GOLDSEA | ASIAN BOOKVIEW | NONFICTION

n the murky night of June 24, 1950, Soviet 122-mm howitzers, 76-mm guns, and self-propelled guns were already emplaced along the 38th parallel. One hundred fifty Russian-built T-34 tanks were cautiously moving forward to their final attack positions along with some 90,000 combat troops, all trained by Soviet military advisers. The Korean People's Army was poised for its surprise invasion of the South.
     On the other side of the 38th parallel, four understrength Republic of Korea divisions and one regiment were on the front lines. For months there had been warnings of a major invasion. But rumors and alarms had come so often that most of those up front imagined this was going to be another uneventful night. Enlisted ROK soldiers from farming villages had recently been given fifteen-day leaves to help their families with the crops. Already outnumbered, the ROK front line that night was dangerously depleted.
     The cry of "wolf" had come so often that some frontline commanders were in Seoul celebrating the grand opening of the officers' club at ROK Army headquarters. Also present were most of the ranking officers of the Ministry of National Defense. It was a gala affair and later reminded some Americans of the military parties in Honolulu on the eve of the Pearl Harbor attack. They too had been on a Saturday night.
     At the officers' club, many Americans were present, including the American ambassador, John J. Muccio. Born in Italy, he had served in Latin America and was popular at parties where--a fifty-year-old bachelor with an eye for the ladies--he enjoyed singing Spanish love songs. He was not large but gave the impression of being so with a huge head atop broad shoulders. His jet black hair had scarcely a streak of gray, and the bow tie he invariably sported added to his dapper appearance.

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