Just then the heavy steel entry hatch to the command car swung open, and several security guards and technicians jumped outside. One of them was shouting gleefully, “Freedom! Freedom!”
One of the guards shouted at him, “Don’t try to stop us now, lackey!” raised a pistol, and fired at Kong. He flinched as he felt the bullet whiz by his left shoulder, spun around, and threw himself on the muddy ground. He reached for his holster, finally controlling his trembling fingers enough to lift the flap and pull out his Type 68 automatic pistol. But the soldiers were long gone by the time he raised the pistol to return fire. Or had he moved slowly on purpose, hoping the security guards would think the shot had wounded him and leave? He didn’t want to think he had been cowardly… no. He was alive, and that was the most important thing.
“Attention! Attention!” Kong radioed on the walkie-talkie. “There has been an attack on Unit Twenty’s command car! All security forces, seal off the area and allow no one to leave or enter! Taepung, Taepung, please report to the Unit Twenty command car!”
Pistol raised, Kong made his way to the command car. It was wide open and completely unguarded. Cautiously, he made his way inside. There was a small chamber inside the outer hatch, big enough for two or three men. This was the chemical/biological warfare air lock and decontamination chamber that would alternately spray a soldier with decontamination fluid and then blow his body with compressed air to remove traces of toxins or radioactive fallout. He was shocked to see that the inner hatch was open too. Even after what had just happened to him, all Kong could think about was how serious a breach of security and anticontamination procedures this was — both hatches open while…
He could smell it before he saw it in the gloom of the command module. It was the stench of violent death: the putrid smell of feces and urine, the coppery smell of fresh blood, all mixed with the acid smell of gunpowder. The battery commander, his deputy commander, his noncommissioned officer in charge, and the communications technician — all were dead, still in their seats, with bullet holes in the backs of their necks just under the edge of their helmets.
“What in the name of heaven?” Colonel Cho shouted, arriving breathlessly at the command car, a Type 64 Browning pistol in his hand.
“Traitors,” Captain Kong said. “Traitors to their uniform and their fatherland. The security troops appear to have turned against us. They slaughtered the battery commander and the command car crew.”
“In the name of Tangun, help us,” moaned Colonel Cho, invoking the name of the mythical warlord of ancient Korea.
Kong saw he was frozen in confusion and said, “Sir, we must establish contact with the rest of the division immediately.” He stooped down and retrieved large silver keys from around the commander’s and deputy commander’s necks. Thankfully, the traitors hadn’t thought to remove the missile launch keys from their victims. He gave one to Cho, who held it the way a child holds a fuzzy caterpillar for the first time — both scared and fascinated. “This uprising could have been organized throughout the command,” Kong warned. “We must make contact with as many missile batteries as possible and assess our operational status.”
“I… I do not know… We must contact headquarters…”
“There is no time!” Kong shouted. “Our first priority is to preserve our missile batteries from the enemy — especially if the enemy is within our own ranks. We must contact the division.”
Cho seemed utterly bewildered. Kong ignored him and started dragging bodies out of the command car, shoving Cho out of his way as he did so. The colonel did not protest. When he finished the bloody task, Kong went back to the battery commander’s seat and got on the scrambled command net: “To all Fourth Artillery Division batteries, to all Fourth Artillery Division batteries, this is Taepung.” Again, there was no protest from Cho when he heard Kong use his call sign. “We have been attacked by traitors and spies. All brigades, report status.”
It took little time for the reports to filter in because very few units responded. Kong estimated he did not hear from one-half to two-thirds of all companies. He was stunned. More than 180 missile batteries, representing one- sixth of the offensive and defensive might of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, were off the air.
Kong soon found out why. When he switched over to the division security net, which linked the security forces of all deployed missile units, he heard: “Now is the moment to rise against your oppressors, fellow Koreans! Brothers, strike now! Your comrades to the south are moving to join you in your struggle for freedom and unity, once and forever! The borders are open, comrades! There is no longer a Demilitarized Zone. Korea is free! Korea is one! Now strike! Rise up against any who oppose peace, freedom, and unity. Strike against any, no matter what uniform or title they wear, who continue to oppress and starve their own in the name of mindless ideology. Disable all weapons of mass destruction, carry your personal weapons for self-defense, and march on the capital and bring down the repressive outlaw regime once and for all! You are not alone! Hundreds of thousands of others throughout Korea are with you!”
Captain Kong Hwan-li was horrified. Capitalist propaganda — right on the division’s security network! He switched channels to Unit Twenty’s brigade command net and heard the identical broadcast. To his astonishment, the message, obviously on a continuous-loop broadcast, was being sent over several communications networks, both secure and nonsecure.
No… not a recorded message. Several times the message was interrupted by live broadcasts. Units he could identify, all within Fourth Division — even some officers whose voices he could recognize — were reporting that they had taken control of their companies or battalions and were disabling their weapons and moving toward Pyongyang. Hundreds — no,
Kong shut off the radio. This was impossible. It had to be the South, somehow broadcasting propaganda messages on the secure division comm net and persuading the soldiers to defect or to desert their units en masse! Kong refused to believe that the soldiers were acting of their own free will, or in the hope that they might actually unify the peninsula. There had to be some hidden signal in the broadcast altering the men’s minds, brainwashing them into actually killing a superior officer and leaving a nuclear or biochemical missile on the field.
“What is happening, Captain?” Cho asked, as if awakening from a deep slumber.
“The capitalists have somehow brainwashed our soldiers into believing the borders have been thrown wide open and they should kill all the commanders and storm the capital,” Kong replied. “I heard reports that several high-ranking division officers were killed or imprisoned by the traitors.”
To Kong’s surprise, the old colonel’s shoulders started to quiver. “We must get away,” he said, sounding on the verge of tears. “We… we should take a civilian vehicle and… No, we should take a military vehicle, go cross- country, try to make it to the Ministry of Defense or to First Corps headquarters. We will find help there.” In between sobs, Kong heard him mutter, “My name… my good name… what is to become of me?… my retirement…”
Kong was repelled. All the old fool could think about was his pension and his reputation — whether his name would be remembered, forgotten, revered, or defiled in the minds of future generations.
“It might be dangerous to go to Pyongyang, sir,” Kong said. It pained him to call this man “sir.” Instead of commander of a twenty-thousand-man ballistic missile division, Cho had turned into a trembling, fearful old man. “If the reports of traitors marching on the capital are true, we won’t make it. Our best bet is to try to head north, away from the capital, to Sinuiju or even Kanggye.” Sinuiju was the capital of the province of Pyongan Pukdo; it was right on the Chinese border, and there, Kong reasoned, they would find plenty of support and help from Communist Party supporters and the Chinese Army itself. Kanggye was the capital of Chagang Do province and the headquarters of North Korea’s nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons facilities, probably the most secure and defensible base in North Korea. “If we can find an all-terrain vehicle, we can stay off the roads in case we encounter more deserters.”
“Very well, Captain,” Cho said. “Find us a suitable vehicle with fuel and weapons. And deal harshly with anyone who tries to stop you.”
Well, that was the first bit of backbone the old fart has shown in a long time. “Of course, sir,” he said. “But first, we must deactivate the missiles. Unit Twenty has one missile in its erector-launcher and one reload; Unit Seventeen is just a few kilometers away. It will be easy to—”
“No!” Cho shouted, his eyes spinning in fear. “We will leave right away!”
“Sir, we
