Rhee walked the halls of the army headquarters building on autopilot, his mind preoccupied with all the preparations that he and his men had to make, and quickly. Drop zone locations, unit deployments, weapons fit, logistics, and numerous other operational considerations all fought for attention in his brain. The size of the operation alone would strain his limited staff; the severe time constraint would only complicate the process. They had just over a day to pull everything together and execute. “Nothing is impossible,” he muttered to himself.
The Korean colonel was just passing an open office door when his thought processes were abruptly derailed by the sound of a voice. He stopped suddenly and spun around looking for whoever was talking. The man was speaking in English. He knew that voice. Peeking into the office, he saw an American army officer talking to one of the admin clerks. The man turned his head sideways — Rhee lunged toward him.
“Little! Kevin Little!” he exclaimed.
Little turned to face the enthusiastic greeter. Confused, he had no time to react before a lithe Korean Special Forces officer plowed into him. When the man finally looked up, Little saw that Cheshire cat — like grin.
“Rhee! Rhee, you son of a bitch! How the hell are you?” Little cried with excitement as he gave his friend a bear of a hug and slapped him repeatedly on the back.
“I am well, my friend, very well. When did you get back in country?”
“I arrived about three weeks ago. I haven’t been in country even a month, and the DPRK goes nuts! I think Korea is trying to tell me something,” joked Little.
“Nonsense, Little-ssi! My motherland will always welcome you warmly.” Looking around the office, Rhee saw many confused faces; some glared on with disapproval. He’d certainly overstepped the bounds of normal military etiquette, but they didn’t understand. The bond between him and Little had been forged in combat during the last war. The American officer was closer to him than his own brother. Still, Rhee’s senior rank required him to display the requisite discipline and decorum while in the presence of more junior Korean soldiers.
“Do you have a moment for tea? Or coffee?” he asked.
“I’m as busy as a one-armed paper hanger right now, but for you, I’ll make the time,” replied Little.
Rhee and Little quickly adjourned to the cafeteria to begin catching up on nearly a quarter of a century of absence. Little had transferred out of South Korea in late 1990 as things were heating up in Iraq. Small-unit leaders with combat experience were in high demand, and with the People’s Republic of China keeping the lid on the DPRK, the US presence in South Korea was drawn down to deal with the new threat. And like so many other military members from different countries, duty always got in the way of staying in touch, and the two drifted apart.
Kevin pulled out a chair and plopped down, tossing his cover onto the table. Rhee was doing the same when Little pointed to the black beret. “So when did you get drawn into the Special Forces?”
“Soon after the war,” Rhee replied, and then took a sip of tea. “I was told that I had shown promise and was encouraged to join.”
“Encouraged? Or drafted?” winked Little with a smile.
“Technically, drafting is a form of encouragement, Colonel Little. I merely showed good judgment by accepting their offer.” Both men laughed heartily. God, how Little had missed talking to this man.
“How’s your Korean? Is your grammar still terrible?”
“I’m brushing up,” Kevin admitted, a little defensively, “but who taught me grammar in the first place?”
“I’m a soldier, not a language teacher,” Rhee joked.
“You certainly seem to have done well for yourself,” said Kevin, pointing to Rhee’s collar devices.
“Yes, indeed. I’m a commanding officer of a Special Forces brigade. The Ninth, the Ghosts.” There was a note of pride in Rhee’s voice as he brandished his unit’s patch. “And what about you, my friend, what have you been up to all these years?”
Little shrugged. “Three tours in Iraq, two in Afghanistan; you know, the usual for a career officer.”
“That’s a lot of time in war zones, and presumably in combat,” remarked Rhee carefully. “I don’t mean to offend you, my friend, but why are you still a colonel? When you left Korea you were already a captain.”
The American smiled weakly and shrugged again. “Some of the higher-ups felt I had been promoted a little too quickly during the last Korean crisis, that I needed to have more time in grade. I lacked the normal experience of a well-rounded army officer, or so I was told. Those battlefield promotions put a serious damper on my career during peacetime. I almost didn’t make colonel.”
“That is absurd and unjustified!” growled Rhee. “You earned those promotions by your deeds. You did very well during that war.”
“We did very well, Rhee. It wasn’t just me,” countered Little. “Besides, my new job will hopefully make the necessary course correction, I’m the new commanding officer of the Eighth Army’s headquarters battalion.”
Rhee winced. “Being exiled to ‘admin hell’ is not my idea of a get-well tour. You deserve better, Kevin.”
“Well, in this current situation, I may be more helpful as an admin weenie.” Little looked around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to them, then leaning forward said, “I’m sure you’re aware that we aren’t going north with the ROK Army.”
“Yes, I was just informed by my general. I can appreciate your country’s concern about China, but I don’t think it will matter in the end. They’ll come south as soon as they see us making appreciable gains.”
Little nodded his agreement. “You aren’t the only one who thinks that, but our government doesn’t want to give the Chinese an excuse. As it is, I have to bring the reinforcements USFK wants in batches. That’s why I’m here today, on a Sunday, to get the paperwork squared away for the lead units of the Twenty-Fifth Infantry Division to arrive in country by midweek.”
Rhee took a deep breath. The North Korean civil war was the long-awaited opportunity for reunification that he and others had yearned for, and now their longtime ally was getting cold feet. Frustration swelled in him, an emotion that his friend was sympathetic to. Looking at his watch, Rhee knew he had to get going. There was a lot of planning that still needed doing before they began Operation Gangrim. Grabbing his black beret, Rhee stood, paused, and then leaned over the table.
“Kevin, there is one issue that I think your country could be of great service to us. Your people have far more experience dealing with mass refugee situations than the Republic of Korea; you have the knowledge and resources to deal with the wave of humanity that is coming. Do you think it would be possible for the United States to take on the responsibility of handling the humanitarian crisis? That would allow my country to send more combat units north.”
Little hesitated, considering the Korean’s request. Yeah, the US could do it, but would the government buy off on it? There was only one way to find out. Rising, he answered, “Yeah, Rhee, we could help handle the refugee issue. We’d need to get General Fascione on board, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Getting both our governments to agree to this, well, that may take some doing. But I can easily tweak the arrival schedule to get military police, medical, and engineering units here first. Let me bring it up with my boss and see what I can do. In the meantime, be careful my friend, and don’t get all shot up like last time.”
Rhee, feigning bewilderment, smiled, and said, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Colonel Little.”