by H. W. Brands
The applause and cheering this time went on and on, surging around the chamber and seeming to make MacArthur into a modern Cato, standing resolutely against the weakness and corruption of those who ignored his stern counsel. The cheerers might have missed the artfulness of his phrasing. He attributed to foreigners the criticism he had suffered, while everyone knew that his most important critic was the president of the United States. He thereby dodged any additional charge of insubordination while allowing sympathetic listeners to conclude that Truman had more in common with those appeasing foreigners than with a true patriot like MacArthur. He meanwhile summoned the joint chiefs to his side on the military aspects of his advice while ignoring the central criticism of his behavior: that he had crossed the boundary that was supposed to separate military advice from politics.
His lament grew sharper. “I called for reinforcements but was informed that reinforcements were not available. I made clear that if not permitted to destroy the enemy built-up bases north of the Yalu, if not permitted to utilize the friendly Chinese force of some 600,000 on Formosa, if not permitted to blockade the China coast to prevent the Chinese Reds from getting succor from without, and if there were to be no hope of major reinforcements, the position of the command from the military standpoint forbade victory.” There would be only endless bloodletting. He had urged a change in policy. But the response had been attacks on him personally. “Efforts have been made to distort my position. It has been said in effect that I was a war monger. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
Loud applause.
“I know war as few other men now living know it, and nothing to me is more revolting.” He quoted himself, speaking on the day of the Japanese surrender in 1945, from the deck of the battleship Missouri, declaring that war must be abolished as an instrument of international affairs. “We have had our last chance,” he had said, and now said again. “If we will not devise some greater and more equitable system, then our Armageddon will be at our door.” But war’s replacement had not yet emerged, as the conflict in Korea demonstrated. And that conflict revealed a stubborn truth of armed conflict. “Once war is forced upon us, there is no other alternative than to apply every available means to bring it to a swift end. War’s very object is victory, not prolonged indecision.”
More applause.
“In war there is no substitute for victory.”
Still more applause.
“There are some who for varying reasons would appease Red China. They are blind to history’s clear lesson, for history teaches with unmistakable emphasis that appeasement but begets new and bloodier war.” Appeasement was akin to blackmail. “Like blackmail it lays the basis for new and successively greater demands until, as in blackmail, violence becomes the only other alternative.”
The general assumed the role of father to his troops. “Why, my soldiers asked of me, surrender military advantages to an enemy in the field?” He lowered his voice in sorrow. “I could not answer.”
The room erupted once more.
“I have just left your fighting sons in Korea,” MacArthur continued. “They have met all tests there, and I can report to you without reservation that they are splendid in every way.”
Enthusiastic applause.
“It was my constant effort to preserve them and end this savage conflict honorably and with the least loss of time and a minimum sacrifice of life. Its growing bloodshed has caused me the deepest anguish and anxiety.” He paused, his voice breaking. He proceeded slowly: “Those gallant men will remain often in my thoughts and in my prayers always.”
Loud applause for such men and such a leader.
“I am closing my fifty-two years of military service. When I joined the Army, even before the turn of the century, it was the fulfillment of all my boyish hopes and dreams. The world has turned over many times since I took the oath on the plain at West Point, and the hopes and dreams have long since vanished. But I still remember the refrain of one of the most popular barrack ballads of that day, which proclaimed most proudly that old soldiers never die; they just fade away. And like the old soldier of that ballad, I now close my military career and just fade away, an old soldier who tried to do his duty as God gave him the light to see that duty. Good bye.”
Huge, prolonged applause, with the entire body of senators and representatives, Republicans and Democrats, rising to their feet.
56
FROM THE 1600 block of Pennsylvania Avenue, Truman could almost hear the roars at the Capitol, and he wondered if MacArthur’s farewell would be his own political requiem. The president’s staff let the media know he hadn’t watched or listened to the general’s speech on television or radio. The business of the country required his full attention. But Truman realized that his hold on the presidency and, what he deemed more important, the policies he had labored to put in place since the start of his presidency were in serious trouble. Whether or not MacArthur ran for president himself—and Truman deeply doubted that MacArthur’s grandiloquent good-bye foreclosed a political career—the outpouring of support for the general signaled broad unhappiness with the actions of his commander-in-chief.
The outpouring continued. From Washington, MacArthur went to New York. Since Thomas Edison had popularized stock tickers in the nineteenth century, no triumph in America had been complete without a ticker-tape parade up the canyons of Manhattan. But New York had never produced an extravaganza like the one given MacArthur. Seven and a half million people shouted themselves hoarse for the general; from the buildings that lined the parade route nearly three thousand tons of torn paper rained down upon the hero. The route had to be lengthened to nineteen miles to accommodate everyone who wanted to catch a view. “Welcome home, Mac!” they cried. The local worthies elbowed to be photographed with MacArthur: the mayor, the aldermen, Cardinal Spellman. A blimp took pictures from overhead; ship whistles and tugboat blasts rose in rude chorus from the East River; fireboats shot celebratory fountains hundreds of feet into the air. High school students held up a banner with a rhyming benediction: “Welcome back—God bless you, Mac.” Demands for photos, waves and salutes set the parade back an hour; not until after three did the general’s car arrive for the luncheon in his honor at the Waldorf Astoria. Speaker after speaker lavished praise on the city’s esteemed guest, who appeared exhausted by the time the midday meal ended at five thirty. Only then did the grip of adulation ease long enough for MacArthur to escape to his suite in the hotel.
Truman watched, without appearing to. And the more he saw, the more determined he became to counter the pro-MacArthur tide. He revealed to the world, through a carefully orchestrated leak to New York Times reporter Anthony Leviero, that the crucial meeting at Wake Island, in which MacArthur had dismissed the prospect that the Chinese would enter the war and had proclaimed they would be annihilated if they did, had been transcribed. The Times thereupon interrupted its coverage of MacArthur’s New York triumph to relate how the general’s forecast of the war’s development had been egregiously wrong. “Today The New York Times gained access to documented sources on the meeting of President Truman, the Commander in Chief, and the United Nations Commander on the mid-Pacific atoll,” Leviero wrote. The article provided a nine-point summary of the meeting transcript, starting with MacArthur’s prediction that by January 1950 the victory would be so complete he would be able to send his best division of troops from Korea to Europe. The ground rules of the leak forbade Leviero to quote from the document, and his paraphrase of MacArthur’s estimate of the prospects of a larger war was more than kind to the general. “The possibilities that Red China and Russia would intervene were discussed, and General MacArthur said that he did not believe either country would do so.”
The article, as Truman intended, took some of the shine off MacArthur. Reporters inquired about it at Truman’s next news conference. “Are you in a position to confirm or deny the report in the New York Times of your Wake Island conference with General MacArthur?” one asked.
&nbs
p; “I have no comment,” Truman said.
Another correspondent complained of Leviero’s favored treatment. “A number of reporters have asked for the record on that Wake Island meeting, and had been told that they could not get it as the record was with you and could only be given out with your consent,” he said. “And then Mr. Leviero, who is a very fine reporter, asked for it and got it. I was hoping that if in the future there was anything to be given out—scoops like that—we could all have a chance at it.”
Truman deflected the question. “I remember a certain turmoil that was created by an interview I had with Arthur Krock,” he said. “And some of your people wept and cried, and I finally made a statement that I would talk to anybody I pleased any time I pleased. I didn’t talk to Mr. Leviero, however.”
A reporter didn’t catch Truman’s last sentence. “Mr. President, you say you did or did not?”
“Did not!”
Truman was ready to move on, but the reporters wanted to hear more. This was a big story—in fact it would win Leviero a Pulitzer Prize—and they sought the details. “Would you have any objection to the publication of that Wake Island document now?” Merriman Smith of United Press asked.
“I am not in a position to answer that question, Smitty,” Truman said.
The reason Truman didn’t answer was that he had decided to release the document at a moment better timed to embarrass MacArthur. A week later, just as the general was about to testify before a Senate committee, the administration published the whole Wake Island document and explained its provenance. Thereupon Vernice Anderson, the State Department secretary whose walk on the beach had been foiled by the marine MPs, became famous, and the world read of MacArthur telling Truman that there was “very little” chance of Chinese intervention, and that if the Chinese were so foolish as to enter the war, “there would be the greatest slaughter.”
57
THE NEXT DAY MacArthur had a chance to explain himself when he addressed a combined session of the Senate Armed Services and Foreign Relations Committees. The meeting took place in the Caucus Room of the Senate Office Building, which was jammed with committee members, staff, reporters, photographers and others eager to have a seat—or a standing place—where history was about to be made. Or at least revisited: the committees had not publicized what they intended to ask MacArthur, but informed observers expected a searching review of American policy in Korea. The general had been deeply involved in the implementation of that policy, though he was known to disagree with crucial aspects of it. The members of the committee were certain to ask him about those disagreements and how they had shaped the war effort.
Republican critics of Truman’s war policy had compelled their Democratic colleagues to consent to the hearings, but the Democrats, being the majority party, would control the proceedings. Richard Russell of Georgia, chairman of the Armed Services Committee and chairman of the hearings, was as conservative as many Republicans, but he was still a Democrat, with a Democratic president to defend. Tom Connally of Texas, chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee and de facto second-in-command of the hearings, had views and objectives similar to Russell’s. Neither Russell nor Connally felt a personal bond to Truman; other things being equal, they might have found MacArthur, who had climbed the military ladder through his own efforts and talents, a more appealing figure than Truman, who had been plucked from the Senate by Franklin Roosevelt and become president by the accident of Roosevelt’s death. Yet Russell and Connally were not about to let MacArthur stampede the hearings. He would be permitted to air his views but must respond to questions.
Russell brought the session to order at 10:30 a.m. “We are opening hearings on momentous questions,” he said. “These questions affect not only the lives of every citizen, but they are vital to the security of our country and the maintenance of our institutions of free government.” Russell presented the first witness as one who needed no introduction. “On the permanent pages of our history are inscribed his achievements as one of the great captains of history through three armed conflicts. But he is not only a great military leader. His broad understanding and knowledge of the science of politics has enabled him to restore and stabilize a conquered country and to win for himself and for his country the respect and affection of a people who were once our bitterest enemies.”
Russell quoted from MacArthur’s speech to Congress the general’s assertion that the issues before the country transcended partisanship and must be addressed on the highest plane of national interest. He hoped the hearings would be conducted in just that spirit. He explained that he and the other committee members had weighed whether the hearings should be public or confidential. The sensitivity of certain issues argued for the latter, but the stake of the public in discovering what was being done in its name suggested the former. Russell explained that a compromise had been chosen. The hearings would be closed to reporters and the public, but transcripts would be released daily. If a response risked endangering American troops or the broader national security, that response would be deleted from the transcript before release. Russell asked MacArthur to indicate when he was about to venture into the risky realm, so that the transcribers would know what to keep confidential.
Russell thereupon turned the floor over to MacArthur, only to have Senator Wayne Morse of Oregon interject, “Mr. Chairman, are you going to swear the witness?”
Russell caught himself. “Thank you for reminding me of that,” he said. Turning to MacArthur, he explained almost apologetically that the committee had decided to swear the witnesses, of whom there might be many. Russell’s words and tone indicated that the other witnesses were the ones the committee thought needed swearing, not the general. MacArthur nodded congenially and took the oath.
Russell asked MacArthur if he wished to make an opening statement. MacArthur surprised the committee by saying he did not. His speech to Congress would suffice.
Russell consulted his question list. He asked MacArthur about the performance of American military. How were the troops doing?
“I would rate it as 100 percent,” MacArthur replied. “And the only reason I do not rate it higher is because I believe the mathematicians say 100 percent is all there is.”
Russell asked about the South Korean army.
“In courage and in determination, and in resolution, they are very fine troops,” MacArthur replied. They had been badly outnumbered at times but had performed admirably.
Broadening the inquiry, Russell asked MacArthur about his assessment of Soviet intentions and capabilities.
MacArthur replied that he could answer only for himself, not for the army or the administration. “Everything I say, Senator, is on my own personal authority, and represents nothing but my own views.”
“A great many people are interested in your views,” Russell replied.
MacArthur reiterated what he had said on various occasions: that the Kremlin’s timetable for world conquest was independent of what happened in Korea. Personifying the Russian enemy, MacArthur said, “I do not believe that anything that happens in Korea, or Asia, for that matter, would affect his basic decision.”
Russell inquired into two of the issues that had caused so much controversy between the general and Washington: the restraints on his use of air and naval power against China, and the possible employment of Chinese Nationalist troops. Had the general requested that those restraints be lifted and the Chinese Nationalist troops employed? What form had his requests taken?
“I very definitely recommended that the Chinese Nationalist troops be employed,” MacArthur answered. He had done so in writing and in discussions with the army chief of staff. He couldn’t remember what form his recommendation to remove the restraints on his use of air and naval power had taken, but he had made the case very forcefully. “In my discussions with General Collins I pointed out how extraordinarily necessary it was to lift those inhibitions.”
Russell pushed back for the first time. “But you did not formally r
equest that through channels—that those interdictions be removed?” he asked.
MacArthur offered nothing more specific. The restrictions had been imposed at the beginning and were never lifted, he said. “When General Collins came out there on these various things, I pointed out the grave effects of not lifting them.”
“Yes, I understood that,” Russell said. But the committee wanted to know what form his objections took. “Every member of the committee wishes to develop just how the controversy arose, whether it was through a formal request or through discussion with General Collins.”
MacArthur asserted that his problem was not with the joint chiefs. “The position of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and my own so far as I know were practically identical,” MacArthur said. As evidence he cited a study produced by the joint chiefs for the secretary of defense, dated January 12, 1951, which he had brought with him. He read portions of its conclusions, including recommendations to intensify the economic blockade of China, to prepare a naval blockade of China, to remove restrictions on air reconnaissance of Manchuria and the China coast, and to facilitate operations of the Chinese Nationalist army against the Chinese Communists. MacArthur said he had been happy to learn of the joint chiefs’ recommendations. “I was in full agreement with them and am now.” He added, “As far as I know, the Joint Chiefs of Staff have never changed those recommendations. If they have, I have never been informed of it.”
Russell inquired if the study MacArthur cited had been sent to him as commander of American and UN forces.
“I beg your pardon, Senator?”
“Was that message, that document from which you have just read, transmitted to you as part of your instructions?”