The camera view showed what were now almost routine scenes from the South Korean capital. Masked, chanting students throwing rocks and firebombs at police troops who retaliated with tear gas, water cannon, and clubs. Long-distance shots from a chartered helicopter showed the fine, white tear-gas mist billowing above Seoul’s city center.
The anchorman’s calm, dispassionate tones were in sharp contrast with the televised pictures of complete chaos and random violence.
The camera cut back to the anchor desk.
The camera cut again, this time to pictures of a flag-waving political rally in Illinois.
General Chang Jae-Kyu, commanding officer of the 4th Infantry Division, stepped carefully through the door of the Han Chung Kak
Chang followed the woman down a quiet corridor lined with precious paintings and silk screens. He shook his head, amused that he now found such luxury and beauty so commonplace that he could disregard it.
Chang was a farmer’s son, a man of the earth. His family had labored for countless generations, growing the crops that fed Korea’s elite city dwellers. The Army had changed all that. It had nurtured and protected him. It had given him a future, just as it had safeguarded the future for all of South Korea. He frowned. And now these effete city snobs, the corrupt politicians and radical students alike, threatened to destroy all that — to emasculate the bulwark of the state and the new order.
Chang straightened his shoulders. They would not succeed. Not without a fight.
The
He turned, knocked once, and entered the small, smoke-fogged room beyond the door. He knew the officers assembled around the table intimately, well enough to trust them with his life. They were classmates, graduates of the Korean Military Academy.
Chang nodded to them. “Gentlemen. It is good to see you all here.”
They grinned back at his formal tone. He studied them for a moment before continuing. General Bae, commanding officer of the 9th Infantry Division, part of the Capital Corps that guarded Seoul. He was tall for a Korean, with a round, moon face. Colonel Kim of the 6th Interceptor Squadron was shorter and had quick, hurried movements. Colonel Min, G-2 for the III Corps, looked uncomfortable. He was as fat as a Korean Army officer ever gets, which is not much.
Most importantly, General Hahn, head of the Seoul District of the Defense Security Command was present. His angular face smiled in anticipation.
It was because of him that Chang and his small cadre could meet here in complete safety. The politicians expected the Defense Security Command to play watchdog over the armed forces. Chang smiled to himself as he looked at Hahn. But what happened when the watchdog turned on its supposed master?
“Are we secure here?” he asked.
“Yes, my men swept it for listening devices just this afternoon. It was clean.”
“Good. Then we can get down to business.” Chang looked over his assembled friends. “I apologize for rushing this, but time is not our ally. None of us can afford to be missed or brought under suspicion during this time of preparation.”
“So you’re convinced then that we must move against the government?” Lieutenant Colonel Min didn’t sound completely surprised.
“I can see no other alternative.” Chang kept his voice low, but the others could hear the steely determination that had won him the nickname the Iron Man during his days at the academy.
He continued, “As officers, we are sworn to defend this nation against its enemies, foreign and domestic. And can any doubt that our country is under attack?”
The others, their minds full of images from the past two months of rioting and disorder, shook their heads.
“No, I thought not. But what have these politicians, these vote-buyers, done about it? Nothing.” Chang let the word hang in midair for a moment and then repeated it. “Nothing.
“Oh, they talk a grand game. But instead of swift, decisive action to crush this communist insurrection, the bureaucrats have spent their time running from one place to another, pissing on the fires only when the flames reach their feet.” The officers chuckled at his crude imagery.
“And now, what are they planning?” Chang asked scornfully. “I’ll tell you. They are preparing a surrender. A surrender to these young thugs and their calls for socialism. And a surrender to America and all its intolerable demands.”
The officers murmured to one another, and Chang could see the anger growing.
“So then, I ask you, what else can we do as men who’ve sworn to guard the nation with our very lives?”
General Bae answered for the others after glancing around the room. “You are right. We must reform the government. And soon.”
They all knew what he meant by “reform.” He meant a military coup. It was not unthinkable. Twice before in the forty-year-long history of the Republic of Korea, groups of young officers had acted to save the country from corrupt, feuding politicians. They would simply be following in that tradition.
Chang held up a hand. “You’re right. There is little time. But we must not act with undue haste. We six alone are not enough to topple the regime.”
He smiled and bowed to Hahn. “There are others in the armed forces who share our determination to save this country. With our friend Hahn’s help, I shall bring them into the fold in the coming weeks.” He paused for a moment. “And when we are ready, we shall move with lightning speed to oust the moneygrubbers of Seoul and restore order.”
That won approving nods and smiles from the group. Only Min still looked troubled. “But what of the Americans? Won’t they intervene?”
Chang didn’t bother to hide his contempt. “The Americans? They’ve washed their hands of us. Now we owe them nothing. They can do nothing. And once we’ve ended these disturbances, their corporations will be back
