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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 hard-won 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.
"We Go." 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. A little after 6 a.m. June 29, the wheels of the Bataan rolled down the wet Haneda runway, churning up a fine spray. Soon after the plane was airborne, MacArthur pulled out the corncob pipe which had been one of his World War II trademarks. "I don't smoke this back there in Tokyo," he said. "They'd think I was a farmer."
As the Bataan droned along, the weather grew better, and over southern Japan four Mustangs flew up to provide a fighter umbrella for,the general's plane. Overruling his subordinates, who wanted to land him ia safety at Korea's far southern port of Pusan, MacArthur insisted on heading for Suwon airstrip, 20 miles south of Seoul and a target of persistent North Korean bombing and strafing attacks. Over Korea, a Russian-built Yak tried to slip through the Mustangs to get at the Bataan. As a Mustang closed in on the Yak, MacArthur said hopefully, "We'll get him cold." But the Bataan's pilot, Major Anthony Storey, fled the scene as fast as possible, cheated the general of his ringside seat.