Changjin Lake: From Xinxingli to Seoul

Chapter 385 The Japanese Emperor's Panic! Delta Force Deploys to the Battlefield aboard the Pacific Fleet!

Tokyo, Japan, inside a banquet hall
The air was filled with the rich aroma of fine perfumes, cigar tobacco, and exquisite cuisine, which subtly overpowered the faint scent of chrysanthemums.

The military band played carefully selected soothing jazz, attempting to create a deliberate sense of relaxation rarely seen in the postwar era.

The Emperor's voice was not loud, and he deliberately slowed down as he said, "Your Excellency, this is the 'Gekikan' Daiginjo, a secret collection of the Imperial Household Agency for thirty years. It is clear, sweet, and mellow. Please savor its character."

MacArthur exhaled two plumes of smoke from his nostrils, did not raise his glass, and instead turned his gaze to the other side of the hall.

Several young U.S. Army captains and lieutenants sat around several Japanese noblewomen dressed in gorgeous twelve-layered kimonos and with exquisite makeup.

The girls wore well-trained, slightly stiff, sweet smiles.

A blond captain, clearly a bit drunk, laughed and placed his hand on the tightly cinched sash around the waist of a Japanese girl next to him, his fingers even tugging at the tassels of the sash.

The Japanese girl's body tensed instantly, and the smile on her face cracked like a porcelain vase.

But she didn't flinch; she simply lowered her eyes slightly, her long eyelashes casting deep shadows on her pale cheeks.

The older woman beside her, dressed in dark purple, suddenly clenched her fingers in her sleeves, but with a fawning smile on her face, she picked up the wine jug: "Captain, please have another drink."

This is from Kyoto…”

"Ah! This is life, isn't it?"

MacArthur finally picked up the glass of wine that the Emperor himself had "introduced," casually swirled it in the Emperor's direction without paying any respect, as if he were talking to himself, and then drank it all in one gulp.

The spicy, rice-scented liquid slid down his throat. He smacked his lips and gazed at the exquisite reliefs on the ceiling.

Look at these lights, listen to this music.

war?

Oh, wars always end.

What's important is order, the order established by the Marshal.

MacArthur's use of the term "Marshal" clearly refers to himself, carrying an undeniable air of self-importance.

The Emperor's smile remained unchanged, but the fingers on his hands, resting on his knees, tightened even more, almost digging into his palms.

He bowed slightly, his voice still steady: "Your Excellency the Marshal brought peace and revival to Japan, a feat that will be remembered for generations to come. We will never forget it."

Just then, the heavy brocade curtain of the side door of the hall was suddenly lifted.

A U.S. Army lieutenant colonel staff officer appeared at the door, his eyes instantly locking onto MacArthur in the main seat, and walked straight through the crowd.

The clattering sound of leather shoes on the polished floor was unusually jarring, drawing the attention of nearby Japanese guests who stared in surprise.

The lieutenant colonel stopped a step behind MacArthur, his heels striking together with a clear thud.

He leaned down, almost whispering in MacArthur's ear, and said in a low voice:

"Urgent military intelligence: the battle situation on the eastern front in Korea has deteriorated..."

MacArthur paused in his pipe-playing motion, the pipe hanging in mid-air.

The U.S. Army lieutenant colonel spoke very quickly, his voice deep and clear, as if repeating a cold casualty report:

"Jiaping City has fallen."

The main force of the 1st New Marine Division suffered heavy losses during the breakout, with casualties exceeding 70%. Its organization was basically decimated, and the remaining remnants are retreating towards Seoul.

The vanguard regiment of the 7th Division of the United States encountered a pre-arranged ambush by the 7th Steel Brigade and the main force of the New 8th Army of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army in the Qingping Gorge area.

Colonel Harris was killed instantly.

The vanguard regiment, consisting of over three thousand elite troops, has been confirmed to have been completely annihilated.

The southeastern gateway to Seoul, Gwangju, fell fourteen hours ago.

Brigadier General Aziz, the Turkish brigade commander stationed in the area, was killed by Chinese commander Wu Wanli and his troops on the north bank of the Baishui River, and the brigade flag was captured.

It has been confirmed that the main force of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army's Eastern Front Assault Group is advancing directly towards Seoul at a forced march speed!
General Ridgway's "Battle of Seoul" plan... has not yet begun, but the core area of ​​its planned battlefield is already facing a huge risk of being directly attacked!
The UN forces' eastern defense system... is in danger.

Although the lieutenant colonel lowered his voice, the gist of his words still reached Emperor Hirohito, who was closest to him.

The smile on the Emperor's face was like a lake frozen in an instant, then shattered inch by inch.

The color quickly faded from his well-maintained face, leaving it deathly pale.

His body swayed almost imperceptibly, his eyes suddenly widened, and deep within his pupils was an undisguised turbulent sea.

The military attendant beside the Emperor turned deathly pale instantly, almost losing his balance. The silver pot in his hand tilted slightly, and a drop of sake silently dripped onto the polished floor.

The Emperor took a deep breath, as if he wanted to say something, but only a very faint, suppressed gasp escaped his throat.

He looked at MacArthur with an extremely complicated expression.

There was disbelief and shock, regret that the US military on the front lines could not defeat the Chinese army, and even more so, fear of Japan's future fate.

How could that poor and weak neighbor, those opponents he looked down upon, possibly possess such terrifying power?

"waste!"

MacArthur slammed the gold cup he was holding onto the low table and shouted angrily.

The force was so great that the gold lacquer at the bottom of the cup made a muffled "clang," and the remaining wine inside the cup sloshed violently out, wetting the exquisite brocade tablecloth.

He suddenly stood up, his tall figure instantly exuding a violent pressure, and slammed his pipe hard onto the table, sparks flying everywhere.

MacArthur turned around, no longer glancing at the Emperor, but staring intently at the lieutenant colonel who was reporting, his voice suddenly rising: "That incompetent Ridgway!"
He simply doesn't know how to control the beast of war!

He only knows how to calculate ammunition consumption like a bad accountant!

Look at the mess he's made!
He sent our most elite Marines and the best lads of the 7th Division to hell!
He handed over the southeastern gateway of Seoul to those Chinese!
This is the consequence of them sending me back to Tokyo!

This is the stupid mistake those gentlemen in Washington made!

MacArthur's outburst was like pouring cold water into boiling oil.

The hall, which had just been filled with clinking glasses and laughter, instantly fell into a deathly silence.

The music stopped abruptly.

All eyes, whether on the panicked Japanese guests, the socialites trying to appear calm, or the American military officers, were focused on the eye of the storm.

A U.S. major general sitting near the head of the table reacted the fastest, standing up abruptly with a look of sudden realization and indignation, and loudly echoing, "General MacArthur! You've hit the nail on the head!"

This is absolutely not a problem with our military!
It's not that the Chinese people have suddenly become so powerful!

Qingping Canyon?

That's a damn canyon!

The terrain is too narrow for armored units to deploy!

Ridgway actually sent Harris with an elite regiment to that kind of place.
This is downright murder!

If he had deployed his armored forces from the plains on the flanks, and combined them with air support to crush them, ten Steel Seventh Battalions would have been crushed long ago!
It was his foolish command that ruined Harris!

An Air Force colonel standing nearby, Richard Burns, immediately chimed in, his tone resolute: "That's right!"

The loss of the southeastern gateway to Seoul is utterly absurd!
Are the Turks poorly equipped?
not bad!

But they were pinned to their pre-set positions and became stationary targets!
Where does our air superiority lie?

If Ridgway could have acted as decisively as you, Marshal, when you commanded the Inchon Landing, by committing sufficient air power for interdiction and bombing.

Or directly isolate the enemy's follow-up forces on the battlefield. How could the Turkish brigade be isolated and helpless?
How could that Chinese commander named Wu Wanli possibly have had the opportunity to carry out his bayonet charge?
This reflects an outdated command philosophy!
It was Ridgway's inherent conservatism and cowardice that were causing this!
He is utterly unfit to command modern warfare!

Another brigadier general sitting a little further away was a former subordinate of MacArthur from the Pacific War.

His tone was low, carrying a sense of deep regret: "Think of Incheon, Marshal."

What courage and precision that was!

We were like a scalpel, severing the enemy's main artery and turning the tide of the entire battle!

At that time, the enemy was routed at the mere sight of them!
But now?

Ridgway holed up in Seoul, fantasizing about fighting a 'major battle' in his imagination. But what happened?
The doors are wide open!

Chinese troops are about to besiege the city!

He lost the strategic initiative that Your Excellency Marshal had worked so hard to achieve!

He caused the morale of the entire UN forces to plummet!

He deliberately brought up "Incheon," MacArthur's most prestigious medal, to create a stark contrast with the defeat before him.

Major General Everett waved his arms excitedly, almost shouting, "That's right!"
Only General MacArthur can save all of this!
Those Chinese are nothing but relying on sneak attacks and tricks!
Relying on Ridgway’s mistakes and weaknesses!

As long as you regain command, just like you swept across the Pacific Ocean back then, crush the past with absolute power and an iron will!
What Li Yunlong, what Wu Wanli, what the Seventh Steel Brigade will all be utterly crushed!

The glory of victory will once again belong to America!

"It belongs to you, General MacArthur!"

His voice was filled with fanatical worship, directly linking the "victory" to MacArthur personally.

"Yes, General MacArthur!"

"Only you can lead us to victory!"

"I implore General MacArthur to return to command!"

We need your leadership!

A chorus of agreement rose and fell, quickly spreading from MacArthur's close associates to all the American officers' seats in the hall.

The officers who had just been joking with the Japanese noblewoman stood up, straightened their backs, and shouted loudly with excitement and anticipation on their faces.

The sycophantic clamor rose higher and higher, converging into a frenzied torrent that crashed against the dome of the hall and assaulted the nerves of every Japanese person.

MacArthur stood before the throne like a king receiving the worship of his followers.

The tense lines on his face, which had been taut with anger, gradually relaxed and were replaced by a familiar expression of extreme satisfaction and arrogance.

He raised his head slightly, straightened his chest, and glanced at the officers who had sworn allegiance to him, as if he had returned to the peak moment when he commanded thousands of troops and dominated the fate of the Pacific.

The recent "defeat report" seemed to have acted as a catalyst, propelling his prestige to new heights. He slowly raised his hand and pressed it down.

The fervent chants gradually subsided, and all eyes were focused on him, filled with anticipation.

MacArthur's voice regained its commanding, slightly hoarse, magnetic quality: "Very good!"
Your loyalty and vision have shown me that the true backbone of the American military has not been broken!

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the officers who had spoken first and shouted the loudest, a hint of approval curving his lips as he said, "Remember what you said today."

When I return to the front lines and take command of the UN Command again, you will be the cornerstone of my new command core!
New promotions and epaulets await you!

The eyes of the American officers who were called upon instantly blazed with ecstatic joy, and they straightened their backs even more, almost unable to contain their urge to immediately swear allegiance.

Other officers also cast envious glances, and the hall was filled with excitement and restlessness at the impending redistribution of power.

MacArthur watched this scene with satisfaction.

He sat back down in the main seat, his posture more relaxed, as if his previous rage and his current promises were nothing more than trivial matters.

MacArthur picked up his pipe and slowly refilled it with tobacco.

The waiter next to him immediately stepped forward to light it for him.

MacArthur's tone returned to calm, but with a condescending casualness: "By the way, Chief of Staff, is there any other news from Washington?"

"I seem to recall seeing a telegram a while ago mentioning that the Pacific Fleet would be arriving soon?" The U.S. lieutenant colonel immediately straightened up and answered clearly, "Reporting to General MacArthur!"
The main force of the Pacific Fleet will arrive at Yokosuka Naval Base in Tokyo Bay before dawn tomorrow for final resupply and personnel rest.

In addition, the Joint Chiefs of Staff issued a supplementary directive.

Given the significant changes in the war situation, especially the emergence of highly flexible and combat-effective regimental-level tactical units like the "Steel 7th Brigade" in the Chinese People's Volunteer Army, which caused heavy losses and put our army at a strategic disadvantage.

The Joint Conference requests that you, within the authority of the Allied Command in Japan, urgently assemble an elite assault force with high mobility, strong firepower, and expertise in special operations.

The scale need not be large, but the personnel must be absolutely elite, and the equipment must be guaranteed as a top priority.

This force will serve as a strategic reserve, operating alongside the Pacific Fleet and ready to be deployed to the battlefield at any time.

To carry out high-priority missions such as key assaults, counter-insurgency, decapitation strikes, and rescue operations in order to counter the threat of enemy special forces and reverse local disadvantages.

Special operations? Elite assault force?

MacArthur, pipe in mouth, eyes slightly narrowed, gaze through the smoke seemingly piercing the bustling city before him, directed towards the smoke-filled battlefield of the peninsula.

His mind flashed back to the jarring battle reports the staff officer had given him: "Ambush in Qingping Gorge," "Street fighting in Guangzhou," "Aziz killed in action," "Flag captured"...

Every word felt like a needle piercing his extremely arrogant heart.

The name "Steel Seventh Brigade" appears repeatedly, like a ghost, a mark of shame.

He remained silent for a few seconds, and the entire hall fell silent, awaiting his decision.

Only the tobacco burning in the pipe made a slight hissing sound.

The Emperor held his breath, watching the capricious conqueror with bated breath.

Suddenly, MacArthur's lips curled upwards, revealing a smile filled with icy killing intent and absolute confidence. He said, "Very good!"
Ridgway's incompetence allowed a guerrilla force composed of a few yellow-skinned monkeys to dare call themselves a "general team" and swagger in front of us?

Someone, go and do it immediately!
In the name of the Allied Command in Japan, a top-priority mobilization order was issued to all U.S. Army and Marine Corps units stationed in Japan!
Conscription targets: All those who have received the Silver Star Medal or higher in the Pacific War.

All those who achieve 'excellent' in specialized skills assessments such as shooting, demolition, combat, and wilderness survival.

All those who have successfully carried out special reconnaissance or sabotage missions behind enemy lines!
I don't care what their rank is now or what department they're in!
I want to see the candidate list before the Pacific Fleet arrives!
I need a combat force that has completed the initial screening, is fully staffed, and is fully equipped!

The name of this unit will be... um..."

He paused again, his gaze fixed on the deep night outside the window, as if brewing a name loud enough to completely overwhelm the enemy.

A few seconds later, a cold, sharp, and ambitious name was squeezed out from between his teeth:

"United States Army Delta Force!"

Its only goal is to completely crush that so-called 'Steel Seventh Brigade'!
Become the sharpest and deadliest dagger piercing the enemy's heart!

Do you understand? !”

"understand!"

"Guaranteed to complete the mission!"

"Delta Force will surely surpass Steel Seven!"

Several of MacArthur's close associates roared in unison, their voices trembling slightly with excitement.

Their eyes gleamed with fanaticism, as if they could already see the scene of their own hand-forged blades severing the enemy's flag.

The immense opportunity and MacArthur's absolute trust fueled their excitement.

"Go! Go now!"

MacArthur waved his hand, as if issuing a general offensive order.

Several American generals saluted sharply in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized, with a do-or-die spirit. Without hesitation, they turned and strode out of the brightly lit banquet hall.

The heavy footsteps sounded particularly abrupt and hurried in the hall, which had suddenly fallen silent again, and quickly disappeared outside the door.

MacArthur then exhaled a long, satisfied puff of smoke, which swirled around his face, which had regained its composure and even a touch of ease.

He ignored the Emperor beside him, whose face was still pale and whose eyes were still filled with shock, and seemed to have forgotten the earth-shattering defeat report from just now.

MacArthur's gaze swept over the Japanese nobles who had fallen silent again and the ladies who were forcing smiles, and he casually waved his pipe toward the somewhat bewildered military band.

"Music! Keep it on!"

The party continues!

Ladies and gentlemen, let's not let the dust of the distance disturb our enjoyment at this moment.

Victory will ultimately belong to us, just like the fine wine in this glass, which forever belongs to the strong.

MacArthur's voice regained its characteristic, theatrical loudness and confidence, attempting to reignite the glitz and glamour that had been extinguished by reality.

The band conductor seemed to wake from a dream and quickly raised his baton.

Soft jazz music flowed out cautiously once again, attempting to fill the void left by the immense panic.

The guests shifted stiffly, forced smiles back, raised their glasses, and exchanged insincere pleasantries.

But the atmosphere had completely changed.

The air was heavy, as if frozen; beneath the surface of joy lay a bottomless fear and unease.

Everyone knows perfectly well that the storm far away on the Korean Peninsula has torn a huge, irreparable hole in Tokyo's decadent lifestyle.

....................................

Soon after, in the darkest hour before dawn, a thick, salty sea fog, like a huge gray-white curtain, heavily covered Tokyo Bay.

The massive outline of the Yokosuka Naval Base was faintly visible in the fog, with the low, suppressed sound of ship horns occasionally ringing out.

The massive main force of the U.S. Pacific Fleet rested quietly at its anchorage.

Fine water droplets condensed on the cold steel hull, shimmering with a dim luster under the searchlights.

On the dock, the temporarily cleared open space was brightly lit, like an abrupt island in the daytime.

Large numbers of American soldiers stood in several neat square formations, like statues cast from steel and willpower.

Their faces varied; some were young and sharp like unsheathed swords, while others were weathered and hard like rocks polished by wind and sand. But their eyes were surprisingly consistent.

That was the gaze of a true veteran—indifferent and sharp, like a quenched dagger, containing the most direct and pure killing instinct and a calm indifference to life and death.

They carried a variety of weapons, which were not standard equipment.

The M1D "Garland" sniper rifle with an added optical sight, and the "Trench Gun" with a shortened barrel and stock for close-quarters combat in the jungle.

The heavy M1918A2 Browning automatic rifle, and even the blood-stained military machete and specially made combat dagger were tucked into the waistband or strapped to the leg.

Each person's gear was bulging, stuffed with ammunition, explosives, and first-aid kits.

This is a group of "kings of soldiers" who were forcibly selected from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood in the Pacific War and from the elite Japanese troops stationed there. Every scar on their bodies silently tells the story of the cruelty of the battle.

MacArthur, dressed in his crisp five-star general's uniform and wearing his signature, slightly affected military cloak, stood alone on a makeshift reviewing stand covered with the Stars and Stripes.

He didn't wear many medals, only the five stars on his collar gleamed brightly in the strong light.

Not long after, MacArthur spoke:

"Soldiers!"

Look behind you!
Those warships are the embodiment of the industrial power and iron will of the United States of America!
They crushed every enemy that dared to challenge them in the Pacific Ocean!

They once forced the so-called 'Japanese Empire' to sign the surrender document on its deck!
And now, these colossal ships, this force, will carry you—America's sharpest teeth and claws—back to the battlefield!

He paused for a moment, his gaze piercing, as if trying to penetrate the soul of every soldier:

"Before you lies the Korean Peninsula!"
There, some Chinese people, who thought they had won a few insignificant victories, began to arrogantly clamor!

Taking advantage of their commander's stupidity and weakness, and exploiting the complex terrain, they inflicted humiliating losses on our excellent soldiers through surprise attacks, ambushes, and even primitive cold weapons!

He deliberately emphasized the word "humiliating," as if whipping the air, and continued: "They formed a so-called 'Steel Seventh Brigade,' and dared to claim that they could contend with the world's strongest army?"

Absurd! Ridiculous!
This is the most vicious blasphemy against our supreme glory!
Who are you?

You are jungle demons who crawled out of the hellish rainforest of Guadalcanal!

It's hellfire forged from the volcanic ash of Tarawa and Iwo Jima!
They are war machines that survived the bloodshed and carnage of Okinawa!

Each and every one of you has proven yourself to be the strongest warrior with the bones and blood of your enemies!
Your names are synonymous with victory!

And today, you have a new name, a new soul—Delta!

You are no longer ordinary soldiers; you are the United States' most secretive, deadliest, and most omnipotent blade!
Your mission is singular: find that so-called 'Steel Seventh Brigade,' find that commander named Wu Wanli, and then—"

As he spoke, he suddenly made a downward slashing gesture, the movement as sharp as a knife: "Tear them apart!"
With your bullets, your daggers, your teeth, repay them tenfold! A hundredfold! for the humiliation they inflicted upon us!
With their blood and cries, let the world know who the true master of the ground battlefield is!

Let's show those arrogant Chinese idiots what an insurmountable power gap really means!

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, and his gaze swept over the faces ignited by his words, their eyes burning with bloodlust as he roared:
"The sky belongs to America!"

The land belongs to America!
Victory—belongs to America!

"Victory belongs to America!!"

Countless American veterans roared like wolf warriors in unison.

The sound waves, like a real shockwave, instantly tore through the thick fog and silence, echoing wildly between the cold dock and the steel behemoth!
There was no doubt, no hesitation in that roar, only the purest, completely ignited will to kill and an absolute belief in victory!

Two U.S. military police officers with faces as hard as rocks marched in step to the reviewing stand, holding a neatly folded flag with both hands.

The flag appeared a deep, dark green under the lights, the base color of the U.S. Special Forces.

At the center of the flag, a pure white triangular emblem (Δ) composed of a sharp dagger and lightning bolts stands out like a brand.

MacArthur stepped down from the reviewing stand and personally accepted the flag.

He gripped the flagpole with both hands and gave it a sharp shake! The dark green flag unfurled with a whoosh in the biting sea wind, fluttering loudly!
The white triangular dagger lightning emblem gleamed with a cold and resolute light in the lamplight and mist.

"Now, soldiers!"
Pick up your weapons!
Bring your anger!

Board the warship!

Target—the Korean Peninsula!
Let the flag of 'Delta' fly over every inch of enemy-conquered land! March forth!

MacArthur encouraged loudly.

"Set off!!"

In an instant, an even more ferocious roar exploded once again!

Large numbers of U.S. Delta Force soldiers, like poisoned arrows released from a bow, rushed toward the warships with the fastest speed and the most silent demeanor.

The heavy military boots pounded on the cold concrete dock, producing a dense and muffled rumble, like the beating of war drums.

No one spoke, only heavy breathing and the soft clanging of metal weapons clashing. Their figures quickly disappeared into the thick fog and the massive shadows of the warship.

MacArthur stood alone on the now-empty dock, clutching the dark green Delta Flag that was trembling violently in the wind.

The nylon fabric along the edges of the flag made a continuous, tearing crackling sound in the strong wind, like countless tiny whips lashing the air.

He watched the last soldier's figure disappear into the gangway entrance shrouded in mist and water droplets, his eyes sharp.

"Waaaaah——————————"

In the distance, the sirens of the US warships sounded again, their sound extremely penetrating.

The Pacific Fleet, carrying the newly formed Delta Force of the U.S. military, headed toward the Korean Peninsula.

(End of this chapter)