The Korean War (25 page)

Since 25 June 1950, the key figures in Tokyo, Washington, London, and indeed throughout the Western world, had explored a remarkable range of emotions. The shock of Kim Il Sung’s invasion was succeeded by alarm about its global implications. Truman and his allies and generals overcame these fears, in their determination that the communist onslaught must be resisted. Then, through July and August, as defeat followed defeat upon the
battlefield, it appeared that the only fruit of their efforts would be a massive humiliation for Western arms. Yet now, after the miracle of Inchon, the great burden had been lifted from their shoulders. From the brink of defeat, MacArthur’s genius had brought them to the verge of overwhelming military triumph. Fears that the North Korean invasion signalled a worldwide communist offensive had proved unfounded. The Russians, considered prime movers in Kim Il Sung’s invasion, now appeared anxious to distance themselves from the Korean adventure, and certainly unwilling to commit their military power to Kim’s support. The balance of advantage in Korea lay firmly with the UN, with the Western powers. The wider dangers had receded. The leaders of the Truman Administration, who had been so sensitive to the global risks of the original communist invasion, were overtaken by something close to euphoria. Firmness had paid off. The communists were in full retreat. No new world war would start in Korea.

The chief problem that now exercised Truman and Acheson, their allies and military commanders, was that of how the utmost political and strategic advantage could be extracted from military victory. The starting point for the debate was the view, held instinctively by many citizens of the Western powers, that it would be intolerable if Kim Il Sung proved to have been able to launch and retreat from the failure of his monstrous adventure without cost to his own regime. Beyond his unprovoked invasion of a neighbouring state, the atrocities his forces had inflicted upon the people of South Korea compounded the original outrage. If the North Koreans were now permitted to withdraw behind their original frontier, the 38th Parallel, and remain there unmolested, the huge efforts and sacrifices of the United Nations – and of the South Korean people – would seem hollow indeed. It would be absurd, said Acheson, ‘to march up to a surveyors’ line and stop’. It seemed equally inappropriate for MacArthur’s army to pursue the North Koreans into their own land merely to complete the destruction of the enemy’s forces, then withdraw, leaving Kim Il Sung’s regime in place.

The United Nations’ mandate for war was based upon the General Assembly vote of 27 June, calling on members to ‘furnish such assistance to the Republic of Korea as may be necessary to repel the armed attack and to restore international peace and security in the area’. The Soviet Union, which returned to its seat on the Security Council on 3 August, argued in vain that the conflict did ‘not come under the definition of aggression, since it is a war, not between two states, but between two parts of the Korean people temporarily split into two camps under two separate authorities’. Once the Russians were back at the UN, the possibility of directing the war through the forum of the Security Council, rather than at the behest of Washington, finally vanished. But weeks before Inchon, there was intense private debate in Washington as to whether the occupation of North Korea was a legitimate United Nations – or, more frankly, American – war aim. The Defense Department believed that it was. So did some senior officials in the State Department, led by Dean Rusk and John Allison of the Far Eastern Division. The Policy Planning Staff raised serious doubts as to whether it was possible to invade North Korea without precipitating a wider war with China or the Soviet Union, and expressed doubt whether other UN members would support such a move. But even the PPS concluded in late July that a decision about invading North Korea or integrating it with the South could be postponed until these became more immediate military options.

Characteristically, while others havered, MacArthur alone harboured no doubts. In mid-July in Tokyo, he told Collins and Vandenburg that his war aim was not merely the repelling of Kim Il Sung’s invasion, but the destruction of his army, for which the occupation of North Korea might prove necessary. There is no evidence that the two Chiefs of Staff disputed MacArthur’s view, although they were perfectly aware that he had no authority to make such a decision for himself. When Collins returned to Tokyo in mid-August, he told the Commander-in-Chief that he personally favoured crossing the 38th Parallel, but warned that Truman had not yet reached a decision on the issue. From the outset, while the
State Department expressed serious reservations about the feasibility or desirability of sustaining Syngman Rhee as ruler of all Korea, MacArthur made it plain that he strongly supported this course. On 1 September, the National Security Council circulated a frankly inconclusive working paper, NSC 81, which rehearsed the arguments for and against taking the Korean War to the enemy’s homeland. It took note of the danger that the Russians would intervene to prevent the loss of their suzerainty over North Korea, but contrarily suggested that Moscow was unlikely to risk the wider war that could result from intervention. Finally, NSC 81 proposed a compromise: any crossing of the Parallel should be conducted only by ROK forces, and solely in pursuit of tactical objectives. It proposed that MacArthur should be required to ‘request new instructions before continuing operations north of the 38th Parallel with major forces for the purpose of occupying North Korea’.

The Joint Chiefs of Staff condemned the ‘unrealistic’ approach of NSC 81. They were determined that the military should have the flexibility it needed to complete the destruction of the North Korean People’s Army, wherever its elements took refuge. An amended version – NSC 81/1 – was agreed between Acheson and the Joint Chiefs at an NSC meeting on 9 September, almost a week before Inchon. The passage in the original, specifying that UN forces ‘should not be permitted to extend into areas close to the Manchurian and USSR borders of Korea’, was redrafted. Now, it was agreed merely that they should not cross those borders. NSC 81 decreed flatly that only ROK troops should operate near the Russian and Chinese borders. NSC 81/1 declared only that it should be ‘the policy’ not to deploy other UN forces in these sensitive areas. The paper restated Washington’s determination that the US ‘should not permit itself to become engaged in a general war’ with China. But it also reaffirmed the position consistently adopted by the Administration since the war began – that if Chinese forces intervened in Korea, the US would defend itself by whatever means
it possessed, not excluding the bombardment of targets on the Chinese mainland. The political future of North Korea was not discussed in NSC 81/1, perhaps chiefly because the Administration regarded this as a matter of detail rather than new national policy: on 1 September, Truman had publicly declared the right of all Korea to be ‘free, independent and united’, committed the United States to do its part to see that all Koreans gain that right ‘under the guidance of the United Nations’.

There was an interval of almost three weeks between the drafting of NSC 81/1, and the promulgation of a formal JCS directive to MacArthur based upon its conclusions. A measure of confusion overtook the Pentagon during this period. The Defense Secretary, Louis Johnson, was sacked by Truman, and replaced by General George Marshall. Meanwhile in Korea, the distant military hopes that underpinned Washington’s discussions in early September had been translated into triumphant reality. The victorious UN forces were streaming northwards, the broken remains of Kim Il Sung’s army in full retreat before them.

Now, the JCS told MacArthur:

your military objective is the destruction of the North Korean armed forces. In attaining this objective, you are authorised to conduct military operations, including amphibious and airborne landings or ground operations north of the 38th Parallel in Korea, provided that at the time of such operations there has been no entry into North Korea by major Soviet or Chinese Communist Forces, no announcement of intended entry, nor a threat to counter our operations militarily in North Korea. Under no circumstances, however, will your forces cross the Manchurian or USSR borders of Korea and, and as a matter of policy, no non-Korean ground forces will be used in the north-east provinces bordering the Soviet Union or in the area along the Manchurian border. Furthermore, support of your operations north or south of the 38th Parallel will not include air or naval action against Manchuria or against USSR territory.

Although the directive cautioned MacArthur that changing military and political circumstances might make modification of these instructions necessary, a secret ‘eyes only’ signal from Marshall to MacArthur on 29 September explicitly declared Washington’s commitment to an advance into North Korea, but explained the desirability of avoiding public advance announcements of the crossing of the 38th Parallel, which might precipitate a new vote in the United Nations.

America’s allies, Britain prominent among them, had publicly expressed their support for a move into North Korea. They were overtaken by the same euphoria that gripped Washington, the same belief that with the war almost over, it remained only to ensure that the maximum advantage was extracted from victory. But the Soviet Union was back at the Security Council. If there was a UN vote about crossing the 38th Parallel, the Russians would certainly veto it. There might then be serious questions about the legitimacy of the actions of MacArthur’s army. On 30 September, the general responded from Tokyo to Marshall’s message. He would take care, he said, to caution General Walker against saying anything too specific about operations around or north of the Parallel. He made it clear that the only delay in ordering his forces to advance beyond it was not political, but logistical. The army would drive north as soon as it was ready: ‘My overall strategic plan is known to you. Unless and until the enemy capitulates, I regard all of Korea open for our military operations.’ On 2 October, MacArthur made a broadcast to North Korea, calling upon the communist forces to lay down their arms. He neither expected, nor received, any response. He continued his preparations for the drive north across the 38th Parallel.

MacArthur’s strategy was guided by two principal considerations. First, he wanted forces moving fast north-eastwards up North Korea, to cut off communist forces retreating towards the Manchurian border. Second, the Taebaek mountain range running up the spine of North Korea made west–east movement across the country intensely difficult. The principal road and rail routes up
Korea are determined almost entirely by the lines of the north–south river valleys. MacArthur was one of the great twentieth-century exponents of amphibious operations. At Inchon, he had exploited the flexibility and resources of American seapower to cut short a land campaign across difficult terrain. Now, he proposed to do the same again. He would withdraw Almond’s X Corps from South Korea through Inchon, load it aboard his shipping, and transport it direct to North Korea’s east-coast port of Wonsan, from whence the Marines and the army’s 7th Division could strike north towards the Manchurian border. Meanwhile, Walker’s Eighth Army would drive directly north from Seoul, for Pyongyang and Kim Il Sung’s western dominions.

MacArthur’s plan roused immediate opposition from Eighth Army. First, Walker considered it absurd to subject X Corps to the immense upheaval of withdrawal from Seoul, and sea movement to Wonsan, when the ROK army was already driving up the east coast in the face of negligible opposition. Second, Eighth Army’s commander was disgusted by MacArthur’s determination to maintain a divided command, with Almond continuing to report directly to the Commander-in-Chief. It seemed a deliberate insult to Walker, the defender of the Pusan Perimeter, the saviour of American arms in the first desperate weeks of war, to withold X Corps from his command, when all military logic demanded a unified ground authority.

Here were the seeds of serious difficulties ahead. Many of those in Korea believed that MacArthur was once again exercising his notorious weakness for favourites – granting his own Chief of Staff, Ned Almond, a privileged opportunity to gain independent glory. Yet in MacArthur’s defence, there were good reasons to doubt the ability of Walton Walker and his staff to conduct a vigorous major offensive on their own. The doubts about Walker’s fitness for high command that were raised before Inchon persisted at the 38th Parallel. Visitors to his headquarters were often unimpressed by the confusion and lack of direction that they found there. MacArthur felt ill-disposed to increase Walker’s authority in
the field. But there was no incentive to remove Eighth Army’s commander when the war was almost won, the spine of communist resistance broken. The detailed administration of the drive into North Korea against a foe in utter disarray scarcely seemed momentous. After the event, MacArthur’s critics heaped devastating criticism upon the casualness, the military unsoundness, of the command arrangements for the drive into North Korea. It is difficult to dispute these charges. Yet the critics, in their turn, ignored the real grounds for doubt about the capabilities of Walton Walker. They also discounted the mood of the time. If MacArthur allowed himself to lapse into complacency about the imminence of undisputed victory, he succumbed to a failing shared by many of his peers in Washington who allowed themselves to think too narrowly of the military realities.

On 28 September, ROK troops advanced north of the Parallel. American units waited impatiently for the signal to follow them, to complete the wretched task upon which they were embarked, and go home before winter. Yet still the political and diplomatic manoeuvring in Washington continued. Abroad, America’s allies were growing ever more uneasy. The British were alarmed by the signals now emerging from Peking, although their Foreign Secretary had earlier been a prominent supporter of reunifying Korea. How was the British government to explain to its own people the new situation? ‘It would . . . be necessary,’ Attlee told his Cabinet on 26 September, ‘to present clearly to public opinion the reasons justifying a military occupation of the whole of Korea, its temporary character and limited objectives.’
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The British government would dearly have liked to hold back its own contingent in Korea from crossing the 38th Parallel, but recognised that this was impracticable if the rest of Eighth Army was moving into the North. Bevin, the ever-robust Foreign Secretary, ‘felt there was insufficient foundation for their apprehension that China or Russia might thereby be provoked into active intervention’, but he suggested that the President of the UN General Assembly might make one more appeal to the North Koreans to lay down their arms
before Walker’s army entered their country. The British Chiefs of Staff recommended holding back MacArthur’s army for a week or so, while offering the North Korean army one further chance to surrender. This uneasy message, drafted amid much private wringing of hands, the British communicated to the Americans.