PART III: COUNTRY
CHAPTER 17
Midst the spume of half a tempest
I have heard the bulwarks go
When the crashing, point blank round shot
Sent destruction to our foe.
October 10, 1950
The great advance into North Korea was over. The line where the troops now stood, give or take a few miles, was Eighth Army’s stopping point. Roughly a straight line stretching from Sukchon near the west coast to Kowon in the east, this position had become known as the Walker Line. Roads varying in quality between mediocre and terrible ran just behind it, and the lateral railroad a bit further behind that. Back in Washington, General Bradley had recommended the original stop line be pushed forward slightly in the centre to straighten, and shorten, the line.
A stack of newspapers in the back of a nearby truck meant that Patton’s mood wasn’t improved one bit by the extra ten miles he had taken around here. He had taken Sukchon last Friday, a town that was completely unremarkable except that it was a good candidate for a corps command post (Eighth Army was now run from Songchon, which was a few miles from the lateral railroad and close to the centre of the Walker Line). That same day, the ROK forces had taken Hungnam, the last big city and port North Korea boasted. Yesterday they had gotten across the Chongchon River, the last waterway of any consequence before the Yalu. That was where the glory was to be found.
Instead, his troops had been stuck retaking Chinnampo, a port near Pyongyang that was so thoroughly sabotaged as to be completely useless. POWs thought to be held in this area had obviously been moved, because hardly any were liberated by the time the limits of the Walker Line were reached. The NKPA hardly existed at all any more, but they had managed to drag thousands of captured soldiers into their mountain fortresses.
“Good to see you again.” General Milburn said.
“The same to you.” General Dean said, as the two shook hands for the cameras.
Paeksongni shouldn’t have been a newsworthy location. If the American forces were doing literally anything else, it wouldn’t have been. They weren’t, and the I and IX Corps met here, so tomorrow the New York Times would publish it.
“So now that we’ve reached this line, what are we doing?” Dean asked once the reporters cleared off.
“Waiting.” Patton said. “Because there’s going to be another offensive as soon as I can get it approved. Red China’s going to jump us, I can feel it.”
“What makes you say that?” Milburn said. “Apart from that one warning, and a couple of Russian planes, we haven’t seen anything out of them.”
“North Korea hasn’t surrendered.” Patton said. “They’ve got no army. We occupy everything that actually matters in this country. Unless they’ve stuffed Kanggye with some sort of wunderwaffen that I haven’t been told about, they’re waiting for something that they think will turn the tide, and there’s only one thing that can be.”
“We’ll be ready.” Dean said.
“You better be. Until we get authorisation to go north, I want every man in this army getting ready. Every unit, except those on leave, is to be doing training around the clock. Especially at nights. Too many of the men are still scared of the dark.” Patton said.
“What about the defensive line?” Milburn asked.
“What about it?” Patton asked. “We’re not defending anything. Don’t need to. Standard patrols will deal with the partisans, and there’s fifty miles between us and the gooks. We’ll have three days’ warning before any enemy troops get near our position, more if things keep going the way they have. I don’t want to hear of, or see, any trenches, field works or any such crap. That stuff’s bad for morale, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir!” Both corps commanders said.
“Good. See to it.” Patton said, throwing his cigar into the mud. “Because the day I get approval I’ll want seven divisions driving north.”
***
October 11, 1950
Brigadier General Walter J. Muller had been Patton’s G4 for the better part of two wars. Despite how often Patton praised anyone who served under him, managing his logistics was a thankless task. Patton had said before that he didn’t worry about logistics – “that’s why I have a G4”. Not worrying about them last time had convinced Patton he could march all the way across France in one great sweep, even if he had to dip into other armies’ fuel stocks to do it. He’d pulled it off too, or near enough as to make no difference. Sometime between his entering retirement and leaving it, Patton’s approach had changed from not worrying to flat out ignoring logistics. That left Muller to deal with the problem. And this time, the problem couldn’t be solved by ‘borrowing’ from neighbours. The South Koreans hardly used any fuel, and the only other neighbours Eighth Army had were the two seas on either side of the peninsula. MacArthur had been generous with his stocks, but Japan wasn’t exactly overflowing with beans, bullets and gas either.
“Sir, what you are asking for quite simply cannot be done.” Muller said. This was the third time he had attempted to bring the subject up this week. The first time, Patton hadn’t been interested. The second time he’d yelled at his logistics chief and then disappeared off to the front.
For a wonder, Patton’s mood wasn’t too bad right now. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve blown through a quarter of our trucks in six weeks. They’re not built for Korea’s shoddy roads, and if we lose them there’s no spare parts.” Muller said. “Chinnampo and Wonsan have more mines in them than Korea has hills. Stratemeyer has scorched every rail yard between here and Taejon. If you push any harder, the whole system’s going to give out.”
“We’re not pushing at all!” Patton snapped. “Not a damned bit, not anywhere, except those ROK bastards.”
“Which might be a good thing.” Muller said. “The troops have only been receiving seventy-five percent of the supplies they should be getting as things are. Add another hundred miles to the trip, we might be down to half.” He looked his commander right in the eyes. “The only reason we’re keeping seven divisions in the line up here is because the North Korean army hasn’t been effective for the last month.”
“You told me we were fine back in Seoul.” Patton said.
“We were. In Seoul.” Muller said. “Not any more. If the Chinese hit us now as the North Koreans did in June, I expect shortages would force us to retreat towards our bases.”
“Which is why we must attack.” Patton said. “I’ve been telling Truman that all week!”
“We can’t.” Muller said. “Not for very long anyway. Say you charge up to the Yalu, then what? We’ll have no trucks, our planes won’t get off the ground and the tanks won’t be able to move. You want the biggest retreat since Napoleon was run out of Moscow, that’s the fastest way to get it.”
Telling Patton he couldn’t attack was never going to end well. Muller knew what to expect, and ignored the tirade that followed. Then once Patton had vented long enough, he spoke in the firmest voice he could manage. “George, listen to me. I got your forces across the African desert and all the way through France and Germany. I’ve done the same this time around too. I know better than anyone in the world what Eighth Army can and can’t do. You remember when Ike cut off your supplies to give them to the British? Have you ever thought about why he did that?”
“Ike was kissing Monty’s ass, the coward.” Patton’s response was predictable enough.
“That time, he had good reason to. Trucks coming out of Cherbourg couldn’t handle it. He needed Antwerp.” Muller said. “We’re in the same predicament as we were then.”
“And what the hell could you need?” Patton snapped again. “I spent half of last week taking Chinnampo. We got Wonsan. If you ask that son-of-a-goddamned-bitch Rhee he might even let you use Hungnam. That’s every port in Korea but one. We ran Third Army out of one port for six months no problem. Now you’re telling me we can’t use one-third of the strength with five?”
“Sir, this isn’t France.” Muller said. “The worst roads in France are better than anything out here. Drive a truck out here too long, it falls apart, and we don’t have replacements for anything. I can repair the railroads by stripping combat engineers from the infantry. I can open up Wonsan by sending in minesweepers.” Chinnampo was too badly wrecked: it wouldn’t be operational before January at the best of times. “We’re already doing both of those. But I can’t fix our trucks once they’re wrecked, not without engines, tyres, spare parts.”
“Fine.” Patton said, leaning back exhausted as if he had run a marathon, not had an angry conversation. “What do you need that will let the offensive go ahead?”
“Two things. If I get either, we might manage, but I suspect we’ll need both. The first is for you to pull a corps off the Walker Line and station them further south. If all we’re doing up there is drills, them being up there is an unnecessary burden.” Muller said.
Patton reached for a cigar but didn’t bother lighting it. “Should be possible.” he said eventually. “I’ve been meaning to do something with them for a few days as it is.”
“Good. The second thing I need,” Muller said. “Is time.”
Patton looked like Muller had just shot him. “You know we can’t stop the offensive? That would be handing the initiative back to the enemy. Might as well just give him a loaded .45 and tell him to put a bullet through our heads!”
“We can’t?” Muller asked. “We already have.”
***
October 16, 1950
When Hickey informed him of Patton’s request to meet in Tokyo, MacArthur had been caught off guard. He had known as soon as he was told that Patton would replace Walker that George would be impossible to control, and had given him as close to a free rein as he could in Korea. He sent over troops and supplies as they arrived in Japan, and had been forced into doing some damage control with the South Koreans. Otherwise, he was free to concentrate on finishing the occupation, and democratisation, of Japan. The arrangement suited them both well, and Hickey handled most of Patton’s affairs anyway.
“Did he say what for?” MacArthur had asked Hickey then. Hickey only shrugged and said “Strategy”, which could have meant anything. He told Hickey to tell Patton it would be acceptable, and set the time for Monday at 1000. That was now.
“What can I do for you, George?” MacArthur asked after salutes and greetings were exchanged.
“I’m hoping you can get my next offensive in position.” Patton said. “Do you have a map of Korea? My one is quite worn at this point I’m afraid.”
“In the box there.” MacArthur said, waving to a box that had been delivered last night. “Though I trust you realise I cannot simply order you to cross the Walker Line. Regrettably, Harry Truman continues to reject my appeals.”
“He’ll see reason eventually.” Patton said, getting a map out of the box. “Either the ROKs finish the job now, in which case I’m going home, or Red China comes in and there’s no point holding back.”
Then he laid out the map on the desk and drew a line representing the Walker Line.
“I was talking this through with my G3 the other day, and the way I see it, there’s three ways we get to the Yalu. First, from Sukchon up the west coast. Second, from Hungnam up into the northwest through the Chosin Reservoir. That way we take the mountain fortress where Kim Il-sung is hiding out. Third, start at Iwon and head due north. I’d like to do all three.” Patton explained.
“I’ll approve it as soon as Truman says I can.” MacArthur said. “You didn’t need to come all the way to Tokyo for that.”
“I do if we’re going to do this operation quickly, especially from Iwon.” Patton said. “It’s more than a hundred miles from my closest positions.”
“Hickey says the ROKs took it yesterday.” MacArthur said. “Driving there unopposed shouldn’t pose a problem.”
“My logistics chief says otherwise.” Patton said. “And even if we ignore him, I don’t intend to drive there. I intend to land there.”
“After Inchon?” MacArthur asked. Thankfully the press hadn’t made too big a stink out of that debacle, but Patton, despite what he told Truman, had never thought much of that plan. Another amphibious landing behind friendly lines wouldn’t just be a black mark on his career. The whole page would be black.
“Yes, but not like Inchon. As you said, we hold it. I was hoping you could unload the entire X Corps there for me on the day we get approval to go north.” Patton said.
“Iwon’s a small port.” MacArthur noticed. “You won’t get a whole corps off the ships in one day.” Patton had managed to get through forty years in the Army without really worrying about logistics. MacArthur had never been able to ignore them: taking the Pacific back from Japan had been more about transport than it had been about killing Japanese. “One other thing, Iwon’s probably mined.”
“Sweep it then. Top priority, before Chinnampo or Hungnam. I’m told Wonsan is nearly cleared.” Patton said. “And if it takes landing craft to get the troops ashore in one day, the comparisons to Inchon can be damned. Tell the reporters to go to hell.”
MacArthur leaned back in his chair and got his pipe going, thinking over Patton’s proposal. It would require a very substantial reorganising of naval assets, and probably the twisting of an admiral’s arm or two. But Patton was right, it would speed up the offensive considerably. Finally he decided.
“I’ll have to run the operation out of Japan.” he said. “And it will need time to be prepared. If you have the men ready in Pusan by Friday, the operation should be ready to go ahead from the 28th.”
“They’ll be there.” Patton said. “Thank you.”
- BNC