While most of his entourage waited to one side, the president reviewed the honor guard, made up of special forces troops that had taken part in the assault on the missile complex, then greeted the generals, arranged in order of rank: Sohn, Tae, and Kwon.
An greeted Sohn warmly, and had a lengthy conversation with Tae, and beamed as he acknowledged Kwon’s salute. Rhee might be the hero of the hour, but everybody knew who Rhee worked for.
After speaking with Kwon for a few minutes, An nodded in agreement. He walked back to stand next to General Sohn. The band struck up the “Arirang Nation” march, and the different staffs quickly rearranged themselves while the general strode to a nearby podium. He barked out a short command. In time with the martial music, a new group of individuals marched onto the landing pad, forming a neat line facing the dignitaries. The commentator announced the name of each one.
Once they were in position, the president stepped in front of the podium and Sohn called out, “Colonel Rhee Han-gil, front and center.”
While Rhee crossed the distance in front of the podium, General Sohn read, “For considerable skill in executing the attack on the Sukchon missile complex, and displaying exceptional leadership and conspicuous bravery during the action, Colonel Rhee Han-gil is awarded the Taeguk Cordon, First Class.” A staffer produced the decoration and handed it to the president, who pinned it on the colonel.
Standing at one end of the line, Kevin tried not to smile too broadly as Rhee received Korea’s highest military honor. One was supposed to maintain proper decorum at these events. Rhee’s deputy was next. Then several enlisted soldiers who had done some extraordinary things during the fight. As the sole American, he was okay with being last.
There was a reception after the awards ceremony in the mess tent, which had been decorated with oversize Korean flags and the insignia of the Ninth Special Forces Brigade. Curiously, a DPRK flag, somewhat tattered, occupied a place of honor. It was a trophy that been taken from the missile complex before it was destroyed, and was headed straight to a museum after today’s festivities.
There were two crowds in the tent — one surrounding Rhee and the other at the refreshment table. It had been hot under the sun, and Kevin decided rehydration had priority. His rank as well as his recent award gave him an edge, and he managed to redeploy with a cool drink to a quieter part of the tent.
General Tae had chosen the same tactic, and when he saw Kevin approaching, he smiled broadly and offered his hand. “Congratulations on your award, Colonel.”
“And to you on your success at the airfield, General. It’s much better to have you as an ally than as an opponent.”
Tae acknowledged the remark with a raised glass, then quietly asked, “But will America be an ally to all of Korea? The North was your enemy for over seventy years.”
“Americans were always able to distinguish the Kim government from the Korean people.” Little shrugged. “If you want to take the long view, when the peninsula was divided in 1945, the Soviets promised to hold elections in the north. That never happened, and the first Kim came to power. Now, three or four generations later, the North Korean people will finally get a chance to have that vote.”
The general nodded agreement. “It will be an interesting experience for everyone.” He paused thoughtfully, and asked, “I’m hearing a lot about the South Korean democratic system, but I’d like to know more. Would visiting America help me learn more about politics?”
Kevin was taking a drink, and a little of it went down the wrong way. He coughed, but recovered quickly. “Are you thinking of going into politics?” In the process of translating that question from English into Korean, Kevin tried to mask some of his surprise at the idea.
“Not right away. I believe the military government will have to run things for several years. Actually, President An just asked me if I’d delay my retirement and take part in the negotiations with China, representing the interests of the Northerners.”
“Politics is all about give and take, General,” Kevin answered brightly. “And the talks are in Tokyo. Japanese-style democracy is very different from both Korean and American.”
“Good point,” Tae agreed. The general looked at something past Kevin’s shoulder, and he turned to see Rhee standing there.
The colonel took care to greet General Tae before his old comrade, but then he slapped Kevin’s shoulder. “Congratulations on your award, Kevin! Third Class, Chungmu Cordon! That’s like the American Silver Star. You should be proud.”
“I am,” Kevin answered, “but I’m especially glad for you. That medal makes you untouchable.” He turned to Tae. “There were some high-ranking officers in the ROK Army who were upset with a mere colonel treating with a three-star general.”
Tae laughed. “Generals, jealous? Who ever heard of such a preposterous thing?”
“Actually, it’s no longer a problem,” Rhee said, and showed them a small white box. He opened it and they saw two silver stars, one for each shoulder.
“Brigadier General!” Kevin remarked happily.
Rhee grinned. “General Sohn just handed them to me. He says if I’m going to act like a general, they might as well make me one.”
Kevin saluted his friend, and Tae shook his hand warmly. “This is not too far from where we shook hands for the first time,” Tae remarked.
“We’ve covered a lot of ground since then,” Little commented.
“We’re here because of you, General Tae,” Rhee said. He touched his medal. “This belongs to you as much as me.”
Tae accepted the compliment with a smile. “We had a different awards system in the KPA. Not getting shot was popular.”
They’d borrowed an army jeep, driving from the port city of Nampo northeast, back toward Pyongyang. Restrictions on civilian traffic had been lifted now that all the areas affected by chemicals had been marked, and the main roads cleared of unexploded ordnance.
The roads were busy, but a good deal of it was still foot traffic. Kary saw vehicles with Southern license plates mixed with the military transports. Only a few Northern vehicles were on the road. She knew gasoline was still very precious.
Civilians plodded along on either side. She studied them, trying to guess their story. A local farmer? A mother and child looking for the rest of their family? She saw several demobilized soldiers, probably headed for home and hoping it was still there.
Cho turned off the main road and headed northwest, keeping the city on their right. The two-lane road was less traveled, but there were scattered clusters of farm buildings. They drove for no more than a few kilometers and she saw they were headed for a line of low hills.
Curiosity building, she finally said, “I still don’t know where we’re going or why.”
“We’re almost there,” he answered, and the road curved around a low hill, paralleling a small river. The river and road both reached a lake and they drove along the shore for few minutes, before stopping near a ruined house. Built on the hillside, it had suffered a fire or other damage, and looked long abandoned. Several small trees were growing inside the outlines of its foundation.
He parked the jeep and got out carefully, favoring his left leg and using the crutch as Kary had taught him. He reached out with his free hand and beckoned, “Please, come.”
She nodded and followed, trusting that he would eventually explain.
Traces of a path led up to the house. The closer she got to the structure, the worse it looked. The masonry walls were shattered, as well as blackened by fire. The tallest part of the ruin was no more than a meter high.