by Jeff Shaara
“You contact your troop positions?”
Hodes sipped the coffee, made a low grunt. “Yes. They’ve taken at least four hundred casualties. I spoke to Colonel McLean, CO of the Thirty-second. He’s in overall command up there. To say he’s concerned is putting it mildly.” Hodes looked hard at Smith. “General, to be frank, we’re in some serious trouble up there. From what we can tell, the enemy has surrounded that entire position. Both the Thirty-first and Thirty-second are out on a pretty dangerous limb. I know that General Barr would approve of me doing this. I am asking that you send assistance, do whatever is possible to pull those boys back here. We have additional forces coming up from the south, but there is no way of knowing when they might arrive.”
“The road to the south is blocked. It is unlikely any additional troops can get through with any speed.”
“Then I double my request. If we were united here, we’d be a tough nut for the Chinese.”
“How many men are up there?”
Hodes seemed uncertain, thought a moment. “Near three thousand, I suppose.”
Smith looked at Ridge, saw a glare of concern.
“General, we cannot weaken the perimeter here. There are barely that many Marines here to defend the most important junction in this part of Korea.”
Hodes seemed even more surprised now, said, “But we were told that you had two full regiments here, and a third moving up.”
“I assume you received your information from Tenth Corps. Were you also told that my orders were to spread out my forces in a flimsy line that is still thirty miles long? The greater part of our strength is, right now, enduring a heavy enemy assault up at Yudam-ni, some fourteen miles north of here. Colonel Puller is still at Koto-ri, and he is taking heavy fire as well.” He stopped, tried to control his temper. “General, I appreciate the gravity of the army’s situation. But the only way we can mount a force strong enough to eliminate the enemy on the east side of the reservoir is to abandon completely what we have here. That’s not possible.”
Hodes didn’t respond, his gaze dropping. Ridge said, “General Hodes, we could definitely use your men here. Can they fight their way back?”
Hodes didn’t look at Ridge, and Smith could feel the man’s despair. After a long moment, Hodes said, “I suppose we’ll have to.”
HAGARU-RI, NORTH KOREA—NOVEMBER 28, 2:30 P.M.
Hodes had returned to his mode of transportation, the tank offering him the only chance to communicate to the army troops east of the reservoir. Smith had eaten a flavorless lunch in his new quarters but would not stay away from the command tent for any longer than he had to. The activity there had continued, Ridge’s officers coming and going, maneuvering whatever strength they could assemble into some kind of coherent defensive line. Smith had backed away from those details, would allow Ridge to do his job, a job that had already impressed Smith.
Smith ran the numbers through his head, thought, It’s all guesses. The army’s taken four hundred casualties, and Yudam-ni has to be as bad, or worse. We’ve got to have that airstrip, and if there is nothing else in Hagaru-ri worth protecting, we have to protect that. He thought of Puller, his hands full at Koto-ri. I sure could use you up here, Lewie. If there was some way to get your people to jam their way through those hills, you’d figure it out. But then, we might not be able to hold Koto-ri. This isn’t a one-way trip here.
He kept Puller in his mind, thought, What would he be doing if he was at Yudam-ni? I can’t fault Litzenberg or Murray. They’re following orders, my orders. We knew the enemy was out there, and we had to know there was a plan. They weren’t just watching us go by. They let us go by. They know we’re driving for the Yalu. Nothing secret about that. It’s all Tokyo talks about. They chose the place, the time. And nobody in Tokyo or at Tenth Corps seems to understand what we’re up against. Not sure that I know. I should get up to Yudam-ni, take a good look. It’s not time to spare anybody’s feelings.
“Captain, is that chopper still on the pad?”
Sexton came out of the back room, said, “No, sir. He’s on his way back to Hungnam. Colonel Bowser is scheduled to fly up here.”
“Yes, I know. I thought it might be a good idea to fly up to see Litzenberg, check out the situation at Yudam-ni.”
Sexton stood in front of him, hands on his hips. “Sir, that’s not an acceptable idea.”
There was no humor in Sexton’s words. Smith knew the look in the man’s eyes, Sexton with no tolerance at all for idiocy.
“I was not aware, Captain, that it was such a stupid plan.”
“I didn’t say anything like that, sir. But you know the book. The commanding general has to maintain contact with all his forces, and right now you are in position to do just that. Taking the risk of flying some bolt bucket up through those frozen hills, with an enemy who’s just itching to shoot one of those little birds out of the sky…it’s unacceptable. And if I wanted to do that, you’d tell me the same thing.”
Smith couldn’t hide the smile. “I never thought you’d quote ‘the book,’ Captain.”
“You would, sir. And I’m betting that Colonel Bowser will agree with me. Forgive me for saying so, sir, but you’ve got two good commanders up there. There’s not a thing you could do for them they can’t do themselves.”
Smith stood slowly, working the stiffness out of his knee. He knew Sexton had crossed a line, that Sexton would know that, too. He grabbed his coat, slid it on, looked at Sexton, who still stood firmly, his chest poked out just for emphasis. “Don’t try this with Puller, Captain. He’ll take your bars.”
—
The tent was a hive of activity, the cold blowing in with each man who passed through the heavy flap. The officers were mostly familiar, short greetings from men with better things to do than chat with their commanding officer. Smith stayed mostly out of the way, absorbing every scrap of information, most of it vague and useless, frustrating for everyone there.
He had stopped examining each man’s arrival, knew if anyone could offer something substantial, he’d know as quickly as Ridge. But now a new face appeared, a short round man pouring into the tent, wrapped up like yet another mummy. It was Colonel Lockwood. The men stood aside, and Smith ignored their expressions, focused on Lockwood, red-faced, flustered, and certainly surprised to see Smith.
“I didn’t know you’d be here, sir. It has been a rather extreme day. Might I have some coffee?”
“Extreme how?”
Lockwood tugged at removing his coat, sat heavily, a coffee cup placed in his hands, the man obviously trying to gather himself. “I had planned to move my battalion CP up to Yudam-ni this morning. I tried to contact Colonel Litzenberg for any additional orders, without success. So we moved out in convoy on the main road, anticipating no difficulty. We had not gone more than a mile when we were confronted by a large number of Chinese, occupying the heights to our front, on both sides of the road. I attempted to remove them, deploying my weapons company to one flank, my headquarters personnel to the other. We had a rather brisk firefight, but it became clear that the enemy far outnumbered us and was attempting to take us on both flanks. I felt I had no choice but to withdraw, and return here.”
Smith glanced around the large tent, all faces on Lockwood. “You were fortunate, Colonel. Were your casualties as extreme as your situation?”
“Several wounded. They have been sent to the aid stations. It could have been much worse, I am certain of that.”
Smith could see Lockwood’s hands shaking as he attempted to drink his coffee.
“Colonel, until we know more of what seems to be happening at Yudam-ni, you will deploy your men here at the discretion of Colonel Ridge.”
Lockwood looked at Smith. “Sir, what is happening at Yudam-ni?”
Smith thought, Of course, he has no idea. “The enemy has engaged us in strength. Very likely you ran into a roadblock, meant to keep any of us here from going to their aid. Or, perhaps, to prevent any of them from returning here. Either way
we are isolated, as is Colonel Litzenberg.”
Lockwood seemed to sink into a deep gloom, and after a brief moment a new thought seemed to burst through him. “What of Fox Company? I placed them at Toktong Pass. I tried to contact them by radio but I assumed the equipment was down.”
Smith folded his arms across his chest, shook his head. “I would hazard that the enemy has cut your wire. From all we can tell, your men there are engaged as well. Beyond that, I’m afraid we know very little. Our main concern, the one thing we can attack directly, is the defense of Hagaru-ri. I do not know what the enemy’s intentions are, except that they seem to prefer a nighttime assault. We must expect that if they have done so at other points, they will do so here. See to your men. Colonel Ridge will know what to do with them.”
“Sirs! A chopper has landed!”
Smith looked toward the voice, the man in a heavy coat backing out of the tent, the flap closing quickly. Smith said, “Bowser, I suppose. A little sooner than I expected.”
The flap was pulled back again, a gust of wind inflating the walls of the tent. Smith waited, the flap still open, no one yet there, the nagging memory of another time, the man making his arrival with an entrance reminiscent of his boss. Smith stared silently at the foggy opening, the hard cold wiping away the warmth from the tent’s stove. Around him, others were holding down papers, trying to keep their griping out of his earshot. Bowser, he thought, if you’re out there shaking hands, I’m going to court-martial you. Two men filled the opening now, the obvious look of aides or, he thought, bodyguards. What’s going on now? Another figure appeared, moving slowly, deliberate steps, too familiar.
“Well, this is excellent! I hoped to see my officers at work. I’ll just take a look at that map, yes?”
Smith felt his shoulder sag, opened a path to the table. “Welcome, General Almond. This is an unexpected surprise.”
—
Bowser had arrived, but any detailed briefings for Smith would have to wait, all attention focused on Ned Almond. They had moved into the small house, away from the turmoil of the tent, Smith already dreading the thought that Almond would try to take charge of Ridge’s defenses.
“Not bad, Smith, I must say. You always seem to find a solid roof over your head.”
Sexton had brewed a fresh pot of coffee, three cups on the table, Almond choosing his after examining all three, a habitual check for cleanliness. Smith glanced at Sexton, knew he had observed the annoying tic, Sexton not hiding his annoyance.
“Thank you, Captain. You are excused.”
Sexton faked a smile. “I’ll be right outside, sir, standing in the cold, if you need me.”
Almond unrolled a map, ignored Sexton, who moved out through the door, a last glance at Smith. He’s going to say something stupid one day, Smith thought. Well, me, too.
“General Almond, I said we were surprised by your visit. Do you have specific orders?”
Almond looked at Smith as though for the first time today. “No, not really. I’m on my way to see the army command posts. Colonel Faith’s people are up front, I believe, leading the way. The Thirty-first. I’m told he’s a good man. I don’t want to see any further delays, and I suspect Colonel Faith will get the job done.”
Smith looked at Bowser, saw his own confusion in Bowser’s expression.
“Delays for what?”
“The advance, of course. No excuses, just because of the cold weather.” Almond looked hard at him. “He’s army. Unlike you, he accepts that he has to obey everything I tell him to do.”
Smith sat back, stared at Almond, who scanned the map in his hands. After a silent moment, Smith said, “I have sent reports to Corps headquarters all morning. Have you seen them?”
Almond kept his stare on the map.
“I saw reports. You and General Barr. A few others.” Almond stopped, seemed to weigh his words, a glance toward Bowser. “Let me tell you something, Smith. I served my country in World War Two without ever receiving the command I deserved. I intend to prove to whoever made that decision that they were flat-out wrong. General MacArthur has granted me an opportunity here, and not you nor anyone else in Korea will destroy General MacArthur’s confidence in this command. The entire world is watching us here, Smith. And I will not tolerate defeatism. If the army must carry our banner to the Yalu River, so be it. You had your opportunity for headlines, and instead of obeying my orders, you spout out pessimism. Well, now it’s the army’s turn.”
Smith felt a boiling heat in the back of his neck, fought to keep it hidden. “General Almond, the army position has been under attack. General Hodes has determined they have taken several hundred casualties, and they are in a dangerous situation. The same is true for my Fifth and Seventh Regiments at Yudam-ni. The enemy has struck us hard at every advanced position, and he has mostly surrounded us right here.” His voice was rising, and he paused, tried to hold it inside. He looked at Bowser, who shook his head, no help at all. “Sir, we must modify our mission here.”
Almond kept his eyes locked on Smith. “So, nothing has changed. Poor morale is still your biggest problem. You have engaged a defeated enemy, and his defeat becomes yours.” He reached into his pocket. “See these? Silver Star, times three. You’ll not get one of these from me. These are for Colonel Faith’s command. One for him, certainly. Morale spreads from the top down, something you’ve never understood. I will find others in Faith’s command who are worthy of the other two. They will appreciate that their commanding officer is aware of their efforts, and will continue to support them. As for the attacks you fear, I will tell you, as I will tell Colonel Faith: The enemy who is standing up before you is nothing more than the remnants of a Chinese division fleeing northward. We are going all the way to the Yalu. Do not let a bunch of Chinese laundrymen stop you!”
—
Almond had continued on his journey up the east side of the reservoir, a Marine helicopter that kept its flight path far out over the snow-covered ice.
Smith was still at the table, the pipe in his mouth, the only piece of joy he had received this entire day. Bowser had examined the rest of the small house, returned now, holding a framed portrait of Joseph Stalin.
“This was hanging on the wall. I suppose you saw it.”
Smith stared ahead, pulled at the pipe, the pungent smoke wrapping around his gloom. “Put it back up. I told the staff to leave it be. Might inspire us.”
“If you say so.”
Bowser returned quickly, said, “Mind if I sit?”
Smith pointed with the stem of the pipe. Bowser sat, said nothing, could read Smith’s moods better than anyone on the staff. Smith said, “We could use Eddie about now. I can’t fault him for caring so about his father. But his timing could have been better. He could go up to Yudam-ni. That’s what a second in command does.”
“You want me to go up there?”
Smith shook his head. “I need you here. We’re short-staffed, and for all I know, we might both need to pick up a rifle.”
Bowser seemed to weigh Smith’s words. “My marksmanship has always been suspect. But I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. Maybe a carbine. Easier to handle.”
He appreciated Bowser’s humor, always at the right time, the right amount.
“It seems that the best way to communicate with Yudam-ni is by choppered dispatch. I am ordering Murray to pull back from his advanced position and combine his forces with Litzenberg at Yudam-ni itself.”
Bowser let out a low whistle. “Almond’s orders haven’t changed. Murray is to continue moving west, over the mountains. You’ll contradict that?”
“The Chinese have contradicted that. The mission has changed, whether or not Tenth Corps understands that or not. From every indication, we are severely outnumbered on every front. There is no more advance to the Yalu. We are fighting for survival.”
“But what about Almond?”
Smith pulled again at the pipe. “I cannot order Litzenberg and Murray to withdraw out of Yudam-ni and return
here, without Tenth Corps approval. But that is exactly what we must do. Our best hope, perhaps our only hope, is that General Almond can be made to understand that.”
“How?”
Smith pulled the pipe from his mouth, laid it on the table. “I don’t know, Alpha. The man is crazy.”
—
The snow began late in the afternoon, blanketing the men as they sat in their foxholes. The command organized by Colonel Ridge was a jigsaw puzzle of Marine infantry and artillerymen, service and supply troops, army headquarters personnel, and anyone else capable of aiming a rifle. With darkness falling quickly, the word was passed to men who didn’t need to be told. Make ready for imminent attack. By nightfall, the Chinese began their assault. As had happened at Yudam-ni, at Koto-ri, at Fox Hill, and around the army position far up the east side of the Chosin Reservoir, the attack began with a chorus of bugles and whistles, cymbals and shouts, the Chinese soldiers pouring out of their hiding places straight into the guns of the American defenses. At Hagaru-ri there were also breakthroughs, holes punched in the defenses that allowed Chinese troops to pour through. But Hagaru-ri offered something the other positions did not. The massive supply dump offered the Chinese soldiers the kind of temptation few of them had ever seen. Instead of pressing forward their assault, routing the Americans completely from the crucial town, the Chinese began to loot the stockpiles, bogging down their attack. In time, the Americans turned the tide, a massacre of men whose mission had been lost in a quest for whatever prizes they could find. By morning the Americans had suffered nearly five hundred additional casualties, but the losses for the Chinese were far worse.
Smith understood that Hagaru-ri would continue to be vulnerable, and that from all indications, the Chinese were intent on continuing their attacks. With the army troops to the northeast cut off in a desperate fight for their own survival, Smith had only one other option for reinforcing his position. The radio link to Koto-ri was still clear, and Smith sent word to Chesty Puller to mobilize any force Puller could spare and send them northward with all speed. Among the troops in Puller’s command was a British unit, the Forty-first Independent Commandos, of the British Royal Marines, led by Lieutenant Colonel Douglas Drysdale. Drysdale was an experienced combat veteran of the Burma campaign in World War II who had sought out and was delighted to receive assignment to serve alongside Chesty Puller. By morning Colonel Drysdale’s assignment would change. Though Puller had barely two thousand men to defend Koto-ri, Drysdale would assume command of a task force of nearly half of Puller’s forces. Accompanied by tanks and a large number of supply trucks, Drysdale would push northward, with no real idea what kind of obstacles the Chinese would put in their way. Smith understood the chances Drysdale would take. Every report reaching Hagaru-ri, from the radio transmitters in Koto-ri and Chinhung-ni, to the haphazard messages passed along from chopper and fighter pilots, told the same story. The Chinese were in strength, surrounding every position the Marines now occupied. With nightfall again settling over the Chosin Reservoir, every outpost, every headquarters, every frontline platoon commander was keeping his men on the alert, waiting for the inevitable attack.
