General Hu was furious. He got out of the truck and stormed into the building demanding to know why the flags were flying. Sitting at a desk in the main hall was General Claire Richardson. Behind her were the flags of the United States and the Marine Corps.
“What can I do for you, General?” she asked from her seat.
He started to draw his weapon when he heard the clicks of more than twenty rifles that came out from behind the curtains. He slid the pistol back in the holster. In perfect English he said, “I am here to demand your surrender.”
Richardson laughed hard. As she did, the sound of helicopters and other equipment filled the air around the building. “General, that’s funny. I suggest you look outside and rethink your proposal.”
General Hu was not used to being addressed in this manner, especially by a woman, but he could hear everything outside. He calmly walked to the curtains and a Marine pulled them back.
The whole building was surrounded by Apache and Cobra attack helicopters. Behind that, Ospreys were landing and discharging troops. A ring of M-1 tanks was wheeling in around the thirty trucks he had come with, and American troops were pouring out of every building. It had been a trap and he fell for it. It was a dejected man who turned to face General Richardson.
“General, we have been following your convoy through most of the mountains pulling off trucks one at a time. You were making so much dust you didn’t notice. My tanks have taken over the roads leading to Pyongyang and I will be entering the city within a few days. You can do nothing to stop it. Even if you shoot me right now, there are others who will take my place,” said Richardson. She stood and walked up to the man. “Your people are being well treated and will come to no harm. This fight is over. If you will follow these gentlemen you will be taken to a secure place.”
Hu looked at her hard. “You are not asking for a surrender?”
Richardson pulled the curtain back again. “General, do you see anything to surrender?”
The two walked out of the building and he climbed into her Humvee after exchanging salutes. After the vehicle left, Richardson turned to a Colonel on her staff. “Have the troops continue on to Pyongyang and take up positions as planned. I’m going back to Seoul and check in. I’ll catch up later this evening,” she said. The two exchanged salutes and the General climbed aboard an Osprey for the short flight back to Seoul.
The MASH unit was operating out of portable field hospital tents set up just outside Seoul. The doctors worked on Ricks for five hours before having him wheeled into an intensive care unit. The surgeon walked out of the operating theater and slowly pulled the cap off his head. In some ways the MASH units were exactly like the television show. They took in badly mangled bodies and fixed them up to go to a larger hospital. In Ricks’ case, both legs had to be amputated just below the knee. He had tried to make things work, but they were so badly crushed he couldn’t restore blood flow to the feet. The things had popped like a watermelon being hit by a car. As he came out of the tent, two men were standing there waiting for him. Though tired, the doctor was always there to help.
“Hello, Colonel, what can I do for you today?” he asked.
“Doctor, we are waiting to hear about a sergeant named Ricks. Do you know if he’s out of surgery?”
The doctor was somewhat surprised. It was seldom that a wounded man got senior officer attention. And the man with him was a sergeant major. “Yes, he’s out. Why don’t you come with me?”
Hearing the noise of something landing at a pad, the doctor took the men into another climate-controlled tent and they sat down. “I just got out of surgery with your Sergeant Ricks. Unfortunately we had to remove both his legs. There was just no way to save them,” he said. He saw the pained reaction on the faces of the two men. “He lost a ton of blood, but we were able to replace it. His other vital signs are coming back. I was able to save about eight inches of his tibia and fibula so that it will be easier for him to wear a prosthetic. The rest of the cuts and bruises we were able to sew up with no problem. The big thing now is to watch him a few days in case of infection and then ship him home.” The doctor could tell his words were not helping the men, but he continued on. “Look, guys, I did my best. At least he’s alive and he can learn to walk again,” the doctor said.
“It’s OK, Doc,” said Hufham. “It’s just that Ricks has been with us since the very day this thing started. He’s got a new wife down in Pusan and…” he muttered out before stopping.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” asked Peterson.
“Not at present. When he wakes up he’ll need a lot of support. Losing limbs is pretty traumatic for a guy. If you can keep checking in when you can, I can let you know when he comes around, then maybe we can get his wife up to be with him. We won’t be moving him for a while,” he said.
The door opened and General Richardson walked in. Glancing over she saw Peterson and Hufham stand and went over to greet them. “Hello, Colonel, Sergeant Major. I was looking for you. What are you guys doing here?”
Peterson introduced the doctor and then broke the bad news.
“This is the Ricks who….” she asked.
“Yes, Ma’am. The doctor just had to amputate both his legs. But he’ll be fine,” said Peterson.
Richardson closed her eyes and hung her head a moment. “Guys, I’m sorry. Doctor, if there is anything that man needs, including a private plane flight to the States, you tell me and it will get done. I would appreciate updates on his condition if I may. Just make sure he recovers from this,” she said forcefully.
“We’re doing that already, General. I’ll get him through.”
“Good man. Is he awake?”
“No, General, that may take a while. He was pretty beat up. I’ll let you know when he wakes at the same time I let these guys know,” the doctor said.
“I appreciate it,” she said shaking his hand. “Now if I may drag these guys away?” she asked while pulling Peterson and Hufham aside. It was a sad thing the men had nearly lost one of their own, but now she needed to know about the mission.
The technicians were loaded onto a train making its way to Yuktae-dong. The passenger car they rode was plain and utilitarian; very different from the car just behind them. The American-made Pullman car had all the amenities for a head of state. It had been a gift from the People’s Republic of China when North Korea had become a nation. The heavily cushioned seats and polished surfaces were far above what the ordinary citizen used. Yet the fabrics were dated and looked a little worn. Cloth covers hid the rough spots making it look like some old grandmother’s parlor. Kim, Choi, and several others sat in the chairs and dozed as the diesel train made its way along the lines. The track had been covered and it would be difficult for anyone to see the train on the tracks.
“How much longer until we arrive?” Kim asked.
“Four more hours, Comrade Chairman,” said an older man who made sure their every need was fulfilled.
Kim rose and walked back to his sleeping cabin. “Do not wake me until we arrive,” he said before closing the door behind him.
“Chris, how about taking the North Carolina a little farther north tonight and see if you can find anything going on,” said Hammond over the secure communications line. “I’m going to move up towards Hamhung and I’m sending Alabama up towards Tanchon. If you can take a look at the base in Yuktae-dong we can move a little closer to the border tomorrow night, over.”
“I’ll change course right away. The way things are going I doubt we’ll actually find anything. From the satellite feed we are about to take Pyongyang, over,” said Captain Hustvedt.