Tempered Steel

Chapter 7

“It is going well, Comrade Chairman,” said Lu Chen, Deputy for Defense. Chen had been raised to this level by Chairman Kim nearly six months before when he came up with the idea for reuniting Korea through military force. He was a slightly built man whose uniform seemed to almost hang from him. His face looked almost like death itself, but his black eyes burned with the thrill of conquest. He used a pointer to show the progress on the wall map. “Since we invaded, our forces were able to extend over 100 miles in just the last three weeks. Our surprise and preemptive actions were very successful in keeping our enemies off guard and unsure. The only holdout in the north is Seoul. Our forces have surrounded the city. They stand no chance,” he boasted.

Kim Sung Nua had taken over as Party Chairman upon the death of his uncle Kim Sung Il. He was selected because, like his uncle, he did not worry about other countries and their opinions of his own. North Korea would make its own destiny and nothing could now stop that. Even his party was praising how he was defeating the Imperialists and finally uniting North and South. Best of all he was doing it with a standing army, not terror tactics. This would give him even greater prestige.

Kim did not hesitate to use a heavy hand in the process. If the people of the South needed some discipline in their lives, he would be the one to do it. If they need persuasion to help them understand what was best for them, he would do that too. More prisons could always be built. He looked with pride at what had been accomplished in just a few short weeks. Lu had done a great job. He was dedicated and loyal. Once this was complete, Lu would be allowed to keep his job. Perhaps they could move into some neighboring countries — something his predecessors had not done. “When will we take their capital?”

“It is just a matter of time. We have them completely surrounded and there is no way to get anything to them. Our forces are in total control. It may even be possible to simply starve them out,” Lu said. “It might set a good example,” he added dryly. He pointed farther down the line. “The enemy has strengthened its resistance along the line here. We have seen some massing of older armor and additional fortifications. There is also some indication that a few reinforcements are coming in from surrounding areas. I have ordered our air force to down any aircraft trying to make its way in and our submarines to sink any ships. That should effectively hamper their resistance,” he said. “They are fighting well, but we expected much more difficult opposition before now and have taken this into account in our planning. This last ditch effort to save them will not work,” he said confidently.

Kim nodded in agreement. “This is good. Have the teams been effective in retraining the populations?”

“They are making progress,” Hu Te Wan, the political officer said. It was a lie, but there was no way anyone could verify what he was saying. The population in the occupied lands had continued to resist in what ways they could. His people were being killed off when no one was looking. While the people attended classes as they were directed, he was not so sure they were listening. “Of course there will be some difficulties getting all the poisons out of their minds, they will all come to understand the benefits of the party and the state. I am sending more teams down every day to help out,” he said with a straight face.

Kim nodded again. It had been planned perfectly and everything would go by the plan. He called the meeting to an end and made his way to his office. He now had to make plans on where he would take his country once this action was complete.

“Dang it!” Ricks said softly in disgust. For a week since picking up Lee they had been moving through the brush trying to find a way back to the American lines. But as they got closer, it became much more difficult. This was the last bridge Lee remembered and it too was nothing but a pile of rubble, blown up by the South Koreans and Americans.

Lee sat in the back of the Jeep and simply closed his eyes. Hufham shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I should have figured they wouldn’t leave any place untouched. Beats the hell out of me where we can go. This place is swarming with bad guys. Lucky we still have gas and food,” he said. Hufham looked back at Lee. “Anybody for a picnic at the beach?”

The men were near exhaustion. Progress on the ground had been painfully slow. They had camouflaged the Jeep as best they could and had done the same for their uniforms and faces. Despite this, two patrols stumbled on them the previous day. The short but intense hand-to-hand ended up in their favor both times. Hufham stressed knives only. A gunshot would bring Democratic People’s Republic forces from miles around and they didn’t need that kind of attention.

There was one exception. Early on the first day after Lee joined them, the men had come upon a small farm and heard rifle shots and screaming. The farm was out in the middle of nowhere but when they got closer they saw three DPR soldiers beside a small dirt house. Through their binoculars they saw a family lying dead on the ground where the soldiers killed them. Only a teen-aged girl remained. She was naked. Her clothes were in tatters around her and she was being held on the ground forcibly by another soldier. She was struggling hard — her legs and arms thrashing wildly. One of the soldiers had lowered his pants and was standing in front of her. A third soldier watched as the first soldier began showing himself and making crude gestures. All three men were laughing.

Scanning the area, it appeared these were the only soldiers around. Ricks watched Hufham pull out his weapon and he did the same. Even Lee brought up the trusty M-1 and put a round in the chamber. “Ricks, you take the one holding the girl. Lee, take the one watching. I have the one with his dick out,” he said in a tone that made Ricks shiver. “On the count of three. One — two…”

At three all three rifles discharged at once. They were over 150 yards away, but the aim was true. The soldier holding the girl and the one standing dropped first due to the higher muzzle velocity of the M-16. This just meant that the third one realized he was in trouble before his bullet struck.

Hufhan, Ricks, and Lee quickly made their way to the now hysterical girl. The first two men had fallen on top of her, bleeding out all over her. She had been too weak to push them off. When the three got to her she was wild eyed and hyperventilating. They dragged the bodies off of her and she quickly backed against the wall of the house covering herself up with a scrap of cloth that had once been her clothing. Lee told her to get up, but she was scared to death of him. Then Hufham reached down and offered her his hand. She could see he was an American and as Hufham spoke softly to her in Korean she eventually reached out and took his hand.

Ricks stood back and kept his eyes open. They were vulnerable here and he didn’t want to be caught by the North Koreans, or DPRs for Democratic People’s Republic. He was having a tough time. She was a pretty girl and everything in his body was screaming to go help her out. He watched as Lee got a pail of water and splashed it on her to get the blood off. After she had calmed down Hufham had her clean up and gather some things so she could go with them. While she was doing that, the three men dragged the DPR soldiers deep into the brush where they would not be found. They took their weapons and more importantly, a map of the area. When the girl reappeared she was wearing loose working clothes and had a bundle under her arm. As she left her home, she didn’t look back, and she hadn’t uttered a word since that time.

For the next few days Ricks took charge of the girl. When they ate, he made her a meal. He offered water and even his sleeping bag at night. She continued to eat in silence, and refused the sleeping bag, preferring to sleep in the open under a coat she brought.

Now after Rick’s outburst at seeing the latest bridge gone, he was sitting in the front seat with his head in his hands when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head to see the girl looking at him and rubbing his shoulder gently. Hufham looked over and grinned, then grabbed the map again. He gestured to Lee. “I don’t see any other places to go,” he said.

Lee looked over his shoulder. Actually, I do know of one more place. It’s on the river here,” he said pointing to a point between the towns of Nut’i and Danjang. “There is a small bridge there made out of wood. You couldn’t get a tank across it, but this Jeep should.”

Hufham sighed. “Well unless someone has another option, we’re on our way.” He started the Jeep and they made their way slowly along the path.

Three hours later the four of them drove over the top of a wooded hill and saw their objective. The wooden bridge had rotted and fallen into the river. Beside it, however, the North Koreans were putting up a temporary bridge on boats, using wooden trestle-like supports on the sides. Troops, tanks, and artillery sat on the side of the road waiting for the chance to cross. Farther down the road was a small area where some of the men were eating. Some additional covered trucks with supplies appeared to be near the eating area as well. The road itself was clear of traffic so people and equipment could get through. The engineers were struggling with one of the sections three quarters of the way across. What surprised Hufham was the quiet. Usually there was a lot of yelling and noise from the hammers and the equipment. Except for an occasional thump of wood, very little sound could be heard. It was obvious they did not want to draw attention to their activity.

“Nice bridge,” Lee whispered behind him. “Now how do we get across?”

Hufham sat for a minute before a smile began to stretch across his face. “First, we wait until they get it finished. Then we go across,” he said.

Ricks looked over at him. “Mind giving us a clue?”

Hufham looked over still smiling. “You ever watch a movie called Kelly’s Heroes?” he asked. By the time he was finished, they were all smiling. After making a couple of assignments, the men left separately to perform their tasks.

It was getting dark. Through his binoculars, Hufham could see the engineers putting the final touches on the bridge. Then in Korean, he told the girl (they still didn’t know her name) to get down in the back and hold on. He pulled out the flashlight, aimed it toward the rear area and flashed it twice.

Within seconds a spark of flame appeared to fly through the air and strike one of the trucks. A second one came a few seconds later. The flame grew as the bottle of the Molotov cocktail smashed against the side, spilling and igniting the gasoline. Both trucks burst into flame, startling the DPR soldiers nearby and causing an uproar all along the line.

Hufham quickly started the Jeep and gunned it down the small road toward the conflagration. In a moment both Ricks and Lee jumped in and Hufham jerked the wheel to the left sending the Jeep down another small road toward the bridge. Just as they burst through the bushes onto the main road a terrible explosion erupted behind them. One of the vehicles had been an ammunition truck. Tons of munitions showered the road and woods with flaming materials as the fireball jumped skyward. Men fell all around from the concussion, but Hufham kept his foot on the accelerator swerving the jeep through groups of men and machines. Seeing his opening, he swerved the Jeep right, losing his traction and skidding sideways almost right into a man who suddenly recognized them and began to shout. Hufham used his left hand to grab the man and jerk him into the back of the Jeep while downshifting and powering the Jeep over the edge and onto the bridge. More explosions rocked the small camp, illuminating the Jeep as it made its way across the river.

That was when Hufham played his last card. Lighting two more cocktails, Ricks and Lee sent the last two sailing behind them, striking the bridge and setting it aflame. By now the North Koreans had seen what was happening and started firing at them. A couple of shots pinged off the side and back of the Jeep as it finally left the bridge and sailed up the far bank and into the woods.

“Open Fire!” came the shout from around the Jeep as a hundred rifles opened up around them along with small artillery. The North Koreans came under withering fire as they scrambled to get to their equipment. The explosion of the trucks had blocked their escape and the now fiercely burning bridge prevented them from coming forward. Artillery rounds ate through the packed equipment and incendiaries started fires on the rest of the trucks. The rest of the troops were mowed down unmercifully.

Hufham dodged the men and machines that suddenly appeared in front of him and stopped beside an old M-60 tank rapidly making its way to the front. All of them looked around in amazement as the Americans and South Koreans did their grizzly work. A bird colonel walked up to Hufham and looked down at him. “Just where the hell did you guys come from? And better yet, where did you get this Jeep?” he asked.

“Get this guy off me first,” Lee said, not knowing who was talking. A flashlight was turned on as Lee shoved the unconscious man off the Jeep and in the dirt. The light revealed the uniform of a North Korean general.

“Sonofabitch!” said the colonel. “Major, get some MPs over here pronto and take this guy back for interrogation,” he yelled. As some men dragged the general away the colonel said, “Okay, sergeant, mind telling me what’s going on?”

“Master Sergeant Paul Hufham, sir, assigned to the 325th on duty at the DMZ when all hell broke loose, sir. This is Private Ricks and Sergeant Lee, formerly of the South Korean Army. We have spent the last few weeks working our way back home, sir,” he began his report.

“You were at the Z?”

Hufham nodded. “Yes sir. We were there when it got hit, and boy do we have some things to tell you sir.”

In Norfolk, an old fire control technician fretted over a ship’s main fire control system. In the 1980s and 1990s the ship had been cannibalized to keep the old Ford Rangefinders operational on the Iowas. He looked at the mess inside an old cast steel container housing the computer. What he saw was a mass of gears, spindles, weights, and counterbalances, along with what looked like small electric motors. Back in 1938, this was state-of-the-art computing, he thought to himself. He could plainly see the gaps in the system. After making a number of telephone calls, he knew it was a lost cause. There was no way to repair this equipment. The men with him were still scratching their heads.

“What do we need to do, Master Chief?” one asked.

Master Chief Fire Control Technician Zeb Skelly shook his head and rubbed a hand through his thin hair. “Well, I knew we wouldn’t be able to get them all up. I’m just glad we were able to get them all but this one,” he said. The Master Chief had been working four weeks getting at least one of the old computers operating on each of the battleships. The four Iowas were not a problem. They had been operational when last decommissioned, but the others were put together from parts scavenged from what was left. The Massachusetts and the Alabama were running, but the old North Carolina had been the worst of the lot. No parts were left to scavenge, and it was obvious no one made computers like this any more. He ran his hand over some of the parts. “It’s okay, fellas, pay your respects to a fine piece of machinery. When they lit off the Iowas back in the 1980s, these computers were able to operate just as accurately as a digital computer to tell these big guns where to shoot. Let’s just put the old girl back together for now. We’re going to have to find another solution,” he said.

The men started lowering the big casting back over the inner workings as Skelly headed back up from the depths of the ship toward daylight. Despite his age, he didn’t get very winded after climbing up four sets of ladders. He walked up the starboard side and down the brow to the pier. After a short hike he came to an office in one of the workshops. It was a little strange, Newport News had shops for everything, but the modern systems were digital and nobody knew the kind of work he had been called in to do. As a matter of fact, most of the guys were sitting around waiting for electronic parts to come in so they could fix some of the newer systems. He walked past several men and opened the door. His friend Jason Fuchs was sitting there going over some diagrams. “Any luck?” Fuchs asked.

Skelly shook his head. “No way in hell unless we can get the parts made. But I got an idea,” he said. He grabbed the telephone and put it to his ear. “Get me Naval Sea Systems Command. I need to speak to Master Chief Dave Castigan,” he said to the operator of the shipyard. He sat back in his chair and waited. Fuchs knew to leave him alone. He had seen that determined look before and knew something was brewing. It took five full minutes for the call to go through.

The Master Chief suddenly sat up. “Dave! This is Skelly, how the hell are you?” There was a pause as the other man responded. “I bet. Listen, we got a problem with the North Carolina’s system. Yea, it’s a total loss. The directors are okay but the computer is trashed. Tell me something. You remember back in the eighties when they brought these ships back? Remember they did that test to see if a digital system would be any better? What kind of a computer did they use for that? You’re shitting me? Are the components around somewhere? What about the plans?” he fired off the questions one after another. Then a grin crossed his face. “OK, Dave, I think you know where I’m going with this. I need you to dig that stuff up and get it down here ASAP. I’ll find a computer, but I need the digital/analog converters and interfaces. I’m gonna get some of these sand crabs down here to get it ready. Right, the whole thing. What’s the program on?” He froze a second. “Now how the hell can we get that program off of magnetic tape?” he suddenly asked a little miffed. Finally he nodded. “Okay, Master Chief, I’ll leave it up to you. Get it on CD or something so we can get going. I’m going to call Dell or HP and get what I can. Thanks, Dave,” he said finally hanging up the telephone.

Skelly looked over at Fuchs. “Close,” he said. They used an old IBM 486 desktop to do it the last time. They modified it a little but used parallel connections to hook in all the inputs. Then they used digital/analog converters to tie it into a system. Luckily, it’s down at Dahlgren. But the program is on mag tape and he said it was too big to use a floppy. He’s going to see if there is a way to transfer it to a CD. We should get a call from Dahlgren this afternoon,” he said looking around the room. “In the mean time, I need a PC. Get one of these guys out here to start rattling the cages and find me one, then tell them to get ready, cause I’m going to rip this old computer out and put the new one in. They are going to have to make it fit all the old couplings,” he said as he flew out the door and back toward the ship.

Fuchs got up and walked to the door, looking out at the men sitting around. “Okay, you guys, I have work for you. I need a brand new PC in here and I want it within 24 hours. Second, I need you to get ready to rig some adaptors to change parallel connectors to USBs, then drag out the schematics on the connectors used on these old Fords. We will be hooking the fire control directors from 1936 into a computer made just this year — along with the interfaces — and I don’t want any mistakes,” he growled. “So off your asses and on your feet, we have a job to do!” The men knew he was not kidding. They jumped to their feet and started getting the materials they needed. The supply clerk got on the telephone. All he needed was a computer.

Commander Bobby Dandridge was sitting in his chair on the bridge wing — holding on for dear life. Never had he imagined how exhilarating it would be to go this fast. He was given this ship and told to get a crew up to speed. Nearly every crewman was either a reservist or retiree. The ship was USS Rooks a World War II era destroyer brought back to the US from South America. At first, Dandridge thought he wouldn’t be able to get the ship out of the harbor, but in just a short period of time he saw the wisdom in detailing the personnel to the ship. Nearly every one of these guys had served in “cans.” They came aboard knowing nearly every system onboard, and the few systems added were quickly learned. The maintenance facility fixed all the problems reported, so there was no excuse for not taking the old girl to sea.

Chief Engineer Chad Messer had actually been an LDO or limited duty officer. Starting as an enlisted man, he came up as a Machinist Mate and had been sent to college and made an officer. He retired at 30 years, which was a good 10 years before. Once back in an engine room, he purred over the equipment like a mother cat with her kittens and had all his people doing the same. He drilled his people unmercifully until they could recite the Operational Propulsion Plant procedures coming and going. Then he re-inspected all the things the shipyard had cleared. The commander remembered him coming up and requesting an underway period to shake the ship out. After getting the OK, Messer ordered fires lit. With great fanfare, he lit off 1 Alpha. When he found no problems, he lit off 1 Bravo. Then 2 Alpha and Bravo. After setting safeties, and topping off fresh water, feed water and fuel, USS Rooks was underway.

The first few hours were spent letting the ship settle in. There was a moderate swell, but relatively calm sea. Most of the crew had to get used to the motion anyway. Most of the newer ships were much heavier — almost three times as much. Most had fin stabilizers to keep the ship sitting relatively upright. Stabilizers hadn’t even been dreamed of when this ship had been built. The ship weighed only 2,050 tons. She was about 350 feet long but only 40 feet wide, so she sliced through the water instead of forcing her way through it. The near vertical bow often allowed the sea to roll over the top and down the forward part of the ship, sometimes throwing spray high into the air.

The Commander, called “Captain” since he was the senior officer aboard, decided to enjoy the afternoon just seeing what the ship would do. The Engineer had been running drills and tomorrow they would have a gunshoot. Things were very peaceful when the Engineer said he was ready to do a full power run. The Captain gave permission and within a minute, the enunciators were shifted to flank speed with 9-9-9 indicated for revolutions.

That was when things started to happen. They started out at 15 knots. Suddenly the Captain heard the whine of forced draft blowers as they sped up to their maximum revolutions. Dark smoke poured from the stacks only to disappear to a soft haze almost immediately as the men below adjusted the fuel/air mixture to get the optimum heat and steam out of the old boilers. The stern gave a shudder as the twin screws began to thrash their way faster and faster, turning the blue-white wake into a wild, bright white froth. The back of the ship began to dip lower into the water and people standing could sense the ship’s speed increase. The bow began to rise, and the spray from the bow wave shot farther out and higher into the air. The waves and chop started passing the ship more rapidly now and on occasion when going over a swell, the ship seemed to leap forward, throwing water into the air as she cut through.

The Captain looked at his Officer of the Deck. “What’s the speed?” he asked.

“We just passed thirty knots, Captain,” the young lieutenant said nervously.

Not bad, the Captain thought, especially for such an old ship.

Down in “Main Control” the Chief Engineer watched the instruments and especially the torque gages on the shafts. The one thing he did not want to do was torque off a shaft. The engine and firerooms were hotter than three shades of hell, and the men clustered under blowers that belched cold air from the air conditioning system straight down on them at a furious pace. Despite it all, sweat poured off the men. But this was what real engineers understood. The heat, noise, smell, and vibrations were a part of their very being. The Chief Engineer felt at home. Everything was well within tolerances and he was determined to show these rookies what a real tin can could do. He reached up and grabbed the microphone for the sound powered phones that were also amplified to serve as an announcing system down in the holes. “How we doing aft?”

“Lookin’ good here. Vacuum at 28 inches and steady, all pressures good,” came the reply.

“Okay, let’s crack her open and see what she’s got. Watch the torque gauges and your water levels,” he ordered. After a quick acknowledgement, he turned to the throttleman. “Open it one full turn,” he yelled in his ear.

The throttleman was a second class petty officer in his mid-thirties. He had volunteered to return to duty to get back in just such an engine room. He followed his instructions and opened the throttle one full revolution and watched the steam pressure rise in the intake of the high pressure turbine, followed by the low pressure turbine. He also kept an eye on the vacuum as the steam was totally spent in the turbines and entered the main condenser, where the steam flashed back into a liquid called condensate and began the continuous process of becoming feed water and boiled into steam again in a never ending loop. They watched as the revolutions on the shafts passed 300. The whole ship was shaking now, especially the stern as the screws pulled the ship ever faster. It was getting difficult to stand back aft and it seemed as if the water was actually above the deck edge.

Now it was one hour after the ship began its run. The pit log showed the ship turning 36 knots. The wind was howling across the length of the ship as it sliced its way. Sailors had stopped going on the main deck and only stood on the O-1 level or higher. Everyone was seemingly topside to witness the spectacle. Only twenty minutes before, the lookouts had spotted another ship. Looking through the “big eyes,” a set of huge binoculars, they could see one of the newer cruisers on her way back from the Med. As the ship came closer, light signals were exchanged and the niceties to senior officers observed, but the Rooks never slowed. She passed USS Port Royal as if she was standing still. After moving five minutes beyond, the captain ordered a right five degree rudder to change course. The ship heeled over while the screws continued to bite into the sea, turning the ship rapidly and coming back up on the Port Royal’s stern. The CO of the Port Royal saw the turn and ordered his engineers to open up the stops on his ship as well, and the mighty LM2500 gas turbines spun rapidly up to full speed. But it was no use. The Rooks passed the big cruiser with a nearly 10 knot advantage and kept going.

Later that evening the ship had returned to her cruising speed to conserve what fuel she had, but the crew was abuzz with the excitement of the day. Many had not really cared about being put on such an old ship. After what just happened, however, they were getting to like the old girl. After dinner the men drifted topside and watched the sunset much like their fathers and grandfathers had on ships like these. Tomorrow, they would shoot the four 5-inch guns. If they could shoot as good as they could run this would be a kick-ass ship.