“That may be true, but we still got to earn our pay. I just have a feeling we might miss something, over.”
“You know I have been feeling the same way. I should arrive at the base about 2000, over.”
“Roger that. Let me know if you find anything. Sierra Whiskey out,” Hammond said signing off. “XO, let’s head north. We’ll cruise in our sector a little tonight then head up toward China. That might get interesting,” he said.
“Never know, they might come out and play with us a little,” Davis said. “Did you see the message about us having a visitor in a couple of days?”
“Yep. Didn’t say who it was but said it was a Washington delegation. I’m getting tired of VIPs.”
“No rest for the wicked. I’ll get us headed north,” Davis said. He got up from his seat in Strike and headed for the bridge.
Hammond sat back. The war was moving rapidly now. It probably wouldn’t be long before it was over. He thought about going back home, even though it would mean putting the ship back in mothballs. He rubbed his hand along a steel support on the bulkhead. She sure was a good one. Then there was Patricia Crowell. He smiled at himself. The remainder of the afternoon was spent finishing the ton of paperwork that never seemed to go away.
The helicopter flared and landed at the MASH landing pad. Hufham exited the machine followed by Su Lynn. She looked ashen as she was led through the myriad of tents to the intensive care unit. The doctor recognized Hufham and came over. Hufham introduced him to Su Lynn.
“Sergeant Ricks is still improving. There’s no sign of infection, but he still hasn’t regained consciousness. He did have a little bit of a concussion, but I doubt that is the cause. In his case, it’s probably just his body healing itself,” the doctor said warmly.
“May I go see?” Su Lynn asked.
The doctor smiled. “Sure. Go on in and stay as long as you want,” he said to them. “If you need anything, just ask.”
The two walked into the walled off room. Ricks lay on a hospital bed with tubes running into his arms and one up through his nose. Another set of wires was running under his gown to a monitor showing his breathing and heart rates.
When she saw him, she began to weep. To Hufham, it seemed strange that someone could weep without making a sound, but the tears flowed, her mouth moved, and her chest heaved all the same. She took Ricks’ hand in her own and held it to her face as she sat beside the bed. She looked at his face, wishing for the eyes to open, then lay her head against his side and let it pour out.
Hufham watched for a while then placed his hand on her shoulder. She took his hand and held it a moment, sharing her pain. After a few more minutes the tears subsided and the sobbing eased. Hufham pulled out a Kleenex and handed it to her. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then she resumed looking into her husband’s face.
“Paul, why people like Dale get hurt?” she asked after she regained herself.
Hufham let out a sigh. Even he struggled with an answer to that one. “Su Lynn, there are always people in this world who want to hurt others. Sometimes it’s for power, sometimes it’s for hate, and sometimes it’s just because they want to. It doesn’t matter why, they just do it. Hitler did it. Napoleon, Hussein, Pol Pot, Amin, the list goes on. And they would go on hurting people until someone stands up and says stop. Even good people sometimes do things that hurt others, even though they don’t really mean to. That’s one of the things you have to always look out for; making sure the things you do don’t lead to somebody getting hurt.
“Well, Dale is one of the guys to stand up and say stop. For a long time our country has been doing that. We said stop to the British, stop to the Europeans trying to control the Americas, stop to the Spanish, stop to Germany and Japan, stop to the North Koreans one time before, stop to terrorists; we’ve said stop a lot of times. And we’ve had to say stop to ourselves a few times too. We stopped slavery, stopped racism, and even stopped ourselves when we got into a war and then found out it was for all the wrong reasons. Somewhere along the way someone said we needed to stop, and we did our best to make sure it did stop. This time, it was the North Koreans again. They wanted to hurt people, not only you, but our people in the United States as well. That’s why guys like Dale and me are here — to get it to stop.
“You see, if you don’t make them stop, the pain and suffering never ends. So everybody has to make a choice. You ask the question: Is what’s going on okay or does it need to stop? That’s why when those soldiers were trying to rape you, we stepped in. If we hadn’t you might not be married to this great guy. So what we do is very important. We are here to make sure no one gets hurt and no one gets bullied. When they do, we are here to say stop. In this case, Dale got hurt. But sometimes that happens to people trying to do the right thing.”
Su Lynn nodded. She still didn’t understand it all, but she knew Dale was trying to do the right things. That was enough. It was a side of Ricks she was only now getting to know and cherish.
A nurse came in carrying a cot and laid it beside the bed. “The doctor said you were welcome to stay with your husband at night if you want,” he said. Another nurse brought in some blankets and pillows.
“Thank you,” Su Lynn said. After a few more minutes of talking, Hufham left Su Lynn with Ricks. She sat up holding his hand and talking to him for over an hour before lying on the cot and pulling the blankets over her. She didn’t sleep much, but she was where she needed to be.
Chapter 21
USS North Carolina arrived off Yuktae-dong at 8:30 in the evening, launching her RPV while still thirty miles out. Flying over the old base the pilots noticed something strange on the screen. Light seemingly was shining through the roof of a large building. Switching to an infrared mode, they could make out the outline of a ship very dimly detailed under whatever it was trying to hide it. Some activity was going on aboard. Captain Hustvedt called away general quarters.
Under the painted tarp being used to camouflage the ship, the technicians were busy dismantling the warhead of one of the missiles. Several new components were being installed and the safety features temporarily disengaged so that new guidance for a much lower air burst would be achieved. A radar altimeter was also installed to make sure the weapon went off exactly as needed to achieve maximum effect. It was tedious work and the men were sweating profusely under the tarps and within the false containers. The first missile had been completed an hour before and the second was in pieces before them. The ignition wires were laid bare as they began installing the altimeter and resetting the barometric pressure sensors. The batteries had also been changed out so there would be plenty of power to run the system.
Kim was standing nearby watching the work. Although totally beyond his comprehension, it had to look like he understood it. Choi was standing not far away questioning one of the guards while the Defense Minister nervously watched the men along with Kim.
“Where will this one go,” Kim asked one of the technicians.
The man looked up from his work and wiped the sweat from his eyes with his dirty sleeve. “This one goes to Pusan, Comrade Chairman.”
“Good, very good,” Kim said. The first missile had been targeted for Daejeon. None would be wasted on countries outside Korea this time.
“We are within range, Captain,” said the Weapons Officer.