“Of the four dozen ships and small craft in the fleet, approximately one-third was sunk outright. Some of the larger ships suffered heavy damage, and may have sunk as well. And while the DPRK special forces were landed and inflicted considerable casualties on the KWP units, neither the General Staff nor the KWP has a strong hold on Wonsan. Neither will be able to stop the ROK First Army from taking the port. As for the East Coast Fleet, it has sustained excessive losses and has ceased to be a viable force.”
“What about the North Korean air force?” demanded the PLAAF’s top general.
“The ROK Air Force has near complete command of the skies,” answered the senior colonel. “Any DPRK aircraft that manages to get airborne is soon intercepted and shot down. The South Koreans appear to have an extremely good knowledge of the airspace. A Y-8 electronic intelligence aircraft that we sent to collect tactical radio traffic off of Pyongyang was intercepted by six ROK F-16s and escorted to the border. The intercept was very professional. The lead pilot even asked our aircraft to leave politely, in passable Mandarin.”
“They’re acting like it’s their airspace!” complained the air force commander.
“And the Americans must be helping them. Their E-3 aircraft are orbiting just across the DMZ,” added the minister of national defense. The debate was going nowhere. Wen had had enough.
“Yes, Comrades,” he interrupted. “The Americans are providing support to the ROK forces, support that is in full compliance with their defense pact. Have you even bothered to notice that every single last American unit is south of the DMZ?”
“But, Comrade Chairman, the Americans have been bringing in a steady stream of reinforcements for the last four days. They are merely buying time,” protested the commander of the Rocket Forces, China’s missile force.
“And what are they doing with those reinforcements, General Zhao?” demanded Wen. His irritation was growing. “The Americans have taken over managing the humanitarian crisis for the ROK government! So not only are they abiding meticulously to their defensive agreement, but they are also providing an incredibly useful service to the Korean people. If you don’t realize the incredibly awkward position this puts us in, then you need to wake up!”
“Comrade Chairman, it has always been our policy that we wouldn’t accept a unified Korea allied with the United States on our border,” said General Fang, one of the CMC’s two vice chairmen.
“Yes, General, that policy has served us well while there was a North Korea. It was designed to prevent the South Koreans and the Americans from attacking an allied, sovereign state.” Wen stood up, looking intently at the general officers seated around the table. “But that state has collapsed, by its peoples’ own actions, so where does that leave us?
“Many of you have recommended we invade North Korea to stabilize the country. But which faction do we align with to justify our entry into this civil war? Or is it your intention to merely annex the territory? Wouldn’t this defeat the purpose of our policy? We’d be sharing a border with an extremely hostile South Korea that would be even more closely aligned with the United States, as well as every other Asian nation. And then there is the inevitable and dangerous outcome to us becoming involved: once our forces head south, the Americans will come north.
“My point is simply this, comrades. Do we really intend to risk a war with the United States over that dung heap that was North Korea? At the very least we put our economic future at considerable peril; at worse, we put the very existence of China as we know it on the chopping block.”
Wen saw a number of the senior officers at the table nodding their agreement. The minister of national defense saw it as well. Sighing, he asked, “What is your intention, Comrade Chairman?”
“We will send our army in, but under the guise of humanitarian assistance. We’ll set up refugee camps, bring in food and medical supplies and personnel, but the camps will be on Korean territory. To establish a proper defensive perimeter, we’ll advance fifty kilometers across the border. We may have to move further to ensure a safe operating environment for aid workers, but we’ll limit our advance for now.
“I expect the Americans will surge northward the moment they realize we’ve crossed the Yalu. We must exercise due caution to not provoke them, or the South Koreans if possible.”
“What about the North Koreans?” inquired Defense Minister Yu.
A cynical smile popped on the president’s face. “We retain the right of self-defense, Comrade Minister. If they fire on us, we will eliminate the threat.”
“I understand your wisdom now. Thank you, Comrade Chairman,” said the relieved general.
“One last thing,” added Wen. “Any territory we take will be used as a bargaining chip when this unpleasant crisis is over. We will be part of the discussion about what transpires on the Korean Peninsula.”
It was easy to stay concealed. The grassy path was filled with “tent-to-tent” people. Cho had no problem keeping his target in sight, while at the same time blending in with the throng of humanity that had filled the refugee camp. Besides, he was confident he knew where the individual was going.
When Cho first saw him two days earlier, an itch started between his shoulder blades. Nothing seemed right about the way the middle-aged man walked and talked, and he seemed very well supplied with American bills. Then yesterday, Cho had watched as the man bullied a young Korean girl. A passing military police patrol caused him to release her and disappear behind the tents. Cho discretely followed the young woman and listened in to her complaints to her father and mother. As he suspected, the man was “recruiting” for a prostitution ring. Then he heard the name: Jeon Yong-ha.
Finding where Jeon spent his time was elementary tradecraft for a seasoned spy. Now that Cho had verified the information he’d obtained was accurate, he spent the rest of the afternoon reconnoitering the area. Looking for avenues of escape, personal guards, and possible traps. By the time Cho finished, he was almost late for dinner with Fowler-nim. He found being around her refreshing; her concern for others was so unlike everything he’d experienced in his life. Being around her gave him purpose and hope. He’d discovered that he would do anything to make her happy.
It was well past ten at night when a darkly dressed and masked Cho crept back to Jeon’s tent. As he expected, there was only a single guard outside. The man was an amateur, a simple-minded thug. A small group of young women walked past the tent, catching the guard’s eye; he stared at them with desire. The man stared a little too long; he never knew what hit him.
Cho pulled the unconscious body into the tent and bound his hands and feet with duct tape. A strip wrapped around his head a couple of times and covering his mouth would keep him quiet. Cho then adjusted the bandana covering his face and took the guard’s position out front, intentionally staying in the dark shadows. Half an hour later Jeon came swaggering back with another guard and a young woman in tow. She didn’t look very happy, probably because Jeon was being rather rough. He didn’t even bother greeting his “guard,” and signaled for the other man to hold open the flap while Jeon threw the young woman inside.