Operation Minnow

I held my breath as the exhilaration crested. I cursed, pinching my eyes shut in bright white ecstasy. My cock squeezed cum into her ass.

She felt it, squealing with each convulsive injection. More. More. And with a final, weakened throb, it was over.

I gasped.

Min-Ji and I watched each other for a moment. Both of us must have looked astonished.

I glanced at her ass and drew my cock free. She moaned exhaustedly.

Watching my semen dribble from the little hole, I collapsed backward, whispering her name again.

She crawled to me and lay across my chest. Her fingers wove themselves into mine.

We held hands.

***

When night arrived, we dressed and geared up for a final push. I took us west over a large hill before we turned south through a valley, stepped over a small creek, and crept to the DMZ fence.

Setting Min-Ji inside good cover, I returned to the fence and, using the little hacksaw on my multi-tool, cut a passage through it one link at a time. It took every bit of three hours. I stopped frequently to scan with my infrared, but not a single DMZ patrol ever passed us. That was the difference between North and South Korea.

Inside the Civilian Control Area, I carried her west until we met up with the small creek again. We followed it south as it meandered towards the Imjin River.

A good 1200 meters before it joined the Imjin, the creek passed under the CC fence. I set MIn-Ji down and inspected the culvert. It was a large, six-foot concrete tube, and the outlet for the creek consisted of four one-foot diameter holes in a diamond pattern, gated with half-inch rebar. The waterline only reached the middle of the two mid-level vents. The other side was all bank.

Piece of cake, I thought.

Backing out of the culvert, I took up a position and began firing silenced bullets into the concrete at its weakest point—where the vents came closest to one another. Between each shot, I waited about 10 seconds and listened.

After the 17th shot, a large chunk of concrete fell into the creek. It was now wide enough for us to get through. I helped Min-Ji first, and then I climbed out.

The reverse side of our neoprene was light grey with black trim wherever there was an opening—to appear less military and more civilian. We found some cover, wrung out our wet clothes, and changed over.

I did my best to show Min-Ji what we needed next—a phone—and how I hoped to get one. It took a while, but I felt she understood what she needed to do.

I led us to a street that crossed the Han River to our south, and I walked along with her on my back. Min-Ji seemed awestruck. She looked around us as if we were on some strange planet. There wasn't much difference between North and South Korea where we were, but I think just knowing we were there made it seem all the more incredible to her.

After 20 minutes or so, the headlamps of a car behind us finally appeared. I let Min-Ji down, adjusted her shirt to accentuate her breasts, and hid with my gear on the side of the road.

She waved down the car, hopping so as to shake her chest.

I laughed. That had been all her idea. Clever girl.

The car stopped.

I watched her hop over and speak with the man inside. He handed her something, and she held it in the air.

I walked over, leaving my gear hidden.

The man's eyes went wide.

I took the phone and dialed the number. When a voice came on, I gave the sign, got the countersign, and gave them my coordinates, requesting a non-emergency immediate pick-up for two. They told me what vehicles to expect; I told them their number was now compromised because I had to borrow a ROK civilian's cell phone.

I handed the phone back to Min-Ji, and she gave it back to the guy in the car, leaned into the window, and kissed his cheek.

The man appeared to drive off in a bit of a daze.

We waited together not far from the road. She clung to me and kissed my face until I turned and gave her my lips. She took my hand and brought it to one of her breasts. I did not protest. Her fingers crawled down to my crotch, and she squeezed my erection.

I drew back from her kiss, and she glanced at my crotch, grinning mischievously.

It was 0443. The road was mostly empty.

I nodded.

She unbuttoned my trousers, hauled out my erection, and dropped her mouth over it, sucking with shocking force.

I gasped and cursed.

She hummed, and her head began to rise and fall. I swept my fingers through her hair and guided her.

Two minutes later, I led her down and held her there while I came.

She whimpered when the first of it began spilling into her mouth. I listened to the muffled cluck of her throat as she gulped my semen, and I let go of her with a grunt.

Her head popped up, and when she saw the amazement on my face, she laughed and hugged me.

Blinking and collecting myself, I leaned back and secured my pants. As I sat up, two cars approached.

Both vans.

They stopped beside us. The rear door slid open on the first, and two men stepped out. One waited by the door. The second, a Korean, approached us. He stopped when he saw Min-Ji.

Looking at me, he asked, "Who is this?"

"Colonel Kwan."

Stunned, he turned to her. "Daeyeoung Kwan?" he asked.

She said, "Ye," nodding and pointing to herself.

He spoke to her in Korean for a moment and began walking to the van.

Min-Ji remained on the ground.

The man turned back. Clearly, he had expected her to follow.

I said, "She's hurt. Her ankle. Can't walk."

"Help her into the van," he told me.

I rose, swept her into my arms, and carried her to the van. Once seated and buckled, I stepped out.

The man climbed in.

The one beside the door stepped inside and began to close the door.

Min-Ji shouted.

The man at the door stopped.

Looking alarmed, Min-Ji pointed at me and spoke.

The leader responded, shaking his head.

About to complain, Min-Ji grew silent when she heard my voice. I said, "Min-Ji, it's okay."

She sat back, nodded, and said, "Ho-kay."

The door closed.

I went to the second van and climbed in beside the driver.

The driver, a long-haired fellow with a thick black beard, said, "Skipper?"

"Yeah."

He extended his hand. "Harley."

I shook it as the lead van drove away.

We followed.

Harley said, "Expected you three days ago."

"Yeah."

"Wasn't sure I'd ever get the call. Glad you made it."

"Yeah."

"Mission accomplished, right?"

I looked at him for a moment. "All I think I can say is thanks for the ride."

He nodded. "I read you loud and clear. Giving rides is Harley's job."

We drove in silence for a minute before Harley asked, "First mission?"

I turned to him.

He said, "Only ask because we never met before, and word from the underground says we got a new guy in OPGRU 4."

"Yeah. First one."

The lead van took an exit after the bridge.

We didn't follow.

I asked, "Where are they going?"

Harley shook his head. "Didn't tell me. Debriefing, s'pose."

"Where are we going?"

He gestured to the back of the van. "Duffel bag back there for you. Change of clothes and whatnot. Taking you straight to Humphreys. Got a bird waiting to take you back stateside."

I nodded, wondering if I would ever see Min-Ji again.

***

Thirty-seven hours and four stops later, I was sitting across from Deacon in Anacostia-Bolling, the AB.

The duffel bag in Harley's van had contained among other things a laptop, and I spent some of the flight back typing out my report and sending it to Deacon. He was reading or re-reading it in front of me.

"Damn," he said, sounding like he was reading a tragedy.

A minute later: "Damn." This time, it was more of an awed whisper.

A short time after that, he stopped and stared at me. "Damn."

I shrugged.

He appeared to read through to the end, and then he said, "Some hard luck, Skipper."

I shrugged again.

"I like how you write a report. Concise. Clear. Not bragging, not denying. A person who knows the business will know what really went down out there."

I said, "I figured it was for you."

"It is, but it's for the DOG, too, and it may go higher."

DOG was the Director of the Operations Groups in Defense Clandestine Services. I nodded.

Deacon rose from behind his desk and walked over to me, sitting in the chair beside me. "Lots of debriefings to come," he said, "but I want you to clean up and get some rest first."

"Thank you."

He leaned toward me. "Why didn't you terminate her, Skipper?"

"You wish I had?"

"No! No, we're glad to have her," he responded. "You know what I mean."

"After the ankle?"

He nodded.

I looked out the big window for a moment, thinking back to that first night. I sighed and responded, "She was an innocent, and I believed I could still get the job done."

Deacon considered this. He rubbed his grey-speckled goatee and nodded gravely. "I get it, Skipper. I hear you, but I need you to hear me. On a mission, she's the subject—nothing more and nothing less. She's not a woman. She doesn't have a family that will miss her. She doesn't have hopes and dreams. She's the subject and that's it. Never forget that."

"But look at her. How old is she? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"She's eighteen," he responded, "and it doesn't matter."

"Then what about the mission? You sent me there to...."

He interrupted. "It was accomplished. You got Kwan out, but at what potential cost? Think about the collateral damage that only occurred because you cared about her as a human being. Then, think about the collateral damage that might have occurred if you hadn't gotten her out."

"It's who I am, Deacon."

"No. That's who you are on the streets or back home. Out there on assignment, you are a Defense Executor—a tool of the DCS—not a man."

I thought about his words. He rose and patted my back twice. Then, he began to walk back around his desk.

"Hey, Deacon?" I asked. "Was she worth it?"

He stopped and turned to me. He put his finger to his lips and nodded deeply.

I knew not to ask what information she carried. In the Marine Raiders, I had years ago learned to live with unanswered questions. OPGRU 4 would be no different.

"Go home, Skipper," he said, sitting in his big chair.

"Last thing?"

He beckoned me with his hand, saying, "Send it."

"Is she here?"

"Maybe."

"If she was, could I see her?"

"Not without knowing where she is."

I nodded. "She ask about me?"

"Won't stop asking. Now, go."

I rose and turned for the door, but I stopped. I said, "I know you can't actually say anything, Deacon, but if you were to imagine—just imagine, mind you—the type of place where she might be staying, what kind of place do you imagine?"

Deacon tilted back in his big chair, eyeing me in silence. The suggestion of a smile began to appear on his face.

Min-Ji was very pleased to see me—orgasmic, really.

*****

Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this story. It's self-edited, so my apologies if mistakes pulled you out of the narrative. Skipper may deploy again. -FS