THE WEAPONS OFFICER knocked on the Goat Locker door then entered.
“CPO Johansson. Let’s take a check on the VPM tubes.”
“Sir.” The two men walked towards aft; forward of the engine room was the ‘Redwoods room’, called after their namesake giant trees. They were so called as the three vertical tubes were of very large diameters. Johansson checked the current feed lines to the tubes, then opened the pressure hatch on number one. There were seven dispensers, each of these could be ejected to the surface. Once there, the cap would blow off and a Tomahawk BGN-109 cruise missile would be launched. These were normally a mixture of nuclear and conventional missiles. For this operation, the nuclear warheads had been removed. The warhead was a sixteen hundred pound HE-FRAG round, or one hundred and sixty six BLU 97/B bomblets. Tomahawks have a range in excess of one thousand five hundred miles. USS Stonewall Jackson could rain down 21 terrain following missiles on an opponent. Weaps checked the serial numbers on each missile, ensuring they tied up with what his tablet told him was loaded. He ran a diagnostics program on each of them from his handheld, cell phone like instrument.
There were more checks on the arming systems.
“Systems check complete,” said Weaps.
“I concur,” said Johansson.
“I expect we’ll be busy tonight,” said Weaps.
“How many launches, Sir?”
“The whole lot of em.”
HOURS WENT BY, ALL checks were carried out; it was time.
Nathan pulled his sleeve up and checked his Omega Seamaster. Zero four hundred and fifty four hours.
He pulled down his microphone. “All hands.. Battle stations, battle stations.”
“Weaps, six minutes to H hour.”
“I have the plan of Ops loaded. Activating all birds Sir. The Weapons Officer had named the missiles after NFL teams.
“VPM tube one. Seahawks, returns Gyro up, green board, route A, target T1.
Cowboys, returns Gyro up, green board, route B, target T2.
49ers, returns Gyro up, green board, route C, target T3.
Bengals, returns Gyro up, green board, route D, target T4.
Patriots, returns Gyro up, green board, route E, target T5.
Falcons, returns Gyro up, green board, route F, target T6.
Redskins, returns Gyro up, green board, route G, target T7.
VPM tube two. Ravens, returns Gyro up, green board, route H, target T8…”
The Tomahawks reported their status one by one.
“All birds up and ready, Sir.”
“Open outer doors, VPM one to three.”
“Outer doors open Sir.”
Nathan checked his wristwatch again. He counted the seconds down.
“Weaps, execute Bull Run on my command.”
Fifty seven, fifty eight, fifty nine.
“Go, go, go!” There was a faint whooshing sound from back aft.
“On the surface, Seahawks reports launch, good burn. Motor in, wings deployed, gaining altitude. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a bird.” One by one they reached the surface, ignited their motors and soared into the night. The flock of twenty one cruise missiles flew into the night sky on their way to the east coast of South Korea.
BENGALS WENT FEET DRY north of Donghae, flew down valleys at two hundred feet, pulled hard turns and then made its way north. It crossed into North Korea near Yeoncheon, more valleys, plains. Valleys again, all avoiding known SAM sites. Bengals headed inexorably for Pyongyang. Some twenty four minutes after launch it penetrated Pyongyang’s southern suburbs, reached the Taedong River, and turned to starboard. Bengals followed the river then pulled hard to port before the Chongryu Bridge. It crossed the city to the right of the Arch of the Triumph of Ideals. The Embassy of China was on its right as it crossed Pipa Street and homed in on a large grey building.
THE CRUISE MISSILE strikes. They’d been called in for several minutes now, Cowboys had been the first, hitting a large ammunition store just north of the border, the secondaries were still cooking off.
The Weapons Officer, an avid football fan, was closely monitoring the attack’s progress.
“Weaps. Bengals is on terminal. Complete. Passed to Jackson. Picked up at the forty-yard line, Jackson throws, it’s complete. Kim tries to stop him but comes up short. Touchdown Bengals. The Ministry of the People’s Armed Forces just swallowed sixteen hundred pounds of HE-FRAG. That must’a hurt. Go Bengals Go.”
Nathan smiled.
“You should be working for the NFL, Weaps.”
The Weapons Officer grinned; it was obvious he was enjoying himself.
“Wait one. It’s the Falcons. Left over the Okryu Bridge, on terminal.”
Nikki raised two fists. The Falcons were her team.
“Jackson throws. Incomplete, but Kim fumbles on the thirty-yard line. Picked up by the Falcons, running in, running in, it must be. Touchdown Falcons. Mansu Hill Grand Monument takes a hell of a battering. No Sir, the Kim il-sung and Kim jong-il statues don’t like it up ‘em.”
SOUTH KOREAN ARMY BRIGADES moved up to their start lines just south of the border.
DPRK spies had seen bogus documents that the USN’s Gator Navy, that is, Landing Ship Docks and Helicopter Carriers, were embarking the American Eighth Army. Their target was the port of Nampo, just thirty miles from Pyongyang. The 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit would kick in the door for the 8th.
The American forces would do what McArthur had done at Inchon, and outflank the DPRK Army by sea.
The border area was thick with fighter cover. F15 and F16s, both South Korean and USAF, flew CAP.
ALL THIS HAD GONE TOO far for the Government in Pyongyang.
The pink Lady had to speak out.
PYONGYANG’S KCTV NEWS broadcast began. Ri Chun-hee wore her distinctive bright pink Choson-ots.
She looked at the camera in defiance and, in a strident tone, made her speech.
“Today in this year of glory, we have no choice but to threaten our foe with nuclear terror. With this weapon, we can deal out our vengeance to the evil foe. Never will we kneel to these evil and vile street dogs. They are pond scum, the running dogs of capitalism. As long as we have our very capable Korean People's Army and the leadership of Marshal Kim Jong Un, we don't have any enemy we cannot conquer.”
IT WAS ALL TOO MUCH for Kim Jong-un, he’d been pushed too far. The nuclear genie was straining to leave its bottle.
Chapter 8
THE COMMAND TRIGGERED its onboard brain whilst the school bus-sized spacecraft was over Azerbaijan. The Evolved Enhanced CRYSTAL reconnaissance satellite USA-186 received the command to burn its motor, lowering its orbit to a perigee of one hundred and thirty miles over Eastern Korea. The burn occurred over the Gobi desert, forward into the path of its flight, slowing the spacecraft. The longer burn, to correct the orbital inclination of the satellite to pass over the correct north-south position required, followed it. The exposures were taken over the Sinpo naval base, on the North Korean east coast.
Bigbird passed over its target at 17,000mph, shooting images. The motor burned again to return it to a higher apogee. It flew across the Pacific and over CONUS via California, its onboard computer linked up with the NRO via area 58.
The processed files stored and the results passed to COMSUMPAC Pearl Harbor.
NATHAN WAS HANDED THE communication.
PRIORITY RED
R 221345Z JUL 86 ZY15
COMSUBPAC PEARL HARBOR HAWAII//N1//
TO STONEWALL JACKSON