Kim nodded and half-turned to stare out again across the tread-torn ground. The silence seemed to stretch forever. Then, abruptly, without looking directly at Cho, he said, “Let’s take a walk together, General. We have much to discuss, you and I.”
For an awful moment the tall, broad-shouldered North Korean corps commander felt his stomach twist in on itself, but he forced himself to appear calm and unruffled. Logically he should have nothing to fear from this man. His military record was distinguished, he kept his personal life carefully uncluttered of any suspicious bourgeois vices, and he’d made his personal loyalties clear years ago by siding with the pro-Soviet faction of the General Staff and the Politburo — a faction the younger Kim headed. Still, Cho knew fear in the presence of this man who had the power to wipe away careers, lives, with the stroke of a pen or a raised voice. Kim was not always logical.
He followed Kim out onto the open ground. The two men walked for several minutes without speaking, paced by a small cluster of uniformed aides and a phalanx of Kim’s heavily armed plainclothes bodyguards, all of whom stayed well out of earshot.
At last Kim stopped, his eyes fixed on the muddy remains of a small, grassy hillock that had been crushed flat by Cho’s tanks. “Such power,” he half-whispered to himself.
Then he swung round to face Cho squarely. “Such power, General. Tell me, as commander of our Second Corps, you most directly confront our enemies, true?”
“Indeed, Dear Leader.”
Kim stepped delicately over a patch of soft ground. “So you understand the danger they pose to our Revolution?”
“Of course.” What was all this about? It reminded Cho of the political instruction classes of his school days.
“Your wife is well? She finds your new apartment in Changwang Street to her liking?”
Cho looked at the shorter man in surprise. Why the sudden change of subject? “Yes, Dear Leader. But then she’s always been fond of Pyongyang. She’s a city girl at heart.”
Kim smiled, showing his teeth. “Good. Good.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Tell me what you think of Red Phoenix, Comrade General.”
Cho shrugged. “I helped draft the plan during my last tour on the General Staff, Dear Leader. It was a good plan then and it’s a good plan now. In fact, I believe that it offers our best hope for a successful liberation of the South.” He frowned as one of Kim’s boots splashed mud across his uniform trousers.
“I see.” Kim’s voice was flat, uninterested. “This plan calls for a surprise attack across the so-called DMZ — an attack launched right out of our barracks. Why?”
“Surprise is the handmaiden of victory,” the general quoted. “The South has larger reserves than we do. A sudden, unexpected attack would deny them the time needed to mobilize those reserves. It would also prevent the Americans from shipping in their own reinforcements.”
Kim nodded his understanding. They walked quietly across the torn-up field for several minutes more before he asked in a carefully casual tone, “How soon could you be ready to launch Red Phoenix? Two weeks? A month?”
A strange question. So strange that Cho answered honestly, without thinking of possible consequences. He shook his head. “Impossible. We couldn’t possibly be ready for several months at least.”
Kim pounced on that. “Why not? Have you and your fellow generals been shirking? Where is all this readiness for instant action you’ve always promised.”
The look in the smaller man’s eyes made Cho picture an ice-cold bayonet poised at his vitals.
It was a time to be cautious. “We are ready for most contingencies, Dear Leader. You have my word on that. But Red Phoenix has not been our official strategy. Launching it successfully would require moving most of our own second echelon troops closer to the front — all without the fascists noticing. That takes time. There are only so many railroads and only so many hours in the day that imperialist spy satellites aren’t overhead watching.”
The general gestured at the muddy, ripped-up ground around them. “And that is the other reason, Dear Leader. An armored assault into the South now would quickly bog down in the rice paddies. We wouldn’t have the mobility required to carry it out successfully. Red Phoenix calls for a winter war — a war when the fields are frozen and can support our tanks.” He stopped talking, conscious that his palms were wet.
Kim dug a boot heel into the soft ground, mounding dirt and torn grass behind it. Then he nodded sharply. “Very well, General. I accept your explanation.”
Cho bowed.
Kim looked carefully at him for several heartbeats and seemed to come to some sort of decision. “What I am about to tell you, General, is a matter of the highest State security. You are not to reveal anything to anyone without my express permission. Understood?”
Wordlessly Cho nodded.
“Should you disobey that instruction, you will suffer. And your suffering will extend to all those who bear your name. Is that clear?”
Cho shivered. Now he understood Kim’s questions about his wife. “Yes, Dear Leader.”
“Excellent.” The shorter man turned away from him while still speaking. “General Cho, I am authorizing you to begin the initial preparations for Red Phoenix.”
For a moment the general stared at Kim, transfixed by a flood of contradictory emotions — shocked by Kim’s bald, calm, assured words, elated at the thought of the People’s Army being unleashed on its enemies after nearly forty years of seemingly endless waiting, and dismayed by the prospect of possible defeat. He carefully studied the man waiting for his answer, swallowed hard, and found his voice. “I shall obey your orders willingly, Dear Leader. But there are … practical difficulties. I am — ”
Kim cut him off with an impatient gesture. “Yes, yes, Cho. I see them far more clearly than you think I do. As a corps commander, you can’t order the second echelon troops forward to a full war footing without the General Staff’s approval. Or make any of the other needed preparations for that matter.”
Kim reached into his tunic and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to Cho. “Within forty-eight hours the General Staff will unanimously approve the order contained on that piece of paper. It declares that the recent unrest in the South constitutes a possible security threat to the People’s Republic, and it authorizes any or all troop transfers necessary to meet that threat. I have a similar order for your counterpart at Fifth Corps.”
Kim smiled ironically. “You will, of course, ensure that these ‘defensive’ troop movements mirror the dispositions needed to launch Red Phoenix.”
Cho couldn’t think of anything to say. Launch Red Phoenix? Prepare for war against the South and against the United States without the formal approval of the Great Leader, the Administration Council, the Central Committee? This was unthinkable. Unbelievable. Unbidden, another word crept into his mind — daring.
Kim Jong-Il seemed to read his thoughts. “You find my orders surprising? Dangerous, perhaps?”
“No, Dear Leader. It just seems so …”
“Adventuristic?” Kim finished for him. “Perhaps. But why is that bad, my dear Cho? Old men fear adventures. We are not old men, are we?”
Cho shook his head.
Kim smiled. “Of course not.” He leaned forward to peer directly up into the general’s eyes. “Believe me, Cho. There is an opportunity rising in the South — an opportunity for the reunification of our sacred homeland.” Kim clenched a fist. “It must not be wasted. It will not be wasted.” Cho could hear the iron determination in the man’s voice.
Kim’s voice became soft and earnest. “General, forces are at work — military, political, economic factors — that make it imperative that we strike as soon as possible. The imperialists are withdrawing, and until the puppets in the south realign themselves, they will be vulnerable.”