Encirclement (2)

‘But encirclement being complete doesn’t mean it’s over.’

Actually annihilating the enemy trapped in the encirclement net is far harder than the encirclement itself. If there’s a gap, they slip out. If they scatter into small units through the mountainous terrain, you can’t catch them. It’s impossible to comb through every valley in the Taebaek Mountains.

‘In the original history, the encirclement itself was achieved. The problem was that it was too loose, so a significant number escaped. Especially toward the Taebaek Mountains side.’

I picked up my pencil and jotted notes on the map. The mountainous area east of the Taebaek Mountains. Wonju, Yeongwol, Jeongseon, Taebaek. Korean forces had to block the escape routes in this sector.

“To General Walker. Make blocking the axis along the Taebaek Mountains east of the encirclement line your top priority. If you fail to prevent the enemy from infiltrating the mountains, the encirclement loses half its meaning.”

The staff officer nodded as he took down the order.

“And concentrate aerial reconnaissance. Report immediately if there are signs of enemy units breaking off in small groups at night.”

Even as I issued the commands, I ground my teeth inwardly. Aerial recon had its limits. In mountainous terrain, small units moving under tree cover were invisible from the air. At night, even more so. Perfect blockage was impossible. We could only reduce their numbers, not bring them to zero.

‘Still, it’s better than the original. Much better.’

In the original history, a significant portion of the North Korean forces on the Nakdong River front—exact figures are debated, but somewhere between 20,000 and 30,000—slipped through the encirclement net to become guerrillas. They spent the rest of the war harassing our rear, attacking supply lines, and massacring civilians, tying down UN forces. If we could halve that number—no, reduce it to a third—the course of the war would change completely.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. The wall clock’s sound rang unusually loud. Time creeping toward three in the afternoon. The situation room reeked of ink from telegram paper, cigarette smoke, and sweat. Staff officers bustled about. Phones rang, radios crackled, typewriters clacked. In the midst of the clamor, I closed my eyes for a moment.

As MacArthur’s aged eyelids drooped, a map floated up in the darkness. Not pins—people. North Korean soldiers clutching rifles in Nakdong River trenches. Boys of seventeen or eighteen. Kids dragged from factories, handed a single gun, and thrown to the front. In trenches cut off from supplies, ammo running dry, no retreat orders coming—trapped and dying.

And the Marines in Seoul. Young Americans in Yeongdeungpo’s alleys, buying every block with blood, pushing forward. The ones forced into longer, more dangerous fights because I’d pulled out the 7th Infantry Division.

I opened my eyes. ‘Can’t get emotional.’ MacArthur’s sunglasses hid my feelings.

Nakdong River front, north of Waegwan.

Walker’s counterattack was hitting its stride on the third day. The first two days had been a slog through mud. Crossing the Nakdong itself was a bloodbath. The North Koreans resisted fiercely from trenches and bunkers dug over three months. Artillery had thinned, but small arms and mortars still poured fire, and bodies floated down at every crossing point.

But from the third day, things shifted. With supplies cut, North Korean firepower visibly weakened. Ammo was running out. Incheon’s fall had halted supply trains from Pyongyang, and frontline ammo dumps dwindled daily. No shells meant useless artillery. No bullets turned rifles into clubs.

When the 1st Cavalry Division’s lead battalion seized the hill north of Waegwan, they found half-starved North Korean soldiers in the positions. Faces gaunt from three days without food. Rifles with one magazine left, grenades long exhausted. First one or two at a time, then by squad, then whole platoons. Walker bit his red pencil in Daegu headquarters as reports came in. Teeth marks dented the wood.

This was the moment he’d waited three months for. Switching from defense to offense. The line that had only yielded now began to push back.

Walker didn’t get cocky. If he’d learned one thing under Patton, it was that in a pursuit, complacency lets the enemy revive. Even at Falaise, tens of thousands slipped through gaps in the pocket around German 7th Army. Perfect encirclement didn’t exist. You just minimized escapees.

“To all divisions. Maximize pursuit speed. Give the enemy no time to reorganize.”

Short order. Walker’s were always short. Like a bulldog’s bark—once, hard, done.

8th Army divisions accelerated in unison. 1st Cavalry surged north, 24th Infantry swung west to hit the flank. ROK 1st Division rode its breakthrough at Dabudong toward Sangju. And from the south, 7th Infantry climbed.

Having passed Daejeon to hold the Geum River line, 7th Infantry began building blocking positions ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠northward. Roads sealed, checkpoints at intersections, observation posts on high ground. The mouth of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bag was tightening.

North Koreans on the Nakdong front grasped the situation late. Incheon landing news reached the front two days ago, but most frontline units didn’t grasp its implications. They knew supplies were cut, ammo and food dwindling. But the realization of ‘encircled’—no way out, boxed in—took days more. Those days were fatal.

By the time Pyongyang’s retreat order came, main routes were blocked. Gyeongbu Highway held by 7th Infantry, west coast roads by Incheon UN forces. Only mountain passes east of Taebaek remained. But even there, Korean units deployed.

The commander of North Korea’s 6th Division—the elite unit that seized Honam early in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the war—gnashed his teeth at the map. Blue pins ringed it. Truly. 8th Army south, 7th Infantry and UN forces north, coastal blockade west, mountain blocks east. Rats in a sack.

“To all units. Abandon heavy equipment, disperse in small groups, exfiltrate via mountains at night.”

The division commander’s order was de facto disbandment into survivor bands. Ditch tanks, guns, trucks—rifles and grenades only, into the hills. Some shed uniforms for civilian clothes. Even those trails weren’t easy. 8th Army air recon watched passes; Korean hunter teams held key cols. Nightly skirmishes in valleys between escaping groups and pursuers.

Some succeeded. Over mountains past the 38th Parallel. Compared to 20,000-30,000 in original history, numbers were sharply down. The net had closed faster, tighter.

Numbers in reports to Incheon HQ changed daily. As of September 24: Enemy POWs: approx. 12,000. Up 3,400 from previous day. Abandoned enemy equipment: 47 tanks, 19 SPGs, 112 field guns, approx. 600 vehicles. Friendly advance line: 8th Army vanguard reaches Gimcheon-Sangju line. 7th Infantry holds blocking positions along Daejeon-Okcheon axis.

I calculated as I read. North Koreans committed to Nakdong: 70,000-100,000. 12,000 POWs. With KIA/WIA, estimate over 20,000. Most of the rest still trapped. Escapees... ‘Don’t know. Fewer than original. Definitely.’

Relief washed over me. Then another thought: ‘Seoul?’

I eyed the Seoul sector on the situation board. 1st Marine Division nearly secured Yeongdeungpo, prepping Han River crossing. ROK Marines secured a crossing at Mapo. Three to four days behind original history.

‘Three days. How many more died in Yeongdeungpo during those three days?’

I shoved the thought away. Had to. The more I did, the sharper it resurfaced.

Almond entered. “General, Seoul entry looks possible in two days. ROK Marines attempting Han crossing; 1st Marines ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finishing Yeongdeungpo sweep.”

“Good.” Short reply. I didn’t look at his face. Afraid my expression would give me away.

“And reply from Washington.”

My heart quickened a beat. “Ridgway’s appointment as UN deputy chief of staff approved. Arrives Tokyo in a week.”

‘Perfect.’ I bit my pipe. Teeth sinking in. Gum twinged like pain, but I ignored it. Ridgway coming. One week. Late September earliest, early October latest. Right when we’d decide post-Seoul push north of 38th Parallel.

‘Perfect timing.’

“Send Ridgway to me immediately on arrival. Higher priority than anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

Almond left. I stood alone by the map. Pulled memo paper from my pocket. To-do list. Updated with pencil.

Pencil paused at item 4. Continued signs of Manchurian force movements. Willoughby still called it ‘possible routine redeployment.’ I knew better. Peng Dehuai’s Northeast Border Army was forming.

‘One month. Less than a month until CPV crosses Yalu.’

No matter how successful the Nakdong pocket, 250,000 Chinese changed everything. Trapping North Koreans ended Act 1. The real war started Act 2. Ridgway had to come. With him, prepare for Act 2.