaced surprise, and she quickly stood and welcomed him back with a hug. He pecked her on the cheek, which felt completely normal, and only made her happier.

Taking a step back, she looked him up and down while he stood, smiling broadly. “You’re all right?”

He shrugged. “I’m here, still breathing. I would like to get off my feet, though.”

“Oh, of course,” she said and let go.

He gratefully plopped into a chair next to her desk. “I’m exhausted. My cot in tent six actually looked homey.”

“Well, don’t get too settled. The army will start moving people out of here in the next few days.” She gestured toward her laptop. “There’s a lot to do.”

“And I’ll be glad to help.” He smiled warmly.

When he didn’t say anything else, she prompted, “So? What happened? You’ve been gone for three days.”

He sighed. “They debriefed me in this stuffy, windowless van. I got very little sleep. They said my information was very useful. And as soon as they were done with me, I came back here, as quickly as I could.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m proud of you for speaking up. I know you didn’t want to.”

Cho nodded, agreeing. “Absolutely. We former spies still like to keep a low profile.”

She laughed, but said, “Later, I want to hear all about what you told the army. I’m sure it helped, because the day after you left they destroyed the holdouts’ nuclear weapons in a missile complex, and now they’re hunting down the last of the stragglers. But you must know all about that. It’s been all over the news, of course.”

“I haven’t seen a television in days,” he answered.

“Then you should,” she said enthusiastically. “They’re showing pictures of the ruined complex. And there was an air battle, too. They’ve got video of a MiG-29 fighter being shot down.”

She looked at the clock. It was almost time for them to go for dinner. She obviously wasn’t going to get any more work done. “Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and you can catch up on what’s been happening.” She headed for the coffeepot.

After a pause, Cho got up and followed her. She poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Cho, who turned and walked slowly toward the tent next to theirs. “You really are tired. I guess I’ll have to take care of you,” she remarked brightly, taking him by the arm.

The rec tent was as large as the headquarters tent; it held a ping-pong table at one end and a large-screen television at the other. The chairs in between the two were all turned to face the TV. Two-thirds were filled with people, all in a festive mood, laughing and sometimes clapping at the news.

Several members of her staff saw them come in and recognized Cho, welcoming him back. “Congratulations! Good work!” Others teased Kary, asking her what it was like having a hero for a boyfriend. And they were glad to see Cho hadn’t been badly wounded.

Their words made no sense to her. “I don’t understand,” Kary said. “We just came in to watch the news about the battle.”

“Exactly!” someone answered. They made room for her and Cho in the front row. Another person said, “They have been running the footage almost continuously.”

Completely confused now, Kary could only ask, “What footage?” She looked to Cho, who managed to look both confused and apprehensive.

“You’ll see. Just sit and watch for a few minutes.”

That had been her intention anyway, so she and Cho sat together watching one of the Korean news channels. She held his hand tightly, giving it an occasional squeeze.

There was nonstop coverage of the war. The first piece they saw had aerial views of the missile complex, now a blackened and smoking ruin. Her blood ran cold at the thought of how close the missiles had come to actually being used.

The next segment featured a hidden cache of currency and gold that had been found during the search of a North Korean diplomat’s house in Switzerland. It was worth tens of millions, and was one of many such hoards being discovered around the world. So much greed, she thought. The diplomat was in custody until he could be repatriated to Korea, where he would probably face money-laundering charges, among other things.

“It’s the top of the hour,” someone announced. “They’ll run it now.” The staffer was smiling broadly, which only added to Kary’s confusion.

The image shifted to show a clearing, with a wooded mountainside in the background. “This is video that just reached us of the special forces soldiers that attacked the Kim holdouts’ fortress and destroyed the missiles inside.”

The camera centered on an older officer in battle-stained fatigues. His helmet was off, and he was wearing a black beret, a sure sign the battle was over, and he was taking a long drink from his canteen.

Helicopters were taking off and landing behind him. “Colonel Rhee Han-gil, shown here, the commander of the Ghosts Special Forces Brigade, personally led over a hundred and fifty of his elite troops through heavy fire, at times engaging in hand-to-hand combat, to destroy the missile complex.”

The camera panned right to show groups of soldiers, obviously very tired, sprawled on the ground. Medics were working on some who were wounded. “The army won’t release any casualty figures until all the next of kin are notified, but described their losses as ‘lower than expected.’”

Rhee walked into the frame from one side, and the camera zoomed in to follow him as he stopped to speak to different soldiers, then knelt next to a wounded trooper sprawled on the grass. His helmet and assault rifle lay next to him. The camera zoomed in a little more, centering first on a bloody but bandaged leg, then on their faces as they spoke.

Kary realized the wounded soldier was Cho. Then she immediately dismissed the idea. It must be someone who just looks a lot like him. She looked at the man sitting next to her, then back to the screen, searching for some difference. Her confusion grew when she couldn’t find one. Was this really Cho in the video?

Astonished, she watched the two figures on the screen. It was clear from their manner that the colonel was praising the soldier, and Rhee patted him on the shoulder, then grinned and saluted the man — Cho — before straightening and moving on.

“As a matter of policy, the authorities do not release the names of soldiers in special forces units. Colonel Rhee, as the leader of the attack, is an exception. Questioned about the wounded soldier Colonel Rhee was speaking with, an army spokesman identified him as someone who was critical to the success of the attack.”

The report ended, and thunderous applause filled the tent, punctuated with cheers. Cho was bright red with embarrassment. If he wanted to keep a low profile, this was an epic failure. Confusion and surprise whirled inside Kary; then the pieces began to fall into place.

She looked Cho straight in the eye, a deep scowl on her face. “Pull up your pants leg,” she ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

Cho nodded and pulled up the cuff of his fatigue pants. She saw nothing but leg.

“Nice try,” she said. “The other one, please.” There was a sharper edge to her order.

This time, he got the trouser up no more than a few inches before she saw the white of a bandage. Her medical training kicked in. The wound had obviously been treated already. “How bad is it? Was there any infection? And why are you walking on it?”

Cho winced as he rolled the pant leg down. “It’s not too bad. It only went through the soft part of my calf, and they’ve pumped me full of antibiotics. And they gave me a crutch, but I don’t—”

“Where is it?”

He pointed to a spot on his calf.

“Not the wound, the crutch!”

“Oh, that. I left it outside your tent. I wanted to see how well I could get by—”

“You didn’t want me to see you were hurt! Later on, you can tell me which of the several bad reasons you used to justify that decision.”

She turned to one of her staffers sitting next to her. She asked sweetly, “Helen, would you please get the crutch for us?” Helen, like everyone else nearby, was following the conversation closely, the news channel ignored. She nodded and dashed from the tent.

Kary found it was possible to care deeply for someone, to believe that someone was a wonderful person, and still want to throttle him.

She was aware of the many people around her, but didn’t feel embarrassed or self-conscious. If Cho was uncomfortable with his less-than-low profile, that was too bad.

She watched him closely. “Tell me the truth. Were you in the battle?”

Cho sighed. “Yes, I was in the battle.”

“You lied to me about the van!” she accused.

“No, no!” he insisted. “I was in the van. The battle was later.”

Her understanding grew. “So you just skipped the part about the battle. Did they make you go, or did you volunteer?”

After a short pause, he answered, “I volunteered. It turned out—”

“And when were you going to tell me about this?”

“I was looking for the right time! I didn’t want to upset you.”

She laughed. “What? Were you afraid I would go to pieces? After everything we’ve been through? When was that time going to be? ‘Right away’ would have been good.”

“I was working on it!” he protested. “I promise, it wasn’t going to be long.” Cho noticed Helen standing to one side, offering his abandoned crutch, and desperate for any distraction, took it gratefully. “Thank you so much.”

Kary nodded, and said briskly, “Good. Now that you’re mobile, let’s go somewhere and have a long talk, unless your leg’s too sore. We could just stay here.”

Levering himself up with his crutch, Cho said, “No, we can go.”

The two left at a measured pace, with Kary slowing her steps to match Cho’s progress with the crutch. She ignored the rising buzz of conversation behind her.

Even while one part of her mind automatically and calmly planned his convalescence, the rest boiled with a dozen questions she wanted to ask and another dozen things she was going to tell him.

If I don’t kill him first.

“This evening, Seoul and Beijing announced an agreement in principle for the rapid withdrawal of Chinese forces still in former DPRK territory. Citing vague ‘security concerns,’ the PRC had previously avoided discussing when their troops would leave, even though all former DPRK weapons of mass destruction had been located and turned over to the US Eighth Army for destruction.

“Acknowledging China’s concerns without addressing their exact nature, the Korean foreign minister, meeting with his counterpart from Beijing in Tokyo, said that, ‘building a relationship of trust with Korea’s northern neighbor will be an important part of the United Han Republic’s new foreign policy.’

“The former DPRK maintained the fifth-largest standing army in the world. Its sudden removal from the region means that the large and expensive US presence in Korea is no longer necessary. The first point of agreement is that while America will continue its alliance and serve as a guarantor of Korean sovereignty, the bulk of its combat forces will return to the United States. Medical and logistical units will remain for some time to assist in the massive humanitarian effort.

“With the removal of the US combat forces, and the expected partial demobilization of the Korean army, Chinese forces in the region will also be reduced.

“The economic benefits of this are far-reaching. In addition to the reduced military budgets, all three nations stand to gain, especially since China was providing the equivalent of over two billion dollars in direct aid annually to Pyongyang for decades. This represented half of China’s entire foreign aid budget each year. While it will lose an equal amount of trade income from goods it sold to the DPRK, China stands to gain many times that amount in trade with a united Korea.

“The one very large, very dark cloud on Korea’s economic horizon is the massive cost of repairing the damage in the north caused by the war, and of upgrading — indeed, almost rebuilding — the infrastructure of the entire former DPRK.

“Economists familiar with the integration of East and West Germany estimate that reconstruction will require seven to ten percent of Korea’s gross domestic product for the next ten to twenty years. This is a staggering amount, a lump sum of about half a trillion US dollars. These same experts note, however, that Germany faced a similar hurdle and overcame it. The determination of the Korean people is at least as great.

“In that economic context, as a second point of agreement, the United Han Republic has pledged the equivalent of ten billion US dollars in trade to China for at least the next ten years. This will include construction contracts, immediate purchases of foodstuffs and fuel for the relief effort, and even some ammunition and repair parts for the former DPRK’s military hardware. The details of the agreement will be worked out in Tokyo over the next few weeks, but social media reports some Chinese units are already moving north.

“An additional incentive for the PLA’s withdrawal is that it relieves their army of responsibility for the Korean civilians in the areas they occupied. Han army units, now engaged in a humanitarian effort instead of a combat mission, are following closely behind the Chinese troops. It is possible that all former DPRK territory will be clear of Chinese forces by the end of the month.”

Tony Christopher turned off the television and tossed the remains of his lunch into the trash. He wanted to know why, if the fighting was over, he was so busy? But he knew why. They’d flown the wings off their aircraft, and now all that deferred maintenance had to be dealt with. And the war really wasn’t over for the transports. They were still bringing in relief supplies, as well as replenishing stocks of parts and ammunition that had been seriously depleted in the few short weeks they’d been fighting.

But a lot of that matériel would have to be removed in the very near future. It was hard to imagine the Eighth Fighter Wing, the Wolf Pack, anywhere but Kunsan, but his boss, General Carter, was in Seoul right now with the rest of the Pacific Command, planning the biggest redeployment of the US armed forces since Desert Storm. Yet Carter had promised Tony that he would do a full tour in country. The Seventh Air Force wasn’t going away that quickly. In fact, he hinted that for his next tour, Tony might end up with Carter’s job, provided he didn’t fly any more unauthorized combat missions.

On top of everything else, the crisis had deferred his house-hunting. Ann was still waiting for him to find a place for them to live, and wasn’t being all that patient. If there was a drawdown, he might be able to pick up a nice place for less than they had planned.

And wait until she heard there was a chance for back-to-back tours.

It was the first visit to the territory of the former DPRK by the president of the newly united Korea. Lingering security concerns and the rapid-fire press of events had prevented President An Kye-nam from making even a short trip above the former DMZ. Besides, the occasion was historic, and needed to be properly choreographed.

An’s helicopter, Korea One, approached Taedong after a forty-five minute flight from the Blue House in Seoul. A wedge of Apache gunships escorted the aircraft, while fighters provided high cover for the flight.

The presidential helicopter flew a little past the landing pad, then turned into the wind to make its final approach. The commentators covering the landing used the time to discuss the political problems facing the Seoul government as it organized elections in the shattered north, and tried to cope with new political parties well to the left of traditional Korean politics.

As the helicopter’s wheels touched the pad, whistles blew and with all the pomp and circumstance it could muster, the victorious army welcomed its civilian leader. A band flown in from the capital played the “Aegukga” while the honor guard came to attention and presented arms.

In concession to the ongoing military operations, the soldiers welcoming President An wore battledress. This was not only more appropriate for a field headquarters; it allowed General Tae and other former KPA soldiers to avoid wearing their Kim-era dress uniforms. The idea was to blend in with their Southern colleagues, and camouflage served that purpose well.

President An Kye-nam emerged first, followed by a huddle of officials trying to stay close to the president while avoiding the rotor wash. They waited nearby, half-crouched, for a moment while the helicopter’s engines spooled up again and it flew off.

While most of his entourage waited to one side, the president reviewed the honor guard, made up of special forces troops that had taken part in the assault on the missile complex, then greeted the generals, arranged in order of rank: Sohn, Tae, and Kwon.

An greeted Sohn warmly, and had a lengthy conversation with Tae, and beamed as he acknowledged Kwon’s salute. Rhee might be the hero of the hour, but everybody knew who Rhee worked for.

After speaking with Kwon for a few minutes, An nodded in agreement. He walked back to stand next to General Sohn. The band struck up the “Arirang Nation” march, and the different staffs quickly rearranged themselves while the general strode to a nearby podium. He barked out a short command. In time with the martial music, a new group of individuals marched onto the landing pad, forming a neat line facing the dignitaries. The commentator announced the name of each one.

Once they were in position, the president stepped in front of the podium and Sohn called out, “Colonel Rhee Han-gil, front and center.”

While Rhee crossed the distance in front of the podium, General Sohn read, “For considerable skill in executing the attack on the Sukchon missile complex, and displaying exceptional leadership and conspicuous bravery during the action, Colonel Rhee Han-gil is awarded the Taeguk Cordon, First Class.” A staffer produced the decoration and handed it to the president, who pinned it on the colonel.

Standing at one end of the line, Kevin tried not to smile too broadly as Rhee received Korea’s highest military honor. One was supposed to maintain proper decorum at these events. Rhee’s deputy was next. Then several enlisted soldiers who had done some extraordinary things during the fight. As the sole American, he was okay with being last.

There was a reception after the awards ceremony in the mess tent, which had been decorated with oversize Korean flags and the insignia of the Ninth Special Forces Brigade. Curiously, a DPRK flag, somewhat tattered, occupied a place of honor. It was a trophy that been taken from the missile complex before it was destroyed, and was headed straight to a museum after today’s festivities.

There were two crowds in the tent — one surrounding Rhee and the other at the refreshment table. It had been hot under the sun, and Kevin decided rehydration had priority. His rank as well as his recent award gave him an edge, and he managed to redeploy with a cool drink to a quieter part of the tent.

General Tae had chosen the same tactic, and when he saw Kevin approaching, he smiled broadly and offered his hand. “Congratulations on your award, Colonel.”

“And to you on your success at the airfield, General. It’s much better to have you as an ally than as an opponent.”

Tae acknowledged the remark with a raised glass, then quietly asked, “But will America be an ally to all of Korea? The North was your enemy for over seventy years.”

“Americans were always able to distinguish the Kim government from the Korean people.” Little shrugged. “If you want to take the long view, when the peninsula was divided in 1945, the Soviets promised to hold elections in the north. That never happened, and the first Kim came to power. Now, three or four generations later, the North Korean people will finally get a chance to have that vote.”

The general nodded agreement. “It will be an interesting experience for everyone.” He paused thoughtfully, and asked, “I’m hearing a lot about the South Korean democratic system, but I’d like to know more. Would visiting America help me learn more about politics?”

Kevin was taking a drink, and a little of it went down the wrong way. He coughed, but recovered quickly. “Are you thinking of going into politics?” In the process of translating that question from English into Korean, Kevin tried to mask some of his surprise at the idea.

“Not right away. I believe the military government will have to run things for several years. Actually, President An just asked me if I’d delay my retirement and take part in the negotiations with China, representing the interests of the Northerners.”

“Politics is all about give and take, General,” Kevin answered brightly. “And the talks are in Tokyo. Japanese-style democracy is very different from both Korean and American.”

“Good point,” Tae agreed. The general looked at something past Kevin’s shoulder, and he turned to see Rhee standing there.

The colonel took care to greet General Tae before his old comrade, but then he slapped Kevin’s shoulder. “Congratulations on your award, Kevin! Third Class, Chungmu Cordon! That’s like the American Silver Star. You should be proud.”

“I am,” Kevin answered, “but I’m especially glad for you. That medal makes you untouchable.” He turned to Tae. “There were some high-ranking officers in the ROK Army who were upset with a mere colonel treating with a three-star general.”

Tae laughed. “Generals, jealous? Who ever heard of such a preposterous thing?”

“Actually, it’s no longer a problem,” Rhee said, and showed them a small white box. He opened it and they saw two silver stars, one for each shoulder.

“Brigadier General!” Kevin remarked happily.

Rhee grinned. “General Sohn just handed them to me. He says if I’m going to act like a general, they might as well make me one.”

Kevin saluted his friend, and Tae shook his hand warmly. “This is not too far from where we shook hands for the first time,” Tae remarked.

“We’ve covered a lot of ground since then,” Little commented.

“We’re here because of you, General Tae,” Rhee said. He touched his medal. “This belongs to you as much as me.”

Tae accepted the compliment with a smile. “We had a different awards system in the KPA. Not getting shot was popular.”

They’d borrowed an army jeep, driving from the port city of Nampo northeast, back toward Pyongyang. Restrictions on civilian traffic had been lifted now that all the areas affected by chemicals had been marked, and the main roads cleared of unexploded ordnance.

The roads were busy, but a good deal of it was still foot traffic. Kary saw vehicles with Southern license plates mixed with the military transports. Only a few Northern vehicles were on the road. She knew gasoline was still very precious.

Civilians plodded along on either side. She studied them, trying to guess their story. A local farmer? A mother and child looking for the rest of their family? She saw several demobilized soldiers, probably headed for home and hoping it was still there.

Cho turned off the main road and headed northwest, keeping the city on their right. The two-lane road was less traveled, but there were scattered clusters of farm buildings. They drove for no more than a few kilometers and she saw they were headed for a line of low hills.

Curiosity building, she finally said, “I still don’t know where we’re going or why.”

“We’re almost there,” he answered, and the road curved around a low hill, paralleling a small river. The river and road both reached a lake and they drove along the shore for few minutes, before stopping near a ruined house. Built on the hillside, it had suffered a fire or other damage, and looked long abandoned. Several small trees were growing inside the outlines of its foundation.

He parked the jeep and got out carefully, favoring his left leg and using the crutch as Kary had taught him. He reached out with his free hand and beckoned, “Please, come.”

She nodded and followed, trusting that he would eventually explain.

Traces of a path led up to the house. The closer she got to the structure, the worse it looked. The masonry walls were shattered, as well as blackened by fire. The tallest part of the ruin was no more than a meter high.

They stopped near what was once an entranceway, and Cho announced simply, “This was my house. This was where I lived as a child.”

Kary, surprised but also shocked at the extent of the ruin, asked, “Did this happen when you…”

“No,” Cho answered. “We were simply taken away. But years later, on one of my first missions for the Russians, I was near Pyongyang, and I came back here. We’d been forced to abandon almost everything when we were arrested. I suppose I wanted to find some relic, maybe something my mother had owned. I found the house like this. The army had used explosives to level the place, then set everything on fire. I spent a few hours picking through the rubble, but couldn’t find anything. They probably looted it first.”

Kary tried to imagine the pain Cho had felt back then, the hurt he must still feel. She hugged his arm, searching for words, but could only say, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Cho answered. “This is what my life felt like until I found something better, something to live for.”

Kary could only hug him even more tightly. She fought to control what would be tears of happiness, but she knew once she started, it would be very hard to stop.

“I want to build our house right here,” he announced. “This was the last place I could call home. We’ll tear out all the wreckage, then build a place for us.” After a moment, he added, “Once we clear the site, I’d like to have a shaman perform a kut. Would that bother you?”

Swallowing hard, she answered, “Of course not. This sounds wonderful, but what about the mission? You know I want to rebuild that.”

“What mission? You mean the new full-sized hospital, school, and church? Your CFK organization did so much in spite of the Kims, I’m curious to see how much they’ll be able to accomplish now.” He paused for a moment, and became more serious.

“You know you can’t rebuild at Sinan. The village is empty, and it’s contaminated. But there’s plenty of room to build right here. Actually,” he said, pointing back down the road, “back there a few hundred meters. Room for everything, and to grow after that. I’ve already surveyed the site.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Is that what you have been doing the past few days? And what do you mean ‘surveyed’?”

“I’ve talked to a few people, and I’m starting a construction company.” He grinned. “It’s a growth industry, don’t you know?”