Chapter Sixteen

 

 

Military outpost fifteen miles north of Hoeryong

North Hamgyong Province, North Korea

April 30, 7:30 a.m.

 

Kim examined the yard through the small windows just inside the entrance to the prison building. The attackers from the south had breached his defenses and had killed or wounded most of his soldiers. The onslaught from the north had decimated his troops. He was now trapped along with a handful of soldiers inside the outpost’s last barracks still under his control.

“Where are those bloody reinforcements?” Kim shouted at the soldier fumbling with the radio near a corner to his right.

“They’re coming, Comrade Kim, but the enemy has destroyed the bridge, so they—”

“Tell them to hurry up, hurry up, or all the prisoners will escape and we’ll all . . . we’ll all be killed.”

The soldier nodded. “Immediately. Their last estimate was about ten minutes. They’ll have to climb the hill and march on foot.”

Kim shook his head. “Tell them to march faster. We may not have ten minutes.”

A bullet shattered the glass window. A hail of shards hit his face. One sliced deep into the side of his right cheek.

Kim cursed as blood trickled down to the corner of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand and cursed again.

A sharp growl came from the other corner behind the heavy wooden desk. Kim walked around and stared at the caged dog, a white poongsan. A soldier had stolen the dog from one of the farmers living around the outpost, and the soldiers had planned to cook and eat it for supper. Kim pointed his Makarov pistol at the animal. He neared the cage, then shouted at the dog, “You can’t wait to become boshingtang, can you?”

The dog growled even louder, baring his teeth. He scratched the cage near the sliding bolt of the door with his right front paw.

Bullets clobbered the room’s metallic door and thumped against the walls. A round pierced the other window, sending a spray of splinters all over the room.

“Get to that window,” Kim ordered one of the soldiers standing near the radio. “You,” he ordered another one. “Kill all the prisoners.”

Kim moved to the first window. An enemy was running and shooting across the yard. Kim aimed his pistol.

Before he could pull the trigger, a gunfire burst sprayed the window. Kim was hit in his right arm and the lower right side of his body. He lurched back in agony as his feet failed to carry his weight. Kim plunged down near the base of the statue of the Supreme Leader.

 

* * *

 

Justin fired the rest of his clip at the prison window. He loaded his rifle, then quickened his pace and reached the prison wall. He looked at the door, ten feet away from him, then glanced up at the window. No return fire. Not yet.

Carrie peeked around the other corner and gave him a nod. “Good to go?”

Justin shook his head.

A rifle barrel jutted out of the window. The shooter fired a long barrage, followed by two short bursts across the yard. Rex and Eve were clearing out a pocket of resistance near the other barracks.

Justin let off a few rounds. A bullet hit the shooter’s barrel and a couple ricocheted off the wall. But the narrow angle made it impossible for Justin to hit his target.

The shooter withdrew inside and fired again.

Another torrent of bullets exploded from the other window. The rifle barrel was aimed downward and to the side. The slugs smacked the ground near Justin’s feet.

“Grenade,” he whispered into his mike.

He pulled a fragmentation grenade from his chest rig. After he pulled the pin, he held the grenade’s striker lever in place by wrapping his fingers tight around it. He counted to five in his mind, then took two quick steps and threw the grenade at the window. It bounced against the side of the window and fell inside the room.

Terrified shouts and screams tore through the room. The door was flung open. A soldier jumped out the exact moment the grenade exploded.

Justin knew the shower of fragments had shredded all shooters inside the room. They were dead or seriously wounded. Some of the shrapnel cascaded out of the door and over the soldier crawling through the yard. Other shrapnel sprayed out of the windows along with thin swirls of dust.

“Going in,” Justin said.

“Got you covered,” Carrie said.

Justin pointed his weapon at the wounded soldier. He was not moving and was bleeding from his back and the right side of his face.

“Down, stay down,” Justin shouted at him.

The soldier turned his head and looked at Justin with his bloodshot eyes. He stretched his hands up and nodded.

Justin pushed open the bullet-ridden door and stole a peek inside the room. The walls were punctured by the grenade fragments. A large statue to the left was missing its right arm. A man was groaning in pain near the statue.

Justin stood over the man. A pool of blood was forming around his waist. A bullet had pierced his side.

The man tried to lift his left arm toward a Makarov pistol a couple of feet away.

“Don’t,” Justin shouted. “Don’t do it.”

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he coughed and spurted out blood. His dim eyes still carried a lot of hate and anger.

“I will . . . will . . . kill you,” the man said between gasps.

Justin shook his head. He was tempted to just shoot the wounded soldier, but he could provide valid intelligence. Justin kicked the Makarov away.

“Carrie, backup,” he said in his mike.

“Roger,” Carrie said.

Justin glanced to his right. Two soldiers were lying on their backs on the floor, their bodies twisted unnaturally. They did not seem to breathe, but Justin had to double-check and make sure they were no longer a threat.

“Right behind you,” Carrie said as she entered the room.

Justin pointed at the wounded man. “Watch him.”

“Got it,” Carrie said.

Justin checked on the two soldiers and found they were dead. Then he looked behind the desk to his right. Another soldier was slumped against the wall near a broken radio. He was bleeding from a large chest wound. Justin checked the left side of the soldier’s neck. No pulse.

Justin moved to the other desk. A quiet whimper and a low rattle came from the corner. He pointed his rifle in that direction.

He dropped his glance to the floor and stared at the sad eyes of a very frightened dog.

“It’s okay, little buddy,” Justin said in a soft voice. “You’re safe now.”

The dog replied with a small whine and lowered his head.

Justin’s quick check told him the dog had not been wounded by the grenade explosion. The desk had sheltered him, and God’s providence had surely played a crucial part. Two shrapnel fragments had carved the wall three inches above the cage.

Justin smiled at the dog, who had placed his head between his front paws, and looked toward the hall. He took a couple of steps as he came to the corner and stopped.

He had no idea what was waiting for him in the hall. He thought about tossing a grenade to clear it up, but prisoners might be wounded from the shrapnel cutting through the doors of the barred cells.

So he dropped to his knee and glanced around the corner. It was empty. A couple of steel-plate doors were open about fifteen feet away. Justin pointed his rifle in that direction and took slow, careful steps forward.

He came to the first door and glanced inside the cell. A prisoner dressed in dirty rags was slouched in a corner. A bullet wound in his forehead told Justin the prisoner was beyond his help.

Justin returned his glance to the hall and wished he had never checked the cell. A soldier appeared twenty feet away. His pistol was aimed at Justin.

The soldier pulled the trigger.

The bullet slammed against Justin’s chest right underneath his heart. The powerful punch almost threw him to the ground. He struggled for breath while his feet failed him. He leaned against the wall, groping for support, but found none.

The second round thumped against his left side. Justin winced as the sharp pain cut through his chest and almost blinded him. His knees buckled underneath him and he began to slide down.

As he fell, he raised his rifle and sprayed the hall with a long volley. Through his blurred vision, the soldier seemed to collapse to the side. But he kept firing his pistol, and Justin held his finger on his rifle’s trigger.

The concrete floor came up hard and fast on his shoulder. He felt the rifle bounce on the floor, and it almost slipped from his weakened hand. But he kept squeezing the trigger and kept his cloudy eyes on his target.

More gunshots echoed behind him. Then he heard Carrie’s voice. “Justin, Justin.”

“I’m . . . eh, I’m fine. I think,” he said slowly and tried to climb to his elbows.

“Gentle, gentle.” Carrie knelt to his left and began to examine him. “Let me see before you move.” She placed her hands on his chest, feeling around for wounds.

Justin dropped his glance to his chest rig and the bulletproof vest. They seemed to have stopped the rounds but he noticed the two tears. “How bad is it?”

Carrie unfastened his chest rig and his vest. “Didn’t pierce through, thankfully. I don’t know about your ribs and internal organs though. How do you feel?”

“Ran over by a tank,” Justin said and drew in a slow breath.

“Take a moment. Rex and I will clear the rest of the prison.”

Justin looked up over Carrie’s shoulder and saw Rex standing guard. He nodded at Justin. Eve was further away, her rifle pointed at the wounded soldier.

“I’m fine.” Justin clenched his teeth and ignored the pain shooting up from pretty much his entire body.

“And stubborn,” Carrie whispered.

She offered him her hand. Justin took it and she helped pull him up. He fixed his vest and chest rig, then picked up his rifle. He loaded a new magazine in it, then said, “Let’s find our men. Rex, watch our back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Justin moved to the next cell. He slid the rusty deadbolt and the door opened with a bone-chilling creak.

A prisoner was sitting at the foot of a small iron bed. He looked up at them. His face was bruised, his clothes were torn and dirty, and he looked thin and sick.

“Don’t be afraid,” Justin said, unsure if the man could understand him. “You’re free now.”

The man’s small eyes sparked with hope and his wrinkled face produced a tiny smile. He stood up with difficulty and leaned against the wall, then took a couple of unsteady steps toward them. “You Americans?” he asked.

Justin shook his head. “No, but still your friends.”

The man nodded. “Soldiers all dead?”

“Yes, well, most of them.”

The man’s smile grew bigger and filled his entire face. “Thank you, thank you,” he said in a wavering voice.

Justin shrugged. “No need to thank us. Now, we’ve got to hurry and free the rest.”

“I help. I come help.”

“Okay.”

Justin moved to the next cell and the one after that. The prisoners were all men, most in their mid-forties, but some seemed older. One or two looked like they were in their teen years. They were all weak and thin, beaten and bruised.

He was almost at the end of the hall, but he had not found Park or Schultz yet. Maybe they’ve killed them? Or maybe they moved them to another prison?

“Park, Schultz, where are you?” he shouted.

“Justin, is that . . . is that you, man?” A voice came from the last cell to his left.

Justin looked at the number 20 a hasty hand had scribbled on the brown, rusting door. It was in Korean, of course, but Justin had learned to recognize the sign that resembled two parallel lines and a cross.

“Park, you’re there?” Justin asked as he pulled the deadbolt.

“No, it’s Schultz,” the man replied.

“I’m in here, the other cell,” Park shouted.

Carrie went to free Park, while Justin stepped inside Schultz’s cell. A large bloodstained bandage covered his left ear and most of his face. His right eye was slightly swollen and he had bruises on his bottom lip. His neck was blistered and his left elbow was wrapped with dirty gauzes.

“So glad to see you, man,” Schultz said with a tired smile.

“Can you walk?” Justin asked.

“Yes, but I’d crawl if I had to, just to get out of this hell.”

“Let’s go.”

He offered Schultz his shoulder and they slowly made their way into the hall.

Carrie was helping Park, who looked in even worse shape than Schultz. Someone had carved a long cut along his left cheekbone, which matched an old scar on the other side of his face, and he was missing a couple of his front teeth. His nose was broken and bloodstains covered his mouth and his chin. Ligature marks around his neck were clear signs someone had tried to strangle him.

“Thanks,” Park said in a quiet voice.

“Don’t mention it,” Justin said. “Let’s get everyone out of here.”

Loud shouts and noises came from the front. Angry voices speaking Korean and Eve replying in a similar if not louder tone.

A dozen or so prisoners had formed a small circle around the wounded soldier. They were pointing at him and shouting. One of the young prisoners spat at the soldier’s face. Another one kicked him on the leg.

“Hey, cut it out. Both of you,” Rex shouted at the young men.

“What’s going on?” Justin asked Eve.

“They want to lynch the wounded soldier,” Eve said.

“This is no soldier.” The old man Justin had freed first took a step toward Justin. “This is Kim, the prison commander. He’s responsible for our torture, our pain.”

“He killed my son, my son,” one of the prisoners shouted in a tearful voice.

“He ordered soldiers to rape my wife,” cried another one.

Justin stared at Kim. The man’s face registered pain and anger, but no remorse.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Justin asked him.

Kim shrugged. “I followed orders. They . . . they would do the same. None of these people are innocent. They defied the government, the state. They deserved their punishment.”

Justin shook his head. “Not your best defense.”

Kim spat out his words. “I don’t need to defend myself in front of human scum.”

“As you wish. Have at him.”

Justin stepped away as many hands reached to grab Kim by his throat, his face, his head, and everywhere else they could take hold of him. He screamed for a few moments, his voice growing weaker and weaker while the prisoners’ shouts grew louder and louder. Then a bittersweet silence filled the room.

One of the young men gave the statue a strong push. It wavered but it did not topple. Another young man came to help him and they both shoved the statue. It finally leaned slowly to the left and came crushing to the ground with a loud bang. The head of the Supreme Leader broke off from the body, rolled on the ground, and lay on its side. One of the young man stomped on it, as the others cheered him on.

Justin said, “Rex, prepare our transport. Eve, help Carrie with Schultz and Park.”

“What are you going to do?” Carrie asked.

“I have to free the last prisoner.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Who?”

“The dog,” Justin said.

He found the cage behind the desk. The dog let out a low yelp and grunt when he saw Justin.

“Did you miss me, little buddy?”

The dog responded with a low bark.

Justin opened the cage and the dog burst out. He woofed and then licked Justin’s face, wagging his tail and nuzzling Justin with his head.

“You want to come with us, eh?” Justin asked him.

The dog responded with a sharp, loud bark.

“Well, then what are we waiting for?”

The dog ran in front of Justin and headed toward the door. He stopped and turned his head for a moment, then woofed at Justin and jumped outside in the yard.

“We need to work on you following orders and heeling,” Justin muttered to himself.

One of the older prisoners shuffled his feet toward Justin and began to speak to him rapidly in Korean. Justin was lost amid the stream of words but the gestures were clear. The frail old man kept pointing at one of the young men, then took him by the arm and nudged him toward Justin. The resemblance between the two was striking.

“He wants you to take his son with you,” someone translated from the back of the crowd. “Other soldiers will come and they will execute us.”

“Take us all. Save us all,” shouted another one.

More voices called out in Korean.

“We cannot all go,” said the old man, the first released prisoner, in a strong, firm voice that quieted the crowd. “Our friends need help as they sneak into China. We’ll give them cover and hold back the army.”

The same voice from the back that had spoken earlier said something in Korean, and Justin assumed he was translating the old man’s words. Heads nodded and low shouts came from the crowd.

“But we humbly ask you to take our sons, our young men, with you. They will help you in your retreat, guide you through the forests, and fight with you. And they’ll have a chance to be truly free and live in . . . freedom.”

The old man’s voice trailed off and his eyes turned watery. There was authority, planning, and wisdom in his words. Justin wondered if the old man had been serving in the Korean Army or had held a commanding position with other armed forces of the country.

“Great idea,” Justin said in a warm, reassuring voice. “They’ll be a big help. Pick the support team for our mission and have them meet me outside.”

The old man didn’t hold back his tears. He reached forward and hugged Justin tight against his chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered.

Justin smiled as he embraced the old man. “It’ll be an honor to fight together, and may God bless us all.”

The old man nodded. He stepped back and stood at attention. He raised his right arm and saluted Justin.

The rest of the crowd followed suit. They roared in unison in a loud battle cry.

Justin saluted them back. Then he nodded at them and marched outside.

Rex had brought around a large military truck and was sitting behind the steering wheel. Eve was in the passenger seat. The truck’s windshield was missing and its cabin was bullet-ridden. But the engine was still running, albeit with the occasional cough and spurt.

“Ready?” Carrie asked from the back.

“In a moment. We’re taking some of the young men. Extra support.”

Carrie frowned, but did not say anything.

“I know,” Justin said. “Our exfil was difficult to begin with. Now it got much harder.”

“We’ll do it,” Carrie said.

She sat back near Park and Schultz and behind a PK machine gun.

The dog was lying by her feet. He stood up when he heard Justin’s voice and let out a quick bark.

“He’s telling you it’s time to go,” Carrie said.

“Right away,” Justin replied.

Two wounded soldiers were sitting handcuffed near the door. Justin thought about freeing them, but he knew they stood no chance against the violent horde of the released prisoners. The soldiers had probably committed brutal crimes and those actions had sealed their fate.

Four young men burst out of the door. They were carrying AKs and pistols.

“Hop in.” Justin pointed at the truck.

They nodded and got in.

Justin was the last one to jump inside the truck. He lifted the wooden tailgate and struggled to close it with the rusted, rattling bolts. Once he had secured it in place, he shouted at Rex, “Good to go, Rex. Let’s get the hell out of this place.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex yelled back.

He gunned the engine and the truck rumbled forward.

Justin sat on the dusty truck bed near the cabin, next to Schultz. Across from him, Park held an AK in his hands.

The truck had not reached the gate when a huge explosion obliterated a huge section of one of the barracks. It was the one across from the prison building. A large dust cloud began to rise up from the rubble.

“Mortars,” Justin shouted.

Another round blasted about a hundred yards away, outside the fence line but in front of the gate. The enemy was trying to cover a large area, and their tactic told Justin they did not have eyes on them. Otherwise, they would concentrate their firepower on the target. The broken terrain and the forested hills provided sufficient cover. At least, he hoped, for a little while, until they crossed the border.

The freed prisoners spread out in the yard. Some began to run toward the back of the prison. They would be able to hold off the advancing North Korean army for only so long, even with the right weapons and under the right command.

Justin pulled out his satellite phone from his rucksack and tossed it at Carrie. “Update McClain. Tell him we’re en route to China and may need him to make a couple of calls. It will depend on how fast the enemy advances and what the situation looks like at the border.”

Carrie nodded and began dialing the number.

Rex turned the wheel and the truck swerved around a curve. Justin was thrown against the cabin and was glad he was holding on to one of the legs of the bench. The PK machine gun slid forward and one of the young men caught it.

The dog also slipped a foot or so away. He whimpered, then barked his protest.

Justin called him over. The dog hesitated for a moment, then ran toward Justin, dropped by his legs, and put his head on Justin’s lap.

Justin petted the dog’s head for a couple of seconds, then moved his hand to his rifle. The truck zoomed through the gate as another mortar round exploded behind them, perhaps seventy yards away. We’ve won the battle at the outpost, but this war is far from over.

He tightened his grip around his rifle, determined more than ever to save the people who trusted in him.