Whiting turned a shocked face to Admiral Allen, silently asking “Is this true?” Allen looked at his Vice President with a pained expression, then said, “I believe the decision to commit our forces would come much, much sooner than that. But the general is… technically correct.” He added quickly, “However, our on-scene commanders do have considerable latitude to—”
“Depending on how well his forces do, our on-scene commander may choose to commit forces from Kangnung, Taegu, Kunsan, and Ch’unch’on to the western front,” General Park interrupted, cutting off Allen’s strained effort at conciliation. “If he does, he will not be able to stop the real enemy offensive in the east. The commanders have not been apprised of this scenario — it will be a true test of their discipline, skill, and professionalism.”
“How many aircraft will you launch today, General?” Vice President Whiting asked.
“The Air Force will launch almost half of our fleet of bombers and fighters — over three hundred planes,” Park replied. “The Army will launch perhaps one-third of its helicopters, another one hundred aircraft. The Navy will launch several P-3 Orion and S-2 Tracker patrol planes and a few dozen helicopters.”
“I’d say that’s pretty amazing,” Admiral Allen commented. “Our biggest war games launch perhaps half that number of aircraft.”
“What do the North Koreans think about you launching so many warplanes all at once?” the Vice President asked. “Aren’t they alarmed?”
“Of course,” General Park replied with a sly smile. “They warn us every year that conducting these exercises is tantamount to a declaration of war. Weeks ago, they announced that they have mobilized their forces, called up their Reserves, and are prepared to fight to the death.”
“That sounds serious to me.”
“We do not completely ignore these threats,” Park said, “but they are only threats. We are prohibited by treaty from loading weapons on more than half our planes, and we have United Nations observers at every base who count how many planes are loaded and report that number to the Security Council. But it actually makes little difference to the Communists. In years past we have completely canceled these exercises, yet the North still threatens war and refuses to negotiate a lasting peace. We have decided that preparing for war, demonstrating our readiness, and providing realistic joint training are far more important than the fear of inciting the Communists.”
“Everything we do seems to incite North Korea,” Admiral Allen agreed. “Besides, almost all of South Korea’s military forces are geared up for Team Spirit. It would be a bad decision to go to war now.”
“We are always ‘geared up,’ as you say, Admiral,” General Park said somberly. “But your point is well taken. We are always prepared for a sneak attack by the Communists, but tactically speaking we think now would be a foolish time for them to do so.”
General Park turned to Whiting and added, “As you may have noticed, Madam Vice President, after our national anthem is played at reveille and at retreat, we also recite a prayer for peace. Some airmen drop to their knees on the tarmac as they pray. But they will then climb into their planes and be just as anxious and just as fervent in their desire to kill the enemy and defend their homeland. That is the struggle we live with every day.”
“I’ve noticed,” Whiting responded. She wondered why Park had mentioned that. “General Park, how do you feel about war with the North? Do you want the peninsula reunited? If so, are you willing to go to war to do it?”
Park Yom hesitated, obviously uncomfortable with the question. “Please excuse me, Madam Vice President,” he said, “but I am not permitted to speak openly about such matters.”
“Anything you tell me will be in the strictest confidence, I assure you,” Whiting said.
Park gave her a wry smile. “I know enough about politics and government, madam,” he said, “to know that nothing a general says to a foreign leader could be held in confidence. It is your job, your duty, to divulge such things.” Park was right, of course. If something happened, or if Martindale asked her, Whiting would recount the entire conversation word for word. But she tried again.
“General, I really want to know — will South Korea go to war?” Park remained stone-faced. “It’s vital that we work together to protect your country and deter any aggression, General,” she went on. “Unilateral action can only lead to disaster.”
“War is certainly not desirable, Madam Vice President,” Park said. “True warriors abhor war.” There was a long, very uncomfortable pause. Then: “Do not be concerned, Madam Vice President.” Whiting felt a chill go down her spine.
Admiral Allen motioned to the computer screens. “It looks like some launches have already taken place,” he said. They all turned to the screens. Several white lines began tracking northward across the digital maps from the southernmost South Korean bases — Kwangju, Kun-san, and Taegu. “I didn’t think the exercise was kicking off for another hour or so.”
At that moment, Secret Service Special Agent Corrie Law answered a secure cell phone call, then told the Vice President that a call was coming in from Washington. General Park escorted the Vice President, Admiral Allen, and the others upstairs to the staff observation area, a large room whose windows overlooked the command center below, and left them alone. Corrie Law stood guard inside; a plainclothes U.S. Marine Corps sergeant stood guard outside the door.
“Professor here and not secure,” the Vice President said into the phone. It was a secure cellular telephone, and they were in a room at least partly owned and operated by the United States, but Whiting harbored no confidence that the room was clear of listening devices.
“Hello, Professor. This is Paramedic.” It was Director of Central Intelligence Robert Plank. The White House Communications Center must be stuck on job names this month, Whiting thought. “Enjoying your trip?”
“You know how much I enjoy military technology and the ever-present scent of impending war,” Whiting replied sardonically. “What’s up?”
“I hate to put you on the spot like this,” Plank said, “but we’re picking up some unusual communications activity. I don’t mean for you to act as a trained analyst or anything, but is anything… out of the ordinary there?”
“You’re right — it is pretty tacky of you to ask me a question like that, knowing that I’m a guest of the South Korean government and standing in their own high-security command center,” Whiting said. “But to answer your question — no, I haven’t noticed anything unusual. What kind of activity?”
“It’s probably all related to the Team Spirit exercise,” Plank said, but she could hear worry in his voice. “Lots of coded communications traffic that our military guys couldn’t decode — if it was part of the exercise, I’d think we would be able to decipher that. But it’s what we’re not getting that’s just as interesting as what we’re getting.”
“Which is?”
“Which is nothing much from North Korea,” Plank said. “Every South Korean military base is jabbering away using a new code, lots of activity everywhere — including lots of activity from units not involved in Team Spirit — but nothing from the North. Usually, the activity between the two is the same — one starts talking, the other reports it, the other reports that report, the other makes new reports, and so on until it finally subsides. Now South Korea’s comm traffic has substantially increased, but the North is virtually silent. Only simple ‘ops-normal’ messages from their command centers. A few units belonging to First Corps on the move here and there, nothing big. Just unusually quiet.”