Jeff Shaara - The Frozen Hours

Lowe tested the coffee again, his face in a hard curl. “If that requires me to ride in another helicopter, I’d prefer it be here.”

FIRST MARINE DIVISION HQ—HAMHUNG, NORTH KOREA—NOVEMBER 7, 1950

“With the orders I’ve been given, my division is now spread out over nearly a hundred seventy miles. I am greatly concerned that our fighting efficiency has been severely compromised. It is crucial that we be able to move in support of any vulnerable position. Had Litzenberg’s people been attacked by a greater force, he might have suffered substantial casualties. There was no way we could have provided him support from either Puller’s or Murray’s forces. General Almond, the First Marine Division is a powerful instrument, if it is allowed to be. Scattered as we are, our power is greatly diminished.”

Smith paused, expected the usual dismissiveness from Almond. But Almond was glum, seemed to absorb Smith’s angry lecture with strange acceptance. Smith glanced at Bowser, the only one of his staff officers in the room. Almond’s man, Colonel Gaffney, sat against the wall behind his commander, had offered nothing of his own. Almond kept his eyes downward, said, “Would you suggest drawing your forces more tightly together?”

Smith was surprised, leapt on the opportunity. “Yes! I have insisted on that for days now. Your orders were for the army to replace Puller’s people around the ports. My next move would be to order Puller to march north, lessening the gap between him and Litzenberg. The Seventh is already occupying the town of Chinhung-ni, the Fifth is spread out behind them, and Puller is still at Wonsan. As I said, sir, that’s a hundred seventy miles’ distance.”

“The Third Division.”

The words came from Almond as though he was reminding himself just who he commanded.

“Yes, fine. The Third Division. Once they move into Puller’s area, I would order him to advance northward with all speed. He’ll like that, I assure you. He doesn’t care for having his people so far removed from the fighting.”

Almond shifted his weight in the chair, seemed uncomfortable. Smith stood, stepped closer to him, looking down at the man. He had never felt this way, that Almond was actually listening to him.

Almond said, “How much fighting has there been? I know of the attack at Sudong. Is Colonel Litzenberg prepared for another assault?”

“Yes, of course. But Litzenberg wasn’t caught with his pants down. Despite your orders to advance with haste, our own intelligence reports indicated the presence of a great many of the enemy. Litzenberg moved accordingly. The enemy’s attack at Sudong was certainly designed to drive us back. Their success against the First Cavalry had no doubt convinced them they could gain a strong upper hand in our front as well.” He stopped, thought, Enough of that. No need to be a cheerleader for the Corps. “I do not know exactly what happened with Eighth Army. I do not mean to criticize anyone’s command decisions.”

Almond seemed oblivious to Smith’s show of protocol, said, “The cavalry suffered a great many casualties. The ROK units failed to hold their line. General MacArthur has become aware of the weakness of our allies. It was unexpected.”

Smith said nothing. He had a great deal of respect for the South Korean marines, a well-trained and seemingly disciplined force. But the ROK army troops had not distinguished themselves at all, certainly not when facing the Chinese.

Smith glanced at Bowser, who watched Almond with curiosity.

Bowser said, “General Smith, might I point out that the approach of winter will have a direct effect on our operations in the mountains to the north? Supplying our men as they advance farther north could be most difficult.”

Smith was grateful for the cue, said to Almond, “I agree. I had hoped that with the Chinese demonstrating a strong presence and a willingness to engage us, General MacArthur would appreciate that the most prudent course would be to stop our advance northward, consolidate our positions below the steeper mountains, and strengthen the defenses around the ports of Wonsan and Hungnam. Colonel Bowser is correct that if we move up into the plateau country north of Chinhung-ni, we could be vulnerable.”

Almond kept his eyes away from Smith’s, shook his head. “No. General MacArthur would not accept a withdrawal away from those positions we have already occupied. We must continue to demonstrate to the enemy, and to the world, that we are moving forward. You should advance at least as far as Hagaru-ri. Once your division is concentrated, you should be able to prevent the enemy from any major success. General MacArthur has ordered the Eighth Army to secure their position as well. We cannot suffer any more reverses.”

There was no enthusiasm in Almond’s voice, and Smith knew not to push too hard. He glanced at Bowser again, thought, He’s giving me nearly everything I’m asking for. When has that ever happened?

Within two days, orders were received from Tenth Corps detailing how ROK units would move into areas closer to Puller’s command, relieving Puller from policing the more southern areas. In addition, the army’s Third Division would occupy the port cities, freeing Puller’s First Regiment from what had amounted to garrison duty. Puller responded with exactly the enthusiasm Smith expected, the First Regiment quickly put into motion, lessening the wide gap between the extremes of Smith’s position. But Almond’s orders also included instructions for the Marines to continue their advance not only to Hagaru-ri, at the southern tip of the Chosin Reservoir, but to anticipate movement farther to the northwest, as far as Yudam-ni, midway up the left side of Chosin.

With Smith now able to bring his troops closer together, the first priority was just how the advance Almond still insisted upon could be made more efficient. The road northward was as dismal as reports had indicated, and immediately Smith ordered engineering teams to put their heavy equipment to work, widening the road as it wound through the steeper mountains. Moving the men also meant moving the artillery, tanks, and larger trucks, vast convoys of weaponry and supplies that Smith intended to keep close to his camps. With the supplies now catching up to his troops, Smith ordered vast supply dumps to be constructed along the routes the men had already marched, from Chinhung-ni, through Koto-ri, and finally, as far north as Hagaru-ri. But Smith was not satisfied with the supplies coming from the naval ships at the ports. At Koto-ri he ordered an existing airstrip to be enlarged and improved, suitable for the air force’s C-47s, the twin-engine workhorses that could deliver additional supplies as needed, as well as transporting casualties to the hospital ships and medical facilities farther south.

FIRST MARINE DIVISION HQ—HAMHUNG, NORTH KOREA—NOVEMBER 10, 1950

He felt better than he had in days, the staff feeling that as well, the labor of the headquarters performed without complaint, a smooth flow of paperwork and logistical instructions for the movement of the vast new inflow of supplies. The mood of his staff was buoyant for another reason as well. November 10 was the 175th anniversary of the United States Marine Corps, a date every Marine embraced.

He watched the men move toward him with careful steps, the cake carried between them, placed lovingly on the desk cleared for the occasion. The staff gathered close, and Smith absorbed their mood, the smiles. He slid the pipe into his mouth, tasted the delicious smoke, watched as Sexton hovered close to the cake, now producing a lighter. Sexton looked at him, waiting for approval, and Smith nodded toward the cake, the lighter clicking on, the first two candles lit. Sexton abruptly cut off the flames, lit the lighter again, two more candles, the lighter going off once more. To one side, a young aide laughed, said, “Hey, Captain. You need a stronger thumb to keep that thing lit?”