CHAPTER 24
So forever in the future,
Shall I battle as of yore,
Dying to be born a fighter,
But to die again, once more.
December 8, 1950
“General, your recovery is proceeding better than I initially predicted.” The ever-cheerful doctor said. “It may even be possible to discharge you before the end of the year!”
Last week, the doctors in Korea hadn’t been nearly so optimistic. Then he got transferred to Tokyo, where this fellow happened to have an X-ray machine. Him and a couple of other doctors scanned Patton’s legs, and the only things they had found was a pair of holes busted in some flesh. Dr Cheerful seemed to think it was miracle, because nothing of importance had suffered any sort of real damage. Patton still wished that both those bullets had gone through his brain. He’d been shot in the leg as World War I drew to a close, and still resented the fact that he had missed out on the final battle of the war. Sherman said that war was hell. Patton knew that peacetime had always been worse. Why did the Chinese have to be such terrible shots?
“I’ll let you rest. Keep your chin up, sir.” That annoyingly cheerful doctor said as he left the room. Patton didn’t hate the man’s excessively pleasant attitude in principle: he had visited thousands of aid stations and field hospitals throughout his forty years of service, and there had been many a wounded soldier that would have been glad to be treated by a doctor half as cheerful as that. The problem was that Patton didn’t want to be cheered up. No amount of being told to keep his chin up would ever make up for the sheet of paper he had received six days earlier.
I deeply regret that it becomes my duty as President and Commander-in-Chief of the United States military forces to replace you as Commander of the Eighth United States Army.
You will turn over your command, effective at once, to Lt. Gen. Matthew B. Ridgway. You are to travel to a suitable hospital in Japan and then to remain within that country until the conclusion of your medical treatment.
My reasons for your replacement, will be made public concurrently with the delivery to you of the foregoing order, and are contained in the next following message.
Truman, damn him, hadn’t deeply regretted a thing. The bastard had been all too eager to announce it to the entire world, and there hadn’t even been a Chinese sniper to knock him from the podium. Brad was there too, as well as a bunch of other top brass. The lot of them could all go to hell. Marshall fortunately wasn’t there: the sight of him with Truman would have made him stick one of his ivory-handled revolvers in his mouth and pull the trigger (not that he could do that right now – Beatrice had taken them off him). He still thought about doing it from time to time.
Apart from a Bible and Caesar’s Commentaries on the Gallic War, the only other thing he kept on his bedside table was the Korean Service Medal, a new decoration that MacArthur had personally presented to him. Everyone who served in this war would eventually get one, but MacArthur had decided that he deserved to receive the first one, and announced it the day after Truman relieved him. Patton had written him a long letter of appreciation in response – it wasn’t like he had anything else to do in here. At least MacArthur still had a sense of decency. Too few others seemed to.
December 14, 1950
The day he stepped in as Press Secretary to briefly replace the late Charlie Ross back at the end of November, Stephen Early had described MacArthur as “the face of the Korean War”. President Harry Truman hadn’t had to look very hard to see why: every time the papers reported a victory, MacArthur was front and centre, while Patton was shoved off to the side. You had MacArthur holding the line at Taejon. You had MacArthur leading the “invasion” of Inchon (somehow the public had perceived that farce as a great triumph). You had MacArthur stepping out of the helicopter in Pyongyang. Somehow, His Majesty had managed to steal almost all of the glory from Patton, of all people. Truman had been just about sure that the American people had forgotten about Patton entirely – there hadn’t been much of a fanfare when he went to Korea back in July – when the general decided to make his fateful speech on the Yalu.
Stephen Early didn’t have the job any more, but wherever he was, Truman was sure he was eating his words. Patton had stolen the spotlight back with just two Chinese bullets, and become an overnight national hero. The only problem was, Truman hadn’t been made aware of this until he had already announced that he was relieving Patton of command. It wouldn’t have changed his decision: he was steadfast in his conviction that Patton had to go, but it did mean that Gallup’s latest poll gave him an approval rating of just twenty-nine percent (he’d been averaging forty since the war began, and last month was sitting at thirty-six), and that Joe McCarthy had started another shouting match. Now he was just glad he hadn’t thrown Patton out of the army completely that day.
Rather than spend any more time fretting about Patton, Truman decided to focus on starting the process that would eventually bring peace to Korea. A blind man could see that the UN had won, and if Patton’s inflammatory speech hadn’t destroyed Red China’s willingness to negotiate, then a favourable settlement could hopefully be reached soon. Unfortunately, when the day of his weekly meeting with Dean Acheson rolled around, he didn’t have much to show for it. Ambassador Panikkar had said that India’s good offices were ready to facilitate the negotiations, but that was about as far as anyone had gotten.
“If it makes you feel any better, a group of thirteen UN states attempted to open negotiations with Red China a few days ago.” Dean Acheson said. “The Chinese radio has responded to this by saying that UN actions taken as long as Peking is denied a seat in New York are illegal.”
“That’s a bit better than what Mr Panikkar told me.” Truman said. “He said that our boys were, to quote the Red Chinese, ‘American aggression forces’, and that as long as we were there, no agreement could be acceptable. Apparently Korean affairs should be left to the Korean people themselves.”
“Aggression forces, is it?” Acheson laughed. “Now that Patton’s gone, Syngman Rhee has to be the biggest aggression force in that part of Asia. We might as well ignore that bluster though. As long as Ridgway can hold steady, and after the thumping Patton gave the CCF I reckon he can, then the Chinese aren’t going to push us too far from the current lines. Eventually the war will have to come to an end, and we won’t have to give up any of the territory we already control. Unless the Chinese conquer all the way to at least Hungnam, there’s not much point in keeping North Korea around as a puppet. Absent a drastic turn of events, such as the Russians jumping in, they’re going to have to accept a unified Republic of Korea eventually.”
“They could annex the scraps they still hold.” Truman said.
“They could, and if that was their price for an armistice I would personally have no hesitations accepting it. There’s nothing but mountains up there, and no big cities.” Acheson said. “However, the wording of the Chinese radio reply caught my attention. Red China wants the UN seat that Chiang now holds. If we offer them that in return for a free Korea, there’s a very good chance take it.”
“That would mean dumping Chiang.” Truman pointed out. He remembered Prime Minister Attlee announcing that Britain would officially recognise Mao’s government back in January. London hadn’t had any official relations with Chiang since. If he let the United States repeat that, the China Lobby would skin him for it. “I’m not opposed to recognising Red China in principle, provided they promise to leave Formosa alone of course. Unless we are willing to start a new war, or escalate this one to topple them, someone is going to have to start up diplomatic relations eventually. The problem is, Congress would never agree to it. Joe McCarthy already wants my head. He’d get it if we suggested anything like this.”
“I had come to a similar conclusion myself, and I don’t recommend we go that far.” Acheson said. “Unless we want to spend the next couple of years dithering in the North Korean mountains trying to wear the Chinese out, we’re going to need a proposal to put forward to the United Nations. I raised the UN seat point because, at least according to their media, the Red Chinese still think they’re winning.”
“They’re not.” Truman said. Ridgway had sent him a report recently suggesting something of a stalemate had formed along the Changchon River in the far north of the peninsula.
“Perhaps.” Acheson said. “My concern is, if you still want the war over as quickly as possible, we’re going to need some sort of concession to offer Mao in exchange for the rest of North Korea. He’s not just going to walk out.”
“Would a fifty mile DMZ satisfy them?” Truman asked. It wasn’t much of a policy, but it was more than he’d had yesterday.
“Only one way to know for sure.” Acheson said. “What I suggest is, we make a proposal along that line to both Congress and the UN. If both respond favourably, we ask Mr Panikkar to pass on our terms to Peking.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Truman said. “Inform Mr Austin that I’d like to begin these talks as soon as possible.”
***
December 23, 1950
“So this is the end.” Douglas MacArthur said, welcoming Mrs Patton into his office. Her husband would be leaving hospital in a few days and was set to immediately return to California. Except for a farewell at the airbase, where George would announce his formal retirement, this would probably be his last meeting with the family. “You know, George and I first met in France in 1918, and even then he was one of the bravest men I’d ever seen. I knew he would accomplish a lot, but I don’t think either of us expected to end up here more than thirty years later. I’m very sorry about his wounds, and the Eighth Army will miss him greatly.” As he got his pipe going, he continued, “but I don’t imagine you asked to meet me just to hear about your husband’s accomplishments. What can I do for you?”
“Georgie has spoken highly of you as of late, General.” Beatrice Patton said. “Earlier this week he suggested that you should run for President in the 1952 election. I was wondering if you had considered a campaign for the Republican nomination?”
MacArthur puffed a couple of times on his pipe. “I was given such offers in 1944 and 1948.” he recalled. “I didn’t campaign the first time because we had yet to liberate the Philippines, and during the second I was still managing the Japanese affairs. I would still consider it, but any campaigning would have to occur only after the peace treaty is signed.” he thought that would be some time next year: Japan was most of the way to governing itself now. “Why do you ask?”
“My family has been prominent in the Republican Party since the time of Grant’s administration, especially in Massachusetts. Georgie and I have been living in California, and I know a number of the party leaders there as well. If you choose to run, you have our full support.” Beatrice said. “I’m offering it now, as opposed to late next year, because your best chance at securing the nomination is if your campaign is associated with this war. President Truman’s credibility has been ruined recently, and Georgie won’t run for any office, so you’re the only candidate that can benefit directly from this victory. We should take advantage of the present momentum, using it to preempt the other candidates.”
“Who do you have in mind?” MacArthur asked when he heard that last point.
“Taft. Dewey. Eisenhower.” Beatrice said. “Particularly Eisenhower. He has the war hero platform too, and is very popular with the public. They tried to make him run in the last election, and I expect there will be a similar movement this time. If he does throw his hat in the ring, he’ll without a doubt be the strongest competition.”
MacArthur had a copy of George’s book on his desk. “George has already tried going after Eisenhower.” he observed.
“Dragging Eisenhower’s name through the mud hasn’t worked to reduce his popularity, no.” Beatrice agreed. “Although I suspect that Georgie’s focus will be on Truman and Bradley now. His endorsement could be quite valuable to the campaign however, especially if he gives it before Ike enters the race.”
MacArthur leaned back in his chair and puffed on his pipe again. It seemed that one old soldier at least, even in spite of his wounds and two retirements, wasn’t going to fade away.
END OF PART III
- BNC
