He turned toward the door and then turned back with a sudden grin. “After all, I didn’t want to get left facing Sergeant Pierce and Captain Matuchek on my own.”
Slowly Rhee returned his smile. “I see. Well, that is understandable. They are indeed a formidable pair. But perhaps they will meet their match in us.” He reached out and recapped the bottle of Soju.
The South Korean lieutenant was a soldier once again.
Blake Fowler slid General McLaren’s telex across the desk to the President and sat back in his chair. He waited while the President skimmed through it.
“You’re sure this general knows what he’s talking about?”
Admiral Simpson answered, “I’ve known Jack for a long time, Mr. President. He’s not a genius at spotting political trends, but he’s a damned fine soldier. And if he says that South Korea’s turning its army into mush, well, I believe him.”
The President turned to Fowler. “What do you think, Blake?
“I’ve got to concur with the general’s assessment. The reports we’ve picked up show a complete government overreaction to this coup attempt. They’ve already arrested everyone fingered by some internal security chief who was in on it, and now it seems that they’re hauling off any officer who’s shown any signs of competence — just on general principles.
“The results out in the field aren’t good. Morale in most units has hit rock bottom. There are even unconfirmed reports that some battalions have refused to obey orders from their new officers. The government’s Special Forces are supposed to have come down very hard on them.”
The President shook his head. “Why are they doing this? Hasn’t the South Korean government got enough trouble in its streets without looking for even more by wrecking its armed forces?”
“That’s just it, Mr. President. That’s exactly why they’ve reacted so badly. The government has always counted on the military as its bulwark against the mobs. Now that’s gone. I’d say that South Korea’s leaders are feeling increasingly isolated and increasingly paranoid — with some justification, of course, because there are people out to get them.”
Simpson nodded. “That’s why I agree with General McLaren that we’ve got to find a way to calm the government over there down. Maybe it’s time we sent someone over there to assure them that we’re not pulling out anytime soon.”
“Damn.” The President picked up a letter from his desk and flipped it so that Blake and the admiral could see the congressional seal embossed at the top. “I got this from our fine friend, the Speaker, this morning.” His tone made it clear that he considered the Speaker of the House anything but a friend.
“He writes that the congressional leadership is, quote, gravely concerned by the continuing turmoil in South Korea, unquote. He goes on to say that they’re most concerned that American troops still in the country might get caught up in this ‘cycle of violence.’ And they’re asking for an immediate troop pull-out, with every last American soldier to be out of South Korea by the end of January.”
“That’s impossible.” Blake looked at the admiral for confirmation of what he’d said.
“Blake’s right, Mr. President. Even if we hadn’t been holding things up, there’d be no way to meet that kind of timetable. It’ll take months alone just to ship our heavy equipment back across the Pacific.”
The President nodded. “They know that. The letter goes on to propose leaving the equipment there in storage until it can be moved. But they want our people out as fast as possible.” He tossed the letter back onto his desk. “Naturally this ‘private’ letter has already been released to the press.”
Goddamn all congressmen. Blake knew that the Speaker’s letter had probably been dreamed up by some congressional staffer as the ideal way to exploit South Korea’s troubles to get some TV time for the Speaker and his favorites. Congressmen were always looking for a way to stay in the public eye when the House and Senate weren’t in session. All right, that was understandable. But their publicity stunt had just drastically narrowed the President’s options.
Blake looked across the desk. “So I suppose we can’t take the chance that our reassurances to the South Korean government might leak?”
The President nodded again. “Dead on, Dr. Fowler. If the leadership hears that I’m delaying the pull-out after they’ve publicly asked me to expedite it, they’ll have no choice but to seek legislation setting an explicit timetable. And that’s something we can’t risk, true?”
“Yeah.” There wasn’t anything else Blake could say.
“Okay, then. We’ll just have to hope that the government over there comes to its senses soon. Maybe the North Koreans will do us a favor and try some kind of commando raid — something that’d bring the military back into favor.”
Admiral Simpson shrugged. “Anything’s possible with those sons of bitches, Mr. President. I know Jack’s got his boys on rotating alert just in case something like that happens.”
“Good.” The President rolled his chair back a few inches and opened a drawer. He pulled out a folder and laid it open on his desk. With a quick flourish he signed the bottom of one of the papers in the folder. “There. That’s the one other thing I can do, gentlemen.”
He smiled at their puzzled looks. “I’ve just taken one of your earlier suggestions, Phil.” He handed the paper to the admiral. “That’s an order putting MAC on standby alert. Ostensibly I’m doing this to boost our ability to evacuate speedily should the situation in South Korea deteriorate further. Ostensibly.” He emphasized the last word.
Both Blake and the admiral knew what he meant. Putting the lumbering C-5 and C-141 troop transports of the Air Force’s Military Airlift Command on alert would also increase their ability to reinforce South Korea during a crisis. It wasn’t much, but it was probably the best they could hope for given the current political situation.
Blake just hoped they weren’t sending the wrong signals overseas.
Lieutenant General Cho Hyun-Jae was puzzled.
At the last meeting between Kim Jong-Il and the forward army corps commanders in late November, intelligence reports had made it clear that the Americans weren’t planning to pull their forces out of the South until at least the next spring. Given that, Kim had agreed that Red Phoenix should be postponed until the next year. As a result, orders had been issued to slow down the troop redeployments, munitions stockpiling, and training exercises associated with the plan. They would continue, but at a slower, more relaxed pace less likely to unnecessarily alert the South’s puppet government.
Now, just two weeks later, came Kim Jong-Il’s urgent middle-of-the-night summons to Pyongyang, compelling Cho to take a hair-raising, mountain-hopping flight north strapped into the back seat of a MiG-19UTI trainer.
He had been met at the Pyongyang East military airfield by a plainclothes security detail and driven through the capital’s empty streets in a motorcycle-escorted black sedan. The quiet around him had made no impression on Cho. There were few vehicles, even in the daytime, for Pyongyang’s broad four-lane boulevards.
But the car hadn’t deposited him at Kim Jong-Il’s offices at Party Headquarters as usual. Instead it had turned into the underground garage beneath the Presidential Palace — a building reserved largely for ceremonial purposes. Cho’s disquiet had been increased by the sight of other parked staff cars in the garage, cars carrying the flags of almost every major military command in the Korean People’s Army. He’d wondered what the devil was going on. Some briefing connected with the attempted coup in the South?