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  “Has this information been verified?”

  Yuan smiled. “Unfortunately your government’s methods have left our intelligence gathering services without a means for such verification. However, the information has come to us. If the ships arrive, the information should prove helpful. If not, no harm should be done,” he said.

  The Korean glanced through the papers. “I will present these to my superiors,” he said.

  “We are happy to assist our comrades in Korea.”

  Chapter 12

  July 28 - Last Respite

  USS Iowa

  Sunday was a holiday routine aboard ship. Men could sleep in as long as they weren’t on watch and no ship’s activities would be accomplished until after lunch. Hammond slept until 0630 and had a quiet breakfast of cereal and coffee in his cabin. He allowed this last “holiday routine” Sunday because it would probably be just that – the last one. The ship was nearing Oahu now and, according to the plan, they were going to be joining up with additional forces. After that, they would be steaming into dangerous waters. After breakfast he took a tour of the ship.

  Every morning Hammond took some time to explore his ship, talk to the crew and in general learn as much about the ship as he could. He didn’t like that he had been forced to assume command without some time to get to know the ship and crew better, but these were extraordinary times and he had to make do. This morning, he went to the Bos’n’s locker all the way forward in the bow of the ship. Along the way he saw the orderliness in the berthing spaces, even though many were still in their beds, or racks as they were called. The decks were clean and uncluttered. Personal gear was stowed away out of sight. He checked some of the racks to make sure there was an EEBD or emergency escape breathing device in each “coffin locker,” the four by four by seven cubicle that each man was given to sleep in. The EEBDs were used as breathing hoods for the crewman to use in an emergency. Several crewmen were up either reading or talking quietly.

  As Hammond came into a compartment, the men stood out of respect and greeted him. Mayor Crowell had been right. There was eagerness in their eyes. They seemed very glad to see their captain and anxious to please. This was a little different from his first command. On that ship he had been greeted with respect but aloofness. They acted as if somehow they really didn’t care if he came or went. Hammond found himself wondering what was really making this difference. Strangely enough he had felt the difference himself since he came aboard. This ship’s personality was different from all the others. Many people scoffed at the idea, but each ship Hammond had been on was a little different – not in function, but in attitude. He wondered if this personality changed with each successive generation that served aboard. It would be something to watch.

  Passing through First Division berthing he heard some angry shouts from the other side of a watertight door on the forward bulkhead. It sounded as if Boats Patnaude was in his element.

  “I don’t give a fuck if it is Sunday. You peckerheads wanted tradition, well goddamnit I’m giving you some. Just bring that shit up out of there before I shove my foot up your ass!” Hammond heard Boats yell. He hesitated opening the door for a moment but went in anyway.

  “And that sand has to come up too!” Patnaude yelled down a hatch. There was already a large pile of what looked like cement bricks piled up on the deck with a large stack of poles.

  “What’s up Boats?” Hammond asked.

  Patnaude turned and smiled at the Captain. “Just getting ready for a little evolution this afternoon, Captain. These dipshits have been asking for months what we do with all this shit, so I thought this would be the day to show ‘em,” he said. Several of the others were working in their T-shirts passing up bags of sand. Others were bringing in more of the bricks.

  “When are you going to start?”

  “At 1400, Captain. Gives us time to get all these guys through chow and into the heat of the day. Since we have to wet the decks, it’ll be a nice break. I got all of Deck Department and Weapons going to take part. Should be real interesting,” Boats said with a sly grin.

  “I believe it will. I may even come join you.”

  “The more the merrier.”

  Hammond laughed. “In the mean time, can someone show me the windlass gear? I want to see what we have.”

  “Right this way, Captain,” Boats said leading the way farther forward. The rest of the tour took only about 20 minutes as Patnaude led him through the finer points of the anchor windless gear and all the other equipment in the locker.

  Shortly afterward, Hammond was firmly ensconced in his chair on the bridge going over the message traffic. His thoughts were interrupted by an announcement over the 1MC:

  “Good morning, everyone, this is Father Danner. Roman Catholic Mass will be held on the 0-1 level port side beside turret two at 1100. So bring your sunscreen, sunglasses, and shower shoes to the 0-1 level port side and join us for services.”

  Hammond almost laughed as a very old gentleman in a captain’s uniform placed the microphone back in its holder. He had a twinkle in his eyes as he said good morning to the Captain and then headed down for Mass. Father Danner had been aboard back in the 80s and had been a very popular member of the crew. He had come out of retirement to be a spiritual leader for those who desired it onboard the ship. In the few days Hammond had known him, Danner had been not only an able priest, but an able officer; reliable and dedicated to the ship and crew. His advice, on the few occasions needed, was insightful and conservative. Hammond could only imagine what the Mass would be like. After a few moments he walked over to the bridge windows on the port side and looked down on the assembled men. They were standing loosely in front of a small table Danner had set up. He was leading them in prayer along with two assistants. An altar kit was there to serve communion. After the short prayer, Danner was speaking to the gathered crewmen. He glanced up, saw the Captain watching, and flashed a smile and a quick wink. Hammond chuckled to himself. That was Danner.

  Lunch was really a brunch for most. They served until 1300 and then everything was quiet for about an hour. At that time “all hands” was piped and Deck and Weapons departments were mustered on the fo’c’sle. Hammond left the bridge to watch. He walked up the starboard side main deck and listened to the Bos’n as he gave the instructions.

  “Damn it, I told everybody not to wear shoes or socks up here this afternoon. I have a good reason when I say something. It’s not like I like flappin’ my gums! After we get through with this I want the rest of you shitheads to get them shoes off so we can get to work!” He grabbed one of the cement looking bricks. There was a partial hole in one side of it. “OK, you guys want to be real battleship sailors? Well, here’s your chance. Any of you fuckheads know what this is? It’s a holystone,” he said holding it up high. “You will notice there is a place on one side that looks like something some of you guys might want to stick your dick in. Well, don’t be getting’ any ideas. It’s to stick the end of a swab handle into. Today we are going to take part in a 400 year old, time honored tradition of holystoning a deck. What this shit was used for was keeping the wooden decks clean and bright. So listen up and we will go over how you do it,” he said starting his lecture.

  Patnaude carefully demonstrated how to wet the deck, throw sand on it, and then, standing in a line shoulder to shoulder move the holystone back and forth along a single plank for several sweeps and then move to the next. Within 30 minutes the hoses were dousing the main decks and sand was everywhere. Lines of men took hold of their broom handles and inserting them into the hole in the holystone, began moving together as teams sanding down the decks. As the lines of men moved the stones from plank to plank, water was splashed on the deck where they had finished, sometimes drenching the crewmen and making the task much more pleasant. At first the job went slow, but as the men got the hang of it, they began working as well oiled teams. As they moved across the decks, you could see the difference in the before and after portions.

  After t
hree hours the main deck was completed. The wooden decks sparkled and Bos’n had all the gear struck below. He had given the men something to talk about and tell the folks. Hammond watched the procedure and as the men were putting the gear away he walked over to Patnaude. “Boats, I’d seen this stuff in movies but never thought I’d see this in person. Nice job.”

  “Not a problem, Captain. Been wanting to pull that shit out anyway, just to say we did it. Now we can forget about it.”

  “What do you mean forget about it? Don’t you have to do this every so often?”

  Patnaude eased up and spoke in a more hushed tone. “Actually Captain, there’s a citric acid bath we use to do the same thing. You fill a shit can with one container of the powder and water. It gets the deck just as clean looking by just swabbing the deck,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Hammond started to laugh. “Oh, they’re going to hate you.”

  Boats huffed. “Like I give a shit. They better be glad I don’t have ‘em doing this shit every week,” he said with a grin. Several of the Deck Department Chiefs were standing around him with huge smiles on their faces. Obviously they were in on it.

  “I defer to your wisdom,” Hammond said. “See you later, guys,” he said as he turned and made his way aft.

  Pyongyang, North Korea

  “Congratulations, Comrade Chairman,” beamed Minister Lu Chen. “I have just received news the enemy stronghold of Seoul has fallen.”

  Kim Sung Nua sprang from his seat with the news. His face wore a broad smile. Lu Chen had not seen a smile on the Chairman’s face since a few weeks after the campaign started. “This is good, Comrade Minister. It seems our forces will be able to achieve a victory,” Kim said with an only slightly biting tone.

  Lu Chen bowed slightly. It was not good to spoil such information. “The word just reached us that our forces broke through and forced the remaining enemy back to the sea. It appears that once we had the upper hand, they fell like a house of cards,” he said reassuringly. The last of the American forces have been rounded up and are being sent to our prisoner of war camps. Our political officers are already beginning the process of unification with the population.”

  The Chairman looked at the man with a gleeful eye. The capture of larger numbers of Americans would be a major bargaining chip at the conclusion of the war. It could bring in money, equipment and other things necessary for his government. It could also be used if the tides of war changed. “What about the air base south of the city?”

  “It too is in our hands. Our nuclear strike disabled their planes so they could not be used, as you know. Unfortunately, the Americans destroyed the remaining planes, equipment, and ammunition before they fell back. The good news is that the base remains intact. We should be able to land our planes on it today,” Lu Chen emphasized. He knew the Chairman wanted a few of the planes serviceable for additional trading chips in dealing with China. “I have already given orders to concentrate our forces on the southern air bases in a move which should allow us to obtain some of their aircraft.”

  Kim smiled again. At least the man was making the effort, he thought. He held up a finger to emphasize the point. “Just remember it is politically imperative we obtain copies of the American designs so that we may share our discoveries with our communist allies,” he said forcefully but while smiling. Then the smile vanished. “Now when will we achieve a final victory?”

  Lu Chen knew this was coming and he was prepared, but he still began to sweat. “Very soon now, Comrade Chairman. Our forces are within thirty miles of Pusan as we speak. Each day we gain more and more ground. Our forces are now markedly superior in numbers and each day our enemies are becoming weaker. I shifted efforts more toward the western half of the country so we may subdue their airfields quickly, but that will mean we have the chance to sweep around them from the west instead of from the north. We hold them in one place, while we stab them in the side. The only thing left to do is allow them to bleed,” he said confidently.

  Of course he didn’t allow any part of his report to dwell on the horrendous casualties the North had suffered along the way. They had lost nearly 200,000 men in the campaign so far and the progress was being paid through the deaths of thousands more. He also didn’t mention that none of his submarines had returned after beginning operations and some of his airplanes were not returning to base.

  The worst part was the loss of their armor. At the beginning of the campaign it was decided to use the older equipment first, saving the newer machines for future operations. They deployed over 400 of the old Soviet T-34s they had in inventory. While the trusty tank had been the mainstay of the Soviet Union during the Great Patriotic War, they did little more than protect the soldiers inside from the bullets of ordinary guns. More modern artillery and hand held rockets went through the old machines as if they were made of paper. Out of the 400 deployed, less than one quarter of them were still serviceable.

  Lu Chen needed to leave on a higher note. “One thing I have been able to do, Comrade Chairman, is to have our scientists and engineers go through the air base we overran and start bringing out parts, materials, and intelligence that was not destroyed. Even the remains of the aircraft are valuable for intelligence purposes. Once everything has been gathered, I will provide a report of what we have and its importance. You may do with the information as you wish for the glory of our nation,” he said bowing slightly.

  The Chairman thought about it a moment. Yes, that would be a good thing. Anything he could provide that the Chinese had not been able to obtain would be leveraged in the future. He smiled again. “Very good, Comrade Minister. And to share our joy over the fall of Seoul, we shall have a celebration in the Capital. There shall be military parades, fireworks, and feasting. You shall join me in the reviewing stand,” he said. Now send in my secretary so the Party may begin its celebration plans.”

  “Yes, Comrade Chairman,” Lu Chen said as he saluted and quickly left the office. The fall of Seoul had been a blessing in that it put the Chairman in a good mood and he was able to forget the endless delays in completing the campaign. This celebration could be a nice diversion. It might mean pulling some troops back for the parades and the expenditure of several weeks’ worth of food rations, but his people needed a slight break anyway. He would hold on the southern advance and shift units west to sweep around the lower half of the peninsula. The planned capture of the Kunsan Air Base would bring the Chairman more happiness culminating in the final downfall of enemy opposition. The objective was now in sight and he was reaching for it.

  In the Waters Off South Korea

  The giant ships arrived on station late in the evening. Their arrival was not marked with any fanfare, signals, or even a wave from some passing sailor. Instead it was met with total silence, which was what these ships had been built for. Originally, they were supposed to lie deep and await a signal that would spell Armageddon for any nation that opposed them, but over the years their mission changed. Like the battleships of old, their names represented states of the Union; in this case, Ohio and Michigan. In the early part of the century they had been overhauled and remodeled to serve in a new function. Instead of carrying submarine-launched ballistic missiles, these updated ships carried 157 conventional or nuclear tipped cruise missiles each. The two ships had been at sea when the EMP took down the rest of their sisters. Now they were on station and ready to show that, although hurt, the United States could still bloody a nose.

  In each control room, the exercises were run again and again so there would be no flaws in the launches. Timing was crucial. The plan was everything would happen at once. Launches were backed down to fit the schedule. Although the Global Positioning Systems in the Tomahawk cruise missiles were no longer functioning since the satellites were silent, the terrain mapping functions for the missiles was working perfectly. The targets had already been fed into the missiles with only a few untargeted to be used for new opportunities.

  Now it was time for the Ohio’s to do
what they did best – look like a hole in the ocean. Each ship settled within a sector they were assigned and waited. One was on the east coast, the other on the west. When the time came, they would pull almost a reverse of what the North Koreans had done just four months earlier.

  Inchon Harbor

  A little over 200 miles away Lieutenant Ross Turner was completing a little task of his own. The leader of a small contingent of SEAL Team Six, he had been assigned the task of clearing the mines out of Wonson harbor. It had taken days to completely map out his targets. The problem wasn’t the sharks, murky water, or reduced visibility. Quite the contrary, the water was surprisingly clear – so clear that there was danger of being seen either from a plane or from shore. That meant they had to dive in the evenings or at night. That wasn’t so much of a problem except that it was difficult to find the targets in the dark. They didn’t dare risk using lights.

  Chief Pullam came up with an idea shortly after they arrived. Using a thin line strung between two divers, they made their way through the deep water until the divers felt something snag the line. Then both men cautiously came together until they were confronted with their target – a contact mine. The North Koreans had dropped more than 100 of the things in the waters off Inchon at the sea entrance to Seoul. If anyone was to get in or out, the mines would have to be cleared. Turner and five other men were assigned the task to do just that. He waited as Petty Officer Byron placed the plastic charge against the bottom of the mine and attached a detonator. The detonator was hooked to a small black box. Once everything was secure, Turner used his fingers to make sure everything was set, then the men swam off, spread the line and began the process all over again. The next mine was about 100 yards away on a bearing of 275 degrees according to the chart they made earlier in the week.