by H. W. Brands
The secretary of state thought the bombing a terrible idea. Bombing was a very inexact science, Acheson pointed out; some of the bombs might well go astray and hit the Chinese side of the river. Already American planes had inadvertently fired on an airfield in Soviet territory, compelling Washington to apologize. Fortunately, Moscow had accepted the apology. China was unlikely to be so forgiving. Even if the bombing did not provoke a major Chinese response, the escalation would strain the UN coalition, which sternly resisted a wider war. The bombing would antagonize the British, who remained on tenterhooks about Hong Kong; they might well feel double-crossed by this unannounced escalation. The bombing was a terrible idea, Acheson repeated. MacArthur must be stopped.
Truman gritted his teeth as he considered the matter. He didn’t disagree with Acheson, but he knew what MacArthur and the general’s supporters would say if the order were countermanded: that MacArthur was being denied the ability to defend American troops against the communist enemy, that Truman again was quailing before the Red Chinese, that MacArthur was strong and Truman weak.
He grudgingly conceded that MacArthur had him in a bad spot. The general was canny if nothing else. Truman grimly told Acheson to let MacArthur’s bombing order stand. As Acheson recorded the conversation a short while later, “The President said that he would approve the action if it was necessary because of an immediate and serious threat to the security of his own troops.”
Acheson objected. The secretary said MacArthur had not made the case that the threat was, in fact, immediate and serious.
Truman suggested that Acheson call MacArthur and let him make the case.
Acheson said he thought the communication should go through military channels.
Truman often boasted of his willingness to make difficult decisions, but in this case he passed the buck. He instructed Acheson to deal with it. “The President told me to handle the matter until his return in the way Mr. Lovett and I thought best, adding that he would be available on the telephone if necessary and that the security of our troops should not be jeopardized.”
Acheson thereupon scribbled a summary for Lovett to take to the joint chiefs. “The President recognizes the great international complications which may follow the proposed bombing of the Yalu River bridge,” Acheson wrote. “He is willing to face these complications if the step is immediately necessary to protect our forces. He believes under the circumstances that the joint chiefs should know from General MacArthur what the pressing reasons are for the operation. If the operation can wait until our international commitments are fulfilled, that would put us in the best position.”
The chiefs took their cue. Scarcely an hour before the bombing campaign was to begin, they ordered MacArthur to stand down. He must not target anything within five miles of the Chinese border pending new authorization, toward which he was invited to supply additional justification.
—
MACARTHUR GAVE THEM an earful. Outraged at being second-guessed, particularly by Acheson, the general sent the chiefs a blistering statement of military necessity. “Men and material in large forces are pouring across all bridges over the Yalu from Manchuria,” he declared. “This movement not only jeopardizes but threatens the ultimate destruction of the forces under my command. The actual movement across the river can be accomplished under cover of darkness and the distance between the river and our lines is so short that the forces can be deployed against our troops without being seriously subjected to air interdiction. The only way to stop this reinforcement of the enemy is the destruction of these bridges and the subjection of all installations in the North area supporting the enemy advance to the maximum of our air destruction. Every hour that this is postponed will be paid for dearly in American and other United Nations blood.”
He said that he had been in the process of taking the steps necessary to protect his men when the suspension order arrived. “The main crossing at Sinuiju was to be hit within the next few hours, and the mission is actually already being mounted. Under the gravest protest that I can make, I am suspending this strike and carrying out your instructions. What I had ordered is entirely within the scope of the rules of war and the resolutions and directions which I have received from the United Nations and constitute no slightest act of belligerency against Chinese territory, in spite of the outrageous international lawlessness emanating therefrom. I cannot overemphasize the disastrous effect, both physical and psychological, that will result from the restrictions which you are imposing.”
In what the chiefs must have read as a threat to go over their heads, MacArthur continued, “I trust that the matter be immediately brought to the attention of the President, as I believe your instructions may well result in a calamity of major proportion for which I cannot accept the responsibility without his personal and direct understanding of the situation. Time is so essential that I request immediate reconsideration of your decision pending which complete compliance will of course be given to your order.”
—
THE JOINT CHIEFS were dumbfounded by MacArthur’s response. “Neither I nor anyone else in Washington was in any way prepared for the ferocity of the blast,” Omar Bradley recounted. “The first two sentences of his message amounted to a complete about-face of his forces-estimate of November 4 and caused the most profound shock in Washington.” The concluding sentences added insult to the astonishment produced by the opening. “Apart from the shocking news that his complete command might now be destroyed by Chinese communists, this message said, in effect, that the JCS were a bunch of nitwits and that MacArthur would not accept orders from anyone but the President on this matter. The way the message was phrased, it was not insubordinate, but it was a grave insult to men who were his legal superiors, including George Marshall.”
Yet the chiefs did as MacArthur demanded. “General Bradley read me this message over the phone,” Truman recalled later, referring to MacArthur’s cable. The president now realized that this buck could not be passed. He mentally recited the risks of giving the general what he wanted. “There were grave dangers involved in a mass bombing attack on a target so close to Manchuria and to Soviet soil. An overly eager pilot might easily bring about retaliatory moves; damaged planes might be forced to land in territory beyond our control.” But because MacArthur was on the spot and made such an urgent case for the bombing, Truman wasn’t going to override him. “I told Bradley to give him the ‘go-ahead.’ ”
The chiefs sent MacArthur new orders. Noting pointedly that the situation reported in MacArthur’s latest was “considerably changed” from his previous message, they reminded him that there were broader questions than he seemed to be considering. “We agree that the destruction of the Yalu bridges would contribute materially to the security of the forces under your command, unless this action resulted in increased Chinese Communist effort and even Soviet contribution in response to what they might well construe as an attack on Manchuria. Such a result would not only endanger your forces but would enlarge the area of conflict and U.S. involvement to a most dangerous degree.” Yet they granted permission. “In view of your first sentence”—about the Chinese pouring across the Yalu—“you are authorized to go ahead with your planned bombing in Korea near the frontier including targets at Sinuiju and Korean end of Yalu bridges, provided that at time of receipt of this message you still find such action essential to safety of your forces.”
But he must keep clear of Chinese territory. “It is important that extreme care be taken to avoid violation of Manchurian territory and airspace.” And he must stay in touch. “It is essential that we be kept informed of important changes in situation as they occur.”
32
IT WASN’T LOST on Truman that MacArthur’s demand for permission to bomb the Yalu bridges arrived mere hours before the midterm elections. During the summer of 1950 the Democrats hadn’t been expecting to prosper at the polls that fall. Recurring troubles in the economy had voters in a surly mood, and the communist advances overseas, combined
with the charges about communists in the American government, made the president’s party fear the worst. But the stunning victory at Inchon and the confident reports from MacArthur that the war was all but over and would certainly be won gave the Democrats cause for hope. Then came the shocking news of Chinese intervention. The war wasn’t over at all, and it might not be won. The Democrats’ hopes slumped again. MacArthur’s demand to unleash his bombers could hardly have caught Truman at a more vulnerable time.
The country went to the polls on November 7 and punished Truman and the Democrats. The president’s party lost five seats in the Senate and twenty-eight in the House. Though the Democrats still held majorities in both houses, Truman could expect little cooperation from Congress, since conservative Southern Democrats opposed the president as often and stoutly as many Republicans did.
He tried to put the best face on things. Aides described him to reporters as “very cheerful,” albeit disappointed that several allies in the Senate had lost their seats. Yet the Washington press corps wasn’t fooled. One reporter characterized Truman’s present and future: “The President is taking a short vacation cruise on Chesapeake Bay aboard the presidential yacht Williamsburg before returning to Washington and a series of inevitable clashes with Congress, where Republicans and Southern Democrats will be able to dictate legislation.”
—
AND THEN, AS abruptly as the Chinese had appeared in Korea, they disappeared. Or at least they disappeared from MacArthur’s reports. The joint chiefs had followed up their permission to bomb the Yalu bridges with a message explaining that the Chinese intervention in the massive numbers MacArthur described mandated a reconsideration of the primary objective delineated in their message of September 27. “This new situation indicates your objective as stated in that message—‘the destruction of North Korean armed forces’—may have to be reexamined,” the chiefs said.
MacArthur wouldn’t hear of it. “I cannot agree,” he declared flatly. “It would be fatal to weaken the fundamental and basic policy of the United Nations to destroy all resisting armed forces in Korea and bring that country into a united and free nation.” Without admitting to having exaggerated the danger from the Chinese, he said he currently had things well under control. His airpower was crucial. “I can deny reinforcements coming across the Yalu in sufficient strength to prevent the destruction of those forces now arrayed against me in North Korea.” He was eager to resume the offensive and finish the job. “I plan to launch my attack for this purpose on or about November 15 with the mission of driving to the border and securing all of North Korea.” Now was no time to hesitate or falter. “Any program short of this would completely destroy the morale of my forces and its psychological consequences would be inestimable. It would condemn us to an indefinite retention of our military forces along difficult defense lines in North Korea and would unquestionably arouse such resentment among the South Koreans that their forces would collapse or might even turn against us.”
Lest the chiefs or the president miss his point, MacArthur made it perfectly clear. “To give up any portion of North Korea to the aggression of the Chinese Communists would be the greatest defeat of the free world in recent times. Indeed, to yield to so immoral a proposition would bankrupt our leadership in Asia and render untenable our position both politically and militarily….It would not curb deterioration of the present situation into the possibility of general war but would impose upon us the disadvantage of having inevitably to fight such a war if it occurs bereft of the support of countless Asiatics who now believe in us and are eager to fight with us.”
MacArthur’s change of heart flabbergasted the administration in Washington. Only days earlier he had declared that the Chinese were about to overrun his army, and now he appeared not worried in the slightest. Acheson couldn’t decide whether the general was being cynically manipulative or becoming unhinged. The secretary didn’t dismiss the former possibility but saw strong hints of the latter. “The forces that had struck the Eighth Army during the last days of October and the opening days of November had been powerful, fully equipped, and competent—and yet they seemed to have vanished from the earth,” Acheson wrote. “The five days from November 4 to 9 give an excellent example of General MacArthur’s mercurial temperament. In this period he went from calm confidence, warning against hasty judgment until all the facts were in, through ringing the tocsin on the sixth to proclaim that hordes of men were pouring into Korea and threatening to overwhelm his command, to confidence again on the ninth that he could deny the enemy reinforcement and destroy him.”
—
YET MACARTHUR WANTED still more. His bombing campaign proceeded but achieved only modest success. His planes knocked out some of the bridges, but the Chinese were quick to replace them with pontoon bridges. And in any case the Yalu was freezing with the onset of winter, rendering bridges redundant.
At the same time, MacArthur’s fliers labored under severe and sometimes deadly restraint. They encountered Soviet MiG-15s piloted by Chinese airmen based in Manchuria. The Chinese quickly realized that the Americans wouldn’t bomb their bases or even pursue them back over Manchuria. Accordingly they gained a great advantage in their air combat with the Americans, making the bombing of the Yalu bridges nearly impossible. General Emmett O’Donnell, the head of MacArthur’s bomber command, later explained what it meant for his pilots to be forbidden to violate Chinese territory. “By violation of territory I mean we were not allowed to fly over an inch of it,” O’Donnell said. “For instance the Yalu has several very pronounced bends, like most rivers, before getting to the town of Antung, and the main bridges at Antung we had to attack in only one manner. There was only one manner you could attack the bridge and not violate Manchurian territory, and that was a course tangential to the southernmost bend of the river. As you draw a line from the southernmost bend of the river to the bridge, that is your course. These people on the other side of the river knew that and put up their batteries right along the line, and they peppered us right down the line all the way. We had to take it, of course, and couldn’t fight back. In addition to that, they had their fighters come up alongside and join our formation about two miles to the lee and fly along at the same speed on the other side of the river while we were making our approach. And just before we got to the bomb-away position, they would veer off to the north and climb up to about 30,000 feet and then make a frontal quarter on the bombers just about at the time of the bomb-away in a turn. So they would be coming from Manchuria in a turn, swoop down, fire their cannons at the formation and turn back into sanctuary.” O’Donnell concluded with an understatement: “And the boys didn’t like it.”
MacArthur later supplied a more graphic version of the pilots’ response to the restrictions. “One of those bomber pilots, wounded unto death, the stump of an arm dangling by his side, gasped at me through the bubbles of blood he spat out, ‘General, which side are Washington and the United Nations on?’ ” MacArthur had no answer. “It seared my very soul,” he said.
Throughout November, MacArthur battled Washington over the restrictions. He demanded at least the right of “hot pursuit”: to chase attacking Chinese fighters into Chinese and Soviet territory if necessary. Truman refused, fearing an escalation of the war. MacArthur sought permission to bomb power plants on the Yalu that contributed to the North Korean war effort. Truman again refused, on grounds that the power plants supplied Manchuria and might provoke a general Chinese response. “I felt that step-by-step my weapons were being taken away from me,” MacArthur lamented later.
He considered his options. “I could go forward, remain immobile, or withdraw. If I went forward, there was the chance that China might not intervene in force and the war would be over.” He was willing to take the chance, though the timid in Washington were opposed. The second choice was distasteful and dangerous. “If I remained immobile and waited, it would be necessary to select a defense line and dig in.” MacArthur had never liked sitting still, and he didn�
�t like it now. “With my scant forces it would be impossible to establish a defense in depth against the overwhelming numbers of Chinese.” The third choice, withdrawal, was dishonorable and defeatist. “It would be in contradiction of my orders and would destroy any opportunity to bring the Korean War to a successful end.”
33
AND SO HE went forward. On November 24 he issued a communiqué announcing an offensive he proclaimed would end the war. “The United Nations massive compression envelopment in North Korea against the new Red armies operating there is now approaching its decisive effort,” he declared. His air wing had interdicted enemy lines from the north, he said, without mentioning China specifically. “Further reinforcement therefrom has been sharply curtailed and essential supplies markedly limited.” He described how the eastern and western components of his pincers were closing in on the enemy. “If successful, this should for all practical purposes end the war, restore peace and unity to Korea, enable the prompt withdrawal of United Nations military forces, and permit the complete assumption by the Korean people and nation of full sovereignty and international equality.” To reporters who accompanied him to the front, MacArthur declared, “I hope to keep my promise to the G.I.’s to have them home by Christmas.”
John Muccio later had a distinct memory of MacArthur at this moment. The general was characterizing the offensive as a mop-up operation, and he dismissed concerns about large-scale Chinese intervention. “His exact words as I remember them were, ‘There may have been twenty-five thousand Chinese cross the Yalu, but there cannot be more than thirty thousand, otherwise my intelligence would know about it.’ ” Muccio continued, “I can still picture him posturing with his corncob pipe. The two of us were alone at the time. MacArthur was a very theatrical personality. I think that John and Lionel Barrymore were theatrical amateurs compared to MacArthur.” Muccio reflected a bit more. “I don’t think MacArthur even blinked his eyes without considering whether it was to his advantage to have his eye blink or not. Everything was thought through, but it became so a part of his nature, and his personality, that it seemed to be automatic.”