Red Phoenix Burning

Chapter 4 — Reconnaissance

The farmer had gladly offered a ride to Cho Ho-jin in return for gas money, a few Chinese yuan notes, and a story about a “business to the south.” Travel in the people’s republic was closely controlled, but the farmer didn’t care about Cho’s movements, not when the truck, the farmer, and the load of vegetables it carried were all illegal, making him technically subject to imprisonment or death.

But people needed to eat. The government ration was for two poor meals a day, which had been declared the official diet of the country. Only the elite were able to buy more food legally, at state-run stores with North Korean currency. The rest of the population either starved or found ways to make money in the gray economy, where the Chinese yuan and American dollar were the only currency that mattered. The official exchange rate of one hundred thirty North Korean won to one yuan was a joke, and largely ignored. The gray market rate was about four thousand to one.

The gray market in North Korea grew and sold food, provided goods from shoes to Japanese electronics, and services that ranged from haircuts to installing a tuner in your radio that would receive foreign stations. It survived, in spite of the government’s efforts to either stop it or co-opt it, because the state-controlled economy could not provide the necessities of life.

So food was privately grown on government-owned land, and shipped in trucks that were registered to a government office, and sold at an open-air market that theoretically didn’t exist, because government directives explicitly forbade private businesses. And as long as every petty official and every police officer got a part of the proceeds, in yuan — not won, if you please — it didn’t exist.

As bad as things were in the DPRK, without the gray market they would be far worse, and that’s why the government couldn’t make it disappear. The officials that would have to enforce the edict made far more money from gray businesses than they ever would from the state.

As a result, much of the North Korean economy consisted of bribes. Low-ranking officials received payments and gratuities and outright kickbacks in return for favors and fudged records and customized documents. The petty officials used their gray income not only to buy goods on the gray market, but also to pay higher-level bureaucrats tribute and bribes in exchange for their protection.

Cho received an adequate, if not generous supply of foreign currency from his Russian masters. His last mission had been close enough to the Chinese border to facilitate a fresh supply for his travels south. He had enough money to move and eat, which in North Korea would be considered a major accomplishment. His current identification said he was an agricultural inspector, which provided an excuse to travel.

So the farmer, a squat, weathered peasant by the name of Park, had been delighted when the inspector had not asked for a bribe, but instead offered to help pay for the trip to the market. Cho listened attentively to the local gossip as they drove from the farming village, down National Route 1, over the Chongchon River to the edge of town.

There was plenty of gossip to listen to. Cho’s status as a petty official didn’t deter Park from complaining about corrupt police and idiotic rules. Lean and gray past his years, he was worried about much more than the weather and the greed of the local officials. The stories from the capital were beyond belief: buildings exploding, battles in the streets, and worst of all, contradictory and confusing orders to the officials, the populace, and even the military.

Park had a son in the army, somewhere south, and told Cho the boy’s unit had received three sets of orders in the past week, from two different commanders: first to mobilize and head to another army base, then prepare for a defense of their own base, and then to leave and move south to the DMZ. When Cho pressed for the son’s location or unit, Park replied that his son, an ordinary soldier, hadn’t been told the unit’s name for security purposes, and only officers were allowed to look at maps.

He spoke to the boy by phone once or twice a week. Like many North Koreans, both Park and his son had gray market cell phones, made in China or Japan and modified to work on the North Korean network. It wasn’t cheap, Park explained, but while he had two daughters, Park Jang-su was his only son. And he was worried. The unit had received a full load of live ammunition twice, only to turn it in again each time.

It was an hour-long drive from Tongyang village to the Chongchon River Bridge. National Highway One was a reasonably well-maintained two-lane road. The morning traffic was backed up right before the bridge, and leaning out the side window, Cho could see a police vehicle parked off to one side. He suppressed the automatic flash of fear — his identity documents were in order.

The line of vehicles, mostly trucks like Park’s, crawled forward and eventually Park stopped next to a policeman waving a small flag. “Bridge fee,” the policeman demanded. “Ten yuan.”

“As if I had ten yuan,” Park groused. The farmer was already holding a few bills in his hand, but out of sight of the official. “I won’t have any money until I sell this load. Why don’t you come around then?”

“Because you farmers are too quick to leave, which is why I’m standing here.” The policeman sounded like he’d been inconvenienced. “Seven yuan.”

“Two,” Park countered. “I may meet other policemen.”

“Five,” the officer responded, but Cho could tell he was just going through the motions.

“Three,” Park said, and handed the bills he’d been holding out the window. “And my daughters will go hungry tonight.”

“Why should they be different than the rest of us?” the policeman answered philosophically, waving them on.

Once over the bridge, they quickly came to a local road junction next to a canal, on the north side of town. Sinanju was a worker’s community for nearby Anju town. The main industry was coal mining; the dust darkened every surface and made every crevice black. It hung in the air so that even the light became gray. Following the farmer’s advice, Cho tied a cloth over his mouth, and virtually everyone Cho saw had done the same, as if they were all American Wild West bandits.

Cho helped Park unload his vegetables, not only out of gratitude, but because the farmer was still telling stories about what he’d heard from the south. He finally took his leave, and explored the market.

It wasn’t large, just two rows of a dozen or so stalls lining a dirt lane in an open field, but the vendors were doing business. The dusty paths were filled with pedestrians and bicyclists. Some booths were quite elaborate, and clearly permanent. Cho bought a bowl of bean sprout rice from a vendor for breakfast, and tried to listen to the conversations around him.

More than a few were about politics and news from the capital. The shutdown of the state-controlled media had been very upsetting. Nobody listened to the official propaganda, but when it stopped, that meant something had changed. Cho had seen and studied gatherings like this a thousand times, and they were worried. The people faced uncertain times, and in the North, that meant hard times.

His Russian masters, like the North Korean populace, wanted to know what was happening. If there was actual fighting, how bad was it? Who belonged to what faction? His original orders sending him from the Chinese border south had included a long list of very important, but hard-to-answer questions. Replies to his two progress reports since then had only added more questions, and demanded to know why he wasn’t already in Pyongyang.

Cho headed for the Sinanju train station, hoping to speed his progress. Normal bus service had been suspended, and he’d been forced to hitchhike, taking days instead of hours just to get this far. No reason had been given for the suspension, but Cho was seeing more and more signs of the government ceasing to provide its normal functions. Some state-owned stores and offices were closed without notice, and in one town he’d passed through, the food rations had run out, again, with no explanation. Fuel supplies were spotty, which may have been a reason for the bus cancellation.

He didn’t know whether it was the passage of time or the diminishing distance from the capital, but he could only expect things to get worse.

The Sinanju train station was built to a plan common all over the North — a broad, once-white building with the obligatory portrait of the Supreme Leader at its peak. Two armed soldiers stood outside, but that was customary.

As he neared the entrance, Cho had already taken out his identity papers, certain he’d be challenged before he could buy a ticket. As one of the soldiers approached, Cho offered his papers, with a one-yuan note folded underneath. That was the customary fee to make sure there weren’t any “irregularities” that might make a traveler miss his train.

To his surprise, the soldier waved the papers away, a stern expression on his face. He barked, “Go away, the station is closed.”

Cho, confused, momentarily considered increasing the size of the bribe, but then realized that although there were people on the street, nobody was entering or leaving the train station. He was tempted to just turn around and leave, but he needed to get a train ticket. He ventured, “Do you know when it will be open again?”

The soldier opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a harsh “What’s going on here?” from behind Cho.

He spun around to see a uniformed officer, which wasn’t unusual, but he didn’t expect it to be a major from the Korean People’s Internal Security Forces. They were a paramilitary organization, and usually handled things like civil defense and traffic control. Theoretically, they could be mobilized to assist other security forces in times of crisis — like now, Cho belatedly realized.

The solder braced and saluted, and started to explain, but the major ignored him and instead simply said, “Papers,” almost spitting out the word.

Cho still had his identity card and travel orders in his hand, but he palmed the one-yuan note as he gave everything else to the major. He didn’t speak, but waited for the inevitable questions.

“Your business here?”

“I am returning to headquarters at Sukchon. I wanted to buy a ticket for passage there.” Cho tried to keep his tone as respectful as possible. The major had a hard, almost angry expression, as if Cho’s mere existence was an offense.

“This station has been closed to all civilian traffic until further notice.”

“Civilian traffic? The army’s taken over the railroads?”

“Why do you want to know?” the major demanded. He motioned to the soldier, who moved behind Cho. He was sure that there was an assault rifle leveled at his back.

“If you’re a spy, you might try feigning ignorance to gather information useful to this country’s enemies about the railroads and troop movements.”

Cho didn’t try to hide his fear. He didn’t want to be arrested by this man. It was not only the risk of discovery as a real spy, but the certainty of more delay, possibly permanently. He didn’t even have to be charged. They could simply throw him in prison for “suspicious activity” and leave him there to rot. Nobody in the North would ever come looking for him, and he wasn’t foolish enough to believe the Russians would do anything.

The major was looking at him. “The announcement went out yesterday morning to all state organizations announcing the order. If you were really an agricultural inspector, you would have received word from your office.”

“My apologies, Major, I really didn’t know. Look at my travel orders. I’ve been up near Tongyang. I haven’t heard from my office in almost a week.” Luckily, that was all true, but would it be enough? Catching a spy, even a false one, might gain the major favor with his superiors. It would certainly be more interesting than patrolling an empty train station.

Cho studied the man. There were only two ways to go: big or not at all. But not too big, or that might invite other attention. Fumbling with his papers, he pulled out a card with more information on the agency he supposedly worked for. Under the card, he tucked three bills, two ten-yuan notes and a precious American twenty-dollar bill. If the common people used the Chinese yuan, the elite used dollars, and there were things that only dollars could buy.

“Here. This is my agency’s headquarters. If I can call them, they will vouch for me. I’ve worked there for many years.” He handed the card and the currency to the major, who took it, thankfully.

Cho could see the man’s mind work again. The major now had the option of turning him in for attempted bribery, but that was extremely rare, and of course the major’s superiors would confiscate the money — all of it. And turning in somebody for bribery didn’t get you points in North Korea.

The major paused for only a moment, then returned the document, neatly palming the bills. “That won’t be necessary. The buses are still running. You can use them to get to Sukchon.”

Cho smiled and thanked the major for his help, then got away from the train station as quickly as possible. His masters would have to be patient, but he’d get to Pyongyang eventually.

They’d left Pyeongtaek the day before, timing their departure for a window when both Russian and Chinese satellites would be below the horizon. It wasn’t certain that the two nations’ intelligence services would inform the North of ROK naval activity, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t, either.

Colonel Rhee had chafed at the three-hour delay imposed by fleet headquarters at Busan, in spite of the urgency, just as he now chafed at the sub’s ten-knot speed. Although the submarine was capable of twenty knots submerged, that speed would use up its battery too quickly, the captain had explained. High speed also increased the sub’s chance of being detected, especially in the shallow waters of the Yellow Sea.

Even though the stealthy approach made sense, Rhee wanted to hurry. Things were falling apart up north. They all needed to find out what was actually occurring, for many reasons.

The government’s reasons were obvious. The North was a dangerous neighbor and a possible opponent, but the ROK leadership had precious little information about the current state of affairs. Rhee’s mission might give them vital clues about what was happening, or about to happen. The country could then take steps to counter any harmful actions, or at least prepare.

The military needed information on the KPA’s readiness. Reports of deserted outposts and unusual operating patterns left the generals and admirals in the dark. Unstable political situations often bred military adventures, ill-advised but still destructive. And then there was the WMD issue. What was their status? While Rhee’s team couldn’t answer all the questions, much could be deduced from the information they brought back.

There was also the personal angle. Like almost everyone in the south, Rhee had distant relatives in North Korea, ones he’d never met, but still felt connected to. There were still many alive who’d been separated from parents and siblings in the First Korean War. The older generation was now gone, but that made the ties to those left just that much more important.

Family mattered in Korea — a lot. Even though they’d been taught all their lives that the North was an enemy, bent on their destruction or enslavement, that only applied to the regime, to the Kims and their minions. To the average South Korean, the average North Korean was a prisoner in his own country — starved and mistreated. Unification would not just end an evil regime, but liberate their families from lifetimes of suffering.

Rhee could see the impatience in the rest of his team, even in the sub’s thirty three-man crew. Speculation and discussions about what might be happening had taken on a life of its own, and finally the captain had forbidden all discussion of the topic unless it related to Rhee’s mission.

Rhee kept his team busy, distracting them with quizzes about the local geography or other details of the mission, with weapons drills, and even language practice. Aside from regional accents, the language in the North had changed, with slightly different pronunciations and different terms. Rhee and his men would be wearing KPA uniforms, but the game would be over if someone spoke like they’d come from Seoul.

It was a small team, just four men. Rhee had chosen Lieutenant Guk Yong-soo, the platoon leader who’d brought his men across the finish line in under an hour and forty-five minutes. The other two men, Master Sergeant Oh and Corporal Ma, were out of Guk’s platoon. Oh had served two tours in Afghanistan, but the lieutenant and corporal had no combat experience.

General Kwon had first insisted that Rhee have someone else lead the mission, but when he’d realized that his colonel intended to go, and announced the rest of his team, he’d argued against any new men. “Not this first time, Colonel.”

“Especially this first time, sir,” Rhee had countered. “It’s only going to get worse later. It always does. They’re good, and they’ll come back veterans.”

“Make sure you come back with them, Colonel,” Kwon insisted.

Guk and Ma were both thrilled to be chosen for the mission, maybe a little too thrilled in Rhee’s opinion, but Master Sergeant Oh had simply nodded and gone to prepare his gear. Of course, the entire platoon helped them get ready, and they’d flown out for Pyeongtaek naval base later that day.

They left the sub via the lockout chamber, one at a time, first the lieutenant, then Oh, Corporal Ma, and finally Rhee. Because of the sub’s moderate size, and the captain’s considerable skill, they’d managed to close to the ten-fathom line, which would save them a lot of swimming. Rhee shook hands with the captain, thanked him for the smooth trip, and promised to be back at the rendezvous in three days. The sub would loiter along the northern coast, eavesdropping electronically and keeping her batteries topped off.

The Yellow Sea was relatively warm in August. To Rhee, it was almost like bath water, and he surfaced in total darkness. The other three were within meters, and linked up as soon as he appeared. The sub’s captain had put them exactly where he was supposed to. A scan of the surface and the shoreline showed no movement and few lights. Fuel in the North was scarce, and the dark coastline beckoned.

With their bearings established, they submerged again and swam east, into enemy territory. Rhee automatically counted his kicks as he swam, checking the time, depth, and especially direction. He swam through a cool black void, with no up or down, no light except the faint glow of the watch and compass on his wrist when he uncovered them. At times, he thought he felt an eddy or surge of water from one of the other nearby swimmers, but probably not. They tried to move through the water with as little disturbance as possible. Not only did it reduce the chance of being spotted; it saved energy.

It was still over a mile to the shoreline. The seafloor shallowed very slowly, so they’d chosen to come in at high tide, to get as much cover from the water as possible. A half hour into the trip, Rhee was starting to watch the remaining time more frequently. He told himself it was to make sure he didn’t overshoot, and he was mostly right.

The four came up within seconds of each other; four black bumps a hundred meters offshore. His night vision gear showed no activity on the beach, in fact, no sign of human presence at all. Guk, next to him, was making a similar scan, and gave Rhee the “all clear” sign as well. Oh and Ma, on either side, were scanning the sea, and also saw nothing untoward.

The water was only a meter and a half deep here, and they water-crawled about half the distance before stripping off their swim fins and dashing to the shore. The beach surface was loose rock, and it was hard to move silently. The good news was that there were plenty of larger stones and boulders for cover. They quickly removed their swim gear and cached it in a rocky hollow and camouflaged it. They’d need it in a few days, but they couldn’t carry scuba gear all over North Korea.

They were all in North Korean People’s Army uniforms, matching their real ranks, except for Rhee, who wore a major’s insignia on a commissar’s uniform. If challenged, they were a patrol searching for defectors from their unit, which given the situation in the North, seemed likely. Three carried standard-issue North Korean Type 88 rifles, while Master Sergeant Oh had a KS-23 combat shotgun. They all carried a North Korean Type 66 pistol, a copy of a Russian 9mm Makarov weapon. Rhee and Guk wore theirs openly, the others had them concealed but accessible. Ma carried a SATCOM radio, and at Rhee’s instruction, sent the signal reporting that they had arrived safely.

The team also carried an electronic listening station broken down into several subcomponents. After their mission was finished, they would assemble and leave the device behind. It could eavesdrop on short-range communications that usually could not be picked up by sensors in the South. Planners had selected several potential spots along their path where it could be placed. While it would almost certainly be found eventually, it would not be found quickly, and not until long after the team had left.

The beach, really a small cove, had a stream in the center leading inland. Hurrying the other three a little, Rhee led them along it. They’d landed right after evening twilight and had a lot of ground to cover during the short summer night. After making sure everyone’s night vision gear was functioning, the colonel checked his watch and started east with Lieutenant Guk leading the way. They were a few minutes behind schedule, and Rhee told him to set a fast pace.

Although Rhee was confident of his choices, the four had not had a chance to train together as a team. Normally they would have practiced the entire mission in the South, or at least the critical parts of it. Instead, Rhee had kept the plan simple, using the basic skills that anyone in the Ghost Brigade was expected to have mastered — like crossing an enemy landscape at night without being detected. As they walked, Rhee listened carefully, checking their noise discipline.

The land rose smoothly and quickly became rolling wooded farmland, dotted with orchards and clumps of pine forest. Given the perennial food shortage in North Korea, every hectare of arable land was tilled, but many of these fields were idle this season, either by design or circumstance. Rhee could see hills rising in front of them. That would slow them down, but the hills would also help screen their movements, and give them a good place to observe their target.

Their goal was Chongju, fifteen kilometers to the east, a relatively short distance, but of course, they would not be following a straight path. Chongju was headquarters for the 425th Mechanized Corps, roughly equivalent to a South Korean division. His orders were to observe the corps for any unusual activity. He was to be especially alert for any signs of general mobilization, and to get a definite count of the units present. The division had several cantonments scattered around the Chongju City proper. His team would have to check each one, then be back at the beach in slightly less than seventy-two hours.

They followed the stream inland for a few kilometers. Farmland lay on either side, although there were lighted houses to the south. The stream led toward the north side of a farming village, and after checking his bearings, Guk led the team east.

They quickly reached a two-lane road and followed it to the northwest, bypassing a larger town, Choyang-ni, to the south. There was absolutely no traffic on the road, and Rhee felt like he was back in the water, moving through empty darkness. The sound of the summer insects kept it from being completely silent, but Rhee had to work at remembering this wasn’t just a midnight stroll through a peaceful rural countryside.

They crossed a major highway, a two-lane paved road, and the land began to rise. Their goal for the night was a 230-meter high hill that lay to the east of Chongju and overlooked the first garrison they were supposed to observe. About nine kilometers from the beach, it was as far as they could get in the short night and still have time to set up a decent secure hiding place.

They were just over a kilometer from the shore, moving cross-country, when Guk, still in the front, suddenly gave the signal to stop and went to one knee. Rhee dropped as well, and froze in place until Guk whispered in the headset radio: “Movement. Four forward.”

Rhee was fourth in line, and he moved as quietly and quickly as he could until he was next to Guk. The lieutenant didn’t have to explain why he’d stopped. A group of people was crossing a field ahead of them, moving right to left. Rhee could see several adults and a gaggle of children. Based on their size, they ranged from their teens to toddlers. They were still some distance away, but they appeared to be carrying bundles and suitcases. He saw no weapons.

“Civilians going cross-country?” Guk asked.

“Heading west or northwest. They’ll reach the shore soon,” Rhee predicted. “I’ll wager one of them has a boat, or knows where one is.”

The commandos could hear the group now, speaking softly but still talking far too much if they were trying to avoid detection. They were about thirty meters away, and unless they changed their direction, would pass well ahead of Rhee’s team. What bits of conversation he heard confirmed his theory that they were heading for a boat, and the lament that one had to be alive to harvest any crops.

Rhee checked his watch. This was not helping their timetable. He patted Guk’s shoulder and whispered, “Good work. Keep up the pace, but there may be more.” The lieutenant started out again, and Rhee let the others pass before taking his place at the rear again.

There were more, enough so that Rhee wished they’d brought a small UAV to give them an aerial view. Not only would it have allowed them to go around the singles, pairs, and families moving through the darkness, but the colonel wanted to see just how many there were. Was there a pattern? Were there so many because they were close to the coast? If the civilians were all moving away from a central point, that would be a place he wanted to investigate.

As it was, when Guk spotted someone, all they could do was stop, make sure the civilians were not heading straight for the team, and then wait for them to pass. While Rhee and the others saw signs that the civilians — now refugees, Rhee corrected himself — were being watchful, none showed any sign of detecting their presence.

Guk was steering them past one group by leaving the road and paralleling the tree line, when he stopped and called for the colonel again. It was the same words, “Four forward,” but Rhee could tell something was wrong.

They hadn’t shown up on Ma’s night vision goggles because the bodies were cold, but Guk had spotted them by their shapes against the smooth ground. Rhee saw a jumble of bodies, large and small, and ordered “Ma, on lookout” on the headset radio.

While Corporal Ma kept watch, the other three first checked the bodies for any sign of booby traps, then gently untangled them.

It looked like a family group, two older adults, three more in their twenties, and a teen boy. All were civilians, and had been shot. Two piles of clothes and small belongings lay on the cloths that had bundled them together.

“No valuables,” Oh reported.

“This was done by soldiers,” Guk concluded.

“Concur. Robbed and shot,” Rhee answered. “Gather any identity documents you can find.”

“The soldiers didn’t bother taking those,” Guk commented, handing several to Rhee. His disgust was plain.

The colonel didn’t expect the papers would be of much intelligence value, but the sheer fact that refugees were being murdered by soldiers, probably deserters, was important. He also carefully marked their location. These poor souls had family, here in the North and perhaps even in the South. They might have lost their lives, but Rhee would make sure they were not lost forever.

Rhee was reluctant to leave them where they lay, but there was no time for anything else. He ordered Guk on point again, and they resumed their trip through a land in upheaval.

Two kilometers from their destination, Guk halted them again. “Gun emplacement ahead.”

That surprised Rhee. That hadn’t been on the satellite photos. Of course, they were American satellite photos taken over a week ago. Rhee had been told during the briefings that newer ones weren’t available. They might not exist, or ROK intelligence might not have asked for them. A request might have started a discussion about why they were needed, and the Americans might not have been too happy about Rhee’s mission.

After Guk confirmed it was quiet, Rhee joined him and the two studied the scene ahead.

It was indeed a gun emplacement. Inside an earthen berm, Rhee could see the mass of an artillery piece. The long barrel made him think it was an antiaircraft weapon. There was no sign of its crew, presumably still asleep. The pair low-crawled forward slowly, watching for any movement, and angled a little to one side.

As the angle changed, the gun came into clearer profile, and Rhee identified it as a KS-30, a heavy 130mm antiaircraft gun. They were usually operated in batteries of four or six, and about fifty meters past the first he saw another emplacement. But still no movement.

Rhee didn’t like the idea of a gun emplacement so close to where they were going to set up for the day, but the hill he’d chosen on the map was an ideal spot, and he was reluctant to give it up.

But where were the sentries? An AA battery had almost a hundred personnel, and in the field, even in friendly territory, they’d post at least one or two sentries per gun. They couldn’t all be slacking off somewhere, could they?

They were falling farther behind schedule. They couldn’t waste any more time on this, or the morning twilight would catch them still setting up. Maybe if they’re that sloppy, they could still use the preselected location.

Rhee and Guk hurried back to the other two as quickly as stealth allowed, and with Guk keeping a dedicated watch on the battery, Rhee led them east toward the hill, a kilometer away. He relaxed a little once they were on its wooded slopes, and they quickly reached the crest. Rhee told the lieutenant to pick a spot and set up a hide, and while the other three did that, the colonel took out a night vision telescope and tripod and found a spot to study the gun emplacement.

With the elevation, he could look down and see the ring of six guns, with the fire control van in the center. Tents and ammunition storage were laid out, with the gun’s prime movers and other transport parked off to the side. There were no lights, or signs of movement. The lack of any illumination could be due to proper light discipline. But no movement at all?

Guk reported the camouflaged hide was completed, and Rhee inspected their handiwork, making a few suggestions as if this was just another training exercise. The telescope was brought back to the hide and trained on the nearest cantonment, which held one of the three regiments that made up the 425th. It was farther away, but it was getting lighter, and almost to their relief, Guk reported seeing vehicles and personnel moving about.

While Guk studied the garrison, Rhee had Ma transmit another signal that they’d reached their first night’s objective. He told the master sergeant to find a good spot and keep a close watch on the nearby emplacement. He was sure they’d only been lucky so far.

Ma reported “Message received,” and Rhee told him to take a nap while he kept watch. It had been a long night, and he’d learned to pace himself. It was another skill to teach these men, and…

Master Sergeant Oh’s voice came over the headset. “Sir, you need to see this.”

That didn’t sound good. After telling Ma to delay his nap until he returned, Rhee carefully made his way to Oh’s position. It was fully light now, and any movement, even among the trees, could be seen at some distance.

As he approached, Oh handed him a pair of binoculars and simply pointed down the slope, a strange expression on his face.

There was nobody in the emplacement. Not only no movement, but no soldiers. At this hour, the battery should be lining up for breakfast, and crews should be servicing their weapons. But it appeared to be completely deserted.

There was certainly no risk of being spotted, but what was going on? Rhee didn’t like surprises, especially in the middle of the DPRK, and he felt a chill. He told Oh, “Come with me.”

Trying to balance speed with caution, they hurried down the slope and approached the nearest gun emplacement. At this point, Rhee had to abandon concealment, and hope that any North Korean solder he met would be below the rank of major. After that he’d find out what he could and talk his way out. But he had to know more.

The nearest of the six AA emplacements was empty. The gun appeared functional, with ready ammunition stacked nearby, but no crew. Standing on the berm surrounding the gun, Rhee scanned the emplacements to either side. They were deserted as well. Oh, his shotgun at the ready, seemed ready to shoot anything that moved, but nothing provided a target.

The fire control radar van was empty, its generator off. A few papers were scattered about, and the two collected them for any intelligence they might provide. There was still no movement. The bivouac area was about a hundred meters from the guns, centered on the mess tent. Rhee headed for the headquarters tent, set a little off from the others. Alert as they were, they didn’t notice the smell until they were only a few meters away. Rhee looked over at Oh, who had the same expression on his face.

They knew what was inside, but still took care approaching the door, weapons level, then glancing inside before entering. On one side of the tent, maybe five meters on a side, was a pile of bodies, all in uniform. Bloodstains marked bullet wounds. Powder burns showed that many had been shot at close range.

Rhee ordered, “Watch the door.” While Oh kept a lookout, Rhee searched the bodies. Their sidearms were gone, but he collected some documents. He counted five bodies: a captain, a staff sergeant, two sergeants, and a corporal. By rights, a captain would command this battery, with a senior lieutenant as his deputy.

The tent’s contents, two cots, a camp desk, and other items, were scattered and broken. Two personal lockers lay open, their contents tumbled out. Rhee found a few more documents, then said, “Mess tent next.”

They covered the distance in seconds, as if under fire, and paused for only the briefest check before going inside. It was larger than the officer’s tent, designed to feed the battery in shifts. The inside showed some signs of disorder, but Rhee ignored that, instead heading back to the cooking area while Oh watched the door again. A truck was parked alongside the tent, and it confirmed Rhee’s hypothesis.

He walked back toward Oh, the master sergeant’s gaze firmly outside. “Most of the food is gone. Only the heaviest items are left. They shot those that didn’t want to join them, and deserted.”

Oh muttered an expletive, shaking his head in disbelief, then said, “Those crazy bastards. An entire unit mutiny?” Such a thing was inconceivable in the ROK Army, much less a police state like the DPRK. “Where will they go?”

Rhee shrugged. “They could have scattered, back to their homes, but it’s more likely they’re headed for the Chinese border. It’s only eighty kilometers from here. I’ll bet there are a few trucks missing. Those bodies haven’t been dead more than twelve hours. If they did this last night, maybe about the same time we landed, they could be at the border now. And who’s going to stop a couple of army trucks?”

Oh’s eyebrow’s went up at the idea. “I pity any checkpoints they reach.”

“Let’s get out of here. I want to find out what’s going in that garrison.”

The master sergeant added, “And sooner or later, they’re going to wonder why nobody here is answering phone calls. We shouldn’t be here.”

They almost sprinted back to the hillside. As they reached the wood line, Rhee used his tactical radio. “Pack up. We need to move away from here. I’ll explain why later, but KPA units are likely to come and search this area any time now. And tell Ma to prepare the radio. I’ll want to sent a message.”

Guk replied immediately. “Understood. I was about to call you. You won’t believe what’s going on in that cantonment.”

“I will now,” Rhee answered.