Jeff Shaara - The Frozen Hours

As the armies continued their drive southward, Sung had received instruction and counsel, mostly from General Peng, and all of it supportive. From their first day’s crossing of the Yalu River, Sung had assumed there would be spying eyes, others in his command who made their own reports to Peking. But so far Sung felt completely comfortable with his decisions, and had no reason to believe that was any different in Peking. The officers who served him seemed to know that as well, a soaring morale that spread down through the ranks of the foot soldiers, even the servants and coolies going about their work with a spirit that smelled of victory. He welcomed that, as much as he encouraged it. Very soon there would be loss of life, the necessary sacrifice coming from men who would accept that as their lasting gift to Chairman Mao.

Many of the men in front of him now had made their journey to his camp on the backs of ponies, a useful tool, and one more piece of living camouflage to confuse the American aircraft. The planes had come every day the weather allowed, teams of two or four or six, swooping low to target anything that could be his army. Occasionally they were right. Many more times they dropped their bombs and threw their rockets into harmless hamlets, abandoned buildings and farmhouses. It made for spectacular display, great fireballs, villages blasted into oblivion, while often the soldiers of Sung’s army huddled in brushy fields nearby, close enough to feel the warmth of the explosions. And so both sides waited happily for the darkness, pilots returning to their bases, met with backslapping congratulations, while in the mountains the Chinese rose up from their cover, following his instructions, moving one day closer to the great confrontation.

They were mostly seated, some on cushions, protection from the frozen ground beneath them. Sung tried to ignore the brutality of the cold, a glance skyward, a light snowfall just beginning. He had gone over the maps, each division commander offering details of his position, the fitness of his troops, their eagerness to launch their full-out assault. Sung had held them back from any major assault far longer than even he had expected, their impatience showing through in their discussions. He listened to each man, would give them nothing yet, allowed the commanders more room than usual to express their frustration. Through all the details, so much information, he focused as much on their mood as on their troop positions. In the cold morning, with teacups quickly frozen, he eyed them carefully, searching for hints of anxiety, signs of personal suffering. Surely they know, he thought, that this enemy is something very new, a self-described army of “United Nations,” as though by their grandiose label, the entire world was aligned against China. The question rolled into his brain, and he held up a hand, interrupting General Su, one of his division commanders.

“I am wondering if you fear the enemy because you believe his propaganda. Do any of you believe that, because we are said to be isolated from all the world, China will crumble against the might of Western guns?”

The question seemed to surprise them all, the dozen men glancing at one another, searching his words for the trick. Su laughed now, pointed a finger at Sung.

“You are asking if we shall abandon the battlefield, just because the Americans have larger artillery pieces. My division would not do any such thing. If I believed that they would, I would offer you my head right here.”

Another of the senior men spoke, General Bahn, an older man, a veteran of more campaigns than Sung. “Is this a challenge, General? Must you still test the strength of our will? I would suggest that you allow our commands to answer your question for you, to engage the enemy right now. We have maneuvered and delayed, we have strengthened our positions as much as is possible. What more must we wait for? Are you holding our fists in your pocket because you lack confidence? Or is it Peking that lacks confidence?”

Sung debated his response. “I have delayed attacking the enemy because every day that the enemy marches forward, he draws closer to our strongest points. He marches blindly toward his own destruction. I admit to being baffled by their foolishness, and I wonder about the power of their propaganda, that they consider it a wise strategy to convince their fighting men that merely by their presence in Korea, they inspire such terror in their enemies that we shall flee before them.”

Another man spoke. “We shall not flee at all. Like General Su, I await the order to attack. My men are eager for the fight.”

Sung nodded, put his hands out, as though calming them. This is very good, he thought, exactly what I was hoping for. “I am satisfied with your reports. Word of your efficiency shall be passed back to Peking.”

To one side, a man stood, Chao Lin, an older man, who commanded the Sixtieth Division.

“Permit me, sir.”

“Yes. You wish to add something?”

“I regret that one of my regiments was careless and suffered the loss of several prisoners to the Americans.”

“When?”

“Within the past four days. I have taken appropriate steps to punish the officer in charge. I assure you it will not happen again.”

Sung waited for the man to seat himself, said, “Of course it will happen again. We shall capture a good many of their side, as they will capture ours. No one in this army has been ordered to die to the last man. The American soldiers do not understand that, not at all. They have been told that we are a fanatical race, that we are little more than a form of animal life. It is a part of being Western, that astonishing arrogance, their belief in their own superiority. I have seen it in their literature, and more important, I see it every day in their strategy. Even now they continue to advance farther into our strongest positions and farther away from their base of supply. I marvel at the willingness of the American Marines to do our work for us. And now they have created vast supply depots within our very position, which we will use to great advantage.”

In front of him, General Su rose. “Sir, I mean no disrespect. But you have not told us anything of when we may begin our primary assault. Every day we observe them it increases our eagerness. The weather is becoming difficult. There are reports every day of men who are too stricken with frostbite to be effective. Can you tell us when we are to join the attack?”

Sung stood with his hands inside his coat, pulled them out now, held a piece of paper. “First, General Bahn, commanding the Twenty-seventh Army, confirms that American Marines have vacated their forward positions on the east side of the reservoir and have been replaced by American army troops from the American Seventh Division. General Bahn is as anxious as any of you to begin his assault. Like you, he has been ordered to wait, and observe. That has proven to be of benefit. I do not believe the American army units are capable of resisting us. That, however, is not the most important information.”

He made a show of pushing the paper into his coat, then nodded toward his aide. “Colonel Liu, you may have the honor of reading the dispatch received this morning.”

Liu stood, had been prepared for this, produced another piece of paper, read slowly, “To General Sung Shi-lun, Commanding, Ninth Field Army Group. On November 25, the Thirteenth Field Army Group launched a significant assault against the greatest concentration of American and Korean troops west of the Taebaek Mountains. This assault was executed with precision and expertise, and was entirely successful. All sections of the American Eighth Army and associated Korean units are in a full retreat. The Thirteenth Army Group is following this victory with an aggressive pursuit, which shall succeed in destroying the enemy invaders. Chairman Mao Tse-tung offers the people’s gratitude to our heroic soldiers who have accomplished this victory. Chairman Mao believes that this success should serve as high example to the soldiers of the Ninth Army Group, as you begin your valiant assault. Your goal, as communicated to your commander, is to destroy the American Marine First Division, the American Seventh Army Division, the American Third Army Division, and all associated Korean army units of the puppet government. The people salute your efforts.”