“I see.” Kim’s voice was flat, uninterested. “This plan calls for a surprise attack across the so-called DMZ — an attack launched right out of our barracks. Why?”
“Surprise is the handmaiden of victory,” the general quoted. “The South has larger reserves than we do. A sudden, unexpected attack would deny them the time needed to mobilize those reserves. It would also prevent the Americans from shipping in their own reinforcements.”
Kim nodded his understanding. They walked quietly across the torn-up field for several minutes more before he asked in a carefully casual tone, “How soon could you be ready to launch Red Phoenix? Two weeks? A month?”
A strange question. So strange that Cho answered honestly, without thinking of possible consequences. He shook his head. “Impossible. We couldn’t possibly be ready for several months at least.”
Kim pounced on that. “Why not? Have you and your fellow generals been shirking? Where is all this readiness for instant action you’ve always promised.”
The look in the smaller man’s eyes made Cho picture an ice-cold bayonet poised at his vitals.
It was a time to be cautious. “We are ready for most contingencies, Dear Leader. You have my word on that. But Red Phoenix has not been our official strategy. Launching it successfully would require moving most of our own second echelon troops closer to the front — all without the fascists noticing. That takes time. There are only so many railroads and only so many hours in the day that imperialist spy satellites aren’t overhead watching.”
The general gestured at the muddy, ripped-up ground around them. “And that is the other reason, Dear Leader. An armored assault into the South now would quickly bog down in the rice paddies. We wouldn’t have the mobility required to carry it out successfully. Red Phoenix calls for a winter war — a war when the fields are frozen and can support our tanks.” He stopped talking, conscious that his palms were wet.
Kim dug a boot heel into the soft ground, mounding dirt and torn grass behind it. Then he nodded sharply. “Very well, General. I accept your explanation.”
Cho bowed.
Kim looked carefully at him for several heartbeats and seemed to come to some sort of decision. “What I am about to tell you, General, is a matter of the highest State security. You are not to reveal anything to anyone without my express permission. Understood?”
Wordlessly Cho nodded.
“Should you disobey that instruction, you will suffer. And your suffering will extend to all those who bear your name. Is that clear?”
Cho shivered. Now he understood Kim’s questions about his wife. “Yes, Dear Leader.”
“Excellent.” The shorter man turned away from him while still speaking. “General Cho, I am authorizing you to begin the initial preparations for Red Phoenix.”
For a moment the general stared at Kim, transfixed by a flood of contradictory emotions — shocked by Kim’s bald, calm, assured words, elated at the thought of the People’s Army being unleashed on its enemies after nearly forty years of seemingly endless waiting, and dismayed by the prospect of possible defeat. He carefully studied the man waiting for his answer, swallowed hard, and found his voice. “I shall obey your orders willingly, Dear Leader. But there are … practical difficulties. I am — ”
Kim cut him off with an impatient gesture. “Yes, yes, Cho. I see them far more clearly than you think I do. As a corps commander, you can’t order the second echelon troops forward to a full war footing without the General Staff’s approval. Or make any of the other needed preparations for that matter.”
Kim reached into his tunic and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to Cho. “Within forty-eight hours the General Staff will unanimously approve the order contained on that piece of paper. It declares that the recent unrest in the South constitutes a possible security threat to the People’s Republic, and it authorizes any or all troop transfers necessary to meet that threat. I have a similar order for your counterpart at Fifth Corps.”
Kim smiled ironically. “You will, of course, ensure that these ‘defensive’ troop movements mirror the dispositions needed to launch Red Phoenix.”
Cho couldn’t think of anything to say. Launch Red Phoenix? Prepare for war against the South and against the United States without the formal approval of the Great Leader, the Administration Council, the Central Committee? This was unthinkable. Unbelievable. Unbidden, another word crept into his mind —
Kim Jong-Il seemed to read his thoughts. “You find my orders surprising? Dangerous, perhaps?”
“No, Dear Leader. It just seems so …”
“Adventuristic?” Kim finished for him. “Perhaps. But why is that bad, my dear Cho? Old men fear adventures. We are not old men, are we?”
Cho shook his head.
Kim smiled. “Of course not.” He leaned forward to peer directly up into the general’s eyes. “Believe me, Cho. There is an opportunity rising in the South — an opportunity for the reunification of our sacred homeland.” Kim clenched a fist. “It must not be wasted. It will not be wasted.” Cho could hear the iron determination in the man’s voice.
Kim’s voice became soft and earnest. “General, forces are at work — military, political, economic factors — that make it imperative that we strike as soon as possible. The imperialists are withdrawing, and until the puppets in the south realign themselves, they will be vulnerable.”
He paused. “Also, comrade, I must tell you, in strict secrecy, that even our socialist allies are not to be entirely trusted. Southern gold is making inroads in both Russia and China, and as they slide closer to the South, they lose the revolutionary spirit. We must move now, while they still have the will to support our cause.”
Kim stopped talking and let his words sink in. Then he leaned forward again and said, “Ride with me, Cho, and in six months’ time you will be a colonel general commanding the First Shock Army. Your future will be assured. You will be a hero of the fatherland.” The man’s dark eyes flashed. “Reject me and you will fall unnoticed in the mud.”
Cho stared into Kim’s eyes. Into the eyes of the sons of the Great Leader. Into the eyes of the heir to the man who had replaced God in North Korea. He had no choice. Wanted no choice. Lieutenant General Cho Hyun-Jae came to attention and saluted.
A thin-lipped smile spread slowly across Kim Jong-Il’s face. He had his general. Red Phoenix was underway.
CHAPTER 9
The Dead Zone
Captain Matuchek was obviously not in a good mood.
“Goddamnit, Little. Next time I ask you a question during a map exercise I don’t want a friggin’ military history lecture.”
Kevin nodded. And winced. Oh, Jesus, did his head hurt.
Matuchek carried on. “I wanted to know where you would have placed your machine gun teams to support an assault up Hill five seventy-two. I don’t give a flying frazzoo about limey Lord Wellington and his patented, Waterloo-style, rear-slope defense. Do you read me, mister?”
Kevin nodded again, cautiously, half-afraid that the top half of his brain would fall right out on his company commander’s desk. “Yes, sir. Loud and clear, sir.”
“Okay, consider yourself chewed out. I’ll take your word that it won’t happen again.” Matuchek rolled his chair back a few inches and opened a desk drawer. He pulled out a file folder and slid it across to Kevin. “Anyway, you won’t be participating in the next exercise. You and your platoon are rotating to Malibu West for a week, starting at oh four hundred hours tomorrow.”
Kevin picked up the folder. Malibu? What the hell?
Matuchek chuckled. “Don’t look so happy, Lieutenant. You aren’t going to see any bikini-clad surfer chicks up at Malibu West. That’s the name we use for Hill six forty.” He grinned a little wider. “You’ll be in scenic bunker accommodations along the DMZ, just a couple of klicks north of the lovely little village of Korangp’o.”
