opinions,” Howe said.
“ ‘The Viceroy’s’?” Harriman asked.
“There you go again, Averell,” Pickering said. “Collecting quotes.”
Howe chuckled.
Pickering gestured for Harriman and Ridgway to go ahead of him through the dining room door.
Surprising him, Howe followed them all out to the street, and watched as Ridgway and Harriman got in the staff car and drove off.
Pickering started to go back through the passage in the wall. Howe stopped him by touching his arm.
“That was interesting, wasn’t it?” Howe said. “You made it pretty plain what you think of Harriman. What did you think of Ridgway?”
“Good man,” Pickering replied instantly.
“Could he take over for the Viceroy?” Howe asked. “The President’s going to want to know what we think about that.”
“No man is indispensable,” Pickering said thoughtfully. “I learned that when my father—whom I regarded much as I regard MacArthur—suddenly checked out and left me in change of P&FE. But I repeat what I said before: Relieving MacArthur would be criminally stupid.”
“Harriman was right about one thing, Flem. You are naive. At this level, political considerations do matter to military brass.”
“I had the feeling in there, again, Ralph, that I was out of my league,” Pickering said.
“I was a buck general, a division artillery commander, when the division commander had a heart attack. My corps commander named me commander over two other guys, regular army guys, who I thought were far better qualified than me—not modesty, Flem. I had spent my life learning how to run a company that makes machines for the shoe industry, with a little time out to be a captain in War One, and to be a weekend warrior between wars—I knew I was out of my league as a division commander. I took that division from the Rhine to the Elbe, and they gave me a second star and a medal. When, two days after Roosevelt died, Harry Truman told me he knew he was out of his league being President, I knew just how he felt.”
Pickering looked at him, but didn’t reply.
“The President sent the both of us over here to do a job for him,” Howe went on. “I’m not sure how I did in that meeting, but you damned sure did what the President hoped you would.”
“Thank you,” Pickering said.
“Now let’s go inside and have a drink,” Howe said. “Or two drinks.”
[FIVE]
USS BADOENG STRAIT 35 DEGREES 42 MINUTES NORTH LATITUDE, 130 DEGREES 48 MINUTES EAST LONGITUDE THE SEA OF JAPAN 1105 7 AUGUST 1950
There were large sweat stains on the flight suit of Lieutenant Colonel William C. Dunn, USMC, under his arms, down his back, and on his seat. When he opened the door to the photo lab, he almost instantly felt a chill as the air-conditioned air blew on him.
He had been flying all morning, and he had flown all day the day before. The fatigue was evident on his face.
Reinforcements had begun to flood into Pusan, enough for General Walker’s Eighth Army to begin more serious counterattacks than had been possible a short time before. That was the official line. In Dunn’s judgment, counterattacks with only a slight chance of success were a better alternative than allowing the North Koreans to push Eighth Army into the sea.
The proof of that seemed to be that the First Marine Brigade (Provisional) was being used as Eighth Army’s fire brigade, putting out the fires either when American counterattacks failed, or the North Koreans broke through American lines anywhere along the still-shrinking perimeter.
The day before, for example, Walker had ordered counterattacks by the Army’s 19th Infantry Regiment on North Korean positions on terrain south of a village called Soesil. Because of its shape, the area was known as “Cloverleaf Hill.” The attack was to begin at first light.
The attack didn’t begin on time, and when it finally began, just before noon, the 19th learned that during the previous night, the North Koreans had moved a battalion of troops across the Naktong River, and that this reinforcement of their positions—plus, Dunn believed, the delay in making the attack, which had given the enemy time to prepare their positions—was enough to defeat the counterattack.
To the south, an attack by the Army’s 35th Infantry was at least partially successful. It started when planned, but three miles from the departure line, ran into a tank-supported North Korean position that took five hours to overwhelm.
Lieutenant Colonel Dunn, who had flown three strikes against the tanks, privately thought, Better late than never.
Even farther south, a counterattack by the Army’s 24th Infantry against enemy positions