Anne asked, “Captain, where will we get the vehicles fixed in Onyang?”
“We’ll have to find a civilian garage and hope he has the right parts. These trucks use a lot of parts from civilian vehicles, so — ”
“I know about the parts, Captain. What I need to know is if they will have a phone I can use.”
Hutchins shrugged. “I guess so.”
Anne smiled.
Captain Yi looked over the situation. They had followed the river east to Highway 21. The two-lane asphalt road was the major north-south artery on the west coast, and his job was to make traveling on that road a dangerous business.
A concrete bridge crossed the river, which was about twenty meters wide at that point and about three meters deep. The water was moving fast enough to keep it from freezing.
There was a low rise that overlooked the highway and the bridge. Yi’s squad waited about one hundred yards back, at the base of the rise, shivering. The bridge was guarded, of course, but this wasn’t a major bridge or a major river.
The area was lighted, so his binoculars were more useful than his night-vision scope. There was a small building near the bridge, big enough for a few men. A small sentry box at one end had two men near it.
From their uniforms they looked like Provincial Police, responsible for security in the Korean interior. The Army only guarded the coast. These police, though, were much more than “traffic cops.” For one thing, they carried M16 automatic rifles.
There was another man pacing back and forth between the building and the bridge. He was wearing a camouflage uniform, probably Territorial Army. It made sense, Yi thought. Back up the police with reserve units.
The soldier, probably a noncom, ducked under the gate and started across the bridge. Yi moved his glasses ahead of him and saw what he expected: two sentries at the other end as well.
The commando crept backward down the slope, quietly, carefully, until he was about twenty-five yards back from the crest. He then spun around and sprinted down to where his men were hidden.
“It’s as we expected. Two at each end, one more in charge. The guard shack probably has two men in it, but no more than four. They are Provincial Police, so we have to change uniforms. Let’s go.”
The plan had been practiced a dozen times. Without instructions the party moved down to the water’s edge, well away from the bridge. They took out Provincial Police uniforms and changed clothes. One private removed a small bundle from his knapsack. Another removed a rope from his pack and tied one end securely around a tree.
There was a hissing sound, which seemed as loud as a steam leak in the quiet night. As the inflatable raft took shape, two men assembled paddles and tied the other end of the rope to the boat. They placed it in the water and climbed in.
Wordlessly they pushed off with their paddles and let the current carry them downstream. The other commandos slowed their progress by slowly letting out the rope, while the two men steered their way across.
In five minutes the boat was grounded on the opposite bank. Yi and the remaining men did not wait to watch them pull the craft into the bushes. They knew their job.
The captain brought his men back to the rise and pointed out their targets, then the approach route. The brush had been cleared around the road, but it almost reached to the guard shack. And nobody was watching the rear of the building.
There was nothing complicated about the approach to the building, but it was tiring. The dark made them slow down to a crawl, to reduce the chance of stumbling, and the biting cold made it hard to hold still. Yi was in front, not because of any desire to lead by example, but because there he could set the pace and react quickly to any changes.
It was hard work, even with the training. Pick each spot carefully, nothing that can make noise or cause you to stumble. Remember that five other men behind have to step where you step, careful that…
If he hadn’t been moving so slowly he would never have been able to stop. Moving in a low crouch, he had already raised his left foot to bring it forward when he saw a line across the snow. He froze. Any regularity had to be man-made, and anything made by man around here was a threat, until proved otherwise.
He leaned forward carefully, with his followers holding their uncomfortable positions behind him. As he changed his position, starlight caught the line and it glinted. It was a wire.
Following it back to its ends, he found one anchored to a rock, and the other to a trip flare. Not a mine, but almost as deadly to their mission. If he had touched the wire, it would have sent a magnesium flare fifty meters into the air. Without surprise they would fail without having started.
It was a simple device, and he quickly disarmed it. Pointing it out to the man behind him, he moved forward again.
Reaching the back wall of the building was a relief, a chance to stand up straight and pull off the black camouflage smocks. They put on white smocks, the same as those worn by the South Koreans.
From this point on everything depended on speed and luck. Yi watched the noncom walk back from the far side of the bridge. He had to wait until the bulk of the building was between the man and him.
His men had moved into position, flattened near the corners of the building. He took one last look and followed the movement of the South Korean noncom. The man passed out of sight and Yi raised a small flashlight. Shining it across the river, he flashed a coded signal, hoping his men were in position to see it. He started counting.
One. He put away the flashlight and pulled his pistol. Two. Yi checked the silencer as he moved to the corner of the building near the sentry box.
Three. Yi and two of his men fired at the two sentries, each man shooting two or three times, until they started to fall. He heard small
No shots, from this side or the other. Assume success. They stepped quickly out from behind the building, still hugging the walls. Yi relaxed a little when he saw three forms crumpled on the ground. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the guard shack.
The sergeant and another commando flattened themselves on either side of the door. Yong gave a signal, and they opened the door quietly and slid through. Yi did not follow, instead concentrating on the far end of the bridge.
There. A light shone briefly at the far end. Two short, one long. They’d done it!
Yong came running up just in time to see Yi smiling. He stopped and reported. “Three men. No problems.”
Yi didn’t waste any more time celebrating. “Get the bodies out of sight. Look for any papers or documents. Clean up any bloodstains. I’m going to see what’s in the guard shack.”
He looked around at the mayhem his men had caused, then allowed himself one more smile. “And Sergeant, get those sentry boxes manned. We’ve got a bridge to guard.”
For their side.
Hutchins cursed out loud. Bell cursed at the truck, Anne cursed to herself. Onyang was a town of about two thousand people. It had one garage, operated by a Mr. Moon, who absolutely refused to get up on a cold night and open his establishment. In the end Hutchins had to threaten him with arrest at bayonet point before Moon would cooperate.
Reluctantly the proprietor unlocked the door, but he absolutely refused to help in any way with the vehicles. Evans took over then. “All right, this is now a U.S. Army motor pool.”
While the sergeant organized the repairs, Anne’s staff took shelter in a small hotel, filling the small building. Anne found the night clerk, who spoke excellent English, far more helpful than Mr. Moon. He directed her to a phone, and she tried calling Tony. It was exciting, then frustrating, as she called his BOQ, then squadron offices, trying to reach him.
There was no answer at his BOQ. He was “not available, ma’am,” when she called the squadron. She knew
