“When you’re through, show that to Lieutenant Taylor,” Howe said.
“Yes, sir.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Jesus, now what?” Howe asked, in great annoyance.
Hart went to the door.
The CIC agent was standing there with an Army signal corps captain.
“This officer has an Urgent for General Pickering,” the CIC agent said.
Pickering motioned for the captain to enter the room. He entered, saluted, and handed Pickering a sealed eight-by-ten -inch manila envelope, on which SECRET was stamped, top and bottom, in red ink.
Pickering tore the envelope open, took the carbon of a radio teletype message from it, read it, and then slipped it back in the envelope.
“Anything important, Fleming?” Howe asked.
“No, sir. It will wait,” Pickering said. Then he added, to the Signal Corps officer, “Answer is, Thank you. Pickering, Brigadier General, USMCR.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll get that right out,” the Signal Corps captain said. He saluted and left the room.
“Lieutenant?” Master Sergeant Keller said and, when he had his attention, handed him the squarish envelope.
Taylor took it and read it.
THE WHITE HOUSE WASHINGTON, D. C.
JULY 8, 1950
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
MAJOR GENERAL RALPH HOWE, USAR, IN CONNECTION WITH HIS MISSION FOR ME, WILL TRAVEL TO SUCH PLACES AT SUCH TIMES AS HE FEELS APPROPRIATE, ACCOMPANIED BY SUCH STAFF AS HE DESIRES.
GENERAL HOWE IS GRANTED HEREWITH A TOP SECRET/WHITE HOUSE CLEARANCE, AND MAY, AT HIS OPTION, GRANT SUCH CLEARANCE TO HIS STAFF.
U.S. MILITARY AND GOVERNMENTAL AGENCIES ARE DIRECTED TO PROVIDE GENERAL HOWE AND HIS STAFF WITH WHATEVER SUPPORT THEY MAY REQUIRE.
Harry S. Truman
HARRY S. TRUMAN
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
“Jesus Christ!” Taylor blurted.
Howe said, “General Pickering has identical orders, with only the name changed.”
“Yes, sir,” Taylor said, and handed the orders back.
“As far as Sergeant Keller is concerned,” Howe said, “he’s on indefinite temporary duty to us. ‘Us’ is defined as whatever General Pickering and I decide that it means. You’re also on indefinite temporary duty to us, Lieutenant, but right now I don’t know for how long that may be. But so far as both of you are concerned, so long as you are assigned to us, that means your chain of command is directly through either General Pickering or myself, and then the President of the United States. You are not subordinate to the orders of anyone but General Pickering and myself. Anyone else includes General MacArthur and any and all members of the SCAP headquarters and subordinate units. Is that clear?”
Master Sergeant Keller said, “Yes, sir.”
Howe looked at Taylor, who said, “I understand, sir.”
“You will consider anything you hear or see in connection with your duties here to be classified Top Secret/White House, and you will not share that information with anyone, repeat anyone, who doesn’t have a Top Secret/White House clearance, and I have been informed that no one in SCAP, including the Supreme Commander, has such a clearance. Is that clear?”
This time the two said “Yes, sir” almost in unison.
“Okay. Early tomorrow morning, Ambassador W. Averell Harriman and General Matthew B. Ridgway are going to get on an airplane in Washington to fly here. Ambassador Harriman is going to inform General MacArthur, in his role as Supreme Allied Powers—and now UN Command—Commander that the President does not wish General MacArthur to employ in any shape or manner Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist Chinese troops. Ambassador Harriman will report to the President his assessment of how General MacArthur receives this order, and probably what he thinks MacArthur will do. I think it highly probable that after receiving the Ambassador’s report, the President will wish to comment on it, and perhaps give the Ambassador supplemental orders.
“Obviously, neither the President nor Ambassador Harriman wants anyone to be privy to this interchange of information. If the customary cryptographic channels were used, SCAP cryptographers would have to read the exchange. The possibility of a leak is there. That’s where you come in, Sergeant Keller. In Sergeant Rogers’s briefcase, there is a special code that will be used solely for the communications between the Ambassador and the President. Getting the picture?”
“Yes, sir,” Keller said. “There’s a story going around that the President used a system like this at Potsdam, sir.”
“You crypto people gossip, do you?”
“Only about techniques, sir, not message content.”
“I’ll give you the benefit of a large doubt on that, Keller. But no, the President did not use this system at Potsdam. I was there with him. He started using it after Potsdam, when he suspected that his ‘eyes only’ messages to and from Potsdam had been read by a large number of senior military and State Department officers who knew how to cajole—or intimidate—crypto people into sharing information with them.”
“You were at Potsdam, Ralph?” Pickering asked.
“Lovely place,” Howe said. “Even right after the war. It’s now in the Russian zone.”
He turned to Keller.
“This one you don’t gossip about, clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“General Ridgway is going to confer with General MacArthur about Inchon,” Howe went on. “That’s where you come in, Lieutenant Taylor. Both General Pickering and I have been charged by the President to come up with opinions—independent opinions—of whether MacArthur—who is now using the phrase ‘when I land at Inchon’—can really carry that off.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing at SCAP, General,” Taylor said. “Working on that plan. They pulled me off my LST right after this war started, and put me to work on that.”
“Gut feeling, Mr. Taylor? Is it possible?” Pickering asked.
“Gut feeling, sir: It’s a hell of a gamble.”
“I’d never even heard of the place a month ago,” Howe said, “and aside from what General Pickering has told me, I still know virtually nothing about it.”
General Pickering told you? What the hell does a Marine general know about Inchon? was written all over Taylor’s face, and both Howe and Pickering saw his confusion.
“I was a sailor, a long time ago,” Pickering said. “I told you.” He chuckled, and added: “Who once ran the Pacific Wanderer aground at Inchon.”
Pacific Wanderer? That’s a P&FE freighter. This general was master of a P&FE freighter?
Oh, Jesus Christ. This guy’s name is Pickering. P&FE is owned by the Pickering family. There has to be a connection. So what’s he doing in a Marine general’s uniform?
“You look as if you have a question, Mr. Taylor,” Pickering said.
“Ran aground, sir? Or got caught by the tides?” Taylor asked.
“Caught by the tides,” Pickering said. “The effect is the same. The question is, how is MacArthur’s invasion fleet going to deal with Inchon’s infamous tidal mudflats?”
“Let’s start with that,” Howe said. “What mudflats? What are we talking about? Show me. Charley, have we got that map?”
Master Sergeant Rogers took a map from his briefcase and laid it on the table.
“You tell us, Taylor,” Howe ordered. “Remembering that you and General Pickering are the only sailors in the room. Keep it simple.”
“Yes, sir,” Taylor said.
He took a lead pencil from his pocket and used it as a pointer.
“Here’s Seoul,” he said. “And here’s Inchon. This is the Yellow Sea. The channel into Inchon from the Yellow Sea—it’s called the Flying Fish Channel—starts here, about thirty air miles from Inchon, at this group of little islands, called the Tokchok. There’s a lighthouse there on a little island called Samni.
“Flying Fish meanders along through here. The distance by water is about forty-five nautical miles from the lighthouse to In
chon.”
“And that’s the only way you can get into Inchon?” Howe asked.
“Yes, sir. That’s one of the problems the invasion fleet is going to face, moving forty-five miles, and moving slow— the channel twists and turns, and in some parts you have to move at steerage speed—”
“Which is?” Howe asked.
“The slowest speed at which you have steering ability,” Pickering answered for him. “And the channel is not very wide; it’ll mean moving the ships most of the way in a column. ”
“And that means, sir,” Taylor said, “the chances of surprising anyone at Inchon are pretty slim.”
“Just for openers, it seems like a lousy place to stage an amphibious invasion,” Howe said.
“And we haven’t even touched on the tides yet,” Pickering said.
“Tell me about tides,” Howe ordered, “in very simple terms.”
“You know, sir, that tides are cyclic?” Taylor asked.
“Not enough. Tell me,” Howe said.
“In the Atlantic Ocean, there’re two tides a day—they call that semidiurnal. A tidal day is twenty-four hours and fifty minutes. When the tides are semidiurnal, that means you get high tide at, say, six o’clock in the morning, low tide a little after noon, and another high tide at about six-twenty-five that night, and another low tide six hours and twelve minutes after that.
“In the Pacific, there’re both semidiurnal tides and diurnal, which means that you get high tide at six in the morning, low tide twelve hours and twenty five minutes after that, and another high tide the next morning at ten minutes to seven.”
“And that’s what it is at Inchon?”
“Not exactly, sir. What they have at Inchon is mixed tides, which means that sometimes the moon and the sun are both acting on the water at the same time. And what that means is that the tides are huge. At Inchon, high tide is sometimes thirty feet above normal sea level, and at low six feet below normal. That means a difference of thirty-six feet. That’s at the high end of the cycle.”
“What does that mean?” Howe asked. “High end of the cycle?”
“There’s a monthly cycle to tides, twenty-eight days, like the lunar cycle,” Taylor explained. “At the high end of the cycle, at Inchon, high tide is sometimes thirty feet above sea level, and low, six feet below. At the low end of the cycle, high tide is maybe twenty feet above normal, and maybe four feet above at low tide.” Taylor paused. “This is twice a day, you understand?”
“You may have to explain it all over again, but go on, what does this mean?”
“Sir, it means that at low tide, all these areas here, from the mainland shore, and around the islands, don’t have any water over them. . . .”
“Mudflats, Ralph, miles and miles of mud,” Pickering said.
“Which means,” Taylor explained, “that the invasion would have to take place at high tide at the high end of the monthly cycle. Maybe a day, either way, but no more than a day.”
“I don’t understand that,” Howe said.
“You need the highest tide you can get, to get the ships through the channel into Inchon, and then get them out again,” Pickering said. “And you have the highest tides only on one day a month.”
“Jesus!” Howe said.
“Even then, there’s no way that I can see that they can get every vessel in and out, sir,” Taylor said. “Maybe they can get one or two attack transports in there, unload them, and get them out on one tide, but there’re going to be LSTs and everything else stuck in the mud.”
“I agree,” Pickering said. “Stuck until the tide comes in again and refloats them.”
“When do we get a high tide? Is that the correct term?” Howe asked.
“August eighteen is the next one, sir, and the one after that is 15 September. That’s what they’re shooting for, 15 September.”
Howe looked at Pickering.
“So ‘when I will land’ at Inchon is September fifteenth?”
“It would appear to be,” Pickering said.
“Is there more bad news, Mr. Taylor, about this brilliant invasion idea? Or have I heard it all?”
“Not quite, sir,” Taylor said.
“Jesus! What else can go wrong?”
“Sir, if you look here,” Taylor said, pointing at the map. “You see this little island here, Paega-do? It’s about five miles off the mainland. The water between it and the mainland is fifteen, sometimes twenty, feet deep at high tide. At low tide, it’s a mudflat. From the west side of Paega-do, it’s about five miles to Yonghung-do. The Flying Fish Channel, half a mile wide, runs north-south through there, mostly right in the middle. That’s the only place where, at high tide, the channel is deep enough for the attack transports.”
“Okay,” Howe said after he’d studied the map a moment.
“The channel there is within artillery range of guns on either island,” Taylor finished.
“Which means they’d have to be taken out before the attack transports—or anything else—could use the channel? ” Pickering asked, but it was really a statement rather than a question.
“And taking them out would be a pretty good signal of our intentions, wouldn’t it?” Howe said, thoughtfully.
“Yonghung-do, Paega-do, and all these islands east of there are held by the North Koreans,” Taylor said, pointing.
“And west of there?” McCoy asked. It was the first question he had asked.
“The South Korean national police holds them,” Taylor said. “I don’t mean . . .”
“You said ‘police’?” General Howe asked.
“Yes, sir. They hold the major islands, sir, is what I mean. They don’t have people on every island.”
“The front, the battle line, is way down the peninsula, almost to Pusan,” Howe said. “Why don’t the North Koreans at least try to run the South Koreans off those islands?”
“I can only guess, sir, that they don’t consider them a major threat; that they’re waiting until they take Pusan. Once that happens, they’ll have the means to clean up—”
“Hey,” McCoy said. “They’re not going to take Pusan.”
“They’re not?” Taylor asked, dubiously.
“The Marines have landed, haven’t you heard?”
“You really think the Marines can hold Pusan, McCoy?” General Howe asked. “Or are you just parroting the official Marine Corps line?”
“Not by themselves, sir, I didn’t mean to suggest that. But if they can help the Army hold on to it a little longer, until the Army can get some more troops in there . . . The last prisoners Ernie and I talked to not only looked beat, but admitted they were running out of food, ammunition— everything. That’s a long supply line they’re running.”
“Why should the Marines do any better than the Army has? It looks to me like the more men the Army sends to Korea, the further Eighth Army has to retreat.”
“Sir, most of the Provisional Brigade officers and non-coms have combat experience in the Second War. And—at least down to company level—they’ve trained together.”
“How do you know that?”
“General Craig told me, sir.”
“The Provisional Brigade commander?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You two had a little chat? In my experience—and remember, Captain, I used to be Captain Howe—generals don’t have many conversations with captains.”
“You’re having one right now, General,” General Pickering said.
“Point taken,” Howe said, with a smile.
“I spoke with General Craig in San Diego, sir,” McCoy said. “When the brigade was getting on the transports, and yesterday . . .” He paused. “Yeah, that was only yesterday. It seems a lot longer. I saw General Craig and the brigade debarking in Pusan.”
Howe looked at him.
“You were about to say something else,” he said. “Say it.”
“The Marines in the Brigade looked like . . . Marines, sir.”
“You mean they looked to you
as if they could fight?”
“Yes, sir,” McCoy said.
“Well, let’s hope you’re right, McCoy,” General Howe said. “Now, where were we?”
“You were talking about the islands from which artillery could be brought to bear on the invasion fleet,” General Pickering said.
“Right,” Howe said. “So what does General MacArthur plan to do about them?”
“I believe the current plan is to take them on D Minus One, sir,” Lieutenant Taylor said.
“You mean twenty-four hours before the actual landing at Inchon?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which would certainly tell the North Koreans we were going to land at Inchon, and give them twenty-four hours to bring up reinforcements, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Taylor said.
“Nobody had a better idea than that?” Howe asked.
“Sir,” Taylor said, and stopped.
“Go on,” Howe ordered.
“Sir, I’ve given that some thought—”
“You have an idea, ideas?”
“Yes, sir,” Taylor said. “I think it would be possible—”
Howe stopped him by holding up his hand.
“Not now,” he said. “Later.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No, I mean later. I want to hear them. But right now, I have to send the President what I have so far about MacArthur’s idea to land two divisions of men he doesn’t have some place where an invasion can be held on only one or two days a month, and where the tides are thirty feet. Let’s go, Charley, and you, too, Keller.”
He got to his feet, gestured for the others to keep their seats, and walked out of the room, with Master Sergeants Rogers and Keller on his heels.
“Taylor,” General Pickering asked, “these ideas of yours, have you put them on paper?”
“No, sir.”
“I’m sure General Howe meant it when he said he wanted to hear them. Step one to do that is get them on paper—just the rough idea, or ideas.”
“Yes, sir. How much time do I have?”
“See how much you can get down by seventeen hundred,” Pickering said. “General Howe and I are going to be at SCAP most of the afternoon. Have you got someplace to work?”
“Only at SCAP, sir, or in my BOQ.”
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