The Sudden Call to Duty

Every soldier eventually learns that war demands personal decisions of immense consequence. Training prepares men for that moment when they alone must choose whether to hold position, retreat, or launch an attack that may send thousands to their deaths. My own summons to Korea came with shocking abruptness. While enjoying whiskey at a friend’s home discussing trivial matters, I received the fateful call from General Collins – General Walker had perished in a jeep accident, and by prearranged succession unknown to me, I was to assume command of the Eighth Army.

The journey east consumed a full day, landing me at Tokyo’s Haneda Airport near midnight on Christmas Day. As I organized notes for my morning meeting with General MacArthur, I felt the weight of responsibility settle upon me. The comfortable routines of stateside duty had ended; ahead lay the dark uncertainty beyond the Tsushima Strait.

Meeting the Legendary MacArthur

At 9:30 the next morning in the Dai Ichi Building, I faced the theatrical yet brilliant Douglas MacArthur. Though we had known each other since my West Point instructor days, his formidable presence struck me anew. MacArthur possessed an actor’s gifts – his voice and bearing commanded attention – yet his incisive analysis held listeners through substance rather than style.

Our wide-ranging discussion proved remarkably candid. Though MacArthur had recently informed the War Department of plans for phased withdrawals to Pusan, he now directed me to hold the most advanced positions possible. Psychological and political factors demanded we retain Seoul as long as feasible, though its military value had evaporated. MacArthur frankly admitted logistical shortcomings and inadequate cold-weather preparations. He notably downplayed tactical air support’s effectiveness, a lesson modern officers would do well to remember.

Most concerning was MacArthur’s warning about Chinese forces: “They are a dangerous enemy.” He described their tactics of avoiding roads, using mountainous terrain, infiltrating at night, and maximizing simple infantry weapons. His strategic goal remained clear – “to inflict increasingly heavy losses on the enemy” to preserve South Korea.

Taking the Reins in Crisis

Landing at Taegu’s airstrip that afternoon, I stepped into winter sunlight that did little to warm my apprehension. After paying respects to Walker’s memory, urgent tasks demanded attention. Foremost among them: convincing our South Korean allies we wouldn’t abandon them. President Syngman Rhee’s initial coldness melted when I assured him of my long-term commitment, his eyes moistening as he clasped my hand.

Field assessments revealed alarming conditions. The Eighth Army had become dispirited, lacking the confidence and aggressive spirit essential for offensive operations. Complaints about cold rations, inadequate winter gear, and poor mail service reflected deeper malaise. More disturbing was the mechanical obedience of officers who had forgotten that war requires flexibility, initiative, and sometimes uncomfortable sacrifices.

Rebuilding an Army’s Spirit

The challenges were systemic, not individual. American forces found themselves undermanned, overextended, and equipped for autumn weather in arctic conditions. Road-bound and overly dependent on communications, they had forgotten basic infantry skills. I reminded commanders of the Army’s old creed: “Find them! Fix them! Fight them! Finish them!”

Restoring morale required demonstrating concern for soldiers’ welfare while preparing them for hard fighting. Hot meals, proper gloves, and writing paper were immediate fixes, but deeper issues needed addressing. The army had lost its sense of purpose – soldiers deserved to understand why they fought in this forgotten war.

The Chinese New Year Offensive

When the anticipated Chinese assault came on New Year’s Eve, accompanied by shrill bugles and broken English threats, its scale overwhelmed our defenses. The most demoralizing sight came on New Year’s morning – streams of panicked South Korean soldiers fleeing southward, having discarded weapons and equipment. Establishing checkpoints with American MPs eventually restored order, but the situation remained precarious.

Our orderly withdrawal across the Han River under enemy pressure became a masterpiece of disciplined retreat. As I watched the last “Centurion” tank cross the vulnerable pontoon bridges, I knew the Eighth Army had passed through its darkest hour. Now regrouped south of the Han, we prepared to punish any enemy who pursued too aggressively.

The Turnaround Begins

By late January, patrols and air reconnaissance revealed puzzling absence of major Chinese formations. Flying tree-top level in an old trainer, I personally scoured the terrain north of our lines, finding no evidence of the massive enemy buildup intelligence suggested. This reconnaissance convinced me to launch cautious probing attacks – Operation Killer in February, followed by Operation Ripper in March.

These limited offensives aimed to regain initiative while avoiding reckless advances. Careful coordination of infantry, artillery and air support produced victories with minimal casualties. The transformation was remarkable – soldiers who weeks earlier had seemed beaten now fought with renewed pride and professionalism.

The Fight for Seoul

Political considerations made Seoul’s recapture desirable despite its questionable military value. MacArthur emphasized the psychological importance of retaking Korea’s capital and reopening Kimpo Airfield and Inchon port. In mid-March, our forces reentered the devastated city where only 200,000 remained of its 1.5 million prewar population. Though the victory boosted morale, I remained focused on destroying enemy forces rather than occupying terrain.

Approaching the 38th Parallel

By April, we neared the arbitrary border that had divided Korea. With Washington considering this a purely military decision, I chose to continue northward to keep pressure on the enemy and disrupt their preparations. Operation Rugged took us to the “Kansas Line,” roughly paralleling the 38th Parallel but incorporating key terrain like the Hwachon Reservoir.

Chinese resistance intensified as we advanced, but their defensive posture suggested larger plans. Intelligence indicated massive reinforcements moving into position. I warned commanders against overconfidence – the hardest fighting likely lay ahead. When rumors surfaced of possible Soviet intervention, I prepared contingency plans while maintaining offensive pressure.

The Burden of Sole Command

Unlike my European experience where higher headquarters provided support, in Korea the Eighth Army was mine alone. MacArthur’s December assurance – “The Eighth Army is yours, Matt. Do what you think best” – took on profound meaning. Naval and air superiority provided crucial advantages, but ground operations rested entirely on my decisions. This absolute responsibility, while daunting, represented the ultimate test of a professional soldier.

Through bitter experience, the Eighth Army had transformed from a dispirited force into what I believed to be America’s finest field army. They fought not for me, but for themselves and their comrades, determined to avenge earlier defeats. As spring arrived in 1951, greater trials awaited, but the army now possessed the skill and spirit to meet them.