The Second Korean War began as Kim Jong Un smiled while the elderly clique of generals who had frustrated him with their cowardly advice and feeble half-measures filed into the Central Committee’s grand conference room.
They stood silently around the table, waiting for the boy-dictator to nod so they might take their seats. Kim saw the contempt in their eyes, the condescension, and it enraged him. They and their insistence on caution, their refusal to act, had kept his grandfather and father before him from achieving a final victory against the Americans and their puppets in the south. No more.
“Traitors!” Kim bellowed in his odd, high-pitched voice, and at this signal the side doors flew open and the hardened commandos of his personal guard flooded the room. The generals looked around, bewildered, pistols now at their heads.
“You cannot stop me from leading the people to victory!” Kim shouted. As one, the commandos fired. Kim smiled.
Three days later, at just before 0700 hours, the commanding general of U.S. Forces Korea was in the second of a four SUV convoy zipping through Seoul traffic toward the American headquarters. The intel reports showed unusual movement, more than was expected even with the latest round of declarations from the North that war was at hand. War had been at hand since the shooting stopped back in 1953; the general had no inkling that this was anything different until he looked out a side window at one of the capital’s sleek, modern towers and watched a North Korean 170mm artillery shell blow out its 39th through 42nd floors.
“Holy sh-,” he said, but never finished. The PRG round from the North Korean Special Forces infiltration team sent as part of the operation to decapitate the allied command and control punched through the armor of the Chevy Blazer and through the general as well.
The conventional assault was both brutal and exquisitely planned, and was supplemented by a two pronged unconventional effort that sought to make it impossible for the Republic of Korea (RoK) and the much smaller U.S. forces in the south to react. It had been planned for 70 years. But so had the allied response.
Thousands of artillery tubes in dug-in positions opened fire from their hidey holes just north of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), raining thousands of shells on military, infrastructure and civilian targets all the way south into Seoul. All the fire was preplanned – agents had scouted out the targets over the decades. Each gun went down its individual list, pouring the allotted number of shells onto each coordinate. At the same time, armored units roared south on the RoK’s modern superhighways that would take them to Seoul and beyond.