McLaren scowled. That was bad. The Imjin had always been viewed as a principal backstop for the allied forces deployed along the DMZ. Prewar staff studies had estimated it would take the North Koreans a minimum of two days to push that far south. They’d done it in less than sixteen hours.
And Munsan was a quarter of the way to Seoul. Seoul was the center of it all. It had a population of eleven million in a country of forty million people. Damn the geography that placed the political, cultural, and economic center of the country within forty kilometers of a hostile border.
Logan finished describing the known positions and strengths of the attacking forces. They were pushing hard, using Soviet steamroller tactics — attacking everywhere until they found a weakness, then concentrating everything at that point. McLaren listened to his J-2 with half his mind. The other half was busy considering options. The North Koreans were showing they could play the Soviet ball game well, demonstrating a dangerous grasp of speed and offensive firepower. But there were weaknesses, too. Weaknesses he and his troops would have to be ready to exploit. Soviet tactics weren’t too flexible. If they could find ways to seize the initiative, to disrupt the smooth unfolding of the North Korean plan, they should be able to throw the enemy commanders off balance.
McLaren filed the thought away for future consideration and turned his full attention back to the briefing. The J-2 had moved on to a discussion of the new North Korean equipment they’d identified so far. One of Logan’s assistants came up front with a slide screen and another turned on a slide projector. The first image was a fuzzy black-and-white shot, so blurred it was only a collection of angular shapes. It was an airplane.
“This was taken from the videotape of a fighter that fought last night. This is a MiG-29 Fulcrum, a Soviet design that has been recently added to the enemy inventory. It’s a very advanced aircraft, a match for our F-16s. But that’s not all. The Soviets have provided the North Koreans with other weapons.”
He put up another slide. In color, it showed several tanks against a typical Korean winter landscape. “These are T-72 tanks, one generation advanced over the T-62s that we thought were their newest models. It has a bigger gun, better armor, and is much faster than the T-62. This is a complete surprise to us.”
A buzz of conversation swept through the crowded Operations tent, and Logan waited for it to die away before continuing, reacting to the irritated disbelief he’d heard from his fellow staff officers: “Yeah, I know.” He looked at the general.
“Sir, I am very embarrassed that we didn’t know about this new equipment in the enemy’s inventory. We had some information from ROK Army Intelligence that the stuff was present, but it was disregarded because we couldn’t confirm it by our own sources. We’re reevaluating our data, but we don’t know what other surprises we may have overlooked.
“On the bright side, they can’t have too much of this new equipment. Therefore, we can expect that it will be reserved for important attacks, and its appearance may signal enemy intentions.” McLaren saw several of his officers making a note of Logan’s observation.
The lights came back up.
“Okay, Charlie, whip out your crystal ball.” McLaren tried to make his voice lighter than he felt. He’d always disliked senior officers who let their pessimism infect those around them. He was determined not to make that same mistake.
“General, there can’t be much doubt that the North Koreans intend to carry this thing through all the way. They’ve committed an enormous percentage of their available military resources to this operation — their whole Special Forces outfit, and a sizable chunk of the regular Army, Navy, and Air Forces. And satellite data shows heavy rail traffic heading south from the second echelon encampments around Pyongyang, Wonsan, and Hamhung. Clearly, they’re trying for a knockout punch before our reinforcements from the States arrive and before our reserves here complete their mobilization.”
Logan laid his map pointer dead center on the large, orange blotch that marked South Korea’s capital city. “Now. Seoul is the first big prize, and the NKs have two choices — either head directly for the city or use their two assault columns to envelop and surround it.” McLaren agreed with his assessment. It wasn’t brilliant military insight, but he was probably correct. The North Koreans weren’t going to be subtle. They didn’t need to be. They had numbers and momentum on their side.
Brigadier General Shin, deputy J-3 for the Combined Forces Command, took Logan’s place on the platform. His chief, Brigadier General Barret Smith, was still enroute back to the ROK from a Christmas leave in Japan. Shin’s precise, cultured, perfect English painted a bleak picture of the situation the American and South Korean troops faced.
Casualties in first-line units had been heavy — more than thirty percent in some battalions. And North Korean commandos had inflicted significant losses on a number of extremely important rear-area units. The troops facing the enemy thrusts down Highway 1 and Highway 3 urgently needed reinforcements, replacements, and resupply.
For example, the South Korean brigade holding Munsan, a strategic road junction, was under attack by at least two enemy divisions with heavy air and artillery support. After nearly a day of continuous fighting, its three infantry battalions were down to half strength. The brigade’s commander and most of his senior staff officers were dead. Antitank and small arms ammunition were running low. Without immediate assistance, the senior battalion commander reported that Munsan would fall within four to six hours.
“Unfortunately, gentlemen” — Shin’s face was impassive — ”we don’t have any help to send. Not that can get there in time to matter. All our available forces are fully committed.”
Similar situations were being duplicated all up and down the line. No out-and-out North Korean breakthroughs had been reported so far, but it could only be a matter of time before their tanks started tearing holes in an ever thinner allied defense.
Additional American ground troops were on the way, but they couldn’t possibly begin arriving in significant numbers for several days. The same thing went for South Korea’s hastily mobilizing reserves.
McLaren shifted in his chair, pushing his empty paper plate off to one side. “What about the air situation? We need replacement aircraft and pilots almost as much as we need troops.”
“F-15s from Kadena, Japan, will be arriving shortly, General. We’ve been notified by Washington that other U.S.-based squadrons will be airborne later today. They should be available for combat missions within twenty-four hours. Your Navy also reports that two carriers, Constellation and Nimitz, are on the way. Nimitz is the closest, but her attack squadrons and fighters won’t be in range until the day after tomorrow.”
McLaren sat back, pondering. Not a pretty picture, but not Fort Apache, either. “Okay, we’ve got a lot of help coming, but we’re on our own for at least the next few days. We’ve got to slow down the North Korean push with what’s on hand.”
He got up and strode to the front of the tent, getting a closer look at the map. “General Shin, I want you to assume that Munsan will fall to the enemy. Start preparing the next main line of resistance here.” His finger stabbed the small town of Pyokche, just fifteen kilometers north of Seoul. “Reinforce it with whatever odds and ends you can scrape together.”
McLaren turned to face his officers. “That road junction is the key, gentlemen. If the enemy’s assault column presses its drive past Pyokche down the MSR, we’re looking at a direct push to grab Seoul. If it swings southeast, toward Wondang or thereabouts, we’re in for an envelopment and we’ll plan accordingly.”