North Korean Blowup (12 page)

She went in the room and closed the door. She didn’t push the bolt. She thought about Lieutenant Hunter. He was a good looking guy, and nice. She liked him. Maybe after they got back here from North Korea she could invite him out to dinner. She’d have to think about that. For right now it was getting the job done, completing the mission. First things first.

CHAPTER TEN

The next morning spun past so fast that Hunter hardly could keep up with it. They had noon chow at the barracks and then got ready for their thirteen thirty takeoff. They loaded the pickup with the drag bags filled with weapons and ammo, then lined up for the bus that would take them out to the chopper pad. It squatted on the far side of the airport away from the runways. When the bus arrived, two Seahawk SH-60’s sat there side by side waiting.

They loaded half of the drag bags in each craft, and then piled in by squads. Both navy destroyer captains were on hand to get back to their ships. Quinn bustled around like a mother hen making sure everything was on board and secure. Then he gave the signal for the takeoff. The time was thirteen twenty-nine. Quinn liked that.

Twenty minutes later they landed the first chopper on board the
Decatur DG-73.
It was an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. The bird unloaded and then took off to return to its mother ship the destroyer
Laboon DG-58
which would remain in port. The second chopper came in and landed and the destroyer moved out of the port heading for south China.

With the drag bags stowed in a nearby compartment, the SEALs checked over the IBSs, to be sure they were inflated correctly and that the outboard motors were working. Then they reported to bunks for a mandatory six hour sleep period.

“We’re going to be up all night and all day tomorrow, so we tank up on sleep and food before we launch,” Hunter told the men. “You know the drill, pass out for six hours and we’ll be ready to go.”

Hunter woke up at twenty two hundred and went topside. It was raining. He grinned. Nothing helped a covert landing at night like a good rainstorm. If there were any coast guards or coast watchers they would be blind by the rain. When he returned to the compartment where the men had sacked out, they were up, and had on their combat vests and Korean clothes. They double checked each other for the third time.

Beth Darby moved over beside Hunter for a final check on her gear. She peered up from under a floppy hat and he saw nervous tension building all over her face.

“Hey, you kill nukes, remember? A little thing like a night landing isn’t going to even faze you.”

“I’ve never been all that friendly with boats,” she said. “Swimming is fine, but a boat is another story.”

“You’ll be with me in Alpha’s boat. No sweat. Just sit down and hang on.” He grinned. “That MP-5 looks good on you. Think it might catch on with the society set in DC?”

She shook her head and a small grin seeped across her nervous face. “Doubtful,” she said. “Extremely not going to happen.”

Hunter looked at his wrist watch. “We move up the ladder in five minutes. Everyone ready?”

“Hoo-yah!” the troops bellowed.

Hunter looked at Beth who had joined in the yell.

Ten minutes later they had loaded in the two IBSs. Alpha had one extra person and so did Bravo with Soc Ho. That with the extra ammo made the rubber boats ride lower in the water than usual. The rain had moderated to a concentrated drizzle and the SEAL were pleased about that.

Hunter spoke to the personal water proof radio mike on his shoulder. “Net check Alpha.” He listened as the seven men called in, then Beth responded. “Bravo, net check.” The eight men chimed in and then belatedly, Soc Ho came on.

“Forgot to ask, can Mr. Ho swim?” Hunter asked.

“Swim like whale,” Ho said. “Slow but get there.”

“Good. Let’s push off and start your motors.” The coxswains in each boat started the thirty five horsepower motors that could send them through the gentle chop at eighteen knots. But with the added load tonight they would settle for about twelve. Each coxswain held a light stick that when snapped in the center combined chemicals to give off a soft blue light. They would keep track of each other with the lights. The closer they got to shore the less they would use the lights.

Hunter looked down at Beth who crowded against him in the bow of the fifteen foot long Zodiac.

“Piece of cake,” he said softly to her.

“Yeah? Just keep your powder dry, sailor.”

The rain continued, coming in heavier slants now and then pushed by the on shore flow winds. The coxswains had compasses that they used to head directly east. The shoreline was still ten miles away and they could see no lights.

A half hour later the coxswain passed the word to Hunter that they were half way there.

Beth let out a small groan. “Only half way? I’m wet all the way through right down to my navel. I’m also freezing. Did I sign on for this?”

“In a half hour you’ll be wet all the way to your eyelashes when we swim for the beach.”

“Oh, damn. I’m bitching like a girl. Not much of a SEAL so far. Give me a few hours and I’ll be gung ho. Do people still say that? I think it came from the Chinese.”

“People say it, we do it,” Hunter said.

Hunter hit his shoulder mike. “We have four drag bags for each boat. The bags have air pouches that will help them float. We’ll be on the surface going in. Be sure each squad knows who has the drag bag. Change off if you wish. Bravo, do you read?”

“Bravo here, that’s a Roger. We’re all set.”

Ten minutes later Tran wedged up toward Hunter.

“Hey, Cap. I’ve got surf noise coming in. We can’t be more than a quarter of a mile off the sand.”

“Whoever is nearest the coxswain ask him if we’re within a quarter of the beach.”

Sanborn replied. “Yeah, Cap. He says another two minutes. We’ve been on five mph for the last three miles. He says get ready to launch.”

“Roger that, Sanborn. Sound off in Alpha who has the drag bags.

“Lawrence one.”

“Walden, I have one.”

“Chang and Tanner have the other two.”

“Sanborn, give me the word when the coxswain is ready.”

“He says now, Cap. We launch now.”

“Overboard everyone. Stay together and let’s take a swim to the sand.”

Beth waved, kicked her feet over the side of the rubber boat and slid into the water with the MP-5 strapped to her back. Hunter waited until the last man slid over, then he went into the water and headed for shore. They swam the crawl stroke. No reason for quiet or low splash here. The rain kept falling. Hunter had trouble spotting all of the swimmers, but pushed ahead. He came on one man with a drag bag and took it and swam side stroke. The bag was about half submerged.

By the time Hunter made it to the sand, he saw six forms lying in the wet, letting the small waves roll over them. He needed two more. He spotted Beth, and two more drag bags. Then Mohammad came out of the water. Just behind him with the fourth drag bag was Chief Chapman.

He looked to the right, then the left and saw more blobs on the sand. That would be Bravo. “Bravo, how many on the sand?”
               “I’ve got eight, need one more,” Wade Bancroft said. “One drag bag short. Okay, here comes Dengler. We’re all accounted for, Cap.”

“Let’s move up the beach into that brush and trees and get ourselves set up.”

The eighteen hurried into the trees.

“We’ll take off our wet clothes and get into the soccer togs,” Hunter said. “Then dig out the dry Korean shirt and wear that over the tee shirt and your combat vest. Should keep us a little warmer. Let’s do it.”

The rain had eased up, and as they changed it stopped and the clouds blew away. A chilly wind kept coming on shore.       

The men dressed quickly. Stuffing the wet Korean clothes in the drag bags. Beth turned her back and stripped off her Korean shirt and put on the tee shirt, then her combat vest and the shorts. She brought the wet clothes to the nearest drag bag, and picked up her MP-5. She had a personal radio as well as the rest and they had showed her how to use it.

Hunter finished dressing and roamed around the patch of woods checking on the others.

“Bancroft, your men in their soccer mode?”

“All set, wet stuff in the drags. Tee shirts, combat vests and the Korean shirts over it all. Ready to rumble.”
               “Tran, take a hike due east and see what you can find. If it will work for us, go out four hundred and give me a call.”

“I’m gone, Cap,” the ear pieces reported.

“Squad formation, in a pair of ducks,” Hunter said. “Soc Ho, come up front with me. You’ll go out with Tran most of the time.”

The tall Korean came up grinning. He had the MP-5 in his hands. He had been delighted with the weapon on the range.

“We go soon?” he asked.

“Looking for the road over there, maybe out eight miles. Couldn’t tell by the map.”

“Come on down, Cap. Bring your friends. This isn’t marshland. It’s been drained and mostly rice in here looks like. Solid now, easy footing. Can’t see any highway yet. I’ll stay out a hundred.”

“Roger that. Let’s move folks,” he said to the mike. He turned. “Beth, you stay five yards behind me.” He used the mike again. Keep five yards this time, not ten. Five unless we run into some trouble. We don’t expect any. Be sure to bring the drag bags. Change off every half hour with another man.”

They moved ahead out of the brush and trees into the rice paddies with their foot high dikes to control the flooding. The rice had been harvested in these fields.

They hiked straight east for fifteen minutes, with Tran sending back frequent reports.

“I’ve got more trees and brush ahead near a small creek. Not sure what’s on the other side. No buildings. Let you know when I hit the trees.”

Another ten minutes and Tran came back on the radio. “Okay sports fans. We have a road. Not a highway, but a two lane black top road that isn’t much traveled. I’ve watched it now for about five minutes and no traffic. Could be just that time of night, about oh one hundred, or it’s not a popular route. Meet you here in the brush.”

Fifteen minutes later the troops relaxed in the heavy growth. Soc Ho and Tran walked down the road a ways and then came back.

“Soc Ho says the road is mostly used by farmers. Should be some going into market at Sinuiju. That’s the first town up here we figured about ten miles north.”

“So we wait for a likely truck?” Hunter asked.

“Ho says these will be small, pickups, maybe a small stake. We’ll need two of them to haul everyone.”

“So we get two. You and Ho are on the welcoming committee. Get something we can use all the way up to the target if you can.”
               “They must have bus transportation along here,” Will Tanner said. “We could always hijack a bus and use it.”

Ho shook his head. “They miss the bus quick. Not work. Two trucks good. Two vans best.”

“Take a nap,” Hunter said. “Ho and I have first watch. Get some sleep, we just may need it.”

Beth looked at him. “Yeah, sack out. In combat we sleep whenever we can, because we never know when we’ll get the chance again.”

“Question. Why do they call you Cap?”

“The boss of any ship or boat is the captain. As platoon leader this is my boat. It’s short, and sure.”

She nodded. “Being navy I should know that. Thanks, Cap. I’m sacking out.”

Nothing stirred on the road until nearly 0430 when a rattletrap of an ancient pickup wheezed and rattled past at fifteen miles an hour. The headlights flickered on and off. It belched a steady stream of blue smoke out its tailpipe. Ho looked at Hunter and both shook their heads from their concealed position near the road.

It was almost 0500 when the next rig came. It looked like a new Nissan pickup, shiny bright with strong headlights. Hunter started to move, but Ho stopped him.

“Too new. Rich farmer, big family. He be missed quick.”

Hunter agreed and relaxed.

Ten minutes later headlights cut into the last few shadows of the night. The rig was several years old, but rolling along well. It was a large bodied pickup stacked with vegetables in crates. Ho nodded and jumped out into the road with the MP-5 leveled at the cab. The rig slowed, and then when its headlights picked up the weapon, it came to a stop.

Ho went up to the cab and talked calmly with the man, then motioned with the weapon and the small Korean man came out of the truck. He and Ho talked more, and then they came over to where the SEALs crouched.

“He’s good old man. Don’t hurt. Tie him up. He promise not to get loose for two days. By then we be far gone.”

Hunter watched the Korean farmer. “Will he do what he says?”

“Yes. Think so. Not real bright. Now afraid.”

“Ho, drive the truck off the road where we can unload it and check it out. How much gas?”

They took the Korean farmer twenty yards into the brush and tied his hands in front of him and his ankles together. The knots were not overly tight.

“Two days,” Tran said to the man in Korea. “Stay here for two days or your ancestors will haunt you for the rest of your life.”  The old man shivered and nodded.

Back with the others, Walden shook his head. “I don’t like it, we should make sure.”

“We can’t,” Hunter said. “It should work out. If it has license plates, we’ll change them first chance we get. Let’s trust Ho on this one. Foster, Jefferson, go down there and help Ho unload the truck. We need one more.”

By the time the next potential transport came by, a half hour had passed and it was almost daylight. A small stake truck that had three goats tied in back came down the highway. Ho looked at Hunter who nodded. Ho stopped it the same way as before. This time there was an argument. Without warning a shot blasted into the quiet woodsy North Korean morning. Then a three round burst from the HP-5 sounded. Ho dragged the man out of the car. He was dead.

Nobody said a word. It was done, it had to be done. Ho drove the rig up beside the other one just off the road. He let the three goats go. They jumped down from the stake truck and scampered into the brush.