She answered “Yes!” gratefully, almost joyously, and watched while he contacted Shin and gave the necessary orders. “I’ve already told Eighth Army intelligence about your arrival. Please make sure Mr. Cho is willing to share what he’s seen in Pyongyang. We’re interviewing anyone who’s been near the capital, but I suspect his account will be especially valuable.”
“Will they bring him here?” she asked.
“Yes. He can stay here at Munsan, but I’ll need someone to monitor him on a frequent basis. I could place him in your custody, but that could make your return to the US complicated.”
“What return? I’m not going anywhere. Those are my patients, and…”
“I think the doctors can properly supervise their care.”
“These people won’t trust the doctors. They won’t even understand that they’re getting proper care. They’ve never had it before.”
That got Kevin’s attention. The senior medical officer had briefed him on “cultural differences” between the staff and the refugees, and had already mentioned the same issue.
Fowler continued, “You wouldn’t believe the state of public health in the North. One of the first things I had to do was organize classes in basic health practices and nutrition. None of them have been vaccinated—”
“Miss Fowler, would you like a job?” interrupted Little.
Surprised, she remained silent for half a moment, and gave the colonel a look that said that as far as she was concerned, the jury was still out. “What kind of a job?” she asked cautiously.
“My assistant. Ombudsman for the refugees. Health educator. I’ll give you a dozen blank badges and you can make up a new title every day. I need help, Miss Fowler, if I want to do these people any good. You know what needs to be done, and you speak fluent Korean.”
“I sound like a Northerner,” she complained.
“All the better. The refugees will listen to you, and the Southerners will listen because you’re helping their new countrymen. You can start by organizing those health classes you talked about. We’ve got six camps right—”
“Six!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, six, and all are badly overcrowded. Three new camps are being set up, and they should begin taking some of our overflow in a few days, as well as new arrivals.”
Fowler sat back in her chair, looking like she’d been poleaxed. “You really do need help,” she said.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ I’ll get you quarters with the female officers and some clean fatigues…”
“No.” She said firmly. “No uniforms.”
“No offense, Miss Fowler…”
“Please, call me Kary.”
“Wouldn’t you like a change of clothes?”
She smiled, imagining her bedraggled appearance, but insisted. “You’re right, but no military clothing. I’ll get some scrubs from the hospital.”
“Whatever you want,” Kevin replied cheerfully. “It’s my custom to tour the camp at 1700. Would you like to accompany me?”
It had been a big operation. Hwangju Air Base housed a regiment of Russian-built MiG-21 Fishbed interceptors. The type first entered Soviet service in 1959, and had been out of the Russian inventory for almost thirty years, but they were still flying in the Korean People’s Air Force.
Or had been, before the air base had been hit hard by the ROK Air Force. The antiaircraft defenses — outdated radars, guns, and missiles — had been ruthlessly flattened before a second wave of attackers used smart bombs on the concrete shelters and open revetments that housed the fighters themselves. The strikers had also destroyed the control tower, the maintenance hangars, the fuel system, and anything else to do with airfield operations.
Hwangju existed to protect another nearby installation, nestled against a low mountain some thirty kilometers to the northeast. Sangwon housed a brigade of the North Korean Strategic Rocket Forces, equipped with Rodong-1 ballistic missiles. They were capable of reaching any part of South Korea, and even parts of Japan.
The sounds of the explosions at the air base were still echoing when Surion helicopters, carrying a full company of SOF troopers, stormed the Sangwon base. Gunships covered them, and fighters orbiting high overhead covered the gunships.
Although the garrison, maintenance, and other parts of the brigade were housed in ordinary structures, the brigade’s reason for existence, its six missile launchers, were sheltered in tunnels that had been driven into the rocky slope. Farther back, in caverns blasted inside the mountain, were the missile magazines, with possibly thirty or more missiles. Some of them might be fitted with nuclear warheads.
The missile base had been hit on the first day of the Southern advance, but only enough to collapse the doors that led to the tunnels, and of course destroy the garrison and its antiaircraft defenses. If the launchers couldn’t leave the tunnels, they were not an immediate danger. And even if the missiles weren’t protected by their rocky stronghold, the South couldn’t risk destroying them until they were sure of what was in there. That’s why Rhee’s men were needed.
Only one ten-man team had landed by helicopter near the base, and had noisily attacked, still causing a fair amount of damage. Meanwhile, the platoon’s three other teams landed some distance away before dawn and, approaching on foot, had come in from the other side, achieving total surprise.
Their targets were the entrances to several smaller tunnels used by the missile brigade’s personnel to enter the tunnel complex. Once inside, the teams would have to fight their way down narrow rock tunnels against an unknown number of defenders, while doing as little damage as possible to the facility. And they had virtually no information on the layout of the chambers beyond the entrances.
In addition to the risks associated with armed defenders in tight spaces, any conventionally armed missiles would have seven-hundred-kilogram explosive warheads, and all the missiles were fueled with two corrosive chemicals: red fuming nitric acid and hydrazine. Since the missiles were not filled with fuel until just before launch, large quantities of those deadly chemicals had to be stored somewhere inside.
Every officer in the Ghost Brigade had begged to be given the assignment. General Kwon had personally forbidden Rhee from leading the attack. The colonel satisfied himself with riding in his command helicopter, coordinating with the air force units supporting the attack, while Captain Ji, one of his best company commanders, ran the actual assault. Rhee’s other job was to keep General Kwon and the rest of the brass happy with situation reports. Captain Ji had other things to do.
Rhee’s men quickly secured the parts of Sangwon that were outside the mountain. His helicopter landed, along with more machines carrying a reserve infantry company. They would gather prisoners and search the smoking ruins for anything of intelligence value. He could expect no word from Ji’s force while they were deep inside the mountain. The rock blocked all radio communications from inside.
After fifteen minutes had passed with no word from inside the mountain, Rhee sent the rest of his SOF troopers inside as reinforcements, and prevented himself from worrying by supervising the eager but inexperienced reserve company commander.
After another ten minutes, a runner emerged and reported, “All secure, sir. Captain Ji reports no sign of special weapons.”
Shaking his head, Rhee reported to Kwon, then ordered, “Take me to Captain Ji.”
The personnel access into the mountain was two meters wide, with armored doors that were scarred where Ji’s men had burned the locks away. Rhee followed the hurrying trooper down a pale green tunnel deep into the rock. Florescent fixtures provided enough illumination, but also highlighted a layer of haze near the ceiling.