Battle Born

was going to continue arguing, so he quickly added, “Sir, all I have to do is activate the missile’s thermal battery without processing a launch command. In just over five minutes, the battery will discharge, the missile’s onboard computer will be rendered useless, and no one will be able to launch it. The battery cannot be recharged — the missile must be completely dismantled to charge the battery. Impossible to do in the field. It is the fastest way to keep a live missile out of enemy hands, so it cannot readily be used against us.”

Cho still looked dazed. Deciding to act, Kong jumped off the deck of the command car to head for the launcher. He heard a weak “Wait, Hwan!” behind him — the first time that he could remember Colonel Cho using his given name — but kept moving. Gunshots cracked behind him. He hunched down automatically and dodged left toward the side of the command car for cover, then turned. The shots were coming from Colonel Cho — the idiot was shouting and firing at the sky! Kong couldn’t tell what he was yelling over the noise of the gunshots and the roar of fighter jets…

Fighter jets! Kong looked up to where Cho was blasting away just as a small, sleek, single-engine fighter roared overhead. To Kong’s shock, it was not a Chinese or Soviet-made fighter — it was an American-made F-16 fighter-bomber! It was low enough for Kong to see it was heavily laden with all sorts of external weapons; he could make out two large fuel tanks, two large missiles, racks of smaller gravity weapons, smaller missiles on the wings, jammer pods or datalink pods under the fuselage, and smaller missiles on the wingtips. Seconds later several more F-16s that looked similarly equipped streaked by a few miles farther east. The jets were flying no more than a few thousand feet above the ground — but well out of range of Colonel Cho’s futile pistol shots.

Of course, Kong knew exactly what they were — they were well briefed on South Korean military hardware: F-16C/Js, the capitalists’ newest and most formidable weapon system. Each one carried two antiradar missiles that would home in and destroy surface-to-air missile-tracking radars. They also carried cluster bombs to destroy the missile launchers or any other soft targets they might encounter. Once their air-to-ground weapons were expended, each F-16C/J could transform into an air superiority fighter, with its 20-millimeter cannon and two radar-guided and two heat-seeking air-to-air missiles. The fuel tanks gave the F-16 very good range and loiter time.

But what Kong found most disturbing in the sighting was that all the F-16s still had all of their antiradar missiles onboard. They were over a hundred miles north of the Demilitarized Zone — they had probably overflown the capital, Pyongyang! — yet they had not fired their antiradar missiles. How was it possible for all those enemy fighters to fly so deep into North Korea yet not have to fire one attack missile or drop a single bomb?

Then came several loud explosions in the distance. He’d jumped the gun — the F-16s were indeed attacking. Kong didn’t know what the target was, but it appeared to be on the main base itself, on the west side — possibly division headquarters. From the sound, they were using five-hundred-or thousand-pound bombs, not cluster munitions. It was almost certainly the headquarters building. Cut off the communications, and the division was instantly deaf, dumb, and blind. They could easily…

Wait. What if all communications weren’t yet cut off? Just because the division’s comm nets were being disrupted by the traitors didn’t mean the entire People’s Army defense network was shut down! There might still be a chance…

Kong ran back to the command car. He had tried all the division nets, trying to communicate with the brigades and battalions and assess the status of the division. He never tried “Fire Dragon.” Fire Dragon was the nationwide command channel direct to People’s Army headquarters in Pyongyang and rebroadcast throughout the country by extreme low-frequency transmitters that were immune to the electromagnetic pulse generated by nuclear explosions. Fire Dragon had one main purpose: to transmit the execution order for a nuclear, chemical, or biological warfare attack.

As he suspected, Fire Dragon was still on the air — and it was indeed in use. Kong heard a long string of letters and numbers. He pulled out a decoding book, listened, and waited. He must not start copying a coded message until he was sure he was copying from the beginning. When he heard the words “All units, all units, I say again…” he started copying. At the end of the long message, he pulled out the decoder documents, found the proper date-time group page, and began decoding.

As he suspected, it was an execution order. Pyongyang was ordering its forces to attack. The decoded message contained the launch order, a launch authenticator code for the computer — and a warhead fusing enable code. The order was simple: all units, all weapons, fire at will, reload, fire at will, reload, fire at will. He hurriedly rechecked his work, but he had done hundreds of launch decoding exercises and had never made a mistake with such a deadly, dreadful task.

Kong retrieved the commander’s checklist. He wiped out all awareness of the stench of death and the treason he had heard, and set to work. The panel was undamaged, and full power came on instantly.

Moments later Colonel Cho came running into the command car. “The missile! The missile!” he screeched. “The launcher has been raised! It appears to be in firing position!”

“It is in firing position, old man,” Kong said. With a shaky finger, he dialed in the launch authenticator code. It was immediately accepted, and the three-minute countdown commenced. He also immediately received a fault message, telling him the hatch to the command car was open — as a safety measure, the computer would not process a launch until the command car was secure. The countdown would continue, but if the command car wasn’t secure, no launch would take place, and after five minutes the missile would dud itself. “Come in and close the door, Colonel,” he ordered.

“What are you doing, Captain?”

“I am preparing to launch my missile,” Kong replied. “I have received a valid launch order. I intend to launch all of Unit Twenty’s missiles, then proceed to all of the units I can find and launch their weapons too.”

“I ordered you to find me a vehicle so we can escape to Kanggye,” Cho said. “Forget about firing the missile. That is not our responsibility.”

“Our nation is under attack, Colonel,” Kong shot back. “I have received a valid launch message, and I intend to carry it out. I need you in the deputy commander’s seat, Colonel. You must help me launch the missiles. Just do as I tell you and—”

“And I order you to stop this nonsense and find me a vehicle!”

In a fit of rage, Kong leaped out of his seat, grabbed Cho, punched him in the stomach, threw him into the deputy commander’s seat on the other side of the console, then closed and latched both hatches. Only momentarily did he feel a flash of regret and shame for striking or even touching a superior officer and an elder — acts that went against everything Koreans were taught from birth. But this nation’s survival and defense were more important than the whinings of a gutless old man.

“Colonel, you must — you will help me carry out the attack order,” Kong said. He inserted the commander’s and deputy commander’s launch keys into the locks, then pulled Cho up so his face was right next to the key switch. “When I give the word, you will turn the launch key. You must do it at the same instant as I do, within a fraction of a second, or the missile will dud itself.” After the countdown was initiated, as a security and safety measure the keys had to be turned within two seconds of T minus zero, and they had to turn simultaneously. Launch crews spend time every week practicing this procedure. It was very unlikely that this whimpering old man on the verge of a breakdown could do it properly.

Cho, half collapsed against his seat, sobbed like a child. “Do you understand, Colonel?” No response. Kong pulled out his sidearm and aimed it at Cho’s head. “Do it, Colonel, or I will put a bullet in your brain and end your miserable, cowardly life right now.”

“I can’t… I won’t do it,” a weeping Cho protested. “I want to get out of here. I want to go home…”

“Your home—our home — is being destroyed by the capitalists and their American puppet masters right now,” Kong shouted. “The only way to save our homeland is to stop the South, and the only way to stop them is with our missiles. Now put your hand on the key and turn it when I give you the signal!”

“No! No, I cannot—”

“I will kill you if you do not do as I say!” Kong burst out, the muzzle of the gun quivering. “Put your hand on that key!”

“Kill me!” Cho shouted. “Kill me! If I cannot go home, you may as well end my miserable life right now!”

Twenty seconds to go. Time was running out. Kong had only one thing left to try. “Sir, I neglected to tell you,” he said, his voice now calm and soothing. “Headquarters left a message for you. They are ready to award you a fine pension and recognize your value to the fatherland. They are going to retire you with full military honors, sir.”

“A… a pension?” Cho said weakly, finally turning toward Kong. “A full pension? Upon my retirement?” Color