The Frozen Hours

by Jeff Shaara

  The questions were there, of course, spoken quietly in private places, many of the officers around Sung puzzled by Peng Dehuai’s rapid rise to the top command. Peng was respected, certainly, but his predecessor, Lin Biao, had long been Mao’s favorite to command the army. In late September, as the first orders had come to maneuver closer to the Yalu River, Lin had suddenly disappeared. The official report claimed that Lin had fallen ill, and more surprisingly, had been sent to a hospital in the Soviet Union. Very soon, Lin had returned, named to command one of Mao’s vast field armies. But he was subordinate now to Peng, no one in Peking offering an explanation. There were softly spoken rumors, of course, that Lin had made the deadly error of arguing with Mao, rejecting Mao’s strategies for dealing with the problems that had erupted in Korea. The utter collapse of the North Korean army was a surprise, to be sure, but no one had expected that the Chinese would move into Korea to stand alongside Kim Il-sung as an equal partner. Now the public pronouncements barely mentioned the North Koreans at all, as though the Chinese troops were preparing only to defend their own border. With Peng now firmly in command, Sung would follow the orders he had been given, organizing his troops in their new camps along the Yalu, until Peng told him differently.

  Peng seemed weary, blinked several times, reached for a cup of tea. He seemed to move slowly on purpose, precise motions, keeping them all still, quiet. The silence was broken by a sudden rap on the door behind Sung, startling him. Peng kept his gaze on the tea, said in a soft voice, “Allow them to enter.” The man entered quickly, the door closing behind him, and Peng said, “General Deng, welcome. I have been waiting for your report.”

  Sung realized now that Peng had been delaying, keeping them waiting for Deng’s arrival. He knew that Deng had been sent off on a discreet mission, but had asked no questions, even though Deng Hua was a subordinate to Sung, one of his corps commanders.

  Deng moved up in front of the room, faced them, acknowledged Sung now, a short, crisp nod. “Thank you, General Peng. If you will allow me to present my report.”

  Peng sat back in the chair, the cup in his hand, seemed to know what the young general was going to say.

  “Go ahead.”

  Deng took a deep breath, his hands clamped behind him. “Gentlemen, I have just returned from a journey into Korea. My assignment was to monitor progress of the People’s Army there, to observe their…situation. As you know, we have received reports that there have been reversals, that Kim Il-sung’s forces have given away their advantages. We believe that few if any of Kim’s troops remain south of the Thirty-eighth parallel. These reports were most distressing, as you know. My orders were to determine just how dangerous those reverses have become.” He turned, looked at Peng now, another nod from the older man. Deng faced them again. “I regret to report that my hosts, the senior command of the North Korean People’s Army, had been instructed not to allow me to fulfill my mission. I was not allowed access to any field units and was not allowed to travel any farther south than Pyongyang. It was made very plain to me that my presence there was an unwelcome intrusion.” He turned again to Peng. “General, I regret I did not complete my mission with any success. It is very clear that the North Korean People’s Army is suffering a profound setback at the hands of the United Nations troops. The government of the People’s Republic does not wish to reveal just how serious those reversals have become. Any further conclusion would be merely a guess on my part. I deeply regret my failure.”

  Sung saw anger in the young man’s eyes, thought, Yes, he is not a man who enjoys wasting his time.

  Peng said, “General, you are excused. Do not embrace your mission as one of failure. Your report is most illuminating. It only confirms what Chairman Mao has anticipated from the start.”

  The guard pulled the door open, Deng marching out with crisp steps. Peng kept his eyes on his cup of tea, said, “Chairman Mao has been most frustrated by Kim Il-sung. Our intelligence predicted that the United Nations troops would invade at the port of Inchon. We informed the North Koreans of that expectation and strongly advised them to make ready to resist such a move. They ignored our recommendations. We know the results. Chairman Mao has no intentions of repeating such a mistake. The North Koreans have chosen to fight their war on their own terms, terms that do not concern us. Until now, the North Koreans have been wholly dependent on the Soviets for arms and supplies. But the Soviets have recognized their mistake as well, and from what we can determine, have withdrawn much of that support.” Peng paused, sipped at the tea, looked out at them, scanning the room. Sung waited for more, could see a frown on Peng’s face. “You have already been ordered to position your troops along our border. At first, this was to be a defensive posture, so as to prevent the United Nations troops, particularly the Americans, from pursuing an aggressive course that would threaten Chinese sovereignty. We have repeatedly expressed our deepest concerns that should United Nations troops cross over the Thirty-eighth parallel, invading the territory of North Korea, the Chinese people would interpret that as a direct threat to our own interests. As you know, the American puppets who call themselves the army of the Republic of Korea have already crossed the border and are taking advantage of the disgraceful retreat by the North. Despite the unwillingness of Kim Il-sung to provide information as to his own failures, our own intelligence indicates that the Americans have followed in their wake. These reports have confirmed that units of the American First Cavalry of General Walker’s Eighth Army have violated North Korean territory. We are certain that this is only the beginning. Chairman Mao continues to be most adamant that such a violation is a direct threat to the sovereignty of our own border and shall be dealt with in absolute terms. We do not fear the puppet army of South Korea, nor do we fear the possible loss of Pyongyang. The greater danger is that those who pull the strings are using this conflict in Korea as a pretense for a far more insidious plan. General MacArthur, who commands the puppet forces of the United Nations, has been indiscreet in his belligerence to Chinese sovereignty. Chairman Mao is convinced that General MacArthur and those who support him from above wish to engage the Chinese people in a war.”

  Sung absorbed what Peng was saying, the others seemingly surprised. To one side, another of the young corps commanders spoke up.

  “General, what actions are we to take regarding the crisis that has directly befallen North Korea? Are they not our allies?”

  Sung winced at the question, saw a glimmer of disgust on Peng’s face.

  “There shall be no actions taken with regard to the government of the People’s Republic of Korea.”

  The man stood now, said, “But are we not committed to assisting Kim Il-sung in the event of such a tragedy? I had thought—”

  Peng pointed a bony finger at the man. “You do not think, General. Chairman Mao has communicated to the People’s Republic that if they wish to be rescued, they can beseech their comrades in Moscow. Chairman Mao has no great regard for Kim Il-sung, and neither do I. The issue is not merely Korea. It is the threat to our border. Is that not apparent to all of you?”

  There were nods, the young man beside Sung seated again. Sung glanced at him, saw embarrassment, thought, That was not a good idea. You just revealed that you perhaps have some personal interest in what happens in Korea. I wonder what kind of interest? Someone else shall no doubt ask that same question.

  To Sung’s other side, Li stood, stiff-backed, said, “General Peng, is it possible, in Chairman Mao’s estimation, that the Korean People’s Army can continue their struggle by means of guerrilla tactics? Perhaps the army of the North might still be capable of eliminating the Americans’ threat to our border by a vigorous defense of their own country.”

  Peng shook his head. “Chairman Mao does not believe the leadership of the North Korean People’s Republic is capable of inspiring their people to such a goal. There is only one issue now. You will receive final orders shortly that will instruct you on exactly when your troops are to advance across the Yalu R
iver and make preparations for the destruction of any forces threatening our borders. It is wholly to our advantage to strike at those troops before they can strike at us. Chairman Mao has told me to expect the final order to be issued at any time. It is therefore essential that you put your troops on alert, prepared to move quickly.”

  Li seemed surprised, leaned forward. “We’re crossing the border? We are to directly engage the United Nations forces? Will the Soviets honor their pledge to assist us with heavy artillery and airpower? Without their assistance, we are at some disadvantage in weaponry. Engaging the Americans—”

  “Sit down.”

  Peng’s voice was loud, no room for argument. Li obeyed without speaking. Peng looked at Sung now. “This meeting is concluded. General Sung, you will remain. The rest of you, return to your commands. Orders will follow very soon.”

  The others stood, the door opening, a hint of cool air drifting into the stuffiness of the room. Sung kept his seat, did not watch the others, kept his eyes on Peng, who sipped again from the teacup. In a short moment the room was empty, the guard leaving as well, the door closing. Peng closed his eyes briefly, Sung keeping silent. After a moment, Peng said, “There is little wisdom in any of them. The young worst of all. But even the experienced ones have forgotten the value of loyalty.”

  Sung shook his head. “I do not believe that to be true. I have heard nothing of disloyalty to Chairman Mao.”

  Peng shrugged. “Maybe. But there is uncertainty. They do not trust in our ability to crush our enemies.”

  “Do you?”

  Peng laughed, a glance toward the door. “Of course I do. Chairman Mao wills it, and it will be so.”

  Sung was careful now. He knew Peng enjoyed his company, seemed to treat him as a son as much as a subordinate. It was the same with many of the veterans, the men who had learned to sacrifice for the greater cause.

  Peng said, “You have been hungry, yes? I mean…hungry. Starving.”

  “You know I have shared such conditions. As have you.”

  “Yes, and you have seen the dead gathering around you, men whose weakness betrayed them, whose spirit would not keep them alive, men who could not embrace sacrifice.”

  “I suppose so. Yes. We lost nine of ten men on the Long March. It is not necessary for you to remind me of our history, sir.”

  “Nine of ten. Yes. The tenth man…you, me, Chairman Mao. We know what victory means. Not some storybook, slicing the head off the dragon. Not merely vanquishing your rival so you may enjoy the sweetness of his woman. Victory. The look in your enemy’s eye as you slide the knife into his heart, as you steal his life. The smell of his blood.”

  Sung saw a hard spark in Peng’s eyes, something he had seen before. “Sir, do you doubt my will?”

  Peng laughed. “No, my friend. Nor do I doubt your loyalty. To Chairman Mao, and those around him, that is what matters most. I fear that very soon it will be more about your skills as a soldier.” Peng paused. “Colonel Li’s concerns are accurate. We were hopeful that the Soviets would honor their commitment to provide the military equipment that would balance the scales against the Americans. They have now reneged on that promise.”

  Sung was stunned. “They have reneged? They assured us—”

  “Soviet assurances are like rivers of mud. Soil yourself in it if you wish, but do not expect to drink the water. The North Korean army has become useless, and Chairman Stalin has turned his eyes to other causes. All they offer us now are advisors, Stalin’s toadies, who have pledged to provide assistance where they observe its need. I suspect, as does Chairman Mao, that these men have been ordered to remain blind to our needs. We shall welcome them into our camps, allow them to see just what our weaknesses might be.”

  “It sounds as if you are describing spies.”

  Peng laughed. “And so I am. Chairman Mao certainly believes it so. Here I disagree with him, if only on a minor point. I still believe the Soviets can be helpful to us, and it is in their interest to assist us against our shared enemies. One day they might require some assistance from us in Europe. Chairman Mao is not concerned with a world so far away. But the revolution will one day consume all men in all lands. On that Chairman Mao and I agree completely. We must know who our friends are.”

  Sung absorbed all that Peng was telling him. “I am not so familiar with such lofty things. I prefer being a soldier.”

  Peng nodded, a friendly smile. “You are not wrong, my friend. Very soon now, soldiers will be far more valuable than philosophers. The Americans are coming, and we must do what we can to obliterate their threat. I do not require Chairman Mao’s wisdom to tell me that. Like Mao, I smell when the enemy believes he is winning, when he convinces himself he is strong, and so he becomes reckless. There is celebration in MacArthur’s headquarters. Jubilation that they have crushed the army of Kim Il-sung. Now they will march northward singing their songs, waving their flags.”

  “Did we not warn them what would happen if they threatened us? Surely they do not wish to risk a war that could engulf all of Asia.”

  Peng opened a drawer, held up a piece of paper. “This is a letter, offered to me by Chairman Mao’s secretaries. I am grateful to be included in these correspondences. Now I share this with you.”

  He handed the letter to Sung, who took the paper, read slowly. “I’m not sure what this means.”

  “Look at the bottom. The signature of the Indian ambassador Pannikar. Our people made very clear to the Indian consul that they should communicate our concerns to the Americans. Minister Chou En-lai made very clear on several occasions, through several avenues, that we will not accept any threat to our borders. None at all. Minister Chou stated very plainly that if there was any such threat, we would respond with vigorous force. There was nothing vague about our intentions, none of that ridiculous diplomatic wordplay. Our concerns were clear and precise. If you threaten our border, we will defend our sovereignty. Ambassador Pannikar was most willing to communicate our concerns to anyone in the West who would listen.”

  Sung scanned the letter. “He says here that they would not listen. He says he was…dismissed.”

  “Ignored, more accurately. The Americans responded by ordering their troops northward.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Peng reached for the teacup again. “The Americans believe they can take any action they choose. I have never seen a people with such…swagger. They defeated the Japanese, the Germans. In the end, Kim Il-sung was little more than a mosquito. And so they believe they are invincible.”

  Sung put the paper back on the desk. “They have the atomic bomb.”

  Peng pounded a fist, rattling the teacup. “Yes! That only makes them more arrogant. Incredibly arrogant! A big bomb, capable of destroying a whole city in one moment. We are a nation of farms. How many bombs will it require to destroy all of that? So, the mighty Americans can kill a million of us, perhaps two million. Perhaps ten million. And then? We know of sacrifice, Shi-lun. Nine of ten, remember? Chairman Mao knows more than anyone on this earth what is required to win a war against a superior foe. All those big bombs and fast planes and mighty cannons. But the Americans lack belief. We are fighting for revolution. The Americans are fighting for what? To support a corrupt government in the South? They did that once before, did they not? Chiang Kai-shek sits in his counterfeit palace in Taiwan, alive only because the Americans allow it. Now it is Syngman Rhee, kept alive by fat American artillery. There is no justice to what they do, and that is why we will prevail. They fight for a weak cause. There is purity in us, in our people, in our claim to become a mighty nation again.” He paused, seemed to catch his breath. “General Sung, the final order will come as I told the others. But I can tell you this right now. You will continue to command the Ninth Army Group. You will position your forces at the most convenient crossings of the Yalu River, to advance southward on the nineteenth of October. You will use all means to prevent the enemy from knowing your intentions, or your deployment. You wil
l spread your forces to the south and east, protecting the left flank of General Lin’s Thirteenth Army Group, as you both advance southward.”

  Sung absorbed the order, felt a flash of excitement, his heart quickening. “Yes, sir. We shall obey.”

  “You shall do more than that. You shall relive those days we all miss. You shall once again know how it feels to crush your enemy. And you shall be observed from the highest posts in China. When this is over, your name will adorn great banners.”

  He felt uncomfortable now, had never been celebrated in public places. “I only wish to do my duty. Do we know just when we might expect contact with the Americans?”

  “That is very likely up to you. The Americans will be wandering blind in a strange land. They do not expect to meet us on our own terms. They do not believe we have the resolve to bring this war to them. You shall show them just how mistaken they are.”

  A new thought rolled into Sung’s brain. “Might I expect a Soviet observer in my own camp?”

  Peng shrugged. “Possibly. You will of course be the good host.”

  “Of course. Am I to make known my needs? Am I to allow the Soviets to know my positions, my troop strength?”

  “Chairman Mao is not amused by that prospect. But I convinced him that there is no harm. If the Soviets know our situation, they might yet be persuaded to offer us aid. Otherwise, their presence will merely be a distraction. Chairman Mao does not believe Chairman Stalin will ever support us, in any way. I hold to a bit more optimism.”

  “Then I shall be optimistic as well. I shall do what I can to secure heavy artillery, or air support.”

  Peng laughed again. “Just lead your troops, Shi-lun. It is not your concern what the Soviets will or will not offer us. Chairman Mao shall see to that. Now go. Return to your troops. Prepare them for what lies ahead. Prepare them for the glory that awaits their victory!”