Canvas of the Advance (1)
The canvas tent flap rattled in the autumn wind with sharp crack sounds. Acrid gunpowder smoke and dust seeped through the torn window frames, scraping at his nasal passages. Inside the makeshift command post hastily set up in the front yard of the Central Government Complex, a massive plywood table dominated the space, strewn with a huge-scale map of the Korean Peninsula in chaotic disarray. At the table's edges, dented mugs of stale black coffee lay scattered haphazardly.
He gazed down at the map with a corncob pipe clenched in his teeth. Blue pins clustered in a rough circle around Seoul, while a single precarious pin jutted out near Yangyang north of the 38th Parallel on the East Sea coast—the position of the ROK I Corps, barely restrained by threats to cut off their supplies.
"Matthew. Is crossing the 38th Parallel really a rational move?"
His voice came out dry. The wooden stem of the pipe clacked against his front teeth. As he posed the question, he lifted his gaze to scrutinize the man standing across the table.
Major General Matthew Ridgway stood there in his field uniform, unchanged. "Commander, retaliation against the enemy's provocations is necessary." Ridgway's reply was swift and firm. He swept a dirt-caked finger roughly along the 38th Parallel on the map.
"Pushing the invaders back to their original line won't end the war. We crushed the bulk of the North Korean forces at the Naktong River, but their command structure and remnants fled north. Halting below the line just gives them time to rest and reorganize."
"What level of retaliation are you talking about?"
As he exhaled pipe smoke and asked, Ridgway leaned over the table. His thick finger jabbed at Pyongyang, then dragged a bold red grease pencil line across the map to Wonsan on the East Sea coast. The scritch-scratch of friction echoed on the paper.
"At minimum, UN forces must advance to the Daedong River basin—including Pyongyang—to secure a buffer zone. Look at the line from Pyongyang to Wonsan. It's the narrowest waist of the Korean Peninsula."
Ridgway's finger alternated between the ends of the fresh red line he'd drawn. "With the Daedong River in the west and the rugged Taebaek Mountains in the east as defensive lines, the enemy could hold firm with minimal troops. Compared to the border lines at the Yalu and Tumen Rivers, the defensive front here is less than half. It minimizes our units' flank exposure while letting us seize the enemy capital for a political victory—the most advantageous terrain."
His explanation was flawless. It was a plan to leverage the terrain's natural choke point, concentrating defenses without dispersing forces across the vast Manchurian border mountains. The only lifeline to avoid the Yalu's bone-chilling cold and Chinese ambushes.
How does a man who's never set foot on the peninsula possess such insight?
He inwardly sighed with relief at Ridgway's sharp analysis, stroking his jaw.
"Commander, I see it differently."
A voice cut in abruptly from the right. He turned his head. Major General Edward Almond approached the map with hands clasped behind his back. His stiffly starched uniform collar rustled with each movement.
"Stopping at the Pyongyang-Wonsan line is too passive. The enemy is already in full rout. Why halt midway through the peninsula against disorganized rabble who've lost all coherent resistance? We need to drive to the Yalu, annihilate them completely, and seal the border to end this war."
Almond's light brown eyes burned with the arrogance of victory. He yearned to carry his X Corps' momentum from seizing Seoul all the way beyond Pyongyang to the far end.
"I agree with General Almond."
Intelligence officer Charles Willoughby stepped forward, a thick binder tucked under his arm. He pushed up his glasses with a finger and continued. "North Korean morale is in the gutter, and the populace has turned against them. The chance of outside intervention even if we push to the Yalu is negligible."
"And the forces massing on the Manchurian border? How do you explain those, Charles?"
At his low query, Willoughby cleared his throat and flipped open his binder. The rustle of turning pages sliced through the tent's heavy air.
"Aerial reconnaissance did detect multiple heat sources around Andong, that's true. But it's no more than the standard PLA redeployment to bolster border defenses. Crippled by their civil war aftermath, they lack the capacity for a major expeditionary force. Mao Zedong knows crossing the Yalu would be suicide."
He stared hard at Willoughby's confident face. It was the limitation of a man who read war from ink-scented stacks of paper. Tens of thousands hunkered in the mountains beyond the Yalu. And Peng Dehuai. Not a Napoleon, perhaps, but a commander whose name history would etch in stone. Even with foreknowledge of the future, no opponent to take lightly.
"Charles, the problem with your intel is it's always so damn optimistic."
He tapped his pipe into the ashtray. Gray ash scattered like dust. "Commanders who bet on the best-case scenario in the field end up stacking mountains of their men's corpses. If even a single division from beyond the Yalu hits our flank, our stretched supply lines snap, and units get isolated."
He dropped his gaze back to the map. The red mark of Ridgway's Pyongyang-Wonsan line stood out vividly.
"Matthew's right. We advance only to the Pyongyang-Wonsan line. No operations beyond it without my direct approval."
Almond's lips twisted in displeasure, but he could only grind his jaw without further rebuttal. Ridgway gripped the table's edge with both hands, meeting his eyes.
"I'll issue limited advance directives to all corps. Who leads the spearhead for the Pyongyang recapture?"
He answered without hesitation. "X Corps takes point for Pyongyang. Almond, that's you."
The words dropped like a stone, and the tent's air grew taut in an instant. Outside, truck tires ground over the dirt with a low rumble.
Almond's shoulders twitched faintly. His starched collar whispered against his neck. Lately, his X Corps proposals had been shot down repeatedly—the Seoul vanguard handed to the ROK Marines, his Yalu push just dismissed. Now, the most honorable task of all—capturing the enemy capital—fell to him as his position narrowed. Relief mingled in his light brown eyes, which wavered across the map before settling on his face.
"Orders received, Commander."
Almond's voice rose a tone higher than usual. Ahem, ahem. A short cough as he straightened, his fingertips buzzing with subtle excitement.
Meanwhile, his own mind churned like a cold calculator. In the original history, Almond had bulldozed through the rugged Taebaek Mountains on the east coast at insane speed. The architect of the Chosin Reservoir tragedy, yes—but that reckless, lightning thrust was real. And when the Chinese poured down, he'd withdrawn to Hungnam faster than anyone.
Strategic vision might be narrow, but no one matched his field drive in whipping mechanized units to their objective. That blind speed was exactly what they needed now. Strike Pyongyang and fortify before the Chinese crossed the Yalu in force.
"X Corps advances north along the secured rail line and Highway 1. Eighth Army handles flank security."
Ridgway's brow furrowed as he listened, quietly stroking his chin. Rough beard stubble rasped against his palm—scratch. He was chewing over the implications of this odd formation: X Corps' breakthrough power as the spear-tip stabbing straight to Pyongyang, Walker's Eighth Army gripping the shaft to shield the sides. Less a classic offensive wedge than a massive arrowhead ready to pivot to defensive at any moment.
"And Admiral Doyle."
He turned to the navy admiral at the table's end. James Doyle rubbed his fatigued eyes and stepped forward. Gold stripes gleamed on his sleeve.
"Yes, Commander."
"The Navy detaches half its transports and landing ships to the East Sea. Target: waters off Wonsan."
Doyle's mouth fell slightly open. Weariness etched the faces of the naval staff. After Incheon's bloodbath, pulling the Marines and fleet east for another major landing? That's how it must have sounded.
"You're ordering preparations for a Wonsan landing?"