On Desperate Ground: The Marines at The Reservoir, the Korean War's Greatest Battle

by Hampton Sides

Korea just seemed a long way from home—a long way to come to fight and bleed and die, in a war that was not officially a war, for a cause that at times was not altogether clear, for an endgame that was anybody’s guess.

The United States would not countenance a scenario in which the Chinese invaded Mexico and marched right up to the Rio Grande and the Texas border. That, in reverse, was precisely the situation here.

He had hideous teeth, rendered dingy brown from chain-smoking and his refusal to practice the most rudimentary oral hygiene—he would only rinse his mouth, once a day, with dark tea. His sour breath was made worse by an infected abscess that he refused to treat. He favored the spicy foods of his native Hunan, an oily diet that often made him constipated, requiring enemas every few days. “A normal bowel movement,” said his personal physician, was “cause for celebration among the staff.” He also suffered from a mysterious neurological malady that caused hot flashes, profuse sweating, and painful throbbing in his extremities. Otherwise, Mao was a man of much strength and vitality, though he constantly worried about his health and was certain that his enemies were trying to poison him.

The First Marine Division was only one of three grand prongs Almond planned to launch toward the Yalu. These three columns were to advance as distinct lines—each one physically separate from the others and, given the difficult terrain, each one in a poor position to help the others should any one of them encounter trouble.

Much was made of the “Oriental” need to save face, but Americans were not immune to the phenomenon. They had to protect their investment, to guard the national prestige, to honor the men who had fallen.

A few days earlier, when Smith had broached the idea of creating this airport in the middle of nowhere, Almond had failed to understand. Why was it necessary? Smith answered that, among other things, he imagined that Hagaru would become a triage hospital, with the wounded being brought in from the battlefields to the north. With a big airstrip, Smith could use large planes to haul out the casualties to hospitals on the coast or in Japan. An airstrip might save a lot of lives. Almond was puzzled by this. “What casualties?” he said. He hadn’t given the matter any thought.

“Stand fast and die like Marines!” War, he said, quoting John Stuart Mill, was “an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things….A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, nothing which he cares more about than he does about his personal safety, is a miserable creature, who has no chance of being free.”

“Sarge,” Cafferata said. “Was it this bad on Okinawa?” “Doesn’t matter where you are,” the sergeant replied. “When the lead is flying, that’s the worst place you’ve ever been.”