Captain Curtis, after a few moments of thought, made up his mind and turned to the helmsman. “Steer course two-seven-zero. Speed fifteen. Make your depth 400.” He was not going to give up just yet; he would continue searching until they reached the western end of the Puerto Rico Trench. Glancing at the data screens one more time, he swung to the XO. “Lieutenant, we’re staying with it until we reach the Navidad Bank, then we head home.” He paused, awaiting a reply that never came. “I’m taking a break; you have the conn.”
37
Ryder soon reached the fire-fight and quickly took in the scene from a raised earth mound behind the North Koreans’ position. He could make out clearly four green-helmeted soldiers returning fire, together with eight dead and two dogs scattered amongst the trees and rocks. From the number of dead, he was concerned that Bom, Chol and Grace were on the receiving end. Scanning the area for more North Koreans, he saw none and came to a decision: he would attempt to take out the four below and hope they were the last.
Ryder set the AK-47 rifle for a single shot operation and quickly lined up the soldier furthest away. Squeezing the trigger, he watched the soldier slump over his rifle. Moving a few yards to his left so the next target gave a clearer shot, he fired and the man too collapsed into a heap. If it was Bom and Chol returning fire, they were doing a good job pinning the last two down. Suddenly the two soldiers rolled away from their position and started to retreat straight towards where Ryder hid. He fired immediately, dropping the nearest and then swung the AK towards the other, now almost upon him, and pulled the trigger. The rifle jammed. The Korean saw him and raised his weapon, but before he could pull the trigger, Ryder lunged at him with his knife, stabbing the man through the throat and killing him instantly.
Silence descended over the wooded area and Ryder waited to see who would emerge from the undergrowth. After a few minutes, he could wait no longer and whistled a bird call he knew the others would recognize.
Bom, wedged behind a rock not far from Grace, listened to the silence. Why had they stopped firing? Were the Koreans regrouping? Had they run out of ammunition? Then he heard the call.
Bom could hardly believe his ears; the boss and Song were supposed to be miles away. Returning the call, he waited, and then it came back. He and Chol ran to where Grace lay and found the doctor as they had left her.
Ryder emerged from the undergrowth and greeted the group, relieved to see all had come through the fire-fight. He quickly told them about the helicopter, including what happened on the ridge, urging them all to move out fast.
As dusk began to engulf the forest, Chol and Bom carried the stretcher and followed Ryder back to the helicopter. He hoped like hell that nothing had happened to Song in the meantime. He couldn’t believe their luck at commandeering this aircraft, which gave renewed hope of getting the fuck out of this place and back to safety.
They had almost reached the edge of the clearing when a sudden burst of gunfire sent them to the ground. Ryder frantically searched for the source; eventually he saw a handful of soldiers between the trees bearing down.
Alerted by the gunfire, Song instantly gunned the helicopter into life. As the blades began to whirl, he gradually opened the throttle and held it ready for immediate lift-off.
Ryder faced a dilemma: if they made a dash for the helicopter, they could all be mowed down; maintaining a rear guard to hold the Koreans back would give them a chance, but that unlucky person would have little, or no, chance of escaping. He came to a decision.
“Go for it! I’ll hold for as long as I can,” he shouted over the gunfire.
No one moved; they kept on firing.
“That’s an order!” Ryder screamed.
Bom took one end of the stretcher, expecting Chol to take the other, but he didn’t.
Ryder continued firing at the same time reaching for the vials.
Chol turned to Ryder and shouted into his ear, “You go! I’ll hold them! You’re Caucasian, Frank. If you get captured or if you die, they’ll use you any way they can to discredit the West. I’m Korean; if I get captured in this uniform, they’ll think I’m just another insurgent. Get the fuck outta here, now! GO! GO! GO!”
Ryder knew Chol was right; bullets whizzed all around them and there was no time to argue. Gripping the stretcher, he and Bom hurried for the craft, now hovering a few feet off the ground.
Within seconds they reached the passenger door safely, hoisted Grace through, then bundled themselves inside amidst a hail of bullets. Despite the peppering, Ryder ordered Song to hold back in case Chol was behind. After waiting for what seemed a lifetime, he failed to show; they could wait no longer. Reluctantly, Ryder gave the order and Song immediately sent the helicopter soaring up into the darkening sky, banked sharply when they had sufficient height and headed southeast. As they rose, they watched soldiers rush out into the clearing still firing. Chol had held them back just long enough and presumably had paid with his life.
Dan Song flew the helicopter with confidence, hugging the treetops to avoid radar detection to the rendezvous beach, a journey that would take less than an hour at this altitude and at full speed, provided they did not encounter hostile aircraft.
Dumping the two dead Korean pilots shortly after take-off, Ryder and Bom allowed themselves to relax just a little. Song fought with the aircraft’s controls whilst Grace floated in and out of consciousness. Ryder knew the respite would be short-lived; the Korean air-force would be alerted by now, but he hoped and prayed they would have difficulty locating them in these mountains and in the darkness, which had now fully descended. He did his best to comfort Grace in the turbulence. She had suffered in the last two days. Soon, he hoped, she would be back on the submarine where proper medical attention could be given. Mouth dry, mind whirling, Ryder wondered if the Queen’s shilling was worth it. He would have given anything at that moment to be in his local with a pint and a fag.
The helicopter bucked and weaved as it swept through wooded valleys just above the treetops. Song showed his skill at the controls as he flew low across dark open spaces and above rocky outcrops. The roar of the engines drowned out everything else as they flew over dimly-lit townships, unlit villages and across moonlit rivers following a precarious and erratic route towards the southeast and the rendezvous beach. They all hoped and prayed their luck would hold out.
Eventually they saw the pale glow of the ocean not far in the distance and Ryder began to really believe they would make it to safety; everything looked good for a swift, orderly extraction. Then, with only minutes to go before landing, luck finally did run out.
“Hostiles! Nine o’clock!” Song shouted.
Ryder and Bom looked urgently out of the port windows and watched in horror as two helicopters swept over the darkened line of the nearest foothills and headed towards them in a blaze of light.
“Land! Land! Land!” Ryder screamed, fearing a missile at any moment.
Seconds later, Song cut the engines and skilfully landed the helicopter in some dense bush almost at the beach front.
Ryder and Bom hit the ground running before taking up defensive positions behind scattered rocks several yards away from the aircraft.
The ‘homers’ were then activated. Ryder prayed the sub was not too far out at sea and would respond quickly. Song, now out of the cockpit, threw his gear and weapons to the ground. With Ryder’s help, he lifted Grace out and gently placed the stretcher amongst the dense bush. Ryder felt for the vaccine vials safe inside his clothing, reassuring himself that they had not been damaged. Then the two of them took up a defensive position amongst the rocks, hoping that rescue would be soon. In the meantime, they would just have to hold their ground until the cavalry arrived.