The fascists were taking advantage of the DPRK’s internal crisis to pick the meat off their bones. That was why the General Staff committee had approved the amphibious assault at Wonsan. They had to quickly defeat the Korean Workers’ Party forces there and then establish a strong defensive line against the approaching invaders. Given the last reported Southern rate of advance, the imperialists would reach Wonsan in only a few days.
The east coast’s mountainous terrain was slowing the Southern forces a little, but intelligence reports put ROK Army scouts at the outskirts of Tongchon and Hoeyang. Senior naval officers had pushed hard for the amphibious assault, even though they acknowledged it was a risky plan. If the General Staff followed their own more conservative approach, they would find themselves squeezed between the KWP and the fascists. The committee chose the lesser of the two evils.
“Comrade Vice Admiral,” announced Senior Captain Song Dong-shin as he walked on to the frigate’s bridge wing. “We are approaching the turn point. Distance to turn is five kilometers. The only contact we hold is a surface surveillance radar on the southeast coast of Ryo-do.”
Gong grunted. The radar on the large island outside the entrance to the harbor was expected. Reconnaissance Bureau sniper troops had watched as the radar, and its accompanying missile battery, were emplaced on the island — moved from one of the coast defense sites near Wonsan. It was the only seaborne defense that the KWP faction had; the patrol boats berthed at the Munchon naval base had all been scuttled by their crews.
“Very well, Song. Order the gunboats to proceed. Their orders are to support the sniper troops in neutralizing the missile battery. Then deploy the missile squadron to port, just in case the imperialists show up.”
“At once, Comrade Vice Admiral!”
Gong raised his binoculars and surveyed his fleet again — almost fifty ships. It would be more accurate to call them “boats,” as only a handful of the vessels displaced more than one hundred tons. Flashing lights began flickering astern. His orders were being sent out. Soon the Soju-class missile boats would peel off to port and screen the fleet from any enemy approaching from the south. At the same time, the two gunboats were to head straight for the missile battery.
Their small guns had little chance of silencing the battery, but they would provide the necessary diversion to allow the concealed sniper troops to attack and eliminate the radar, the missile launchers, and their crews. It was unfortunate that the two old veteran ships would likely be destroyed in the process, but their loss would not be in vain. A klaxon sounded behind him; the flagship was going to battle stations.
The battered man leaned on the silent radar repeater for support. His body ached every time he moved. He stared out the bridge window, still wishing he had died with his crew. The captain also felt ashamed that he hadn’t been able to carry out his orders to scuttle his ship. The newly modified missile patrol craft had been docked across the harbor, undergoing repairs to one of the diesel engines and other systems. He didn’t receive the order directly. Their communication system was down, but he did notice the other patrol boats starting to settle at their berths, and the smoke rising from the boats stored on shore. Before he could pass the word, KWP troops had stormed aboard and started shooting. Every last member of his crew was executed and he was severely beaten, but left alive. They needed him.
“So what do you think of our strategy, Comrade Captain?” asked the political commissar. He wore the rank of major, but Captain Hak had no idea what his name was.
“I’m not your comrade, Major,” Hak spat out defiantly.
“No, I suppose not,” retorted the short, scrawny young man. His arrogant smile grated the captain. “But you haven’t answered my question.”
“Hiding behind an island is for lesser vessels,” scoffed Hak. “This ship was built for speed and stealth. She was designed to dart in undetected, fire her missiles, and dart out. You waste her best attributes sitting here in the shallows behind a rock.”
Special Patrol Craft 1001 was one of three surface effect ships in the North Korean navy, a high-speed patrol craft that rode on a cushion of air, reducing her drag in the water. Her hull was shaped to reduce her radar cross-section, but the added guns and other equipment on her deck largely negated any benefit.
“Perhaps, Captain. But even a cheetah stays low, hiding in the tall grass, pouncing only when its prey is within reach. We’ll use your ship’s speed, but only when our targets are in sight.”
“And then you will die,” Hak observed confidently.
The political commissar was losing patience with this fool. The only reason Hak was alive was so he could direct the special patrol craft with its four Kh-35, or SS-N-25, antiship missiles into position and fire them. After that, the major had no further use for him.
“Comrade Major!” interrupted a sergeant. “The missile battery command post reports two contacts approaching at high speed.”
“See, Captain. Now it begins.” That irritating smile again. “Please get us ready to attack.”
Captain Park watched the large flat-panel display with amazement. If anyone had told him the Korean People’s Navy could put forty-seven ships into a single formation, and sail under full EMCON, he would have dismissed them as an imbecile. But there it was, right before him. Three long columns of ships moving, more or less, in a straight line and not a single radar was emitting. “Astounding,” he whispered quietly.
The video feed from the Super Lynx’s FLIR sensor turret allowed Park to keep a close eye on the enemy fleet while keeping himself radar silent. The North Korean ships had just finished executing a turn to starboard. It wasn’t pretty, but they all managed to stay in formation. There was no doubt now; they were heading for Wonsan. Judging by the infrared video, there were at least two dozen amphibious ships. The North Korean General Staff had apparently learned a thing or two from the US Navy; they were attempting to flank their opponent from the sea. Park found himself begrudgingly impressed.
“Captain, the four patrol craft that broke off from the main formation have been identified as Osa I — type missile boats. They’re establishing a screen approximately five nautical miles off the formation’s port side,” reported the tactical action officer.
Park glanced at the main plot; the SAG still had plenty of distance before coming into radar range of this new screen, should they begin transmitting. “Very well, TAO. We’ll remain on this course for a little longer. Have the other two ships gone to general quarters?”
“Yes, sir, all ships are at battle stations, with radars and weapons warmed up and in standby.”
The captain grunted his acknowledgment.
“Comrade Vice Admiral, all ships have completed the turn,” reported Song.
“Excellent, Senior Captain!” smiled Gong, pleased that everything seemed to be going as planned. “Have the bombardment squadron assume their position at the head of the formation. Stand by to execute the rocket barrage. Also alert the hovercraft and light landing craft to prepare to assault the beach.”
“Yes, sir.”
Within moments, the eight Chaho-class attack craft passed by the flagship to port and assumed a line-abreast formation ahead of the fleet. Each boat was armed with a BM-21 rocket launcher that would salvo forty 122mm rockets in a single burst. The concentrated barrage was to be launched just as the hovercraft reached the beach. The slower Nampo light landing craft would immediately follow, along with the six Chong-jin — class gunboats providing dedicated naval gunfire support. Three larger Hantae-class landing ships would bring up the rear, with half of the troops and the twelve main battle tanks.