The weight of the Chinese advance was coming down the western side of the Korean Peninsula, along a coastal plain some sixty kilometers wide. From that point east, the land rose and became hilly, then downright mountainous — definitely not good ground for armored vehicles. In fact, that kind of terrain would slow any type of unit. Besides, Pyongyang was in the western part of the DPRK, and the distance to the former North Korean capital from the Chinese border was shortest on the west.
While the western coast was relatively flat, it was threaded with rivers that flowed from the mountains westward to the coast. The Chongchon River ran east to west right across the coastal plan. Half a kilometer wide in spots, it made a perfect defensive barrier.
And there were a lot of other smaller rivers and bridges. South Korean and US aircraft and special operations teams were dropping them ahead of the advancing Chinese as fast as they could.
Or at least, they had been. ROK aircraft had already destroyed three of the four bridges across the Chongchon near Anju, but they’d lost two F-16s on the last raid. Accustomed to complete air supremacy, the ROK Air Force had cut some corners, in the interest of speed. The strikers had been sent out without escorts, and had run in to a Chinese offensive fighter sweep, a flight of J-11 Flankers looking for trouble. Surprised in mid-strike, the F-16s had lost two of their number before escaping.
Chinese fighters venturing that far south told everyone that the days of unopposed air operations were over. It also hinted that the Chinese were very interested in that part of the Korean landscape.
That’s when Rhee Han-gil’s Ghost Brigade got the mission, barely seven hours earlier. The last bridge over the Chongchon River was his target. The ROK Air Force would stay busy, hitting nearby targets, but with more precautions.
Luckily, Rhee’s plan was simple, largely because there was no time for anything fancy. A South Korean navy sub in the Korea Bay would launch Hyunmoo cruise missiles. They were stealthy and smart enough to follow the river valley from the coast all the way up to the bridge. They were guided by GPS signals, and were accurate enough for most targets, but the concrete piers that supported the Anju Bridge were only a few meters across, and they were very strong.
Rhee and his team would get close to the bridge and set up a differential GPS transmitter. It would provide a ground reference for the missiles’ navigation systems, reducing their miss distance from several meters to a few centimeters — less than two inches.
His team would sneak in, set up the transmitter, calibrate it for their location, wait for the boom, and then sneak out. With a little luck, they wouldn’t even be seen, much less have to fight. Rhee was more than happy to let the navy do the heavy lifting this time.
They had clear weather, and relatively smooth air. The helicopter’s radar warning receiver remained silent, and they arrived at the insertion point only fifty minutes after taking off. Rhee was mindful of the short distance back to friendly forces. The united Korean armies needed time to regroup.
Rhee was the first man out, followed by Lieutenant Guk, then the two corporals and finally Master Sergeant Oh, carrying the real-time differential GPS transmitter. Weighing about twenty kilos, and the size of a large backpack, the only tricky thing about using it was telling the transmitter its precise geographic position.
To guide missiles within centimeters of the target, the transmitter had to be placed just as precisely. They would use laser rangefinders to feed distances into the device, which already had a very accurate map loaded in its memory. While Oh and his assistant, Corporal Dae, took measurements and typed the results into a laptop computer, Rhee, Guk, and the other corporal, Ban, would make sure they weren’t disturbed. Unless there was a hardware problem, they’d need ten minutes. When it was ready, they would send a signal via satellite, and the sub, loitering at periscope depth, would launch six missiles. A few minutes later, the Anju Bridge would be history.
Of course, nothing was ever that simple. The city of Anju, on the southern bank of the river, was suspected to be one of the last strongholds of the Kim faction. Intelligence estimates suggested that at least a division was holed up in the city. And the only high ground in the area was a pair of low hills on the river’s south bank, barely four kilometers west of the city. That’s where they had to place the transmitter.
They’d landed as planned, a little over a klick from their destination, and the helicopter departed, going to a loiter spot farther south where it would wait.
In spite of the clear weather and a half moon, they were using night vision goggles. The river was on their left, a few hundred meters wide. Lieutenant Guk, on point, led them across dry rice paddies, using every bit of the meager cover. The low-lying land near the river was all farmed, with only an occasional tree or row of bushes separating one field from the next.
They could hear insects, and even the plop of a fish jumping occasionally, but nothing of human origin. Most honest folk were asleep at this hour, and the fighting discouraged casual travel at night.
They were in single file, a few meters between each man. They made little sound, and spoke only to warn of possible threats or to give an all clear. Rhee had even turned down the volume on his headset radio.
There were a just few lights ahead on the left, which marked a village to the west of Anju, named Unhak-ri. Unfortunately, it sat on top of the nearest of the two hills that overlooked the bridge, and Rhee’s team carefully worked their way past the settlement, heading for the eastern hill, which was a little closer to their target, anyway.
The burst of fire, and then another one, made the five drop and freeze as one man. Guk’s voice reported softly, “I can’t see the source, but it’s ahead of us, toward the bridge.” There were no signs of bullet strikes near them, but Rhee had the team sound off, just to be sure. Everyone was fine.
Rhee tried to imagine what the circumstances were up ahead. Was the Kim faction fighting with the now united KPA? Were there deserters or bandits ahead, preying on civilians?
They listened for a moment, then Rhee gave the all clear and they began moving forward again. Another single shot, maybe from a pistol, caused them to stop once more, but there was still no sign of the shooter, or that they were even the target. Rhee ruled out accidental discharge as a possibility. Then a cascade of fire from several weapons removed all doubt. There was a firefight ahead of them.
Caution dictated they slow and be more vigilant, but necessity hurried them along. The only certainty was that people ahead of them were shooting at something. Hopefully, the night vision gear, keyed to heat emissions, would spot them before they saw Rhee’s Ghosts.
The bulk of the second hill lay ahead of them, a dark mound blocking the stars to the east. There were no buildings on it, and it was not cultivated, just covered with low scrub and saplings not worth cutting down for firewood.
“Three forward,” Rhee said from the third position. Moving past Corporal Ban, he found Guk about ten meters ahead, prone, goggles up, using night vision binoculars. Rhee quietly approached and went prone as well. Without speaking, Guk offered the colonel his binoculars and pointed to a spot two-thirds of the way up the hill. Rhee flipped up his own night vision gear and adjusted the binoculars.
Unlike his goggles, which sensed heat, the binoculars amplified the existing light, as well as magnifying the image. Bracing his elbows, Rhee followed the lieutenant’s cue and searched the hillside.
Movement caught his eye, and he saw someone come up to a kneeling position, fire, and then drop down again. It was a short burst, and he was firing up the hill, away from the river. What was he shooting at?