"Anything?" Kitts asked his gunner on the intercom.
"Nada, Major." He was using his scope and checking every aspect of the land ahead. "Okay, I have their MLR, there is some firing coming. Machine gun. We'll work the area with a round."
The 105 round fired, and the familiar fumes seeped into the compartment. Kitts watched on the AN/VVG-2 ruby range finder. He saw the muzzle flash of a machine gun; then the whole area of the berm gushed in one large explosion and the flashing stopped.
The tank's 7.62mm machine gun began chattering. He saw more rounds taking out the MLR fortifications the NKs had quickly thrown up two days ago.
Then his tank was at the MLR. His driver edged through the hole their round had made, found no tank trap on the far side, and gunned through the MLR and charged forward.
They were in a series of rise paddies, with their two-foot high dikes around small plots less than fifty feet square. Ahead he could see no troops and no vehicles.
"Check in when you clear the MLR," he radioed his tanks. Quickly six checked in, and before they were a quarter of a mile ahead, the rest reported they had breached the enemy MLR with no problem.
A Captain Casemore came on the radio. He was Infantry with the ROK company directly behind his tank.
"Slow it down, Major. We've got a few nasties to put down along here. Not many, but too many to leave in our rear. Take a five-minute break where you are and let us catch up."
Kitts pulled his rig to a stop, ordered his tanks to stay in place and to keep watching ahead. He spotted a six-by truck on a road a half mile ahead. His gunner swung around, used the M-21 solid-state analog ballistic computer, and zeroed in. Before the truck could get under way, a 105 round jolted into it and blew the truck into scrap metal spread over a two-acre field. Kitts checked his watch. After four minutes of waiting he called the captain on the radio.
"Yeah, we're ready to move, Major. One of your tanks rolled right over a hidden machine gun that was giving my guys fits. Move it now."
Major Kitts rolled his tanks again. They found little opposition. There were no tanks opposing them. Two trucks they saw wound up in the ditch and burning. Along one road, they ran into a string of twenty NK troops, who quickly threw down their weapons and gave up.
Kitts unbuttoned the turret and stood up, checking the terrain ahead.
Twenty minutes later he came to the landmark that had been described, and executed a sharp turn to the right, heading due west.
"Now, things should get more interesting," he told his gunner.
High overhead, Tomcat 204 and 206 flew CAP for the six F/A-18 Hornets from the Monroe. They scanned north for any NK aircraft, and usually came up empty.
The Hornets buzzed around the attack to the north; then when the tanks and the column turned west, they worked ahead, attacking any targets they found.
"Horny One-Sixteen, I've got two trucks on that road down there. Want to take turns?"
"That's a roger, Horny One-Twenty. We'll use the twenties, no sense wasting anything heavier. I'm right behind you."
The Hornets turned toward the slow-moving trucks^ taking a high angle to get more rounds on the rigs from their Mach.9 speed. The first Hornet dumped twenty rounds from his six-barrel gun.
That still left him with five hundred rounds.
"Caught him with three of them, One-Sixteen. See if you can find the fuel tank."
The second Hornet made his run, blasting ten rounds into the lead truck, blowing a front tire, slamming it off the dirt road, and setting it on fire.
"Oh, yes, Doctor," One-Sixteen said. "Now where did that second truck vanish to?"
"Saw him heading for some trees back there, just west of the burning truck. Let's take a look."
"Yeah, got him in there," One-Twenty said. "I'm on him." The F-18 pilot in One-Twenty burned up twenty rounds as he blasted the three trees that hid the North Korean truck. Before the rounds hit, the pilots saw two men running from the woods. After the first run by One-Twenty, the North Korean truck exploded when one round hit the gas tank.
"Now, let's see if we can find a tank or two," One-Sixteen said. "I've still got four Mavericks just looking for a place to call home."
Don Stroh brought the SEALs the latest news about how the war had progressed. The big thrust to cut off the Seoul bulge had gone west fine for five miles, then bogged down with stiff opposition. The North Koreans had six tanks in the area, and evidently were planning a buildup for a thrust of their own.
By noon the big maneuver to end the war had resulted in a stalemate, with neither side getting an advantage. The tanks were behind protection waiting for orders.
General Reynolds was disappointed, the tankers were not happy, and the air support had been less than effective.
This time when Stroh came striding into the assembly room, the SEALs hardly looked at him. He found Murdock and lifted his brows.
"Got a good one for you, Lone Ranger."
Murdock looked up from his MP-5. "Good one what?"
"A mission, an assignment. There's an air base up north that's been giving the flyboys a bad time. It's so well defended with the latest missiles and antiair missiles that they can't penetrate it to knock out the planes that come from there. A lot of the MiGs aren't flying; they're keeping them back for some reason."
"For their big push?"
"Maybe. It's what time now? A little after noon — okay, twelve hundred. You're due at a briefing at one o'clock at Eighth Army HQ. I'll tag along. Don't bother dressing up. Your cammies will be fine."
"When is this party taking place?"
"The mission? If you get the job, it will probably be tomorrow at sunup."
"Sunup, the worst time of the day. That's when a man should be sleeping. I dream of sleeping in to noon every day."
"Sure you do. Let's go for a walk and a jump in a helo."
They arrived at Army HQ south of Seoul with ten minutes to spare. Bird Colonel Chalmers led the session. There was an Air Force colonel, two majors, a master sergeant, and Lieutenant General Reynolds, commander of the Eighth Army in Korea.
Colonel Chalmers briefed them all. "We've tried to neutralize the Sinuju Air Base. It's the major base for the North. They have most of their MiG fighters there. So far we haven't been able to break through their sophisticated air defense. We tried to send in smart missiles, but they get shot down. Our planes can't get near the place without taking fifty-percent casualties. There has to be a better way." He looked at the Air Force man.
"We have a fine little device we call On Sight Radar Targeting, or OSRT. It works well, but must be used by personnel on or near the target. It works with the ground team lighting up exact pinpointed targets with a portable radar unit, which broadcasts that sighting and it's picked up by the attacking planes, which then lock on to the pinpointed target and fire, with devastating results.
"The only trouble is the signal is not as strong as the target's radar in this case, and the plane would have to be well within enemy radar and missile range before we could launch. So that's not an option here. Sorry, Colonel."
"So, what the hell are we going to do about that air base?" General Reynolds asked. When no one spoke, he looked at Don. "Mr. Stroh, you said you might have a suggestion."
Stroh cleared his throat. Generals always had made him nervous. His highest military rank had been corporal. He pointed to Murdock. "Gentlemen, let me introduce Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock. Murdock and his Third Platoon of fourteen SEALs went in and brought out the Vice President from behind enemy lines four days ago. I'm sure you heard about it. On the way over here from the carrier, we talked about the air base problem. I think I'll let him tell you his suggestion."
Murdock had been checking a map on the wall. He stood and went up to it. He touched the map at Sinuju.