Contingency Blueprints
I put the pipe back in my mouth. The unlit corn cob clacked between my teeth.
"Any questions?"
No one spoke up.
"Very well. Prepare your respective assignments. We'll reconvene at 1500 hours this afternoon. Have draft execution plans ready by then."
I pushed back my chair and stood. My legs wobbled. MacArthur's aged body seemed burdened just by sitting through a meeting. No, this wasn't age—it was nerves.
Thump, thump, thump. The staff rose in unison and saluted. I gave a slight nod and left the conference room.
Out in the corridor, my legs felt like jelly. I braced a hand against the wall and caught my breath.
I did it. Got it done, somehow.
My heart pounded wildly. My palms were slick with sweat. The hand gripping the pipe trembled.
7th Infantry Division south to envelop and annihilate. Monitor Chinese Communist movements.
If the orders I'd just given became reality, history would change. Seoul's liberation might be delayed by days, but capturing the North Korean main force at the Nakdong River would reshape the entire war.
Yet unease flooded in right behind.
What if I'm wrong?
Writing papers was worlds apart from commanding a real war. At a keyboard, you could know the outcome and critique freely. Here, every decision hung thousands of lives.
Through the corridor window toward my cabin, I saw the sea off Incheon. Transport ships streamed toward the coast; fighters flew in formation overhead. September sun shattered over the smoking shoreline.
I stopped at the window, gazing down.
All those who died in this war—ROK forces, UN troops, civilians. If I could reduce that number...
I bit down hard on the corn cob pipe.
No matter the cost.
At my cabin door, the duty orderly hurried up.
"Sir, a wire from General Walker."
He handed me a single sheet. The scrawled message was terse.
Congratulations on successful Incheon landing.
8th Army counterattack preparations complete.
Awaiting orders.
— Walker
Walton Walker. 8th Army commander. A stubborn, rough soldier fitting his "Bulldog" nickname. His relationship with MacArthur had been strained, but he was a capable commander. In history, he died in a traffic accident that December. Could I change that too?
Don't get ahead of yourself. Focus on what's in front of you.
I folded the wire and pocketed it, then opened the cabin door.
On the table sat my half-eaten breakfast, gone cold: stale toast and congealed scrambled eggs. I slumped into the chair and picked up the coffee mug. Sipping the lukewarm brew, I stared at the ceiling.
Even with MacArthur, they wrote it as a victory. My thesis conclusion floated up.
Right. So if I sit in MacArthur's chair and win even better...
The corner of my mouth twitched. A mad chuckle escaped in this insane situation.
I set down the mug and pulled a fresh sheet from the table drawer. Gripping the pencil, I ignored my shaking hand and scratched out the first line on the paper.
[TO DO]
Nakdong River envelopment and annihilation—complete
Seoul liberation (Marines)
Advance north of 38th Parallel?—proceed with caution
Prepare for Chinese intervention—this is key
Walker survival (prevent traffic accident?)
Seoul handover to ROK forces? Leverage for controlling Syngman Rhee.
I tapped the pencil on the table.
Think it through. Who liberates Seoul isn't a military issue—it's pure politics.
In real history, MacArthur wanted Seoul's recapture as his personal triumph. The Marines bled for it, handing Central Hall to Syngman Rhee on September 29 in a ceremony. MacArthur grasping Rhee's hand: "Mr. President, we return your capital." Theatrical genius.
But that was it. He failed to gain real political leverage.
Rhee ignored MacArthur afterward. No 38th Parallel—he demanded solo north advance. UN Command and ROK government clashed through the war.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The cabin's overhead pipes vibrated faintly with the ship's motion.
What if I flip it? Hand the honor of Seoul's liberation to ROK forces. For Rhee, it's his army reclaiming the capital—face saved. In exchange...
I shot up and jabbed a finger at the 38th Parallel on the map.
Operational control north of the 38th. Agreement that ROK units crossing it fall under direct UN Command. Secure it upfront.
The worst hits from Chinese intervention came to scattered ROK units pushing north blindly: 6th, 7th, 8th Divisions... nearly wiped out. Rhee, blinded by "northward unification," broke from UN control.
I had to stop that.
Offer the carrot of Seoul, seize the reins north of the 38th.
I rolled the pipe in my mouth, deep in thought. Original MacArthur never would've considered it. That old ego only cared about his glory.
But I'm Jeong Woong. History knowledge honed in online flame wars proved more useful than field experience right now.
I scribbled more on the paper.
Contact Syngman Rhee. Expand ROK participation in Seoul liberation. Counter: Confirm UN Command authority for operations north of 38th Parallel.
And below:
ROK Marines and army units lead Seoul entry. US 1st Marine Division secures outskirts and supports.
The pencil scraped across the paper, echoing in the cabin. Coffee was gone. My mouth felt dry, but calling the orderly was too much hassle.
Alright. Next issue.
I grabbed a new sheet and scrawled a name boldly in the center.
Current position: US Army Deputy Chief of Staff (Washington D.C.)
The pencil hovered over the name.
Admit it honestly. I don't know war. Or... even in real history, Ridgway was more capable than me... than MacArthur.
It stung. No matter the theses, readings, or forum wins—I wasn't a military expert. Ex-sergeant in a recon platoon? Please. Small-unit ops weren't a hundred-thousand-man war.
I knew outcomes, not how to execute them.
MacArthur's staff was capable. But yes-men: Almond, Willoughby, Whitney—echoing only what he wanted. That spelled disaster in real history.
I needed someone to say, "No, sir," when I erred. Face battlefield reality, brake reckless plans. And in the worst case, hit the front lines to rally troops. A real soldier.
Ridgway. In history, he took 8th Army command in December 1950 after Walker's death. Rebuilt the crumbling UN forces. Devised counters to human-wave tactics, boosted morale, retook Seoul. Without him, who knows how the war ended.
What if he was here from the start?
I added under his name.
He's the one.
Deputy Chief of Staff. Desk-bound in the Pentagon. Could I pull him to Korea? With MacArthur's authority?
UN Commander requesting directly... Pentagon can't refuse easily. But need justification.
Twirling the pencil, I brainstormed. Create a new Chief of Staff position—or slot him into existing.
Current CoS? Couldn't recall exactly. Thesis skipped it. Gaps in knowledge chilled my spine.
Fine. Staff handles details. Key is getting Ridgway here.
I drafted a wire, mimicking MacArthur's style. Good thing I'd read his memoirs thrice.
Due to the rapid changes in the current situation, strengthening the UN Command's command structure is urgent.
We require personnel with extensive combat experience and excellence in large-scale operations.
Request assignment of Major General Matthew B. Ridgway as UN Command Chief of Staff.
I read the pencil draft. Too blunt? MacArthur rarely admitted needing help—pure ego.
Wouldn't spark "that guy's got dementia" suspicions like in some fantasy novel... but calling Ridgway screamed "I can't do this alone."
But the original MacArthur's gone. Or overwritten by me?
A weird thought flickered. Possessing Douglas MacArthur's body.
No time for philosophy.
Rationalize: Calling Ridgway as CoS bolsters the commander's judgment. Wise leaders keep sharper aides. Package it that way.
I revised.
As operations shift from amphibious assault to deep inland maneuvers, counsel from a senior officer with vast European Theater ground campaign experience is essential...
Europe—right. Ridgway jumped into Normandy with the 82nd Airborne. No general here matched his ground war creds.
Justification solid. I copied it neatly, sealed the envelope. Call the aide to send to comms.
But one more thing to settle first.