The infantry commander looked at his watch. “It won’t be long. They will be entering the area within five minutes.”
“Then,” said the colonel, “we don’t have long to wait, Comrade. I think we are about to make history.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
President Mayne didn’t favor the world-famous Oval Office in the west wing except for the most official occasions. Most of his work was done in the smaller, more ordinary study next door, and it was here that Peale’s portrait of George Washington was moved. In those lonely times that only a president knows, when only he could break the deadlock of advisers’ conflicting advice, Mayne would retreat here to mull over the options, the possible consequences, or what Trainor called the “bottom line situation.”
For Mayne, the Oval Office had always seemed too big for serious contemplation, no matter how cozy it looked in the narrow-focus television brought to it, hiding by omission the large area between the fireplace and the white leather lounges in front of the desk. The Secret Service thoroughly approved of the smaller room. For the men who protected him, the Oval Office, being on the southern corner of the west wing, was a much more vulnerable target for anyone who might penetrate the elaborate, yet mainly unseen, protective screen of heat and movement sensors that covered every sector of the grounds. The Secret Service had installed a rectangular titanium shell, sandwiched in the paneling of the study, making it even more secure. But above all, the president liked the room because he could darken it completely and keep the secret that only he, his wife, and Trainor shared. This morning he sat down with the Pentagon’s updated report of the North Korean invasion.
Early in his presidency Mayne had decreed that situation reports be as brief as possible, no more than two pages, double-spaced, a one-and-a-half-inch margin for his comments. Despite all the words put in his mouth by speech writers and advisers throughout the country, at heart he disliked any kind of verbosity. For Truman it had, as everyone knew, been “The Buck Stops Here” sign that greeted visitors; for Reagan, “It Can Be Done”; for Mayne it was “Get to the Point— Quickly!” He had long accepted the fact, so difficult for others to understand, that decisions from the White House, including those involving life and death, often had to be made without all the facts being in.
When he’d finished the first page of the Korea report, he pressed the button for his national security adviser, Harry Schuman, to come in, and kept reading with a growing sense of alarm. The most disturbing of the Pentagon’s “facts” was that if the American tanks could not hold the line and “substantial U.S. reserves” were not committed “immediately,” Korea could be lost within weeks — faster than it had taken Hitler’s Panzers to overrun Poland in ‘39. If this happened, warned the combined chiefs of staff, U.S. treaty obligations and guarantees throughout the world would be considered worthless, of no more use than Chamberlain’s piece of paper. And the temptation of the Soviet-Warsaw Pact nations in eastern Europe, particularly East Germany, pushing to reabsorb and effect the “reunification” of East and West Germany might prove irresistible. Mayne simply did not believe the latter; Moscow, no matter its posturing in the post-Gorbachev era, would not endorse such a move in the GDR. The Kremlin, as much as anyone else, wanted to avoid another war — conventional, nuclear, biochemical, whatever.
Harry Schuman, a bushy-eyebrowed southerner whom the White House staff called “Kentucky Fried,” entered the office, and wordlessly Mayne handed him the first sheet of the report as he continued pondering the second. The Pentagon in his view was overplaying the concern about NATO versus the Soviet-Warsaw Pact forces in Europe. But they were correct, he believed, about a victory for North Korea weakening confidence abroad, particularly right next door in Central America and in China, where Beijing coveted Taiwan as theirs because of all the mainland Chinese who had gone over with “Cash My Check” in ‘49 when the Kuomintang had fled the victorious Mao. Most of all, if there was any serious weakening of confidence in America in the Middle East, Iran would be “licking its chops,” as Trainor was apt to put it, and Israel, always surrounded, could be attacked yet again. And if Iraq used chemical weapons, as she’d done against Iran in the ‘79-’88 war, it could well spark a string of firecrackers from the Gulf to the Bering Strait. Mayne picked up the phone to Gen. Ernest Gray, head of the combined chiefs of staff. “General.”
“Mr. President?”
“Your people are telling me that if I don’t commit more forces to Korea immediately, we’re in serious trouble.”
“We’ll lose Korea, Mr. President.”
“The Koreans will lose it, Ernest. We’ll be kicked out.” Mayne felt uncomfortable with calling the general “Ernest”— didn’t sound right — yet “Ernie” invited a familiarity that he didn’t like to encourage with the military as their commander in chief. “What I want to know,” continued the president, “and this is no reflection on your colleagues, but — are we overreacting?” Mayne had seen the television shots of a few of the bridges going, but TV had a way of making a dormitory riot seem like a whole university was on fire when, as he remembered from his own days as a freshman, most students didn’t even know where the dorm was, let alone a riot.
“I support General Cahill’s decision to take out the bridges, sir,” said Gray. “I know it didn’t go down well on the six-o’clock news, but militarily speaking—”
“I have no problem with that, General — awful as it is — but your people worked overtime on the Hill to get more M-1 tanks in Europe so that we could spare several companies for Korea’s DMZ. The M-1s would be the ‘bulwark,’ you said — if I remember correctly — against any possible incursion by the North. Now we have the incursion and I’m not hearing anything about the ‘bulwark.’ “
“Ah, Mr. President — there’s a coded update coming in now. It might be—”
“Fine. Call me right back.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
At the Pentagon General Gray and his aides were in a quandary. On the one hand, to admit that the battle of tanks shaping up south of Uijongbu had not been decided was to admit the Pentagon might indeed have been overreacting about losing the peninsula. On the other hand, to paint too gloomy a picture would be to undermine confidence right down the line. What the Pentagon was really doing was hedging their bet — angling for reserves to be in place in the unlikely event that the M-1s could not hold the line.
The decoded message was reporting the attack on a guided missile frigate, the
“You mean my administration?” Mayne cut in.
“To put it bluntly, sir, yes.”
“Bluntly is what I get paid for, General, but I’ve been talking this over with Harry Schuman. The fact that we can’t hold so far with forty thousand U.S. troops and the ROK forces might be just as bad a signal to send. If confidence has been undermined, then it’s been undermined — I don’t want to send any more boys in there if we’re going to lose the place anyway.”
“All I can say, Mr. President, is that General Cahill and ROK command concur with the JCS assessment. It’s a very tenuous situation, sir.”
Harry Schuman scribbled a note and pushed it across the desk as Mayne asked General Gray what precisely had happened to American air cover. As he answered, Gray could tell from the echoing quality of his voice that the president had put him on “conference,” Harry Schuman sitting in. As far as Gray was concerned, Schuman should stay in his office in Foggy Bottom for all the help he was to the military. Always prevaricating.
“General,” put in Schuman, peering over his bifocals as they switched to visual conferencing, “it’s my understanding that we have the Seventh Fleet moving in off—” he turned to look at the stand map of Korea next to the president “—Pohang?”
“Yes, sir, but their planes aren’t in range yet for air cover over the Uijongbu corridor. In any case, we’ll have to clear the area of MiGs before our navy choppers and what few A-10s we have left can go tank hunting up there. And the point is, sir, no matter how much air cover we can provide, the battle’s ultimately going to be decided on the ground. Our tanks and theirs’ll be too close to—”
