Authors: Scott Caladon
“Hi Cally,” said Dannielle as she strode into The Lounge looking very tall with her killer heels on.
“Hi Dannielle,” Carolyn replied. “I've been here less than five minutes and I'm starving so I've ordered a Bud Light and a double cheeseburger. Will I order you something?” she asked, clearly pleased to see her friend.
“I'll have a Bud Light too, and some ribs, medium-rare,” Dannielle said to the waitress as she sat down opposite Carolyn.
“I don't know how you stay so slim, Cally, given that your eating habits are those of a pig,” jested Dannielle.
“It's the Celtic genes, Ruski,” Carolyn spiked back. “Or maybe the two hours in the gym or out running I do every morning or the fact that big meals are few and far between in our jobs. Anyway, you're no heffalump yourself and you're more or less having the same as me!”
“Must be the Russian training camps,” said Dannielle. “I was just checking the mood you were in. Heard anything from Henry?”
“No,” said Carolyn slightly less bubbly. “At the last count Kermit still said no. Henry sent him another email but the SEAL knucklehead was adamant. No girls on tour. Jeez how that winds me up.”
“Never mind Cally, tuck into your burger and fries and let the comfort food do its work!”
They clinked their Bud glasses and Dannielle was now also tucking in. Their conversation was continuous, their laughter loud and the music lively. The two attractive women were hit on by a couple of the locals and it was difficult to judge which of them had the better fixed stare which said âon your bike'.
It was 10.20pm now, not late for two twenty-five year old civilians, but getting on for NGA officers who likely had a full day ahead. As Dannielle was sorting out her black leather clutch bag she noticed her smartphone was vibrating and flashing away.
“Dannielle, is that you? Is Reynolds with you?” It was Henry Michieta.
“Yes, it's me and yes she is,” said Dannielle.
“I've been ringing for ages. Where the hell are you? It sounds like a karaoke club on full blast, I can barely hear you,” moaned Henry.
“I'll step out for a second,” Dannielle indicated to Carolyn that she was just going outside of the restaurant to take the call. Carolyn nodded.
“OK Henry, is that better, what's up?”
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” asked Henry, who often, mistakenly, thought he was funny.
“Always the bad news first,” replied Dannielle.
“Well the bad news is that you and Reynolds are not going to North Korea.”
“That's not news, Henry,” shouted Dannielle into her phone. “We knew that already. You'd better have some bloody decent good news after that.”
“The good news is you're both on for Operation Philidor Defence. Commander O'Neill wants you based in the South, where it's safe, but close enough to hear what's going on and to be of assistance on any language issues or last minute information from satellite sweeps.” Henry was feeling like the bearer of good tidings. “You and Reynolds are booked on a flight to Seoul, where you will be met by the local CIA senior officer and he will help you set up a listening post. Your flight leaves in thirty-six hours, so sober up, get some sleep and be in my office at 7.30 tomorrow morning for the rest of the briefing.”
“Thanks Henry, we'll see you in the morning.” Dannielle hung up, strictly speaking finger slid across the smartphone, and walked back into The Lounge.
Carolyn was waiting for her, munching on a few cold fries and draining the last dregs of her Bud Light. Dannielle sat down.
“Now Cally, do you want the good news or the bad news?”
* * *
Commodore Woo-Jin Park, Lieutenant Commander Gok Han-Jik and Sunwoo Chung were standing on the longest dock of the Haeju naval base. They were admiring their work. Actually, they were admiring the work of the painters, welders and engineers of the base and Sunwoo Chung's metier. The Borei submarine looked totally different now compared to when it arrived ten days ago. The corner deflector metal plates were in position fore and aft and Sunwoo's special recipe radar deflection paint had actually changed the colour of the submarine to an even darker grey. Along with advanced rubber mountings, designed by Sunwoo, to reduce hydroacoustics and thus, any sonar ability to detect the sub's underwater location, these measures were all that Sunwoo could do. Commodore Park was delighted that this camouflage work had been completed three days ahead of Vice Admiral Goh's deadline. The Vice Admiral, himself, was delighted too and informed Park that the hundred or so submariners who would make up the Borei's crew would arrive at the Haeju base in a few days. Woo-Jin Park didn't really know what was to happen after that, but Gok Han-Jik did.
Both Park and Sunwoo knew that the lieutenant commander reported directly to Goh, what they didn't know was that he was also Kim Jong-un's cousin. The supreme leader liked to keep things in the family especially when it came to military matters. It was Gok Han-Jik who had persuaded his younger cousin that trading some of the DPRK's haul of gold reserves for a Russian nuclear sub was a good idea. The Russians didn't really need the gold, their oil wealth was staggering with light crude at over $100 per barrel. However, geopolitically, they wanted to stay friendly with Kim Jong-un. Even considering the huge cost of over $1 billion for each sub, that represented but a few weeks of oil sales for the Russian government. Russia was to receive quite a few more bars of gold in payment and their military strength was not really affected. A slam dunk trade if ever there was one. Or âhy ho' as they'd say down at the CSKA multisport arena in Moscow.
Gok turned to Park and asked how long, once the crew arrived, before the submarine would be ready to put out to sea?
“About twenty-four hours,” he replied, “maybe slightly less. Once we get the food and medical supplies on board, any other last minute equipment and brief the crew on its mission, then we're good to go.”
Gok was content. He would contact his cousin that night. While he did not know the precise intentions of Kim Jong-un regarding the submarine he did know that Kim wanted the vessel to leave the 50km exclusion zone and be in a position to fire on the DPRK's enemies. Enemies was quite a broad set when juxtaposed with the DPRK. Gok reckoned that it would not be the South. Despite all of his sabre rattling, and even if the United States did not retaliate on South Korea's behalf, their hated southern neighbours were a bit close for comfort when it came to nuclear contamination. So, either Japan or the USA were the likely targets concluded Gok. Sunwoo Chung knew which of the two he'd vote for.
* * *
Several contemporaneous travel events began that US morning of 19
th
March 2014. The stealth destroyer
USS Zumwalt
set sail from San Diego, destined for the Gulf of West Korea. If it got a shifty on it would take about six days before it could unload its only cargo, Mark O'Neill's hand-picked SEAL team. Officers Reynolds and Eagles of the NGA were on Korean Air flight KE94 from Washington Dulles to Seoul Incheon International. They would take just over fourteen hours to get to their destination. Around 110 submariners, officers, medics and the rest left several KPN bases on the east coast of North Korea, mainly Wonsan and Rason, preparing to head by land to Haeju. As the crow flies it was only 150km. The terrain to be traversed, the secrecy and the logistics of finding, informing and re-assigning all the selected crew members meant that the full complement of KPN submariners intended for Haeju would not arrive at the naval yard until the afternoon of 24
th
March.
The
USS Zumwalt
had made good progress on its journey. Three days had passed since leaving San Diego. The South Atlantic Ocean had not thrown up any severe weather issues and the forecast for the Indian Ocean, which they would be approaching soon, was fair. If the weather luck continued and if there were no change to orders the
Zumwalt
would reach its target drop off zone in just under three days' time.
The
USS Zumwalt
, named after Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, was one fine piece of engineering. Nearly every major defence contractor in the United States was involved in its construction, with Northrop Grumman and General Dynamics, at their Bath Iron Works, being the lead contractors for the hull, mechanical and nautical designs. All in, the cost of the
Zumwalt
exceeded $7 billion. Even Carlos Slim would need to think twice about having one. Total crew on board, excluding the SEALs, was in the region of 140. The ship was armed to the teeth with a total of eighty launch cells, including Sea Sparrow and Tomahawk missiles. On board were one MH-60R helicopter and three MQ-8 Fire Scout VT-UAVs. These Northrop Grumman Fire Scouts were unmanned and primarily intended for reconnaissance and precision targeting support for ground, air and sea attack forces.
Commander O'Neill sincerely hoped that none of the aircraft or indeed missiles on board would come into play on this mission. If they did then it meant that the greatest naval heist in maritime history would be a dud, a damp squib, a fucking huge embarrassment. Worse than that, the
USS Zumwalt
was the pride and joy of the navy and even with the stealth technology, attack and defence armoury on board, one SBLM direct hit from a Bulava missile launched from the target Borei submarine would disintegrate the
Zumwalt
and probably kill the entire crew. There was a lot at stake. O'Neill was mulling this over as he joined Rear Admiral Lower Half, Eugene Kaplinski, on the bridge. Given the nomenclature of the ship, O'Neill thought, in a moment of self-amusement, that the destroyer's pilot definitely had a name of equal worth.
“Commander O'Neill,” said Kaplinski in a genuine and welcoming tone. “How are your men, they seem to be relaxed enough?”
“They are well, Sir, mostly preparing for the task ahead, though one or two are becoming slightly anxious. They want to get going and get it done,” replied O'Neill.
Both officers knew that only one of them had been briefed on the details of Operation Philidor Defence. Rear Admiral Kaplinski did not mind. He was delighted to be selected as the ship's commanding officer for its first operational foray, even if it was as the world's most expensive ferry.
“We should be off the Gulf of West Korea in under three days, Commander, so your team doesn't have too much longer to be kicking their heels,” said Kaplinski reassuringly.
Below deck, the evidence seemed to support O'Neill's assessment of his team. Smith, Franks, Minchkin and Harris whiled away the hours reading, playing various card games or writing letters to loved ones back home. Use of electronic devices had been banned until the mission was complete so no phone apps or tablet based games were allowed. Billy Smith spent a lot of his time assembling, re-assembling, cleaning and checking his M14 rifle. It wasn't the newest available to the SEALs but it was the one he never missed with. While he knew that this was a mission on which his primary skill was not likely to be deployed, you never know, and in truth he wouldn't mind taking out a few gooks. Billy Smith was a good man, but he was old school, unreconstructed, non-PC.
Yang Dingbang was also checking over his weapons. His standard issue M4A1 Carbine was fine he felt, and he had a SIG Sauer P228 handgun as back-up. Most of his team mates carried a MK23 USSOCOM pistol as back-up but he preferred the feel of the SIG Sauer. Ding's equivalent to Billy Smith's affection for his sniper rifle, if such equivalent affection existed, was his knife. He packed an Ontario MK III with a rubberised indented grip and a six inch blackened blade. Ding was not really expecting to be up close and personal with any North Koreans but he was anticipating that the Borei sub was not going to be unmanned and a gun battle would be a right pig's ear of a mess.
O'Neill and Harris had already ensured that their and their team's weaponry was both adequate and efficient for the job. From handguns, rifles, knives and grenades this team was about as armed as the
Zumwalt
. After his chat with Rear Admiral Kaplinski, O'Neill headed below deck to seek out Evan Harris. The Commander was satisfied that his team were mentally and physically prepared, well-armed and ready. He needed to talk to his number two, however, about logistics and getting from the
Zumwalt
to the Borei.
It had been decided early enough in the mission's planning stage that entering Haeju naval yard by land was a non-starter. This was the correct decision thought O'Neill, too many opportunities to be spotted if they parachuted in, and too many Korean military on the ground. An approach from the sea was the only feasible option. The problem there was the DPRK's 50km exclusion zone. For sure, the
USS Zumwalt
could not gaily sail into that, it would need to be at least 100km off the coastline to avoid arousing any interest from the North Koreans. The SEALs team's normal nocturnal approach craft was the F470 Combat Rubber Raiding Craft. Realistically, two of these could carry the nine man team but conditions that far out and the limited range of this small, weaponless dinghy was a major obstacle. O'Neill and Harris had anticipated this before leaving San Diego but the approach plan needed more fleshing out.
“So, Evan,” began O'Neill. “What do ya think?”
“I think it's a bloody good job we hoisted that Mark V on board before we embarked,” replied Harris. The Mark V Special Operations Craft was the size of a patrol boat but could carry up to sixteen sailors. It was armed with heavy machine guns and grenade launchers and had a range of 500 miles. Just as important for this mission was that its angular design and low silhouette reduced its radar signature making it harder to detect and locate.
“It is, Evan, and at least we've got the new improved version,” added O'Neill. “The original MAKO could generate 20 g-force while ploughing through the waves. We'd need A&E even before we got to Haeju.”