Read Online Korea Strait by David Poyer - Free Book Online Page A

finger down a crease. Over plains, mountains, plains again. The embattled peninsula, a clubfooted version of the Italian boot, stretched south till it frayed away into the East China Sea.
    He closed his eyes, frowning, not liking the memories that came with that body of water. Where in a ship without a name he’d crossed the shadow-line separating warship from pirate…
    â€œThe shape drives the history,” Hwang said.
    Dan opened his eyes to purple mountains, rice-terraced hillsides in greens so brilliant they hurt to look at long. The hills escalatored down to a valley so lovely it stopped his breath. It was instantly recognizable from a thousand painted screens. The road coiled along it, through minuscule hamlets with red-tiled roofs and walls of painted block. “Sorry,” he said. “I missed that. What you said.”
    â€œYou know our history?”
    â€œHardly any of it.”
    Hwang laughed. “Do Americans even know their own?”
    â€œNo argument here,” Dan said. He groped under the seat for the bottled water. Offered one, then cracked another for himself.
    The willowy, pale chief of staff said, “For seven hundred years there were three kingdoms in Korea. The Chinese aided whichevergave them the most influence. At last the Silla Kingdom defeated the Koguryo and Paekche, with the help of a Chinese army. They ruled for many years and became prosperous. Only to grow self-indulgent and peace-loving…as has happened many times before.”
    As Dan puzzled over what he meant—that the Republic of Korea was self-indulgent and peace-loving? that the Chinese were the eternal enemy? or that prosperity itself was?—he was jostled forward as Hwang braked, muttering under his breath.
    It was another hamlet. Brightly painted houses crowded a road thronged with running children, elders wobbling on warp-wheeled bikes, battered, smoke-snorting farm-trucks loaded with vegetables, goats, and pigs. Hwang leaned on the horn as he continued his fast-forward through Korean history. Through the Mongol conquest, the Yi dynasty, and the great admiral, Yi Sun-shin, whose bronze statue Dan had admired at Yongsan.
    â€œHis fleet was smaller than that of his enemy, but his mind was greater. He defeated the Japanese every time they met. You have heard of the turtle boats? The ironclad warship?” Hwang honked again, a viciously long blast, but not one hustling head so much as glanced back. “This could take some time,” he muttered. The window was open and Dan caught the stench of village life: pig shit, diesel exhaust, rotting cabbage, cheap tobacco smoke.
    â€œIronclad? I thought—”
    â€œThat your
Monitor
and
Merrimack
were first? Admiral Yi put iron armor on his ships in 1592. Perhaps you can make a side trip to Hyongchungsan while you are with us. There is a turtle boat there we have rebuilt.”
    The truck ahead of them snorted, belched black smoke, and began to move at last, a thin stinking tide drooling out the back. Hwang pulled out and passed it on the right on a blind curve as Dan clutched the edges of his seat. As they passed he locked eyes with one of the hogs through the slats of the truck. I know my doom, its sad regard said. Do you know yours? A tunnel entrance loomed. They plunged into darkness and the tinny racketing echo of the little engine.
    â€œThis shape drives our strategy as well,” Hwang said. “As one trained in sea power, you will understand this. If the Northerners attack again, the war will be won or lost by the shape of our land.”
    An aperture of light grew ahead, became the end of the tunnel. Dan examined the map again. “Meaning because it’s surrounded by water?”
    â€œMeaning that to conquer us they must attack north to south, while their flanks rest on the sea. So air interdiction and ground reinforcement will decide the outcome.”
    Dan had figured out that much. If the FEBA—Forward Edge of