The team moved to the edge of the clearing and peered down the slope to the open work area beneath. Two men stood above the hole in the ground. At least one man was visible in the hole, and by the way he stood, it looked like another man was in there as well, below him.
All movement abruptly stopped. The darkness above them suddenly brightened as the aurora borealis, commonly known as the northern lights, stretched across the sky in a mystical dance of lights and patterns. All attention was drawn to the green, red, and blue glowing as the aurora spun and danced above them, spreading from horizon to horizon like angels dancing among the stars, throwing beams of colored light back and forth. A band of light erupted into motion like the strings of a thousand-mile-wide harp being played by the invisible fingers of God’s own hand.
The North Korean soldiers all stared up into the sky with oohs and aahs. Childlike expressions of wonder spread across their faces.
“All right, kiddies. Enough staring at the heavenly artwork.” Wasner whispered into the radio headset, “The Good Lord is giving us a diversion to get in position. Look for any other guards around the perimeter. There should be at least one or two more. Philips and Stingle, you guys have your Tasers, right?”
“Yes, Chief,” they both replied.
“We need to take a couple alive. Try to figure out who the officers or senior NCO’s may be and take at least one of them, if possible. But any one of them probably knows enough to catch their accomplices. Spread out around this opening and let’s wait till we verify how many there are before we jump them.”
As he spoke, a man stepped from the far edge of the clearing and walked toward the open area beneath. He spoke out loud to the others below. Forester translated softly into his mike. “Team one is away.”
“Good,” said the man standing in the hole. “Let’s load the gear and move out of here. We have a lot of walking to do in order to get back to the vehicles.”
The man in the hole looked down, then disappeared beneath the lip of the opening. A moment later, he stood back up and handed a box of something to one of the two men who stood at the top. He reached up and one of the others helped him to the surface. The one who was walking down toward them called out.
“Captain Park, Sergeant Soo is coming in, but I cannot reach Kil and Pak. Hwang is also not responding.”
“Tell Soo to find them on his way in. We must leave immediately.”
Staff Sergeant Beckwith spoke into the radio. “There’s movement behind me to the southwest of the clearing. One man approaching.”
“Must be Sergeant Soo,” Marcus replied.
“Kill him,” Chief Wasner ordered.
Beckwith, from his hide beside a tall cluster of alders, slowly turned his suppressed M-4 toward the North Korean sergeant. He aimed carefully and acquired a perfect sight picture of the man’s head on the peg at the end of the barrel. Beckwith slowly curled his finger around the trigger. He exhaled slowly as he squeezed.
An explosion of movement suddenly erupted above his head. A large white owl burst out of the branches in which it had been silently perched. The loud flapping startled the Marine as he fired the shot. The bullet went high. A puff of white foam stuffing burst from a small tear the shot made as it scraped against the outer shell of the soldier’s parka hood.
Soo, also startled by the bird, heard the rifle’s puff. He felt the heat of the bullet zip by his head, tugging at his hood as it passed. He spun in the direction of the bird and saw the movement of Beckwith’s body as he adjusted back into position to fire a second shot.
“Ambush!” the Korean shouted to his comrades. “We are being ambushed!”
He raised his rifle to fire on the Marine. Beckwith fired a three-round burst. The bullets tore into the soldier’s torso. Soo’s body jerked in a spasmodic death dance.
The dying man’s finger squeezed around the trigger on his rifle as the rounds smashed into him. His shot tore branches from the alders above Beckwith.
Soo dropped to his knees in the snow and raised his rifle again to try another shot before the life drained out of him. Staff Sergeant Beckwith didn’t give him another chance. He fired another three-round burst directly into the hooded head of the man. The top of Soo’s head burst in a shower of blood, brains, and parka stuffing. His body slammed backwards into the snow as if the North Korean soldier had been hit in the face by a giant hammer.
All hell broke loose in the clearing. The North Korean soldiers raised their weapons and fired into the perimeter around them. The SEALS returned fire with rapid, surgical precision. In less than twenty seconds, all of the men in the clearing were down. The one that had been in the hole was still alive, the only one not in the line of fire.
Marcus, Wasner, and four of the SEALS closed in on the clearing. Four of the SEALs covered them while the rest of the team scouted the area for survivors.
“Philips,” Wasner called out, “get that Taser ready. I want this guy alive.”
“Aye, aye, sir” replied Philips. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the handle of the sinister-looking black plastic stun gun. When he flipped the switch, the Taser hummed menacingly with its own life force.
The bodies of the dead men lay strewn about. Their limbs splayed at odd angles as the blood that flowed from their wounds coagulated on the ground into already freezing puddles.
The men circled the hole,
