democratic America. He is the stuff of which legions are made.
His pride is in his colors and his regiment, his training hard and thorough and coldly realistic, to fit him for what he must face, and his obedience is to his orders. As a legionary, he held the gates of civilization for the classical world; as a bluecoated horseman he swept the Indians from the Plains; he has been called United States Marine. He does the jobs—the utterly necessary jobs—no militia is willing to do. His task is moral or immoral according to the orders that send him forth. It is inevitable, since men compete.
Since the dawn of time, men have competed with each other—with clubs, crossbows, or cannon, dollars, ballots, and trading stamps. Much of mankind, of course, abhors competition, and these remain the acted upon, not the actors.
Anyone who says there will be no competition in the future simply does not understand the nature of man.
The great dilemma of our time is that, with two great power blocs in the world, each utterly distrustful of the other, and one, at least, eager to compete, we cannot compete with thermonuclear weapons. Competition, after all, is controlled action or controlled violence for an end, and nuclear weapons do not lend themselves to control. And in nuclear war there is apparently no prize, even for first place.
Yet men must compete.
It is still possible that one or both segments of mankind will embark upon what will be the last crusade. It is much more likely that they will collide again on lesser scale, as they have before. But even on a lesser scale the game can be lost, or won.
We can lose the game not only because of the nature of our enemies, but because of our own. We understand we cannot ignore the competition, and realize with frustration that we cannot end it by putting our competitor out of business with a bang, but we will not willingly face the fact that we may walk along the chasm, beset by tigers, for many years to come.
There will be more threats in fringe areas, like Korea, because Communist doctrine demands them. Here ends and even morality will be vague. There will be no cheap, easy, or popular answers to these threats. We may have the choice of limited, controlled violence for temporary ends—or of blowing the whistle on the game—and with the game, possibly mankind.
The enemy is no superman, as was proved on Pork Chop Hill. Anything he can do, we can do better—if we have the will. At Pork Chop men said we played the enemy game, not our own—but from Saigon to Berlin the enemy game may be the only one in town.
Korea showed, or should have shown, that all is not easy in this world, that for the rest of this century things may not get better but will probably get worse, and to talk despairingly of going up in smoke or frying in hard radiation is no answer. If the free nations want a certain kind of world, they will have to fight for it, with courage, money, diplomacy—and legions.
Korea showed it was time to tell the men who man our legions that there is nothing easy is this world, that there are tigers, and to furnish them not only with atomic life eradicators but tiger guns. Korea showed that a free government must be prepared to do the unpopular thing, even if it destroys itself. Governments are not important; nations and peoples and what they stand for, are.
It was time for free, decent societies to continue to control their military forces, but to quit demanding from them impossible acquiescence in the liberal view toward life. A 'modern' infantry may ride sky vehicles into combat, fire and sense its weapons through instrumentation, employ devices of frightening lethality in the future—but it must also be old-fashioned enough to be iron-hard, poised. for instant obedience, and prepared to die in the mud.
If liberal, decent societies cannot discipline themselves to do all these things, they may have nothing to offer the world. They may not last long enough.
Aristotle wrote,
Americans have learned of Brad Smith, who first saw long, black T-34s rumble forward in the rain at Osan, of the late Company A, of Frank Munoz and Company at the horror of Kunu-ri, of Mike Shinka on Obong-ni, John Yancey led back blind from the icy hills beside Chang-jin, and Joe Clemons' dozen men who were King indeed on Pork Chop Hill. These were the Korean War—the misery, the waste, the splendor, the courage, the trauma that lingers still. Millions of Americans can find no meaning in any of it.
It is while men talk blithely of the lessons of history that they ignore them.
The lesson of Korea is that it happened.
| Go to Table of Contents |
Chronology
25 June 1950
NKPA invades South Korea.
U.N. Security Councils calls for end of aggression.
27 June 1950
U.N. asks members to go to aid of ROK.
28 June 1950
Seoul falls; ROK Army destroyed.
30 June 1950
President Truman orders U.S. ground forces into Korea.
5 July 1950
First U.S. ground troops go into action at Osan.
7 July 1950
U.N. creates United Nations Command, under commander appointed by U.S.
5 July-4 Aug.1950
U.N. Forces fight delaying action across South Korea.
4 Aug. 1950
Pusan Perimeter in southeastern Korea established.
5-19 Aug. 1950
First Battle of Naktong Bulge.
27 Aug.-15 Sept. 1950
Perimeter battles, heaviest fighting of war.
1 Sept.-5 Sept. 1950
NKPA great Naktong Offensive.
15 Sept. 1950
Inch'on landings.
