The Greatest Traitor (15 page)

As the Americans had continued to render vital assistance to the government of Syngman Rhee throughout 1949 and 1950, so Stalin and his cohorts proved equally attentive to Kim’s North Korea, building up its army and organising its economy. Throughout 1949, Stalin remained extremely wary as Kim relentlessly pressed him for his backing for an invasion. The Soviet leader was preoccupied with the crisis in Berlin, and in any case he didn’t believe the North Koreans yet possessed the required military strength; he also fretted about a possible attack from the South.

Mao’s victories in China in the latter months of the year encouraged Kim to increase the pressure on Russia and, by January 1950, Stalin was slowly, reluctantly, prepared to offer his support, at least in principle. Mao himself, in the early months of 1950, was still extinguishing the remnants of Chiang Kai-shek’s resistance, and his energies were focused on reshaping China according to his own particular vision of Communism. Nevertheless, when Kim visited him in Beijing on 13
May for secret talks, Mao said he would give his support provided the war was quick and decisive. He promised too that China would send troops if the United States entered the war to defend the South.

When the telephone rang at his home in Independence, Missouri, just after 9.15 p.m. on the evening of Saturday, 24 June 1950, President Harry Truman had been enjoying a rare weekend’s rest. On the other end of the line was Dean Acheson, his Secretary of State. ‘Mr President, I have some very serious news,’ Acheson informed him. ‘The North Koreans have invaded South Korea.’ There was a fourteen-hour time difference between Seoul and Washington, so the armies of North Korea had actually swept across the 38th parallel shortly before dawn on Sunday, 25 June.

Truman set off for Kansas City airport to return to Washington and take charge of the crisis. There was little doubt as to how he would react, with his personal physician, General Wallace Graham, telling reporters: ‘Northern or Communist China is marching on South Korea and we are going to fight. The boss is going to hit these fellows hard.’

If the strategists and politicians were caught unawares, so too were the citizens of South Korea. Despite warning signs in recent months, they had developed a certain sense of complacency over any impending conflict.

That morning, Larry Zellers, a young, newly married Methodist minister from Texas, was sleeping soundly alone in his bed at 292 Man Wul Dong in the border town of Kaesong. He was woken by the sound of small arms and artillery fire soon after 4.30 a.m.: ‘I then did something foolish: I decided that it was simply another border skirmish between North and South. I even turned over in bed and tried to go back to sleep. In my two years in Kaesong, I had learned that most such outbreaks of fighting across the 38th parallel took place during the early morning hours, and like many people all over the world who live with danger, I got used to it.’

In fact, some time during the night, just two miles from where he lay, the North Korean Army had slipped across the 38th parallel and re-laid the torn-up section of railway running north out of Kaesong. Then, in a brilliant manoeuvre, they had packed a train full of soldiers and driven it boldly into the town’s station. Effectively, this was the start of the war.

Some fifty miles south, in the capital of Seoul, George Blake was clearing up after a party at his house to celebrate the ‘name day’ of his friend Jean Meadmore – the feast of St John the Baptist. He grabbed a few hours sleep before waking at around 9 a.m., then made the short walk to the Anglican Cathedral where it was his custom to attend morning service in the crypt. Before the service began, a hasty, whispered conversation between an American officer and some members of his Embassy alerted him to the fact that something out of the ordinary had happened, but Blake ignored the chatter and took his place in the pews, remaining there throughout the ceremony alongside Captain Holt. Afterwards, the wife of an American colonel excitedly informed the congregation that her husband had been called away because North Korean troops had crossed the 38th parallel and heavy fighting had broken out all along the line.

It was clear by late afternoon that the North Koreans were advancing rapidly towards the capital. The crisis required Blake to perform consular duties and he jumped into his jeep, criss-crossing the city to warn British families of the impending danger, urging them if at all possible to leave.

The diplomats, and a group of missionaries who had stayed behind hunkered down in the legation compound and waited for the invaders to arrive. On the following morning, their numbers were bolstered by the arrival of Jean Meadmore and his colleagues from the French consulate. Most of the American contingent had left the capital.

Holt had sent a message to London via the Cable & Wireless Company (the legation didn’t have its own wireless station) asking for instructions, but he didn’t expect a reply until Wednesday at
the earliest. The latest information suggested the marauding North Koreans would reach the capital by nightfall on Tuesday.

On Monday evening the group gathered to decide on a plan of action. Holt told his colleagues that strictly speaking, according to the terms of his mission, he should follow the South Korean Government, to which he was accredited, wherever they went. But of course they had already fled en masse, telling no one of their destination, so he felt free from any such obligation. All his instincts urged him to remain; he felt it was both his diplomatic and moral duty. Paul Garbler, a young American naval intelligence officer, recalls him picking up a sword that he kept over his mantelpiece, brandishing it and saying: ‘I’m not leaving; this is my legation and British soil. If I have to, I’ll fight them with my sword.’

Britain was a non-belligerent in the war so its representatives were, at least in theory, under no threat. Blake and Owen were mindful of their brief to act as a ‘listening post’ in the event of invasion, so they too had no intention of deserting.

Most of Tuesday was spent in nervous anticipation as the sound of gunfire grew ever closer. There were loud explosions and flashes of fire from the direction of the river, and Blake and his colleagues learned later in the day that the road and railway bridges had been blown up. Even if they had wanted to escape, there was now no way out. Blake and Owen spent several hours journeying to and fro from the American Embassy, laying in stores – principally quantities of food and petrol – that the departing diplomats had left behind.

On Wednesday, 28 June, the sound of the fighting died down and an eerie silence descended on the city. The servants who hurried back and forth from the compound with scraps of information reported that Seoul was now in the hands of the invaders. Indeed, a large contingent of troops had taken over the broadcasting station directly overlooking the legation.

In the evening, while waiting for the inevitable knock on the door, the party settled down for dinner in Captain Holt’s house. The meal
had the feel of a Last Supper and for Blake, who saw Biblical parallels in most situations, there was a further analogy waiting to be drawn: an act of gross betrayal was about to take place back home in the corridors of Whitehall.

On the previous day, Tuesday, 27 June, the Labour Cabinet had convened in Downing Street. Once the lesser matters of possible subsidies for beleaguered trawlermen and aid for similarly struggling hill farmers had been dealt with, the bulk of the meeting was naturally concerned with the crisis in Korea. The Prime Minister, Clement Attlee, and Foreign Secretary, Ernest Bevin, had been forewarned that later that day President Truman would say ‘centrally-directed Communist imperialism had passed beyond subversion in seeking to conquer independent nations and was now resorting to armed aggression and war’. This made them nervous, as recorded in the Downing Street minutes.

Attlee and his colleagues had no desire to depict the aggression by the North Koreans as part of a wider Communist conspiracy in the region. Simply put, they didn’t want to say or do anything that would draw the Chinese and the Soviets further into the equation at this stage. They even worried that America’s inflammatory words might provoke China to attack the British Crown colony of Hong Kong. Nonetheless, despite the Cabinet’s concerns, they swung behind America’s resolutions at the United Nations. The first one, Security Council Resolution 82, issued on the day of the invasion, simply condemned it. Then, later that day, Resolution 83 was published. This was a call to arms, recommending that member states provide military assistance to the Republic of Korea.

Blake and his colleagues had, of course, been too busy with their own survival prospects to follow the latest political developments. More practically, the Cable & Wireless Company had evacuated the city the day before so they couldn’t communicate with their government back home. It was, therefore, with some consternation that they listened to
the BBC news and discovered precisely what part Britain was to play. Attlee had told a subdued chamber in the House of Commons: ‘We have decided to support the United States action in Korea by immediately placing our naval forces in Japanese waters at the disposal of the United States authorities to operate on behalf of the Security Council in support of South Korea.’

Winston Churchill, leader of the Opposition, vowed that his party would give Attlee ‘any support he needs in what seems to be our inescapable duty’. He asked the Prime Minister if the British naval force would ‘make a substantial contribution relative to the American forces which are there’. Attlee replied: ‘Yes, Sir. I think our forces are almost the same as those the United States have there.’

Blake and his British colleagues were not safe after all: ‘What we heard was a great shock and surprise,’ he recalled. ‘We had been caught. Instead of being neutrals, as we thought, we were now belligerents in enemy territory . . . I did not blame SIS for what had gone wrong. I am certain that the British Government had not intended to join in the war but had been drawn into it by the United States. In fact, I don’t think that the Americans originally planned to get involved either, but General MacArthur pushed them into it.’

Now that they found themselves behind enemy lines, Blake and Owen decided there was no time to lose and spent the rest of the night burning their codes and secret documents in a corner of the legation garden, hoping all the while that the smoke wouldn’t attract the attention of the North Korean troops outside.

The following morning, the bell rang and the British contingent went to the gate to meet a delegation from the conquering army – a North Korean officer and two of his men. The soldiers were disarmingly polite; the only demand they made was that the Union Flag should be lowered as it might attract the wrong sort of attention from aircraft.

For the next few days no further visits followed and by Sunday – a week after the invasion – Blake and the others were feeling a shade
more optimistic about their prospects. Shut away from the world, they had no real sense of how the invaders were behaving, but what reports they did receive indicated no widespread marauding or retribution. Their guarded optimism, however, was swept away around 6 p.m. on Sunday, 2 July. This time, three jeeps full of armed soldiers drove through the gates of the legation and made their way up to the main house. The British contingent was told to assemble in the courtyard and despite protests from Captain Holt, were ordered into lorries and driven off to the Police Headquarters in Seoul. They were promised they didn’t need to take any clothes or provisions as they would only be detained for twenty minutes.

Upon arrival, they faced detailed questioning, with the English-speaking interrogator appearing dissatisfied by their replies. A series of dramatic events then began to unfold. ‘While I was sitting at a narrow desk opposite the officer who was questioning me, somebody in a room below fired off a rifle,’ Blake recalled. ‘The bullet passed through the floor and the desk at which we were sitting, shattering the inkpot that was standing between us and covering us with ink, then whizzed past our foreheads and disappeared in to the ceiling.’

No sooner had Blake recovered his composure than he witnessed a sickening sequence of incidents at the other end of the room. Two South Korean policemen were in the middle of being interrogated when their inquisitor decided to take a break and left his desk to smoke a cigarette. The policemen, who already bore the scars of severe beatings, managed to get to their feet and made for the second-floor window. There, with defiant screams, they threw themselves out, hoping to kill themselves and end their torture. A few minutes later Blake watched in horror as the men were dragged back to the room, bleeding profusely, their faces completely misshapen by scars and bruises, limbs torn and mangled. They were put back in their chairs. The interrogator put out his cigarette, turned to them and resumed questioning as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile Captain Holt asserted vehemently that the treatment
meted out to him and his staff was contrary to international law and demanded to be allowed to communicate with his government. His protestations were in vain.

Around midnight, he and his companions were given a sparse meal of rice packed tight into a ball. Shortly afterwards, the British and French contingent, together with a couple of American businessmen who had stayed behind, were bundled into the back of a lorry and driven out of the city, accompanied by guards with bayonets. Their nerves weren’t helped by the excitable behaviour of the ‘little major’ in charge of them who, along the way, persisted in practising with his newly issued Russian pistol, firing off volleys of indiscriminate shots into the darkness.

After about an hour the vehicle stopped in a small valley in the surrounding hills. The captives were ordered out of the jeep and made to stand in a line. They had little doubt as to what was to happen next: ‘We all had the same thought. We’d been taken to this remote spot to be summarily executed. After all we had heard about the Communists, this seemed to us the only explanation which fitted the circumstances,’ Blake recalled. ‘Even the reserve barrel of petrol we took as confirmation. It was to be used to burn our bodies afterwards.’