 The United States Army presents the Big Picture, an official report produced for the armed forces and the American people. To most Americans, the very symbol of government is the capitol building in Washington, where the machinery of democracy works its wonders. Almost in its shadow is another building which symbolizes just as strongly one of the indispensable freedoms in our democracy, the National Press Building. It is no accident of history that the American people are the best informed in the world. From the very beginning of the American experiment, it has been recognized that only with a free and unshackled press can democracy survive. This recognition of the press' importance has given it a position of undeniable privilege and prestige in our society. But it has also placed upon it the grave obligation to keep the people truly informed. Nowhere is this obligation more certainly recognized. Nowhere is the responsibility more keenly felt than in the National Press Building. Its distinguished tenants have behind them a breadth of knowledge of our national life exceeded by no other group. A knowledge of the intricacies of the American scene in all its locations. For these men comprise the Washington bureaus of leading newspapers and news services throughout the country. And for their readers in all parts of the nation, they record day-by-day history, as it is made at the seat of government. The tradition of irresponsible and professional press is heavy in this building, where the proudest trophies are the press plates of memorable front pages. The men of the Washington Press Corps are among the finest their profession can produce. Most of them in their careers have chronicled the political contest, the social upheavals, and the wars which have formed the story of our time. One of the most respected members of the Washington Press Club is its president, Mr. William Lawrence of the New York Times Washington Bureau. He is here shown introducing General Maxwell Detailer to the National Press Club on the occasion of General Taylor's retirement as Chief of Staff of the United States Army. Later with Mr. Lawrence we will screen the actual combat films of the middle phase of the Korean War. Bill Lawrence's daily job of reporting brings him into constant contact with the men and events who make headlines. He is exceptionally qualified in the field of newspaper reporting. In his 18 years with the New York Times, Bill Lawrence has covered some very significant stories. During World War II, he was for a while Chief of the Times Bureau in Moscow, and then he reported on the war from Okinawa. He flew with B-29s over Tokyo and other Japanese cities, and after World War II he covered the Civil War in Greece. And then with many other illustrious reporters, he saw and reported the war in Korea. Today we're fortunate to have Bill Lawrence with us to look into a particular phase of that war. Good to see you, Bill. Nice to see you, Stu. You know, I was very fortunate recently on a big picture to have one of your colleagues, Jim Lucas of Script Howard. Yeah, I got a chance to see that one, Stu. And as I remember it, Jim picked up the war about the beginning in June and carried it up to the defense of the Pusan Prometer. That's right. And today I'd like to pick it up from that same point, carry it on. From that period when we broke out of the perimeter in September 1950. Seems like a long time ago, doesn't it? Well, in some ways it does. I've covered a couple of wars since then and found a lot of stories from a lot of different places. And yet, no one who was there, soldier or reporter, is likely to forget it. Especially that period you were just mentioning, September, October 1950. That was a period of pretty high morale, wasn't it? Oh, very high. You see, first there'd been the retreat, then that holding operation along the Nakdong. And then finally, we were able to go on an offensive that... That was smashing the North Korean Army. That's right. Bill, you're the kind of a reporter that calls the shots as he sees them. Your record speaks for itself. A very accurate one. I have a book of clippings of stories that you filed during the Korean War. And I'd like to read a sentence from one of them. Shoot. You read it in late August 1950. There is a sense of optimism in American circles that certainly could not have been detected two weeks ago. What prompted you to write that? Well, let's recap a little bit. Swiftly, treacherously, without warning, the North Korean Army had smashed across the 38th Parallel in late June. They fully expected they'd be able to drive all the way down the peninsula before anybody could or would come to the aid of the South Koreans. But fortunately, the United Nations were able to act swiftly. They brined to this an act of aggression and this authorized other nations to come to the aid of the South Korean Army. Now, the first available troops were those U.S. occupation forces stationed in Japan, just three divisions. Badly equipped and under strength. And the North Koreans were strong and well-equipped. They prepared for this invasion for a long time. And consequently, our forces had a pretty rough time of it in those summer months of 1950. About the only thing we could do was withdraw to a defensive line south of the Naktan River. Well, withdraw is a polite way of saying we got chased there and we did hope we could hold there while we built up supplies and equipment and men. We did manage to do that, although it seemed like a pretty thin hope very, very much the time. But it did break up the enemy's plan for a quick push all the way down the peninsula. Well, it just couldn't get through, as I said. Every time he tried, the enemy weakened himself a bit more. And at the same time, from American, from other nations, troops were pouring into Pusan more and more equipment. And we were rebuilding the South Korean Army, which had taken such a terrible beating in those early days of the war. And so with the knowledge that we were going to make this play at Incheon, it was possible late in August to report truthfully that a new sense of confidence was taking hold. Looked as if things were really going to happen. It did indeed and things did happen. More swiftly and on a grander scale than anybody could have dreamed the day I wrote that story. On September 15, 1950, the U.N. forces take the offensive. An assault fleet appears off Walmy Island at Incheon Harbor, 150 miles behind enemy lines. It's a daring end-run maneuver, which takes the sleeping enemy completely by surprise. At 0630 hours, the Marines begin the assault. The naval barrage has cleared the way for them, but this is still a risky operation. Headquarters must gamble on the first try being good. Incheon's violent 30-foot tides lead no time for a second attempt. We had orders to neutralize resistance and do it fast. Dig them out and cover up the holes. It took us 58 minutes to secure the island. With the next tide, more Marines move into the streets of Incheon itself. They meet little resistance, and within hours the city is secure. The big gamble has paid off. With the surrender of Incheon's modern harbor, the back door to Seoul is open wide. Simultaneously in the south, the reinforced 8th Army breaks out of its Busan stronghold, splitting the encircling Red Forces as it thrusts across the Naktong River to begin its drive northward. At Incheon, the 7th Infantry Division swarms the shore to strengthen the U.N. foothold in the north. Thousands of enemy troops are being trapped in the southwest as the Busan spearhead races north to join up with Incheon forces. On the way to Seoul, we took a good many prisoners too, but they didn't come easily. United Nations strength is growing in the north. Men and machines, first hundreds, then thousands, blow inland from the sea to join the attack towards Seoul. With each step, however, they meet stiffening resistance as the retreating enemy consolidates his forces. At Busan, still another nation joins the growing U.N. command as 1,200 men of a crack Philippine regimental combat team come ashore. And at Kimpo Air Base south of Seoul, men of the 187th Airborne Regiment arrive from Japan to become the first paratroop unit to enter the conflict. This newly recaptured airfield has also become an advanced base for increased air attacks on the enemy's supply and escape routes. As the spearhead from Busan gathers momentum, columns of transport barrel northward against a disheartened enemy. In many towns, the entire populace turns out to shout its welcome. France all over again. Couldn't understand what these people were saying either. Some places, nobody was around to say anything. It's only about 20 miles from Incheon to Seoul, paved highway all the way, but it took us a week of hard fighting to make the trip. Finally though, our amphibious gear crammed full of rock and American marines started massing up at the Han River across from Seoul. It was time to retake the city. The softening up process got underway. The Han River crossing means a full-scale amphibious operation, since the Han here near its mouth is well over a mile across. The Reds who had thrown back an early or night attack were gone, pulled out to dig in among the streets of Seoul itself. The battle for Seoul was rough. Ten thousand communist troops garrisoned every building in street junction with orders to fight to the death. A great many did. The shattered city is retaken September 26th. During the battle for Seoul, the trap is closing swiftly about Red forces in the southwest. The day after Seoul falls, troops from the 7th and 1st Cavalry Divisions join up just south of Suwon. Two days later, in the battered capital building, special ceremonies are held as General MacArthur officially returns the city to Seng-Min-Ri, President of the Republic of Korea. Now begins a tragic homecoming for the thousands who had fled the city only three months before. If you look at these people scratching through the ashes of what used to be their homes, wonder where they got the guts to go on. Still, I guess we'd do the same back home for General MacArthur. As life begins to take root again in Seoul, the U.N. advance in the eastern sector goes on. On September 30th, rock forces reach the 38th parallel. They cross it the following day. One old guy couldn't keep it straight, who is who? Turn out to meet the rock army with North Korean flags. The end of September finds the war back where it started, but the cost has been great. On October 6th, at a U.N. cemetery between Seoul and Incheon, Major General O.P. Smith, 1st Marine Division Commander, honors Marine dead. Representing the army is Major General David Barr, 7th Division Commander. Korean troops are honored by Colonel Park In-Yip, commanding the rock 17th Regiment. The silent thanks and admiration of each commander for what his men have given is echoed by the people who hold their freedom to that willing sacrifice. Elsewhere, the conflict goes on without letter. B-29 squadron based in Japan and on Okinawa continue their daily blasting of red industrial and transport centers in the north. For us, it was a funny situation. The commuters were, somebody called it. You'd eat breakfast with your wife and kids, spend the day over some rail center or factory or harbor, and head back home to sleep in your own bed at night. Funny situation. In the south, refugees are becoming a major problem. With thousands of red soldiers and guerrillas in civilian clothes trying to escape to the north, each refugee must be individually, time-consumingly, free. To the north, events are moving so rapidly that reinforcing units are hard-pressed to keep pace with the U.N. advance. On October 9th, Kesang is taken. This surrender frees the last South Korean city held by the Reds. Then on the east coast, Wonsan. Just two days after the fall of Kesang, Rock 3rd Division troops seized the port of Wonsan, having marched 287 miles in 20 days to get there. They met little resistance. Next, the Red Capital itself. On October 17th, men of the 1st Cavalry Division worked their way into the outskirts of Pyongyang. In less than 24 hours, the North Korean capital is in United Nations hands. These were important victories in Cheon Seoul, Pyongyang. Very important indeed. You know, complete victory seemed just around the corner. Yeong is a matter of fact. If you don't mind, I'd like to quote a phrase you wrote right after the fall of Pyongyang. Now that the Korean War is evidently drawing to an end. Well, that does read a little silly now. It doesn't, considering what happened for the next three years. You've got to remember that that was before the Chinese Communist hit us. And everybody, the highest military brass, the G.I. on the line, the reporters, all thought that the North Korean army had been smashed so thoroughly that the mopping up process would take only a few weeks. Psychological warfare plays an important role at this stage of the fighting. Using high-powered speakers, Si War planes fly ahead of advancing U.N. troops, booming their message in Korean to the retreating enemy. Safe conduct passes prove highly effective. More than once, whole enemy companies lay down their weapons and wait for our troops to arrive. Two days after Pyongyang falls, our first combat airdrop in Korea gets underway in an attempt to cut off retreating red forces north of Pyongyang. As it inch on, the Supreme Commander personally supervises the operation, nearly 2,000 troops making the jump. In a second wave, the heavy equipment arrives, air expressed. Local transportation is pressed into service. Next day, 1,800 reinforcements jump, but the enemy has already fled northward. In the east, rock forces continue their headlong charge north from Wonsan to take Hongnam. Meantime, a Navy task force is waiting off Wonsan. 3,000 enemy mines had to be cleared from beach approaches before the Marine Force could come ashore. It was a delay, but we could afford it. The rocks had made us a welcome present, a beach with no enemy guns on it. The whole division came ashore with nothing worse than a few wet feet. The mission now is to press this advantage, continue the attack toward the Alu. Swiftly, the Marine Force moves in on red-held villages and towns, and just as swiftly, out the other side. Spirits are high. Three days later, and more than 100 miles closer to the Alu, the 7th Division makes its landing at Iwan. Ships of every description swarm into shallow water to disgorge 7,000 men and their machines. Their only opposition, the deep loose sand of Iwan's beaches. This far north, winter comes early to Korea. Cold weather uniforms are welcomed as the Division moves out to rejoin the attack. To the west, Marines are advancing over ground frozen harder every day. News of their approach runs ahead of them as village after village is liberated. North Koreans meet freely and the Christians among them pray openly for the first time since 1945. The shattered communist forces are pulling back into the last corner of this peninsula they had set out to conquer. UN troops follow as fast as the tortuous terrain and increasing cold will allow. In the eastern sector, it is difficult even to keep contact with the retreating enemy. In the central sector, however, prisoners taken during a strong red counterattack give warning of potential danger. Many of them wear the quilted uniform of communist China. Meantime in the northern Sea of Japan, winter is giving our offshore forces a taste of things to come. No team supply operations are becoming a nightmare of icy wind and pitching decks. We kept our aircraft warmed and ready to take off the minute the weather lifted. In the meantime, the Reds would have a lot less trouble moving troops and supplies on Korean roads. We didn't like that thought much. As sure, the Chinese forces have pulled back, leaving a clear road to the Yalu. The village of Haishanjin huddles against the banks of the Yalu across from Manchuria. Here, men of the 7th Division set up their outposts. It seems a sorry spot to spend Thanksgiving Eve. But from bases in the south, cargo planes are already taking off, setting courses northward across the frozen mile. They carry crates rigged for airdrop and labeled perishable rush. Turkey and the trimmings, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force. All over Korea, mass kits overflow with steaming potatoes, giblet gravy, cranberry sauce, the works. Along the Yalu, everything is quiet. Every man, no matter what his duty for the day, shares in the traditional feast of gratitude. Headquarters feel certain that one more UN offensive will end the fighting in Korea. Actually, a whole new war is ready to begin. Across the Yalu, the decision has been made. Full-scale Chinese intervention is about to bring the second phase of the Korean conflict to an end. And that threat of Chinese intervention, no one foresaw back at the time of the fall of Pyongyang. Well, the point is that it had been pretty well discounted by then. I think many of us, most of us, felt that the Chinese would hit us when we came in in Chon, or never. And I remember the briefing going up on the troopship was that this was either the last inning in the ballgame, or the first inning of a double header. Bill, I'd like to read from one other story you filed in Korea. Wars are so big and so violent, and move so quickly, that the individuals on the team often become necessarily anonymous, almost faceless. Well, then you went on, in this story and in others, to give dozens of those faceless men a voice, to describe their jobs and their attitudes, to report what they were thinking and even what they were hoping. Well, that's right. That, I think, is an important job of war, reporting to chronically the attitude of the individual. It may even be more important than writing about the amount of ground that was won or lost on a given day. Wars have become so big that the headlines usually can reflect only what the team as a whole did. But behind every success, every defeat, there are dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of men whose individual attitudes have everything in the world to do with shaping that particular success or that particular defeat. Now, these victories we've been talking about today were terribly important in their day, and they were achieved simply because a lot of individuals did their jobs bravely and conscientiously. It's always been that way. Do you think that could be true today? Of course. No reason why it shouldn't be as true today as it was in Korea or in World War II, or the American Revolution to that matter. I must admit that's one war I didn't cover. Our weapons have changed, but I've yet to hear of a weapon that fires itself. And so the individual soldier, or sailor, or airman remains the single indispensable factor of war. Bill Lawrence, thanks very much for being with us today. Now this is Sergeant Stuart Queen, your host for The Big Picture. Inviting you to watch for our next episode in The Big Picture, which will deal with the last chapter of the Korean War. And we'll have as our guest the noted military critic and author, Brigadier General S.L.A. Marshall. The Big Picture is an official report for the armed forces and the American people. Produced by the Army Pictorial Center. Presented by the Department of the Army in cooperation with this state.