flight suit and he was wearing a baseball cap over his hooded mask.
He was also armed with what looked to Muss to be a rocket-propelled grenade launcher . . .
"Jesus Christ, run him over!" Muss screamed to his driver.
But it was too late . . .
The man quickly raised the RPG launcher and fired directly at the car. The projectile hit the radiator grating and exploded, lifting the car off the ground a full five feet, and instantly killing the driver with a chunk of shrapnel in his chest.
Muss went out through the windshield and was thrown off to the side of the road. Even while he was in the air, he caught a frightening glimpse of many men, dressed like the one who had fired the RPG, running up from both sides of the road, firing weapons.
Muss landed hard in a clump of grass and sticks, breaking his left arm and leg. His face and chest were covered in blood pouring out of deep cuts he received when he crashed through the windshield. Yet he was still conscious and shock had set in, effectively, if temporarily, blocking out the otherwise excruciating pain of his wounds.
From the clump of grass he watched as the armed men made short work of the Circle guards who had been driving the troop trucks. The sharp firefight lasted all of 30 seconds. Then he was suddenly aware of people running over him-step-124
ping on his face and back, stumbling over his body in the dark. They were the POWs-they were being freed from the trucks and running toward the river. All of the troop trucks were now ablaze and Muss could hear the black-suited men yelling and talking to each other.
Certain they would kill him if he made a sound, the Circle colonel closed his eyes and pretended to be dead . . .
125
CHAPTER 24
A North Korean regimental commander heard the noise first.
Way off in the distance, a barely perceptible pop, followed closely by two more.
It was two in the morning, and up until this time, everything had been quiet in his sector. His troops, along with a mixture of Libyans and Cubans, had taken up positions in the Circle front line trenches shortly after noontime the day before. The Circle troops were marching back toward Football City just as his troops were marching forward. The commander would never forget the look in the eyes of the Circle soldiers as they viewed his troops.
One Circle trooper had even yelled it out: "Suckers!" he had said.
Now the North Korean watched as a thin yellow streak crossed the sky. It was high up when he | focused his NightScope binoculars on it, the infra-126
red image revealing a large cylindrical object. As he watched, the tube deployed a parachute, and was now slowly dropping toward his lines.
He immediately barked out an order for all his men to hunker down in their trenches, and when he regained sight of the cylinder, it was only about 200
feet above the ground, about a quarter of a mile from his position.
Was it a camera of some kind? Or gas? Or perhaps a failed long-range rocket launch?
Just as the cylinder was 100 feet above the trenches it suddenly burst open with a deafening crack! and a flash of yellow fire ...
With a strange jingling and hissing sound, the cylinder had exploded and shot out thousands of small sharp projectiles which ripped into the hapless North Korean troops in the trenches, exploding the minefields in front of them at the same time. Suddenly another parachute cylinder burst a half mile away.
Then another even further away.
The North Korean commander felt a spray of tiny bullets rip his arm clean off his body. He was knocked backward just as another wave tore his left foot clean off. Lying in an instant pool of his own blood, the commander looked up at the night sky to see it was now crisscrossed with the yellow streaks and the hideous, slowly-descending cluster bombs . . .
One word came back to him as he slowly passed into Hell: "Suckers . . ."
The opening shots of yet another Battle for Football City had been fired . . .
Cluster 1>ombs were falling all
He was also armed with what looked to Muss to be a rocket-propelled grenade launcher . . .
"Jesus Christ, run him over!" Muss screamed to his driver.
But it was too late . . .
The man quickly raised the RPG launcher and fired directly at the car. The projectile hit the radiator grating and exploded, lifting the car off the ground a full five feet, and instantly killing the driver with a chunk of shrapnel in his chest.
Muss went out through the windshield and was thrown off to the side of the road. Even while he was in the air, he caught a frightening glimpse of many men, dressed like the one who had fired the RPG, running up from both sides of the road, firing weapons.
Muss landed hard in a clump of grass and sticks, breaking his left arm and leg. His face and chest were covered in blood pouring out of deep cuts he received when he crashed through the windshield. Yet he was still conscious and shock had set in, effectively, if temporarily, blocking out the otherwise excruciating pain of his wounds.
From the clump of grass he watched as the armed men made short work of the Circle guards who had been driving the troop trucks. The sharp firefight lasted all of 30 seconds. Then he was suddenly aware of people running over him-step-124
ping on his face and back, stumbling over his body in the dark. They were the POWs-they were being freed from the trucks and running toward the river. All of the troop trucks were now ablaze and Muss could hear the black-suited men yelling and talking to each other.
Certain they would kill him if he made a sound, the Circle colonel closed his eyes and pretended to be dead . . .
125
CHAPTER 24
A North Korean regimental commander heard the noise first.
Way off in the distance, a barely perceptible pop, followed closely by two more.
It was two in the morning, and up until this time, everything had been quiet in his sector. His troops, along with a mixture of Libyans and Cubans, had taken up positions in the Circle front line trenches shortly after noontime the day before. The Circle troops were marching back toward Football City just as his troops were marching forward. The commander would never forget the look in the eyes of the Circle soldiers as they viewed his troops.
One Circle trooper had even yelled it out: "Suckers!" he had said.
Now the North Korean watched as a thin yellow streak crossed the sky. It was high up when he | focused his NightScope binoculars on it, the infra-126
red image revealing a large cylindrical object. As he watched, the tube deployed a parachute, and was now slowly dropping toward his lines.
He immediately barked out an order for all his men to hunker down in their trenches, and when he regained sight of the cylinder, it was only about 200
feet above the ground, about a quarter of a mile from his position.
Was it a camera of some kind? Or gas? Or perhaps a failed long-range rocket launch?
Just as the cylinder was 100 feet above the trenches it suddenly burst open with a deafening crack! and a flash of yellow fire ...
With a strange jingling and hissing sound, the cylinder had exploded and shot out thousands of small sharp projectiles which ripped into the hapless North Korean troops in the trenches, exploding the minefields in front of them at the same time. Suddenly another parachute cylinder burst a half mile away.
Then another even further away.
The North Korean commander felt a spray of tiny bullets rip his arm clean off his body. He was knocked backward just as another wave tore his left foot clean off. Lying in an instant pool of his own blood, the commander looked up at the night sky to see it was now crisscrossed with the yellow streaks and the hideous, slowly-descending cluster bombs . . .
One word came back to him as he slowly passed into Hell: "Suckers . . ."
The opening shots of yet another Battle for Football City had been fired . . .
Cluster 1>ombs were falling all
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