Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1 Four Months Earlier USS Pueblo Off the coast of Wonsan, North Korea January 23, 1968 THE USS PUEBLO HAD departed Yokosuka, Japan, on January 5. Commander Lloyd M. "Pete" Bucher had decided on the southern route to avoid the notoriously rough winter seas north of Hokkaido. The Pueblo first sailed south for Kyushu Island and then adjusted course north for Sasebo, where the United States maintained a naval base. There they had refueled and taken on additional provisions along with classified publications and documents to assist in their mission. Officially an Auxiliary Cargo Ship, Light, the USS Pueblo was in reality a spy ship. It was one of a proposed seventy ships commissioned under Operation Clickbeetle, a program conceived as a way to observe and report on Soviet ship and submarine movements while collecting their electronic transmissions. Commander Bucher was only aware of three ships commissioned under the program to date. His ship's cover was as an oceanographic research vessel, though its mass of intricate antenna arrays indicated it might have other motives. At 176 feet long and a top speed of 13 knots, it did not look like a United States naval vessel. In fact, it hardly looked seaworthy. The Pueblo first hit the water in 1944 as a United States Army Freight and Passenger Ship, but was put into mothballs ten years later, where she sat until the Navy requisitioned her in the 1960s for Clickbeetle. She was redesignated as a Technical Research Ship and given a captain, former submariner Pete Bucher. The Pueblo was his first command. The ship had been specially retrofitted with a Special Operations Department space called the SOD hut, a 20- by 10-foot container with a triple-locked door located just forward of the bridge. The hut was home to a team of communications technicians, called CTs, and the classified equipment designed and built for the Pueblo 's mission as a signals intelligence collector. With its relatively new designation and top-secret charge, they did not yet have the requisite manuals specifying the range of protocols on how to deal with their particular assignment and its possible contingencies. As such, they were making a lot of it up as they went along. For security reasons, Bucher had only received the specifics of their mission once they departed Yokosuka. Though envisioned as an intelligence collector focused on the Soviet threat, the Pueblo had a different target on this voyage. They were directed to sail for North Korea's border with the Soviet Union and then follow the coastline south, collecting signals intelligence and mapping coastal radar sites as they went. Bucher had been uneasy from the start. He knew that the ship carried too much classified material without a reliable way to incinerate it. Nor did they have dependable protocols in place for the destruction of their highly sensitive encryption machines. We should be more prepared, the skipper thought. He had asked a senior officer in Hawaii what to do if his ship came under attack and was told that his sister spy ship, the USS Banner, had operated off the North Korean coast without incident, though it had been harassed by the Soviets and Chinese. We are fucking expendable. When he requested new destruction systems for the sensitive material, his requests had fallen on the deaf ears of his superiors. As a result, he bought a small incinerator out of the crew's recreation fund. It was nowhere near large enough to handle the mountains of classified documents that the ship carried, but it was better than nothing. As they sailed toward their target, Bucher thought of his briefings at the Naval Security Group and National Security Agency after taking command of the Pueblo. He worried about the encryption machines he was responsible for belowdeck along with their plans, manuals, and codes. He thought of the USS Liberty and the lessons of the previous June when sailors had struggled to destroy classified documents belowdeck in trash cans rather than using the topside incinerators, which would have exposed them to gunfire from Israeli jets and torpedo boats. Thirty-four Americans had been killed that day. The Liberty had been attacked in water too shallow to discard classified material overboard. That was only a few months ago. Why was nothing done? Nothing other than a directive that all spy ships be armed. What am I supposed to do with two .50 caliber machine guns if we come up against the naval and air forces of North Korea, the Soviet Union, or China? I tried to tell them. I should have made sure we got explosives in Japan, enough to destroy everything. I know better. By January 16 the USS Pueblo, its decks covered in ice, was in position collecting intelligence off the coast of North Korea just south of the Soviet border. To the dismay of Commander Bucher and the communications technicians in the SOD hut, there was almost no activity to keep them busy. The Pueblo pushed south, staying in international waters so as not to provoke an international incident. A few days later, off the coast of Wonsan, they were circled by North Korean trawlers. Bucher confirmed they were still in international waters. The trawlers had grown aggressive with one coming within 25 yards. That was still less harassment than the Banner received from the Soviets and Chinese on their deployment. Then the CTs started to collect. The Pueblo was successfully accomplishing its mission. Alone with no support, the spy ship sat off an enemy shore, its antennas pulling in electronic transmissions from the military base less than 15 miles away. On the twenty-third of January, while Bucher ate lunch in the galley, a North Korean submarine chaser had vectored in on them and approached at a high rate of speed. The Soviet-built SO-1 was fast and maneuverable, armed with 25mm antiaircraft guns, torpedoes, and a 57mm cannon. As Bucher ran to the bridge, the sub chaser was joined by three torpedo boats. We were never in Korean territorial waters. I know we weren't. First came the warning. The sub chaser hoisted signal flags: HEAVE TO OR I WILL FIRE. Fire? What's going on? We are in international waters adhering to the laws of the sea. They had been more than 12 nautical miles off the coast of North Korea, hadn't they? Bucher had checked their position himself. Two MiGs screamed by overhead. The four original boats were augmented by a second SO-1 and torpedo boat. Why this escalation? They can't want war with the United States, can they? Maybe they are just harassing us. That thought evaporated as Bucher saw North Korean soldiers with AKs transferring from the SO-1 into a torpedo boat. They intend to board us. The commander ordered his ship ahead at one-third, then two-thirds, then full. How long would it take to scuttle the ship? Two hours by flooding the engine room. What's our current depth? One hundred eighty feet. Not deep enough. Two torpedo boats positioned themselves in front of the Pueblo , blocking its path. Bucher ordered evasive maneuvers, but the Pueblo was no match for the speed and agility of their pursuers. The MiGs thundered past again. Next came the warning shots from the SO-1's cannon, one hitting the Pueblo's main mast, causing the first wounds of the engagement as Bucher and two of his sailors took shrapnel. Struggling to his feet, Bucher ordered the emergency destruction of classified materials. He thought of the incinerator he wished he had and of the small one he was forced to buy. He thought of the canvas bags that they did not have enough of to dispose of their mountains of sensitive documents, as well as the explosives he had not acquired in Japan against his better judgment. Do we return fire? Do I order my crew to man our two .50 caliber machine guns? One was mounted close to the bow on the starboard side and the other was mounted near the stern. Neither were prepped and ready to fire. Both were still lashed down and covered with tarpaulins. If I give that order, the North Koreans will blow us out of the water killing every sailor under my command. Protect your crew! The MiGs roared over again as another salvo of cannon fire from the sub chaser tore through what was left of the Pueblo's masts. That barrage was followed by a volley of machine-gun fire from the torpedo boats. Bucher ordered the bridge cleared just before another torrent of bullets tore into the pilothouse. He could hear the sounds of sledgehammers and axes making contact with steel housings as the CTs attempted to destroy equipment in the SOD. At the same time, other crew members frantically struggled to burn classified material in trash cans. A group tried to use the small incinerator the captain had purchased, but it could only hold loose sheets requiring the sailors to tear top-secret manuals into single pages before stuffing them into the small furnace. The SO-1 had adjusted its aim and fired again, sending a shell through the pilothouse window. They followed it with an additional barrage of artillery. The Pueblo went dead in the water. What's happening? Why did we stop? I didn't give that order, did I? Keep your head! If we keep going, we will be torn to shreds. My crew will die. Thick smoke from the fires fueled by classified documents obscured Commander Bucher's view of the North Korean torpedo boat not 40 yards off his starboard bow, but it was clear enough for him to see the men in helmets behind machine guns trained directly at him. How do I buy more time? He directed the crew to continue burning documents and destroying top-secret code machines. Think, damn it, think! Will U.S. aircraft or ships intervene? Doubtful. How would I even know they were inbound? Buy time. The crew needs more time to destroy documents. He ordered "all ahead one-third" in response to the signal flags that were run up a mast on the Soviet-built submarine chaser that tormented them. The flags translated as: FOLLOW ME. Maybe we can destroy our classified before they board us? We can't hold them off forever. Remembering he had sensitive material in his stateroom, Bucher rushed belowdecks. The shrapnel he had taken in the first barrage had punctured his intestines and made movement difficult. He gritted his teeth, fighting off the pain, and pushed his way through the smoke-clogged passageways, grabbing a sailor en route. "Come with me." He threw open the door to his cramped quarters, his home since taking command of the USS Pueblo almost two years earlier, and rummaged through drawers for the classified manuals that concerned him. He found them and passed them to the young sailor. "Burn these," he said. He looked at his Shakespeare collection on a shelf and wondered if he would ever see it again. He then located his two personal pistols, a .22 and a .38. What the hell would these do against six armed ships and two MiGs? He gave them to the sailor as well. "Toss them over the side," he said. Bucher could not stand the thought of his personal pistols ending up in the hands of the enemy. The skipper then returned to the pilothouse, ignoring the excruciating pain from his wounds, and took stock of their situation. Outmanned. Outgunned. Outmaneuvered. I have a responsibility to my men, to not waste their lives. I have a duty to the country to not give up the ship. He looked back out over the sea and made his decision. "All stop!" No sooner had the engines responded to his order than the sub chaser sent another barrage of shells at the Pueblo in concert with machine-gun fire from the torpedo boats. He ordered the ship all ahead one-third and the barrage stopped. Okay, keep moving, but keep moving slowly. Screams intruded on his thoughts. My men. He made his way toward the chaos below. Pushing open a hatch, his hand felt a dislodged piece of human flesh. On the deck, the ship's medic was working on a sailor who had taken the brunt of one of the shells. It had almost completely severed his right leg, opening his abdomen in the process. Other sailors were wounded, bleeding from wounds to arms and legs. Dear God. How many wounded do I have? He continued on to the SOD hut, the classified chamber where his CTs fought to burn what they could. There is still too much material that we can't dispose of. Bucher accepted the Pueblo 's fate. He made his way back to the pilothouse and ordered his navigator to destroy the log. Then he brought the Pueblo to a full stop when directed to do so by signal flags on the sub chaser. A United States naval vessel was about to be boarded by a foreign nation. Bucher returned to his stateroom for what he knew would be the last time. He put on his arctic boots and adjusted his cover, a Navy hat with his rank. Surrounded by two sub chasers, four torpedo boats, with two MiGs doing suppression runs, in a slow boat that was tough to maneuver, with no American ships or planes to assist, without the means to destroy the remaining classified material, Bucher returned topside. I should not have left Yokosuka until I had explosives. The Navy rejected that request. I should have tried harder. Think of your sailors. Do we have the ability to resist? Have I done all I can? He then moved to the stern of the Pueblo where the North Koreans were boarding. Am I, a United States naval officer, really about to surrender? He looked to the skies and then scanned the waves one final time. No one was coming. Am I surrendering without a fight? "Damn the torpedoes!" "Don't give up the ship." "I am an American fighting man." Ten men with rifles and bayonets boarded. They were followed by two men in green uniforms, the red and gold epaulettes on their shoulders identifying them as officers in the North Korean military. One walked straight to Commander Bucher and raised a pistol to his head. Excerpted from Cry Havoc: A Tom Reece Thriller by Jack Carr All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
