General Douglas MacArthur had made the mistake of underestimating the abilities of the North Koreans in the first days of the Korean War. He had even spoken about what would happen if he could put a single division into Korea: “Why heavens you’d see those fellows scuddle up to the Manchurian border so quick, you would see no more of them.” However, he soon came to realize that he was fighting a ferocious, resilient enemy, "as capable and tough", he told Averell Harriman during a meeting in Tokyo, as any soldiers he had ever encountered, and this assessment changed his strategy. Long before the American troops were pressured into the Pusan Perimeter, he was already focused on an amphibious landing that could make superior American technology matter and turn the war around with one decisive stroke.
During the Pacific War, Dugout Doug had used American air and sea power to strike where the Japanese least expected it, isolating and stranding their forward people and strongest positions, and he intended to do exactly the same thing in Korea. As early as July 4 he was already thinking of landing behind In Min Gun lines, but he had little notion of how poorly trained, equipped, and led the first wave of American troops he had dispatched to Korea were; they were in no way ready for such a complex amphibious operation. This is why, Operation Bluehearts, which was supposed to take place on July 22, was junked, and at the suggestion of Lieutenant General Lem Shepherd, the Marine commander in the Pacific, MacArthur turned to the Marines, who at the time badly needed roles and missions.
The more MacArthur thought about an amphibious landing, the more he fixed on Inchon, which was indeed well behind North Korean lines, but which was also "a disaster looking for a place to happen". Any amphibious landing was dangerous, but Inchon seemed like it might be far worse than any other site. “We drew up a list of every natural and geographic handicap – and Inchon had all of them,” said Lieutenant Commander Arlie Capps, one of the staff members on the team of Admiral James Doyle, the Navy’s top amphibious planner.
Almost everyone was appalled by MacArthur's choice, especially the Navy people assigned to plan and execute the landing. Back in Washington the Joint Chiefs were wary, in no small part because of the risk itself, and MacArthur was very much aware of that. He was preparing for one of the great performances of his life – convincing the Navy and the Chiefs to go along with Inchon. And such a grand performance he would give that he would carry the day and get the Navy's full support. (“Do you know General MacArthur?” Ike Eisenhower was once asked by a woman. “Not only have I met him, ma’am,” Ike answered, “I studied dramatics under him for five years in Washington and four in the Philippines.”)
Strangely, while surprise is crucial for an amphibious landing, it was completely missing in the case of Incheon. Everyone in Tokyo seemed to know what was coming and where and when it was going to take place. In the Tokyo Press Club, a great center of rumors about the war, it was already dubbed Operation Common Knowledge. Nevertheless, everyone was shocked when the news about who would command the operation came out; most senior officers in Washington and some in Tokyo had expected the command to go to Lieutenant General Lem Shepherd, to whom MacArthur owed the Marines' support and who lived by amphibious landings, but instead the commander would be Major General Edward "Ned The Dread" Almond. Not only had Dugout Doug separated the Inchon command from the Eighth Army, but he had also given it to to his own man, Almond, a lickspittle always laboring to be MacArthur's favored aide. It was actually a political move, for it placed much of the Korean command in the hands of someone whose loyalty was completely to MacArthur and was outside the reach of the Chiefs, whom he despised. The Marines viewed Douglas' move as a disaster, and there was a private fury among some of them about the way that Almond had treated Major General O. P. Smith, the Marine First Division commander, a much revered officer, at their first meeting. Smith, who was ticketed to command the landing, was kept waiting for half an hour and then was called "son" by Almond, who was only ten months older than him, during their briefing session.
The Incheon landing itself went not merely as MacArthur had planned but as he had dreamed. The conditions proved better than expected, the initial resistance was comparatively light, and Doyle’s planning had been skillful and detailed. Very important is the fact that at Inchon MacArthur was lucky in no small part because Kim Il Sung was a careless, arrogant enemy commander, who refused to consider the possibility of an amphibious landing taking place behind his lines. The Chinese, who on the other hand were very much aware of a massive American build-up in Japan in the weeks before the landing, specifically warned him about Incheon, but to their surprise, Kim made no moves, not even to mine the harbor.
Despite the initial success, after the landing, when the UN forces began to move towards Seoul, things began to go awry. The North Korean resistance gradually stiffened, and the tensions between Almond and Smith grew more bitter. Ned The Dread began demanding immediate results, which Smith, trying to complete the increasingly deadly mission without unnecessarily sacrificing the lives of his men, thought unrealistic. Top Marine officers felt that Almond, who had never been part of an amphibious landing in his life, diminished the dangers and difficulties, was disrespectful of their needs, and did not listen to anyone he outranked. But if the two officers’ relationship had begun poorly, it completely disintegrated once combat began. Their feud, in the words of Marine historian Edwin Simmons, eventually became “the stuff of legends".
Smith had warned Almond that the ease of the Inchon landing was deceptive, that taking Seoul might be a very different thing. And indeed, as the UN forces struck at Inchon, Kim Il Sung had rushed some twenty thousand additional troops to the Seoul area. The road to Seoul, Smith later noted, was “one of those routine operations that read easier in newspapers than on the ground.” The North Koreans had the advantage of fighting defensively, and the battle for Seoul, hard, slow urban warfare, reminded me of the Battle for Stalingrad. In addition, Smith knew that taking Seoul was not a necessary battle, but rather a means to satisfy the constant need from MacArthur’s headquarters for glory. To Smith, Almond was risking his Marines unnecessarily "for a couple of extra lines in newspapers" because his commander wanted the city to be taken exactly on September 25.
While some Marines did reach Seoul on the appointed date and Almond was able to issue his communiqué saying the city had been taken, it was far from the truth to the men who fought bitterly there till September 28th. "If the city has been liberated,” quipped an Associated Press reporter, “the remaining North Koreans did not know it.” The damage the harsh battle did to the relationship between Ned The Dread and the Marines would have serious consequences, but Almond had delivered Seoul to MacArthur on time, and Inchon became Dugout Doug's great success and his alone. It surely saved thousands of American lives just as he had predicted, and he had fought for it almost alone against the doubts of the principal Navy planners and the wishes of the Joint Chiefs. There was, however, one serious flaw in his plan – the totality of his success. Because he had stood for it against everyone else, on all other issues afterward it was very hard to stand up to him. This overwhelming success changed the very nature of his command; he began seizing even greater control. “Inchon was,” said Frank Gibney, then a young combat correspondent from Time, “the most expensive victory we ever won because it led to the complete deification of MacArthur and the terrible, terrible defeats that happened next.”
Next, Mao decided to enter the war because he believed it was good for the new China and necessary for the future of the revolution, and the hour of signals sent but not received, of reg flags accidentally or purposefully ignored, of intelligence wrested to suit MacArthur, struck.
"There was no area of MacArthur’s headquarters where the drop-off between the talents required for the job and the prejudices and bombast of the incumbent was as noticeable as with Willoughby, or Sir Charles, or Lord Willoughby, or Baron von Willoughby – or Bonnie Prince Charles, as he was sometimes known by officers not in the Bataan Gang," wrote David Halberstam in THE COLD WAR. Willoughby was not just MacArthur’s principal personal intelligence man; when it came to the war in Korea, he was the only intelligence man who mattered. While most commanders wanted as many good sources of information as possible, MacArthur was focused on limiting and controlling the sources of intelligence. It was always important to him that his intelligence reports perfectly reflect what he had intended to do in the first place. What that meant was that the intelligence Willoughby was turning over to MacArthur was deliberately prefabricated. Intelligence estimates that reflected a growing Chinese presence might have prevented Douglas from making what he wanted most: the final drive to the Yalu. Instead, Willoughby falsified the intelligence reports about the arrival of Chinese troops into the extreme northern reaches of Korea.
General Douglas MacArthur's decision to send his troops all the way to the Yalu was a military miscalculation of enormous proportions. All sorts of red flags were there for him, but he and his sycophantic staff (“You don’t have a staff, General. You have a court," told him Marshall once.) chose not to see them, and his troops, their command split, their communications often dangerously weak, the weather worsening by the day, pushed north, while the Chinese patiently waited for them in their carefully prepared ambush, which became the largest one in modern warfare. When Mao was briefed about the Incheon landing, he flooded his experts with questions not only about MacArthur's tactics, but also about his personality. After being told that the General was "famous for his arrogance and stubbornness", he said, "Fine! Fine! The more arrogant and more stubborn he is the better." "An arrogant enemy," added he, "is easy to defeat." What the Chinese now wanted was for MacArthur to move ever farther north, extending his supply lines even more.
The day that the Marines were to kick off their part of the big drive north was November 27. By November, General O.P. Smith had come to believe that the Chinese were probably setting a vast trap for the American forces, and he did not intend to be the man who would lose the First Marine Division to the Chinese in some frozen wasteland because he had blindly followed orders he believed bore no relationship to the battlefield. “The country around Chosin was never intended for military operations,” Smith said after the battle was over. “Even Genghis Khan wouldn’t tackle it.” Thus, the wonderful Marine breakout from the Chosin Reservoir would be a great moment in the Marine Corps’ history – and no small amount of credit for its success was Smith’s, more for what he did not do than for what he did.