PART II: HONOUR
CHAPTER 9
While in later clearer vision
I can sense the coppery sweat,
Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery
When our Phalanx, Cyrus met.
September 3, 1950
Sergeant Carl Dodd had volunteered to be on the first shift of guard duty tonight. It set a good example to the men, but that had little to do with his decision. The North Koreans liked to attack at night, usually an hour or two after the evening twilight, when they thought the Americans would be off their guard and unprepared. That wasn’t often the case in Eighth Army any more: as soon as 5th Regiment had linked up with the rest of the 24th Division, it had been rushed into a week’s intensive training, where a major handpicked by Patton had emphasised the need to be on guard at all times. Most of the army had been given a similar crash course. He also thought that an attack was likely. The communists attacked somewhere almost every night, rumours said they were getting even more desperate for a quick victory. Hill 699, now known to everyone as the Lump, was the highest ground in the area and captured just three days earlier. It had ‘target’ written all over it, and Dodd’s company was one of two manning the crest of the hill.
The three hours passed without incident, which was reason itself for Dodd to be nervous. The enemy wasn’t withdrawing from the sector: the quarter moon wasn’t giving a lot of light with all the clouds around, but there was just enough to see the communist lines buzzing with activity up ahead. When he smelt a whiff of the spiced or picked rubbish that Koreans seemed to fill their bellies with at every opportunity, he whispered to the private that was on duty alongside him. “Wake the men.” If his instinct was wrong, he would have to deal with a squad of tired and grumpy soldiers tomorrow.
A minute, maybe a minute and a half later, the North Koreans fired a bunch of green flares into the sky. That was their signal to attack (someone had told him that sometimes the Americans would fire green flares of their own above heavily defended sectors to bait the Koreans into an ambush, an idea he thought to be quite clever). His squad was up and ready, and others nearby were about to be. No Koreans would be taking the Lump tonight. Some were determined (or ordered) to try anyway.
Dodd fired his Garand at about the same time as half his squad did. Nobody aimed at anything, or anyone, in particular. A cloud had just moved to obscure the moon, so aiming wouldn’t improve things much regardless. Better to just shoot towards the north, as many times as you could, and scare the enemy off. A couple of fellows in the squad had taken Russian-made PPShs off dead Koreans a while back. Those things spat out lead like you’d never believe. One of them was firing off to the northwest, so Dodd decided to shift his aim in that direction as well.
As the clouds moved to reveal the moon once more, he could see dozens upon dozens of Koreans scrambling up the Lump. He threw a grenade towards them. One thing was certain: this was going to be a long night.
***
September 4, 1950
Patton was nervous. Almost every time that he was about to launch a major offensive, he felt nervous. For a moment, his mind went back to when he launched is first offensive against the Germans in 1918, when he had been unable to sleep and decided to scout the terrain in no man’s land instead.
This time, he couldn’t sleep because no-one in Eighth Army headquarters could. Damn near nobody in the entire Eighth Army could. Seven hours before he had planned to launch his own major offensive, the North Koreans had attacked all across the line. In a few places, especially in the sector belonging to the 25th Division near Chungju, American troops had been pushed back. A glance at his watch told him it was 0304. Against the Germans, this would never have been the hour of a major offensive. Koreans, or at least Red ones, seemed to be nocturnal.
“What’s the latest from the Lump?” Patton asked. Hill 699 dominated the area assigned to the 24th and 2nd Divisions, which were set to be his offensive’s main striking arm. He had concentrated most of his armour with the 2nd, the tanks waiting a mile behind the infantry. There were a few hundred there now, and it seemed that the North Koreans weren’t aware of them. In two hours, they were set to charge straight into the communist flank. If the Lump fell, the tanks might be seen before they were ready to come out of hiding.
“Seems to be holding.” Colonel Landrum said. “The Reds are throwing a lot of men at it by the looks of things.”
“Good thing that brave sergeant had been on patrol.” Patton said, looking at the enormous map pinned on the wall. “His actions might have saved that whole position, and I want him decorated. Put him down for a Medal of Commendation. A Bronze Star if you can get it.”
“Report from General Keiser, sir.” A radio operator in the next room called out.
“What’s he got?” Patton asked.
“Says he’s heard no reports about an offensive. No green flares. Nothing.” The radio operator replied. “There’s Koreans in front of him, but it looks like our surprise there is complete.”
Patton relaxed. He hadn’t heard news that good all night. Then he had an idea.
“I want you guys to phone Hap and Dean. Find out what their assessments are on the Koreans withdrawing at dawn.”
“Yes, sir!” the radio operator, and another one next to him, said together.
“Why’s that, General?” Landrum asked.
“A few days ago I was at the front.” Patton explained. “This captain, a very fine officer, he said that every time the bastards attacked him at night, they always retreated at dawn. If we can, I say we should attack precisely ten minutes after they pull back. We’ll be ready and they won’t.”
“We’ve already told all the troops to go forward at 0500.” Landrum reminded him. “Even with top notch communications, there’s no way the entire army can be given the new orders in time.”
“Sir, General Gay is saying the Koreans already appear to be retreating on his front.” The radio operator said.
“Good.” Patton said. “Excellent, in fact. Colonel, you’re right, we’ll stick to the plan. Hopefully we catch some of the bastards asleep. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to be at the front. Abe is in charge here until I return.”
Sergeant Mims had the jeep ready when Patton stepped out of the building. “Where to, sir?”
“Yesan.” Patton said. “Where the tanks are. I have to see the start of this.”
Mims had to drive with only the faintest of headlight beams visible, so he couldn’t drive nearly so fast as he would in the daylight. Patton made sure that blackout was taken seriously. The North Korean air force had mostly been wiped out, but the other day a pair of Il-10s had flown over a patch of front he was visiting at the time. He would not allow his men’s lives to be wasted by carelessness.
They arrived at 0447. Three hundred tanks, hidden behind the lines for the right moment, had rumbled forward to their starting positions. Thirteen minutes later, the artillery began to fire. Tanks began to drive forward, while infantry emerged from their positions. The noise was deafening, but it sounded like victory.
***
September 6, 1950
Douglas MacArthur frowned as he read the report from Korea. “Patton is in Asan, you say. How is he all the way up there? He was under attack two days ago.”
“All across the line.” Doyle Hickey confirmed. Patton quarrelled with Ned Almond every time they spoke, and refused to speak with Willoughby or Whitney at all. Most of MacArthur’s communication with the commander of the Eighth Army went through his deputy chief of staff. “He says that the enemy attacks are ongoing with maximum intensity, and General Coulter has said the same things in the ROK positions.”
“Then what is he doing in Asan?” MacArthur asked again. “The front was at Yesan, ten miles to the south. Are you sure you heard the name correctly?”
“I believe so, sir, but if you would like I can contact the headquarters for confirmation.” Hickey said.
“Do that then.” MacArthur ordered. “If it is not an error, I’d like an explanation immediately.”
Hickey saluted and left, leaving MacArthur with a letter from a Japanese textile mill thanking him for the enormous order of socks that had been placed a few days ago. The Japanese businessman would undoubtedly be doing the best he had ever been after this order – which asked for half a million pairs to be delivered within the next four weeks.
MacArthur thought back to how Patton had insisted upon it more forcefully than anything since that order to clear the Korean road network. The idea to send a pair of socks with the men’s rations each day made a good amount of sense, preventing trenchfoot and keeping men in the fight longer (trenchfoot was no laughing matter either: MacArthur had seen plenty of bad cases back in World War I). Why he thought he needed two million pairs, MacArthur had yet to figure out. He had only allowed it to go through because it would undoubtedly help the occupiers turn Japan into a closer US ally. That, and Uncle Sam was footing the bill.
Here was Hickey again. “General, sir, I just got off the phone with Colonel Landrum. He confirmed that Eighth Army units are in Asan. An armoured regiment of the 2nd Division specifically. He described the manoeuvre as a reconnaissance in force.”
“Very well.” MacArthur said. “I’d like you to get on the phone with Patton. Not one of his staff. Remind him that he’s supposed to be holding the line and preventing the enemy from reinforcing Inchon.”
***
“Sir, I don’t think General MacArthur is too happy with you.” Sergeant Meeks said as he handed Patton the radio.
“Thank you, Sergeant.” Patton said. “This is General Patton.”
“Good afternoon, sir. It’s Hickey.” Doyle Hickey said. “I was just discussing with your chief of staff. Is it correct that you are conducting a reconnaissance in force near Asan?”
“That’s right.” Patton said, watching a dozen tanks clatter along a nearby road. He had three whole tank battalions up here, and an entire division of infantry. “I’m sure General MacArthur would appreciate the extra intelligence we are able to gain from this position.”
“I agree, General. MacArthur would like to remind you of your orders to hold the line and prevent the enemy from reinforcing the Inchon area.” Hickey said.
“That’s exactly what we’re doing.” Patton said. “I can assure MacArthur that our position will not be broken through. There’s at least four, maybe five, Korean divisions up in front of me. My troops have them pinned down. The enemy attack will be repulsed, I give you my word.”
As Meeks put the radio away, Patton got out his field glasses. The enemy advance, at least in 2nd Division’s sector, wasn’t about to be repulsed. It damn well had been repulsed. The North Koreans in this part of the front had run away, although they continued to fight on further south. If not for the horrible weather, a bad storm if not a typhoon, he knew Eighth Army would have pushed a lot further than the ten miles it had managed here. “Let’s go back to the HQ.”
“MacArthur wanted you to slow down?” Meeks asked as they drove back to Taejon.
“MacArthur wanted me to stop, period.” Patton said. “Far as he’s concerned, we’re supposed to sit on our asses for the next ten days. Like hell I’m stopping the offensive now! We’ve got the enemy by the balls!”
Meeks looked at him, not too surprised. “You know sir, you could just tell him you visited the 24th Division tomorrow. They haven’t hardly moved all week.”
Patton thought about that for a moment. “That’s a damned fine idea.”
- BNC
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