I don't really see it. Big Mac was big on anti-colonialism, and even criticized Truman for not speeding up decolonization. I just don't see him propping up an invasion of Suez.
In the biographies I've read on him, he seems to have been mostly uninterested in affairs outside of Eastern Asia (or at least thought they were less important), which makes sense considering he was in Asia continuously from the 1930s until he was dismissed by Truman. When I say I could see him siding with the UK, France, and Israel, I mostly mean that I don't think he would put too much effort into stopping them. More of a "this isn't a big deal to us so I don't care, im focused on other things" sort of attitude.
I'm not sure that philosophy sits well with his attitude to 'our little brown brothers' in the Philippines.
You forget that everyone else is Imperialist and colonialist. The US just has control of overseas territory which it exploits economically while not allowing the people who live there votes. Completely different things!
You forget that everyone else is Imperialist and colonialist. The US just has control of overseas territory which it exploits economically while not allowing the people who live there votes. Completely different things!

He is a colonialist.
You are saddled with messy overseas obligations.
I am a benevolent uplifter of my little foreign brothers who love me.
On December 23, 1950, a tragedy occurred in a land that had suffered a tragic six months. Korea, once colonised, now divided, was again a battlefield as the great powers fought for control of East Asia. Having consumed the lives of thousands of soldiers, and untold numbers of local civilians, one of the Korean War’s top commanders was now dead, killed as his jeep collided with an Army truck. Six years prior, he had been part of the spearhead of Patton’s Third Army as it triumphantly stormed across Western Europe. There, he had earned the nickname ‘Bulldog’ for his aggressive approach to warfare, and that same aggression had seen his armies drive most of the way to the Yalu. Perhaps he had been too aggressive. Surprised by the entry of Red China into the war, his Eighth Army had been forced into a headlong retreat. As Seoul came under threat for the second time, General Walker’s last words were “I wonder what George would have done?”

This is that story. What if General George S. Patton had fought in the Korean War?

View attachment 597648



Through the travail of the ages,
Midst the pomp and toil of war,
Have I fought and strove and perished
Countless times upon this star.

June 25, 1950

For over a thousand years Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honour of triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeters, musicians and strange animals from conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conquerors rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children robed in white stood with him in the chariot or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror holding a golden crown and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting...

Willie struggled on his lead, straining to break free and smell whatever it was that he found so interesting. He must have walked past this patch of grass a thousand times since he came to his new home in California, but every day brought with it new smells. Less loud scary noises than his old home in the back of a command truck had had too. The dog was more than satisfied with life.
His master, the now-retired General George Patton, didn’t give a damn about the smell of the grass. He felt like a dog on the end of a long rope all the same. He had ever since Marshall had told him that there was no chance of him seeing a combat command against Japan before the end of the war. The day that had happened, he had been in Boston for the start of a temporary leave. Temporary soon became permanent, as he decided to retire from the army rather than bore himself to death with peacetime service. Even in the early June of 1945, it was becoming apparent that peacetime service in Germany would be a much more political job than anything he had done before it. Patton knew he was a terrible politician. Someone else could have that role. He had come home, intending to write a book about Third Army’s accomplishments. His thoughts had drifted back to the Roman conquerors almost every day since.
The Republican Party had obviously never been told about his lack of political skills, because six months after he returned, they were calling for him to run for Congress in a desperate attempt to unseat the longtime Democratic incumbent. It was an offer that he declined at Beatrice’s urging, but one he wished he had taken when the election came along a year later. Richard Nixon looked like a real piece of work. When 1948 came around, he considered running as a Democrat, only to be cautioned against it again.
“If you get a debate with that man, he’ll fight dirty. He’ll make the people remember a lot of things you did in Europe that we’d rather they forget.” Beatrice had warned that day. “If you want a chance to get back into the Army, stay away from him.”
Her advice had likely prevented him from doing anything stupid in the dark days that had been the 1930s, and she had sworn to do everything possible to get him back into command should another war break out. He was determined not to ruin whatever chances he had. War had looked possible a couple of years ago when that incident happened in Berlin, but things had calmed down a fair bit since. Glory was fleeting indeed: apart from the polo teams he coached, he felt forgotten by the world. That was until Beatrice came running out to him.
“Georgie!” she called. “The man on the NBC is saying that North Korea has just invaded the South!”
South Korea was an American ally. If this flare-up didn’t quieten down soon, US troops would surely be sent to fight. This was his chance. As he walked – almost dragged – the reluctant Willie back into the house, he remembered that it was June 24th, 1950. The 25th on the other side of the date line. Technically he was past the official retirement age, but only by a few months. Someone, likely the president, would have to be convinced if he was to go to Korea.
He asked Beatrice to write a letter to Truman.


July 5, 1950

Lieutenant Colonel Charles B. Smith looked through his field glasses somewhere to the north. The day was a wet one, drizzling now after an hours-long downpour during the night. It was also the day after the Fourth of July, but there was little cause for celebration. A week ago the frontline had still been near the 38th parallel, whereas now his ‘Task Force’, a glorified understrength battalion, was twenty miles south of it. As the first US troops to fight in South Korea, their official role was to give moral support to their allies. Unofficially, there were a few dozen T-34 tanks up ahead, and something had to be done about them.
Smith was no stranger to military disaster: nine years earlier he had been at Schofield Barracks, not far from Pearl Harbour, when the Japanese had launched their fateful attack. Someone had screwed that one up really bad. But if his superiors hadn’t screwed up the situation in Korea just as badly as they did in Hawaii, they had managed to do even worse. The border on the 38th had been something close to an active war zone for months before the In Min Gun came charging south, yet here he was with half a dozen bazooka rounds, no anti-tank mines and too few infantry to have a prayer of accomplishing anything. Matters weren’t helped by the fact that only a handful had seen combat before.
While his own radio looked to have given out, someone else in the unit appeared to still be able to contact the artillery battery further down the road, as shells began falling around the enemy tanks. Not on the enemy tanks – evidently that was too much to hope for – but close enough that the North Koreans were forced to take notice. Some of their infantry dove for cover in the rice fields. Too many others joined the tanks in shooting at his position.
Although he had only been here for a few hours, Smith could see that not much more could be accomplished by his unit. Like every other unit that had come in contact with the North Koreans, Task Force Smith was being forced to retreat. Soon he would return to his command post, where communications still worked, and order the company commanders to get their men into trucks. Optimists among them would say his unit was buying time. A lot of others were convinced that the retreats would not end until Kim Il-sung’s troops reached the Sea of Japan.


July 12, 1950

Walton Walker looked out the window of the C-54 transport plane as he unfolded a well-worn map. The map was practically brand new, having come off a printing press only a month ago, but had been folded and unfolded so many times that it could pass as a relic of World War II like everything else the Army had in East Asia. The plane and the general had both had extensive experience in that war. So did the tanks and small arms being sent in today’s transport runs to Pusan. Even the airbase they were leaving, not far from Tokyo, counted as old. Before the Stars and Stripes was flown from its flagpole, there had been the Japanese Rising Sun or their Army’s flag in its place. New equipment was supposed to be coming from the States, but until it did, Walker’s Eighth Army had to hang on to their half of Korea with whatever leftovers happened to be hanging around.
“You are cleared for takeoff” a voice announced through the radio, and the plane began to accelerate.
Walker looked at his map again. In a couple of hours, he would be back on the ground, trying to salvage something from the disaster unfolding in Korea. Already the Communists had conquered about a third of the country, and were showing no signs of slowing down. To stop them, the 24th Division had been rushed from Japan, and the 25th was set to reach the front shortly. Half a dozen or so ROK divisions were also supposed to be manning the lines, but Walker’s confidence in them was basically gone by now. Their constant retreats were serious problem.
“General, sir, we’re having a few problems getting off the ground,” Captain Mike Lynch said. Lynch was a good pilot, and Walker was confident he would get through whatever issues the plane was having.
It was the last thing he heard before the C-54 burst into flames.

Four hours later, Walker lay in hospital covered in burns and bandages. Everything hurt like hell, and it wasn’t too surprising when a doctor came in saying that he was lucky to be alive at all. He would probably lose his right leg, and God only knew what else had been damaged in that mess. The C-54 was still apparently strewn all across the runway, broken into dozens of pieces, and Captain Lynch was badly injured as well. The piece of map that had somehow survived lay on a small table next to him, prompting him to ask “When will I go back to the front?”
“Never.” The doctor said flatly. “As I said, you’re lucky to be alive at all. I expect you’ll be getting an honourable discharge in a few weeks, and when you’re well enough they’ll send you back home. The front is your successor’s job now.”
Walker’s mind immediately flicked back to the chaos of setting up the EUSAK command in the previous few days. “I don’t have a successor named.” he realised. General Dean from the 24th Division was handling things on the ground for now, but Dean had enough responsibilities. He didn’t need Eighth Army added to the list.
“Sir, if you’d like to name one now, I can have someone pass the message on to Washington.” the doctor offered.
One name came to Walker’s mind before he even tried to think. “Tell them to send Patton.” Beatrice had sent him a Christmas card last year, so he was sure George was still alive. If his old boss was anything like he had been back in Europe, he would be itching for another command.
The doctor’s face lit up as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “My brother was at Bastogne, sir.” he explained. “Still says that serving under Patton was the finest thing he ever did.”
Unable to move anything below his neck, the injured general had to content himself by staring out the window, where he saw a butterfly flying past.

Allright then... you got my attention
I haven't heard this one before, and Suez didn't come up anywhere in his memoirs. Do you have a source I could read?

It’s in monarchs in waiting. A book about pretenders to former thrones.
Mac Belived the Sunni Muslims simmlar to what President Trump tried to arrange, would unite against Iran. Under Egyptian hegemony
Part IV, Chapter 25


September 9, 1951

The signing of the Treaty of San Francisco, a document that finally ended the occupation of Japan, and with it the last vestiges of World War II, should have been an occasion worth a celebration. For the people of Japan, and forty-nine other nations including the United States and the recently reunified Republic of Korea, it was.
For President Harry Truman it was not.
A newspaper – today’s edition of the New York Herald Tribune – sat on his desk. Truman was used to being annoyed by the Tribune – the paper, like most of the media and indeed more than two thirds of the country, did not like him very much and often produced stories that served no purpose other than heap additional piles of dung onto his legacy. But today’s headline would have annoyed him even if it came from the Washington Post.


Quite likely part of that was just some editor making a joke about His Majesty’s most famous phrase, but for all the trouble He had caused when he was in Tokyo, right now Truman wished He had stayed there. Instead, the five-star general had decided to run for President in next year’s election.
“He’s a damned liar.” Truman had grumbled as he read the story earlier that morning. When president and general had met – for the only time – at Midway island, Truman had asked MacArthur if he had any aspirations for the highest office in the country. “None.” MacArthur had replied. “If a general will run against you, his name will be Eisenhower, not MacArthur.” Eisenhower hadn’t given any indication that he was the slightest bit interested in the office, even after Truman had offered him unconditional support should he run as a Democrat in 1948. MacArthur, or more likely his supporters, had organised a parade attended by around a million people in Los Angeles, and then announced his intentions in the most public way possible.
The worst part was, Truman couldn’t do a whole lot to stop him. A few weeks ago, MacArthur had made a formal request for indefinite leave effective September 1st. His five stars kept him in the Army for life, but this was as close to retirement as he would get. What he was going to do in retirement had been obvious for months: Patton, in one of his many angry speeches since he returned from Asia, had been praising MacArthur’s leadership and occasionally suggested that he become the nation’s thirty-fourth president (and proudly wearing his Medal of Honor – given to him by Congress over Truman’s personal objections – while doing so). Truman wished Patton would run himself: now that the furor over his firing had died down, his public rants were attracting smaller crowds by the week. Patton had no political skill to speak of either. Truman knew he was dead in the water if he ran next year against a serious candidate (which MacArthur, much to his frustration, would be). Against Patton, his chances wouldn’t be too bad.
Truman had thought about refusing that leave, and ordering MacArthur into some worthless position that would keep him from causing any more trouble than he already had (Wyoming had plenty of coastal defences that needed supervising). The only problem with that was, MacArthur would just ignore the order, the way he so often did, come home, and campaign regardless. If the president raised an objection to that, the public would just back MacArthur. They had when he relieved Patton, and they would again. At that point, it would be much easier to just hand MacArthur the keys to the White House.

A secretary appeared at the door. “Mr President, Mr Kennan is waiting to see you.”
“Thank you. Send him in.” Truman said.

George F. Kennan wasn’t working for Truman’s government any more, but there was no-one else in the country who understood the Soviet Union as well as he did. They hadn’t intervened in Korea once the 38th parallel was crossed the way many had feared, and indeed shortly after the new year they apparently pulled out of Korea altogether, leaving the fight to the Red Chinese. Yet their refusal to sign the Treaty of San Francisco – announced in a statement by Andrei Gromyko yesterday – told Truman that this was no withdrawal from the ‘Cold War’ as a whole. So here he was, asking Kennan for advice once again.
“What do you think Stalin’s going to do?” Truman asked after greetings were exchanged. It was blunt, but he had always been one to get straight to the point.
“I cannot say what exactly – Russia’s pretty good at keeping secrets from us. What I do think is that they will do something. Stalin’s not happy about this.” Kennan said.
“He pulled out of Korea. Abandoned the place.” Truman observed. “And it is hard to believe that Mao agreed to that cease fire without Stalin’s approval.”
“Indeed, although I would find it hard to believe that Stalin wanted a war with George Patton of all people.” Kennan said. “That aside, he is not happy about Korea, and I’m not saying that just because red team lost. Stalin’s an old man, and some of my colleagues and I have been trying to get a sense of who his successor might turn out to be. One such candidate was Nikita Khrushchev, a Red Army commissar, present at Stalingrad, did some work in the Ukraine afterwards. He’s dropped off the map.”
“What happened to him?” Truman asked.
“There was no announcement of a death and a public mourning period, so I’d say we can rule out a natural death. He’d still be in his fifties, so retirement is unlikely. Past that, all I can guess is ‘nothing good’.” Kennan said. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense for Stalin to blame Khrushchev for Korea, but it is one explanation.”
“In which case, Stalin would be looking for a way to get us back?” Truman asked.
“It’s likely.” Kennan said. “And if I had to guess where, I’d look at either Europe or the Middle East.”


In his 1882 ‘Chinese Memorandum’, future Lieutenant General Arthur MacArthur Jr had foreseen America playing a decisive role in acquiring the riches of Asia by dominating the trade routes of the Pacific. For this to be achieved, a major port would have to be established on the West Coast, which could then develop into “one of the leading handlers of commerce in the country”. Around the turn of the century, that envisioned trade hub became the artificial harbour of Los Angeles.
His son, General of the Army Douglas MacArthur, had dedicated his life to following through on this grand vision that his father had once written. During the presidency of Chester Arthur, America’s influence in the Pacific had been little more than an optimistic dream. Now, he was the man who had restored American influence to the Philippines, and brought it to Japan and to Korea. Those nations, alongside Chiang’s Chinese holdout in Formosa as well as Australia and New Zealand, were now some of America’s staunchest allies. The United States dominated the Pacific just as his father had envisioned.
With his life’s work, at least as he saw it then, completed, MacArthur thought it fitting to return to the United States by arriving in the same city where it all began: Los Angeles, California. He had spent more than a third of his life out of the country. It would be his thirteen year old son’s first day here.

The path leading up to announcing himself as a candidate for the Republican nomination and been long and far more complicated than any outside observer was likely to acknowledge. When George and Beatrice Patton had suggested it to him, he had accepted their offered support (which in George’s case, meant frequent speeches that seemed to serve no purpose other than to attack people who had done him wrong in the past). Despite what George would later claim, he was not the first to suggest it. MacArthur had already been a presidential candidate twice, though he made no effort to campaign. A 1952 run was almost expected of him.
For months, years really, he had thought those people who expected him to run would be disappointed, until he saw the State Department completely mishandle the victory he had presented them with in Korea. State had cut him out of any negotiations with the Red Chinese, appointing John Foster Dulles for the job, and then found that Mao had exactly no intention of negotiating at all. Diplomatic overtures went ignored while the communist New Years’ Offensive killed thousands and took no ground. Another attempt around Easter proved even less successful, as by that point Ridgway had had enough time to build his defensive works on the Chongchon. Only after that, when Mao decided he had extracted enough prestige from the stalemate, did the communists agree to the terms that Dulles had offered in December.
Not all the blame for the extended war had to be pinned on State. Some of it belonged with Harry Truman himself. If Truman hadn’t insisted on firing Patton, the Red Chinese wouldn’t have spent months holding that pocket in northwestern Korea. They would have been forced back across the Yalu, a straightforward demand to follow: peace or utter destruction. Then, once they agreed to peace, MacArthur would have had all of 1951 to ensure the end of the Japanese occupation went as smoothly as possible. That had always been his first priority.
By the time Dulles informed him that a treaty would be signed in September, the only thing left to do was cut orders to send the occupation troops to other duties. His mission of building a free and democratic Japan accomplished, he turned over command of the Dai Ichi to Ridgway, and decided to embark on that most unusual transition, from soldier to candidate.

“Why did I finally decide to run?” he would explain to an interviewer later in his life. “If I didn’t, my father’s mission to project and preserve American influence over the Pacific would have been a failure. All the top candidates but myself did not properly appreciate what had been built there. Eisenhower was a fine clerk, but he spent too much time thinking about Europe. Taft wanted us to pull out of our international commitments everywhere. Dewey had lost to Truman once already, and the last thing we needed was Harry Truman of all people receiving a third term. There was no alternative to a MacArthur candidacy. The country was calling upon me, and I had to answer them.”


MacArthur chose Los Angeles as the point of his return for a number of reasons. Foremost among them, he didn’t want to be in the same city as the signing of the peace treaty. He wanted a distinct story in the papers, and the best way to get that was to stage a distinct event. Less obvious to outside observers was another reason: it was close to the Patton family home, and a personal meeting, the first since December 1950, could be valuable to the campaign.
So it was. While George acknowledged that his influence was fading quickly (“a damn shame” as he described it), and that he didn’t know the first thing about politics, Beatrice had been active in seeking support for MacArthur’s candidacy. She had a list, naming just about every prominent conservative in California except Richard Nixon, that she thought would support him. Then she produced a letter from George’s nephew Frederick Ayer Jr, who offered to be MacArthur’s campaign manager. Ayer had spent two months supporting Wendell Wilkie’s campaign in 1940 and had run as the Republican candidate for Massachusetts’ Attorney General in 1950, losing in a close election. He was well connected, and would be a valuable asset to the campaign; MacArthur accepted the offer on the spot. “Tell him I’d like to meet him when I arrive in Boston.”
That would not be for another six weeks: first he intended to cross the country making appearances in as many major cities as he could as the campaign built up momentum. He could count on a range of longtime supporters including Former House Majority Leader Joseph Martin and Senate Minority Leader Kenneth Wherry (who had recently recovered from a major surgery), as well as the conservative faction of Congress that followed them. Henry Luce and the Hearst press would back him, and Colonel Pat Echols, his press man in Tokyo, had left the Army to continue with him on the campaign (MacArthur promised him the position of Press Secretary if they won). There was no question of his popularity, but that popularity still had to be mobilised into a campaign worthy of America’s next President.

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State, with John Foster Dulles at its front, had cut him out of any negotiations with the Red Chinese, only to find that Mao had exactly no intention of negotiating at all. Diplomatic overtures went ignored while the communist New Years’ Offensive killed thousands and took no ground. Another attempt around Easter proved even less successful, as by that point Ridgway had had enough time to build his defensive works on the Chongchon. Only after that, when Mao decided he had extracted enough prestige from the stalemate, did the communists agree to the terms that Dulles had offered in December.

How did Dulles (a Republican and one that was closely aligned with Thomas Dewey) end up as Truman's Secretary of State?

Taft wanted us to pull out of our international commitments everywhere.

That's not really an accurate take on Taft's views as he was much more open to US involvement in Asia than he was in Europe. For instance even as early as 1950 Taft believed the US should defend Taiwan, and he also supported US intervention in South Korea (though he was critical of Truman not having sought congressional approval for the US intervention.)