Colonel Huff wasn't entirely able to keep his face from registering surprise.
"Right away, General," he said.
"It should be here shortly," MacArthur said. "Is it too early in the morning for you, General, for a cigar?"
"It's never too early or too late for a good cigar or a good woman, sir," Howe said.
MacArthur laughed, then turned to his desk again, picked up a small humidor, and offered it to Howe. Howe took one of the long, black, thin cigars, sniffed it, then rolled it between his fingers.
"Philippine," MacArthur said. "I smoked them all through the war, courtesy of our friend Pickering."
"How's that, sir?"
"The Pacific Princess brought one of the first troop ship-ments to Australia shortly after we arrived there. Fleming, in his role as commodore of the P&FE Fleet, emptied her humidor of cigars and enough of that scotch he drinks..."
"Famous Grouse, sir," Howe furnished.
"... and I now do... to carry the both of us for the rest of the war."
He's going out of his way to make the point that he and Pickering are pals. I wonder where that's leading?
MacArthur handed him first a cutter, then a lighter.
"Very nice," Howe said after taking his first puff. `Thank you."
MacArthur made a deprecating gesture.
"I had occasion several times while you were in Ko-rea-about every time that Colonel Huff stuck his head in the door to tell me you were still there-to reflect on those times, and the role of the aide-de-camp in the army."
Howe looked at him and waited for him to go on.
"This is in no way a reflection on Colonel Huff-I don't know what I'd do without him-but I thought that his role as my aide-de-camp represents a considerable change from the role of aides-de-camp in the past, and from your, and Fleming Pickering's, roles here. And during World War Two."
"How is that, sir?"
Here it comes, but what the hell is it?
"Think about it, Howe. Napoleon's aides-de-camp-for that matter, probably those of Hannibal, marching with his elephants into the Pyrenees in 218-were far more than of-ficers who saw to their general's comfort. They were his eyes and his ears, and when they were in the field, they spoke with his authority."
"Neither General Pickering nor I have any authority, General, to issue orders to anyone," Howe argued.
"The difference there is that when one of Hannibal's aides was in the field, he was not in communication with Hannibal. You are in communication with our Commander-in-Chief. Pickering was in private communication with President Roosevelt all through the war until Roosevelt died. If he then, or you now, told me it was the President's desire that I do, or not do, thus and so, I would consider it an order."
Where the hell is he going?
"I can't imagine that happening, General," Howe said.
"Neither can I," MacArthur said. "The other difference being that if the Commander-in-chief wishes to issue an order to me, or anyone else, directly, he now has the means to do so. But that wasn't really the point of this."
Okay. Finally, here it comes.
"Oh?"
"I was leading up to the other function of aides-de-camp: being the commander's eyes and ears. Has it oc-curred to you that that's what you're doing? You and Pickering?"
"Yes, sir. It has. Our mission is to report to the President anything he tells us to look into, or what we see and hear that we feel would interest him."
"Of course, Fleming Picking has the additional duty-or maybe it's his primary duty; it doesn't matter here for the moment-of running the CIA and its covert intelligence, and other operations."
"That's true, sir," Howe said.
Okay. Now we have a direction. I think.
There was a knock at the door, and a white-jacketed Japanese entered bearing a tray on which was a silver cof-fee set and a plate covered with a silver dome.
"Our egg sandwiches, I believe," MacArthur said. "Just set that on the table please."
"That was quick," Howe said.
"It's nice to be the Emperor," MacArthur said, straight-faced, and then when he saw the look on Howe's face, suddenly shifting into a broad smile, showing he had made a little joke.
"I suppose it is, sir."
"I am a soldier, nothing more," MacArthur said. "And I really have done my best to discourage people from think-ing I am anything more, and more important, than I think I am."
I don't know whether to believe that or not. But I guess I do.
MacArthur lifted the dome over the plate.
"Help yourself," he said. "They are much better when hot."
"Thank you, sir."
"They take me back to West Point," MacArthur said. "My mother had the idea I wasn't being properly nour-ished in the cadet mess, and when I went to see her at night in the Hotel Thayer, she would have egg sandwiches sent up."
Howe remembered hearing that MacArthur's mother had lived in the Hotel Thayer at West Point during all of his four years there. He had a sudden mental image of a photo-graph he had once seen of Douglas MacArthur as a cadet.
He looked like an arrogant sonofabitch then, too. And a little phony. How many other cadets were coddled by their mothers, and fed fried-egg sandwiches at night?
And why did he tell me that?
Ralph, you're out of your league with this man. Watch yourself!
The Supreme Commander Allied Powers in Japan and United Nations Command thrust most of a triangular piece of fried-egg sandwich into a wide-open mouth, chewed ap-preciatively, and announced.
"Very nice. I'm glad you thought of this, Howe."
"I learned to really loathe powdered eggs during the war," Howe said. "That was the menu at K-l."
"Not a criticism of you, of course, Howe, but whenever I am served something I don't like, I remember when we were down to a three-eighths ration on Bataan and Corregidor, and suddenly I am not so displeased."
Was that simply an observation, or is he reminding me that I am eating a fried-egg sandwich in the presence of the Hero of Bataan and Corregidor?
"Powdered eggs aside, I ate better in Korea just now than I often ate in Italy," Howe said.
"That's good to hear, Howe, and it actually brings us to the point of this somewhat rambling conversation we've been having."
Is this it, finally?
"What occurred to me, Howe," MacArthur went on, "is that Hannibal, Napoleon, and Roosevelt had-and Presi-dent Truman now has-something I don't, and, I am now convinced, I really should have."
"What's that, sir?"
"And, come to think of it, that General Montgomery was wise enough to have during his campaigns in the Second War: experienced, trusted officers-aides-de-camp in the historical sense of the term-who moved around the bat-tlefield as his eyes and ears, and reported to him what they thought he should know, as differentiated from telling him what they think he would like to hear."
"Yes, sir, I suppose that's true."
"I don't know where I am going to find such officers to fulfill that role for me-it will have to be someone who is not presently on my staff-but I will. And just as soon as I can."
Here it comes.
But what did that "it will have to be someone who is not presently on my staff" crack mean?
"I'm sure that you would find that useful, sir."
"In the meantime, Howe, with the understanding that I am fully aware that your reports to President Truman enjoy the highest possible level of confidentiality, and that I would not ask you to violate that confidence in any way, I sent Colonel Huff to Haneda to ask you to come to see me in the hope that you would be able to share with me what you saw, and felt, in Korea."
The sonofabitch wants me to tell him what I'm reporting to Truman. Jesus Christ!
"I can see on your face that the idea makes you uncom-fortable, Howe, and I completely understand that. Let me bring you up to date on what has happened since you've been in Korea, to give you an idea what I'm interested in, and then I will ask you some ques
tions. If you feel free to answer them, fine. If you don't, I will understand."
"Yes, sir," Howe said.
"I don't think I managed to convince General Collins that the Inchon invasion is the wisest course of action to take-" MacArthur interrupted himself, went to his desk and pulled open a drawer, took out a radio teletype mes-sage, and then walked around the desk and handed it to Howe. "Read this, Howe."
It was an eight-paragraph Top Secret "Eyes Only MacArthur" message from the Joint Chiefs of Staff. MacArthur waited patiently until Howe had read it.
"Stripped of the diplomatic language, I think you will agree, Howe," MacArthur said, "that what that doesn't say is that the JCS approves of Inchon. That they agree with Collins that the invasion-and they don't even call it an `invasion' but rather a `turning operation'-should take place somewhere, preferably at Kunsan, but anywhere but Inchon."
"That's what it sounds like to me, sir," Howe agreed.
"But what it also doesn't say," MacArthur went on, `Is that I am being denied permission to make the Inchon landing. That suggests to me, frankly, that someone in Washington is reluctant to challenge my judgment about Inchon-and that someone is the President himself. Who else could challenge the judgment of the Joint Chiefs of Staff but the President? And why would the President, ab-sent advice he's getting from person or persons he trusts that I'm right about Inchon and General Collins is wrong, challenge the judgment of the JCS?"
I'll be damned. He knows-doesn't know, but has fig-ured out-that Pickering and I both messaged Truman that we think the Inchon invasion makes sense.
"I don't expect a reply to that, Howe," MacArthur said. "But let's say this: Absent orders to the contrary from the Commander-in-Chief, I will put ashore a two-division force at Inchon 15 September."
Howe looked at him, but didn't respond.
He must know that I'll message Truman that he said that. But Harry's no dummy. He knows that already.
"There are several interrelated problems connected with that," MacArthur said. "If you feel free to comment on them, I would welcome your observations. If you feel it would be inappropriate for you to do so, I will understand."
"Yes, sir?"
"The first deals with General Walker. I am sometimes, perhaps justifiably, accused of being too loyal to my subor-dinates. There has been some suggestion that otherwise I would have relieved General Walker."
"General, I'm not qualified to comment on the perform-ance of an Army commander."
"All right, I understand your position. But I hope you can answer this one for me. General Almond, for whom I have great respect, feels he needs the First Marine Division to lead the invasion. That means taking the 1st Marine Brigade-which is, as you know, essentially the Fifth Ma-rine Regiment, Reinforced-from Pusan, and assigning it-reassigning it-to the First Marine Division. General Walker, for whose judgment I have equal respect, states flatly that he cannot guarantee the integrity of his Pusan positions if he loses the 1st Marine Brigade to the invasion force-which has now been designated as X Corps, by the way. That problem is compounded by the fact that Gener-als Walker and Almond are not mutual admirers."
Howe looked at MacArthur without speaking.
"No comment again?" MacArthur asked.
"General, you're certainly not asking me for advice?"
"I suppose what I'm asking-the decision has been made, by the way-is what, if you were in my shoes, you would have done."
"I can only offer what any smart second lieutenant could suggest, General, that you had to make a decision between which was more important, a greater risk to the Pusan perimeter by pulling the Marines out of there, or a greater risk to the Inchon invasion because the Marines were short a regiment."
"And what do you think your hypothetical second lieu-tenant would decide?"
Howe met MacArthur's eyes for a moment before reply-ing.
`To send the Marines to Inchon, sir."
"And Major General Howe, after seeing what he saw in the Pusan perimeter?"
`To send the Marines to Inchon, sir," Howe said.
"History will tell us, I suppose, whether the hypothetical second lieutenant, the aide-de-camp to the Commander-in-Chief, and the commander forced to make the decision were right, won't it? X Corps will land at Inchon with the full-strength First Marine Division as the vanguard."
MacArthur picked up the coffee pitcher and added some to Howe's cup, then refreshed his own.
"There's one more delicate question, Howe, that you may not wish to answer."
"Yes, sir?"
"It has come to the attention of my staff that our friend Fleming Pickering has mounted one of his clandestine op-erations. I don't know how reliable the information my staff has is, but there is some concern that it might in some way impact on Inchon."
In other words, Charley Willoughby's snoops have heard something-how much?-about the Flying Fish Channel operation. Why should that be a surprise? They've been fol-lowing us around the way the KGB followed me around at Potsdam.
"I thought perhaps this operation might be connected with Pickering's son," MacArthur went on. "Who is not just a Marine aviator, but the son of the CIA's Director of Asian Operations."
So why don't you ask Pickering yourself?
"General Pickering doesn't tell me much about his CIA covert operations, General," Howe said. "But I'm sure there's more than one of them, any-or all-of which might have an impact on Inchon. If any of them did, I'm sure he would tell you."
"Well, perhaps after you tell him-you will tell him?- that the Inchon invasion is on, he'll come to me. If he has something to come to me with."
"I will tell him, General," Howe said.
MacArthur put his coffee cup down.
"Thank you for coming to see me, and with such alacrity," MacArthur said.
Well, I have just been dismissed.
How much did I give him that I should not have?
"I hope it was worth your time, General," Howe said.
MacArthur put his hand on Howe's shoulder and guided him to the door.
"Thank you again," he said, and offered him his hand.
Major General Charles A. Willoughby was in the outer office waiting to see MacArthur.
And probably to find out what MacArthur got from me.
"Come on, Charley," Howe said, looking at Willoughby, and waiting until Master Sergeant Charley Rogers had got-ten quickly from his seat and handed him his grease gun before adding, "Good morning, General Willoughby."
[TWO]
COMMAND POST
COMPANY C, 1ST BATTALION,
5TH MARINES FIRST MARINE BRIGADE (PROVISIONAL)
OBONG-NI, THE NAKTONG BULGE, SOUTH KOREA
1155 20 AUGUST 1950
The battalion exec found Charley Company's commander lying in the shade of a piece of tenting half supported by poles and half by the wall of a badly shot-up stone Korean farmhouse.
The company commander's uniform was streaked with dried mud, and he was unshaven and looked like hell, which was, of course, to be expected under the circum-stances. But nevertheless, when the company commander saw the battalion exec, he started to get up.
The exec gestured for him to stay where he was, dropped to his knees, and crawled under the canvas with him.
The company commander saluted, lying down, and the exec returned it.
"You look beat, Captain," the exec said.
"I guess I'm not used to this heat, sir."
"I don't think anybody is," the exec said. "It was a little cooler during the storm-"
He broke off when the captain's eyes told him he was monumentally uninterested in small talk.
"How badly were you hurt?" the exec asked, meaning the company, not the company commander personally.
"I lost a little more than half of my men, and two of my officers. Fourteen enlisted and one officer KIA. Some of those who went down went down with heat exhaustion."
The exec nodded.
At 0800, 1st Battalion, 5th Marines had attacked Nor
th Korean positions on Obong-ni Ridge. There had been a preliminary 105-mm howitzer barrage, and a mortar bar-rage, on the enemy positions, after which the 5th had at-tacked across a rice paddy and then up the steep slopes of the ridge. In that attack, Company A had been in the van, with B Company following and C Company in reserve.
W E B Griffin - Corp 09 - Under Fire Page 66