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.
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.
Every half hour the men surfaced and recharged their rebreathers. The men didn’t use scuba gear. The bubbles would give their positions away. Instead they were using a device that allowed them to rebreathe their own air. This eliminated the bubbles and the need to refill empty air tanks from a compressor. Periodically they had to surface, and change out a canister, replenishing their air and dive again. They didn’t have to dive deep. Inchon was a shallow area and contact mines had to be near the surface for a ship to hit them.
One after another the mines were located and the charges placed. As the early dawn began to lighten the sky, the six men emerged unseen onto a small island in the bay. They crawled into the thick scrub to a small hollowed area under a canopy of trees and underbrush where they ate and set a watch. Then the men slept.
Turner lay back and listened to the birds sing in the trees. It was so peaceful here. Rarely was there a sound of machinery or war. If they hadn’t been afraid of being shot, it would have been nice to go back down to the beach and get a tan. He glanced over at the men with him. Petty Officer Dunn was seated so that his head was just above the bushes, giving him a good view around the island. He seemed alert. His eyes darted back and forth and his head turned to cover all 360 degrees of his surroundings. Chief Pullam was already sawing wood. It never ceased to amaze Turner that the Chief could fall deeply asleep whenever the opportunity arose, yet be fully awake at the slightest touch. The rest were cuddled up as best they could in the early morning coolness.
They had been lucky. The C-130 dropped them and their gear off within a mile of the island in the dead of night. Since the fall of Seoul just a few days before, no activity was anywhere near them. The airports were closed and even the fishing boats rarely ventured out. A larger island was a couple of miles away, but this one was made up of a rocky hill full of vegetation. It was not more than 600 yards in any particular direction, and there was not a soul on it except for the SEALs. The rocky outcroppings along the shore had been a perfect place to hide their inflatable boats and the rest of their gear. Each boat had a small electric motor to help get the men around. The batteries were hooked to high efficiency, portable solar panels that recharged them during the day.
One other piece of luck had been the discovery of an empty, rusting grain barge anchored near the center of the bay. It was partially submerged through neglect. No top covered the open hold and over time water had washed in and was freely moving inside. The barge itself was still relatively solid. After watching the barge during the first day and seeing no one disturbing it, Turner and the others crawled aboard the first night and made sure it was secure. Finding a small compartment in one end that was dry, they placed half of their explosives and diving gear inside and re-secured the hatch so that it looked like it hadn’t been touched. Chief Pullam had set a charge on the equipment so that if the North found it, the charge would go off killing the finder and sinking the barge, eliminating the evidence. So far, no one had even glanced at the thing. The team used the materials on the barge first, then resupplied from the island.
Now the team was almost finished. Turner figured one last night of work would do it. Their orders were to complete the mission and be extracted by some kind of ship the Navy would be sending. They would set up a small receiver on the barge and a sonar transducer underneath to signal the detonations. By then, Turner and his team planned to be long gone.
Hawaii had been a rendezvous with several ships. Now the entire surface task force was together and on its way. The rendezvous had been over a week ago. Vice Admiral Thacke surveyed the ships around them in his command center. It wasn’t something he thought he would ever see. Battleships and gun cruisers formed the central core of the formation, with old missile cruisers and a sprinkling of newer ships forming the outer screen. The newer ships had been drawn from those deployed or out to sea during the EMP attack. There were enough missiles and parts to keep them operational. A few had been brought back on line in time to join in. Thacke liked the fact that if needed, his missile ships could provide adequate protection. The older Belknap Class missile cruisers had been scraped together from mothballed fleets in San Francisco and along the east coast. Built mostly in the 1960s, the technology was old but the missiles themselves were of a newer design. Raytheon, General Dynamics, and a few others pulled out the stops to bring out the old missiles and get them back online. In some cases they dug out the templates and stamps manufacturing new missiles to meet the old designs. The Navy was warned to use the things sparingly since it took time to build them, but they were working on a small stockpile. The old Adams class DDGs had been the easiest. They could fire the SM-1s still in inventory.
“I’m going up to the bridge and walk around some,” Thacke said. He then left the flag bridge and went up one level to the pilot house. Captain Hammond was sitting in his seat talking on the telephone.
“Look, I don’t care what it takes. Get that system back online ASAP,” he said. After a pause, he continued. “That’s okay with me; I doubt the Admiral will squeal either. Just let me know when it gets done,” he said hanging up the phone.
Hammond stood for the Admiral but was motioned to sit back down. “Problem?” Thacke asked.
“Spot One is down. Weaps says it’s some sort of brush in the servo that sends the signal down to the computer. As usual, no spares, but he says Skelly has a fix. So they’ll get back to me,” Hammond said.
“So I won’t squeal?”
Hammond shrugged. “I figure you won’t care as long as the system works.”