MacArthur: His job -- to police the boundaries of chaos

(Editor's note: Following are excerpts from an article published in TIME magazine on July 10, 1950.)

Douglas MacArthur has a conviction which many who have talked with him remember: "There is no security on this earth. There is only opportunity."

But in August 1945, when his transport plane Bataan wheeled out of a blue sky into the lovely land of Japan, there was perhaps in all the world no symbol of security to equal General of the Army Douglas MacArthur. As he stepped out on to Atsugi airfield and into a veteran's dream of victory, the general was smiling. Behind him lay thousands of miles of ocean, the conquered Pacific which U.S. soldiers, sailors and airmen had made an American lake. Before him lay the submission of a God-Emperor and proconsular rule over Japan. A man less wise than Douglas MacArthur might have thought that, at 65, he could relax and enjoy the fruits of hardwon victory.

In the five years that followed, the U.S., through no fault of MacArthur's, let slip in Asia opportunity after opportunity and the illusion of security melted away. And so one morning last week, 70-year-old Douglas MacArthur drove through the rain to Haneda airfield outside Tokyo. Waiting for him there was the old Bataan, revved up and ready to go to South Korea where U.S. and South Korean forces were clawing desperately at a bush-league army of Soviet stooges.

The night before, the general had called four American newspapermen to his office in Tokyo's handsome Dai Ichi Building. He told them of his plans to go to Korea to "see for myself" and invited them to come along. "It will be an unarmed plane," he said seriously, "and we are not sure of getting fighter cover, not sure where we will land. If you are not at the airport I will know you have other commitments." When one of the correspondents assured him that they'd all be there, the general grinned. "I have no doubt of your courage," said he. "I just wanted to give your judgment a chance to work."

As the night wore on, Army weathermen, looking up at the rain and overcast which shrouded the Japanese capital, shook their heads. Staff officers urged the general to abandon the trip. At each objection the MacArthur jaw jutted out a little farther. "We go," said Douglas MacArthur.

In Suwon MacArthur was met by Syngman Rhee, President of the Korean Republic. Rhee, too, had come to Suwon by air; his light observation plane had eluded a North Korean fighter only by hedgehopping.

After a short conference with President Rhee, MacArthur gave his staff officers more cause for worry. "Let's go to the front and look at the troops," he said. "The only way to judge a war is to see the troops in action." What the general saw was not good.

In a black sedan accompanied by several jeeploads of American and Korean officers, MacArthur drove north toward the narrow Han River. On the south side of the Han the confused and battered South Korean army was vainly trying to form a new defense line. All along the road the general's car brushed through hundreds of South Korean soldiers and mobs of tired, frightened refugees. Many of the soldiers saluted and cheered as the American convoy passed. Even the refugees stopped and cheered. Said MacArthur's chief of staff, Major General Edward M. Almond: "The troops are ready and willing to take orders if someone is on hand to tell them what to do and how to do it." But in most of the South Korean army there seemed to be not enough of such leadership on hand.

The convoy halted once, a few miles south of the Han, within sight of enemyheld Seoul. MacArthur jabbed toward the city with his corncob pipe. To General Almond he said: "What do you say we push up there, eh Ned?" The party pushed on to a hill barely a mile from the 15th Century walls of Seoul. Clearly visible were towers of smoke from fires set by enemy shelling. Clearly audible was the crump of Communist mortars over the river. Below the hill a railroad bridge still stood intact, capable of supporting tanks and heavy trucks. Field glasses in hand, MacArthur ordered the bridge destroyed. Then he headed back for Suwon.

During the convoy's return trip several unidentified planes were sighted. The jeeps emptied in a rush as their occupants dived for the cover of roadside woods. MacArthur did not dive. He stepped sedately from the black sedan, walked away a few steps and gazed nonchalantly at the sky until the planes were gone. Then he dusted his leather jacket carefully and returned to the car.

When he took off again from Suwon airstrip, MacArthur, who had planned to spend two days in Korea, had been there only eight hours. Some read this change of plans as a bad sign. It was. Behind MacArthur lay a disintegrating South Korean army. Before him lay a battle which might, at the worst, take a place in U.S. history alongside the battle of Bataan.