BATTLE OF KOREA: Sagging Roof

In World War I, as the Allied-German lines swayed and writhed across France, the same towns came again & again into the news as they changed hands—Arras, Amiens, Cambrai, Soissons. Korea was producing another crop of such towns, won and lost in a matter of weeks or days instead of years. Pohang, Angang, Yong-chon, Hyonpung and Changnyong had changed hands at least three times. And such towns as Taegu, the northwestern “turntable,” and Masan, the south coast anchor, were in the news day after day, because they were under almost constant threat.

Battle Mountain & Bowling Alley. And it was not only the towns. The Naktong River was Korea’s Somme. On the southern front, a few weeks ago, Negro troops of the 25th Division had fought doggedly for an eminence called Sobuk Ridge or “Battle Mountain,” winning and losing it several times. Last week Battle Mountain was again soaked with blood; the 25th recaptured it, then lost it again. Farther north, the Communists’ first big bulge across the Naktong below Changnyong had been obliterated; last week they had another across almost in the same place. In position before Changnyong, the Marines cleared snipers out of town four times and then found themselves approaching the same dreadful “No Name Ridge” where they had suffered so heavily before (TIME, Aug. 28).

North of Taegu, the stretch of road called the “Bowling Alley,” made famous by the brilliant defense of Colonel John Michaelis’ 27th Regiment, was lost to the North Koreans—again—the Communists had pushed through a wide gap between U.S. and South Korean outfits. Near by, on a 900-ft. ridge, were the walled ruins of an ancient temple, called the “Walled City.” In August the South Koreans had taken the Walled City; last week they —lost it.

Pohang, a minor but useful port, had been lost to the enemy last month arid then retaken by the South Koreans in what they prematurely called their “greatest victory of the war.” Last week, cracking before a tremendous Red onslaught, they lost Pohang again. Pohang’s airport, which a U.S. task force was defending, was still in Allied hands at week’s end.

Interdiction Fire. The “roof” of the Allied beachhead—the line from the northwest corner to the east coast—had not caved in, but it was sagging. The loss of territory (see map) was disturbing enough; more so was the threat to Kyongju, communications hub of the northeast corner. The enemy got to within four miles of Kyongju. The Reds seized nearly the whole of the Yongchon-Pohang road and brought the Yongchon-Kyongju road under interdiction fire. Since General Walker had no reserves and could spare no front-line troops from any other sector, he was forced to pull the 24th Division (first U.S. division committed in Korea) from a rest area and send it back to battle in the northeast. The 24th’s commander, Major General John Church, looked very sick of the war when he conferred with the Marines’ Brigadier General Edward Craig, who did not look very pleased himself (see cut).

Songs by Sinatra. TIME Correspondent James Bell made four trips along the Taegu-Kyongju road. He cabled: “When the enemy struck his sledgehammer blows in the northeast, both the fighting and the resultant confusion were like the return of a horrible nightmare. It was like nothing that has happened since the opening days of the war.”

Accompanying a KMAG officer who was trying to restore some cohesion, Bell found South Korean stragglers who claimed they were “messengers” but had no messages; South Korean officers who could not find their division commander; and, finally, the division commander, who was on a hilltop watching Allied airplanes strafe the enemy, instead of trying to regroup his men. The South Korean driver of a regimental radio jeep had his set tuned to a recording of Crooner Frank Sinatra (broadcast by the U.S. armed forces network) because, he explained, there could be no messages, because his regiment had disappeared.

Three Times Through. Bell cabled: “Lieut. Colonel Gines Perez of San Antonio, Texas, fought the war out here from 1942 to 1945. A mild-looking man with glasses who, like so many other such commanders, doesn’t look like a military man, Colonel Perez had his battalion strung out on the road from Kwangju to Angang. For a while, South Korean troops were on his right. Then suddenly, one night, they weren’t. The battalion was surrounded and had to fight its way out. That’s routine enough. What was unusual about the weird action was that once out of the situation the colonel discovered that he had lost his G Company. So he and the rest of the battalion had to fight their way back, collect the lost company, then fight their way through the enemy lines a third time.

“In Angang, all was complete confusion. North Korean, South Korean and American troops were all mixed up, everyone firing in the darkness at everyone else. The fight to the south was filled with incredible feats of heroism; probably the greatest of which was performed by a platoon sergeant who was leading the point infantry platoon as it escorted the tanks out of the village. As the tanks were beginning to cross a bridge, Reds lurking underneath it lobbed two concussion grenades aimed at the tracks of the lead tanks. Dropping his rifle, the sergeant dived toward the grenades. He grabbed the first and threw it off the bridge. As he reached the second, he saw that he had no time, so he fell on it with his body. It went off, tearing him apart. The tanks rumbled on unhurt. The sergeant has been posthumously recommended for the D.S.C., although why not for the Congressional Medal I don’t know.”

“With Both Fists.” At week’s end, enemy pressure on the Allied beachhead had slacked off. It was no longer fashionable, however, for U.S. commanders and correspondents to surmise that the Communists were running out of horsepower. U.S. intelligence reported two new North Korean tank brigades, ready for action but not yet committed, and equipped with 84 brand-new Russian T-34s. U.S. carrier-plane pilots, raiding behind the 38th parallel, reported damaging 35 tanks at Pyongyang—which seemed to indicate that enemy tank replacements were not drying up. Said General Walker: “I don’t believe we’re in great danger, but we may get a bloody nose. The enemy can still slug with both fists.”