with the consequences of that decision. But the only way to ensure that this conflict does not spread into a global thermonuclear war is if all outside countries stand aside, defend themselves, and let the battle in Korea go on. If the South is destroyed — well, they started the fight, and hopefully they can deal with the consequences.”
Martindale did not even bring up what might happen if the North lost the fight — the idea that North Korea’s three-to-one numerical advantage over the South would fail to protect them was inconceivable. South Korea’s military was supposed to be defensive only in both size and composition — it was almost laughable to imagine the South capable of more than knocking out a few key bases or weapons sites, then withdrawing to its own borders. It would have to preserve its forces, reorganize, and await the North’s counteroffensive, hoping the Americans would step in to back them up.
“You will not support your allies the South Koreans?” President Primakov asked incredulously. “If they beg and plead for your help in the face of a massive North Korean onslaught, will you not defend them?”
“I can’t say what we’ll do, Mr. President,” Martin-dale replied. “But the South Koreans have engineered this conflict without consulting us. It is an act of aggression that we do not encourage, support, or condone. I want to preserve the peace and stability of Asia. If it is in our best interests to act, we’ll act.”
It was a flimsy response, wishy-washy, and Kevin Martindale knew it. But there was no way to answer Primakov’s question without giving away more than he wanted to. He was trying not to provoke any of the superpowers while at the same time show that the United States still considered the region of vital American national interest. It was very possible that he failed to convince any of them of anything.
What was President Kwon Ki-chae thinking? Martindale wondered. Had he lost his mind, sending in a few fighter-bombers to destroy North Korea’s million-man army? He had to know he would have to absorb some punishment — he could not be so stupid as to believe he could destroy all of the North’s missile punch in one blitzkrieg air raid. If he was expecting the Americans to come to his aid no matter what, he was dead wrong to have assumed that.
“Brave but cautious words,” Russian President and former KGB chief Yevgeniy Primakov said finally, through his translator. “You ask for peace but give us a veiled threat at the same time. You are willing to sacrifice a few thousand soldiers, hoping you can prevent several hundred thousand Chinese soldiers from sweeping down into the Korean peninsula to help the North.”
“What are you saying, Mr. President?” Chinese Defense Minister Chi asked. “Are you saying that China is in any way supporting this war? We are not, sir! We have had no information whatsoever that the North was going to launch a nuclear attack, and we certainly did not provoke the South into sending in those fighter-bombers over Pyongyang! But if our comrades in North Korea request our assistance, we have an obligation to render any assistance we deem necessary.”
“Then you condemn all of us to nuclear war!” Prime Minister Nagai shouted. “Such a response will surely require an equal response from the Americans, which will trigger a response from the Russians, which will trigger a bigger response from the Americans. We must all pledge to stay out of the fighting on the Korean peninsula. No one must interfere.”
“This we cannot agree to,” Minister Chi responded. “I will convey this conversation to my government, but I will advise President Jiang to support our comrades in North Korea and abide by our treaties of mutual cooperation, friendship, and defense. If the North asks for our assistance, I will recommend that we extend all necessary support, including full military support. We shall consider an attack on North Korea by the South as an attack on the People’s Republic of China itself.” And Minister Chi hung up.
“Insane. This is truly insane,” came the voice of President Primakov’s translator. “I am afraid Russia has no choice but to prepare to respond to the threat before us, Mr. President. We no longer have a treaty of mutual aid and cooperation with North Korea, but my government would not look favorably upon any superpower invasion of the North. A Chinese mobilization and ground counteroffensive into North Korea is no great concern to us. But if China commits its air or missile forces in a way that threatens Russian bases or nationals, or if the United States chooses to engage China on the Korean peninsula, we must respond in kind.”
“And Japan would not look favorably upon any Russian mobilization of any kind,” Prime Minister Nagai said hotly. “Our forces may be small and insignificant compared to all others, but we will fight to the last man to preserve our homeland from the forces that now ravage the Korean peninsula. With or without America’s help, we will fight back.”
“I implore all of you, hold your anger and your military forces in check until we can analyze the outcome of the fight between the two Koreas—” But it was too late. Primakov and Nagai had also terminated their calls.
President Martindale set down his receiver, then leaned back in his seat, mentally and emotionally exhausted. He had laid everything on the table, he thought. He promised to do nothing. But he received no reciprocal promises in return. Quite the opposite: Chi Haotian was virtually promising he’d send in the Red Army to help North Korea. Any such move would trigger a response in Russia, just as it did in 1950 when North Korea invaded the South. What was next? he thought. And how soon before…?
“Mr. President, something’s happening,” Secretary of Defense Arthur Chastain said. He was monitoring reports coming in from the Pentagon, which was receiving real-time radar and satellite data from American reconnaissance assets over Korea. “The border, the DMZ, it’s being crossed. Massive movement south along all sectors.”
“God,” said Martindale. It was happening, he thought grimly. The North Koreans were invading. Soon the South would retaliate; the Chinese Red Army would surge southward…
CHAPTER FIVE
Bullrider, this is Avalanche, outlaw at zero-three-zero bull’s-eye, one hundred and twenty miles slowly descending from angels two-three-zero, speed three hundred and seventy knots, repeat, three-seven-zero. Right turn to zero-one-zero, take angels two-three to intercept.”
The pilot of the lead U.S. Air Force F-15C Eagle air superiority fighter, from the 366th Wing at Mountain Home Air Force Base, Idaho, started a turn to the northeast and keyed his throttle-mounted mike button: “Roger, Avalanche. Bullrider’s in the turn.” He took a quick look out the right side of his canopy to be sure his wingman in another F-15 fighter was starting his rejoin.
Pretty damned strange, the lead F-15 pilot thought. The B-1B bomber crews must be playing it safe, or else they were getting soft. The Nellis range complex was open, and they were within the time allotted for the fighter intercept exercise, so this must be their target. But what was he doing just starting his descent to low altitude? Most bomber guys were already low, or at least screaming hell-bent for the ground whenever fighters were nearby. He was going slow too — way too slow.
These Guard guys from Reno were supposed to be the most successful, most outrageous bomber unit in the business. Their recent accident, the pilot surmised, must’ve softened them up a little. The 366th Wing was an Air Expeditionary Wing, with a mix of several different aircraft — F-16s, F-15s, F-15E bombers, KC-135R tankers, and B-1B bombers — all located at one base, ready to deploy and fight as a team. The fighter guys from Idaho knew bomber tactics, knew what a Bone could do. So far, these Guard guys from Nevada weren’t showing them much.
“Hey, lead, what do you think?” the F-15 pilot’s wingman radioed.
“I think we got a faker,” the lead pilot responded immediately. They were thinking alike, the way a good hunter-killer team should. He had heard of Air National Guard guys decoying themselves by bringing their KC-135 aerial refueling tankers all the way to the range complex and having them fly the inbound strike routing, buying precious time for the bombers to sneak in low at very high speed to try to make it to their targets. “Avalanche, Bullrider. You got any low targets entering the range complex? We think we got a faker up high.”
“Stand by, Bullrider,” Avalanche, the controller aboard the E-3C AWACS (Airborne Warning and Control System) radar plane, replied. There was a long pause; then: “Bullrider, this is Avalanche, we’re clean. Negative contact on any other bogeys at this time.”
That wasn’t definitive. A B-1 was hard to see when it was flying really low; visual contour at two hundred
