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Vice Admiral Smoot died 13 February 1984 in Laguna Hills, California.
A member of the Naval Academy class of 1923, he was 82 years old at the time of his death. Shortly after the Naval Institute’s oral history program was inaugurated in 1969, Admiral Smoot became one of the early participants. A 349-page transcript covers his entire 43-year naval career. His recollections of his tour of duty on Taiwan from 1958 to 1962 are still relevant in explaining the relationship between the Republic of China on the island of Taiwan and the People’s Republic of China on the mainland. The following memoir is an edited excerpt from an interview with Admiral Smoot conducted 21 March 1971 by Commander Etta-Belle Kitchen, U. S. Navy (Retired). Consequently, the admiral’s frequent references to President Chiang Kai-shek are in the present tense, because the generalissimo died in 1975. Moreover, the strong relationship between the United States and Taiwan prevailing at the time of the interview is reflected in the admiral’s recollections. President Richard Nixon’s dramatic announcement that he would visit Peking and open up relations with the People’s Republic of China was made later in 1971, with the visit itself made in 1972.
It was, without a doubt, quite a way to end a career—one of the most fascinating and different jobs I ever had.
Basically, there’s a historical background to the job that stems from the fact that President Chiang Kai-shek, a great and wonderful man, was let down by the United States at a time when he probably could have made quite a showing for himself on the mainland against Mao Tse-tung’s forces. And so he escaped with some 50,000 of his followers. Somehow or other, through quite a wonderful hegira, he reached Taiwan, where he established his government in exile. For a reason that has never been quite clear to me, the State Department realized that maybe here was an opportunity to set up an important bastion in the forward area—right on the doorstep of Communist China— and so give Chiang the prestige he deserved by providing ambassadorial recognition, and establishing a military advisory group for him. In the process, the United States would also establish a senior command on the island.
The military title of my job was “Commander U. S. Taiwan Defense Command.” It arose from a treaty that we have with Chiang’s government. In essence, the treaty says that the United States will assist Chiang and his military forces in the defense of Taiwan against any aggressor. And as far as the offshore islands are concerned (the Taiwanese call them “associated islands”), that the United States would assist the president and his military forces in defense of these islands, provided the assault against them, was a threat against Taiwan itself.
To implement the treaty, a status of forces agreement was set up, and the Taiwan Defense Command was organized ashore. It has a rather large staff, made up of all three services. Traditionally, the command has always been Navy, because it is an island, and that puts it in an area of military defense in terms of a navy rather than an army or air force. The status of forces agreement does say that, in the event of emergency, the commander of the U. S. Taiwan Defense Command can call upon the three services for such forces as he needs, depending upon the circumstances.
When my wife Sally and I went to Taiwan in July 1958, we were immediately sent to the president’s guest house, where we had about three rooms, four errand boys, and Sal’s private maid. We stayed at that guest house about five days. Sal was called by Madame Chiang, who said, “We have a place where we think you will like to live.” Our future home was about 100 feet long and about 70 feet wide. It had seven bedrooms, three or four baths, and a large living room. I’d never seen such a big thing; it was magnificent. The place overlooked the whole city of Taipei, 2,000 feet below. The generalissimo himself lived about two or three blocks up the hill from us.
We were definitely bugged. I think all of the head military people were bugged. We would have the bugs cleaned up every once in a while by the American security forces. They’d come in and electronically remove them, but the Chinese would put them back again. It was sort of a friendly bugging and understanding. We looked at it as something that wasn’t definitely designed to spy on us; it was to seek casual information. The Chinese don’t
particularly think of that as bad. They weren’t very expert at it, because we were always able to trace it down and find out where it was.
If we were careless enough to talk about classified matters any place except in the most secure places, then we deserved being heard. It was wise to take it for granted that there were methods of listening to us when we were in our homes, in our automobiles, in our offices, and other places, so we would write notes to each other. The U. S. military, of course, had three or four places that were absolutely secure, including our headquarters. Those places were impossible to bug, and they were sterilized electronically on regular schedules.
As for the military work itself, 1 found that it was not too confining, nor was it too complicated. I can’t describe the things that took up most of my time, because they were highly classified. They had to do with intelligence matters over on the mainland and also with intelligence matters concerning our host—what Taiwan’s plans were.
Everyone understands that the Gimo’s [Chiang Kai-shek’s nickname: a shortened version of generalissimo] whole reason for being, and that of all the people who came over with him, is to return to the mainland, where they would defeat communism and establish a government under his rule. The fact that he’s been able to maintain this facade, this ambition, in the eyes of his own people for these 20-odd years, and still retain their confidence and be their ruler, is a tribute to a great man. And E he is a great man.
You might ask what kind of government does Taiwan have. I think most people think it’s a monarchy, and a very strict monarchy. I’d call it a benevolent oligarchy, because he does use the brains of his people. He calls them in for conferences and makes his decisions after listening to them. And they are not arbitrary decisions; he’s willing to listen, and he does listen.
The offshore islands are a symbol to the Taiwanese. They are probably the most highly developed and defended pieces of real estate in the world— magnificently defended. Diplomatically and militarily, any incident that could occur that might warrant U. S. assistance and backing and give them an opportunity to make a move to “return 1 to the mainland” would be welcomed
Admiral Roland N. Smoot, U. S. Navy (Retired)
emergency
help.”
with great enthusiasm. So one of the biggest jobs we had was to keep the people of Taiwan from being too overt ln their military actions around the offshore islands. One of the most serious °f these incidents occurred right after 1 arrived in Taiwan.
Three weeks after I had gotten there, we were at a big dinner party at Government House. All of the important People of Taiwan were there, as well as all our own top military brass. 1 was approached by the president’s aide,
K. Hu. If there was any one Chinese in the military in Taiwan who I saw more of than anybody else, it was K- Hu, because he had direct access to me and direct access to the president, circumventing channels.
He came to me at the dinner party and spoke over my shoulder, “Admi- I’m going to have to report to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General ”bng, to you, and to the president, that the communists have opened an intensive bombardment on the offshore 'slands. They began about such and such an hour [and he named the hour], and already they have fired over 00,000 shells. This is considered an that’s going to require some
Needless to say, the dinner party broke up, and 1 hardly saw Mrs. Smoot for the next six weeks. The bombardment was intensive and generally directed against military installations and resupply operations. This surprise situation was exactly what the Taiwanese would have liked to use to directly involve the United States in a military action against the communists. We had to refresh our memories frequently on the specifics of our mutual defense treaty. The treaty provides that if any attack on the offshore islands endangers Taiwan itself, we will assist in its defense. Otherwise, we can help only in terms of advice and logistic support— no direct military support.
It was a hard thing to say, but I had to tell the president that we would not be directly involved militarily in this affair. We could and did take over military defense of Taiwan itself, thus releasing his own military forces to defend and resupply the offshore islands. This was a deep blow to the Taiwanese. We were going to have to prove to the Gimo, his military, the people of Taiwan, and to the world that Taiwan could continue indefinitely to resupply the besieged offshore islands even if the Chinese Communists continued
their bombardment at the intense level we were experiencing at the outset of the attack.
We had to keep up the morale of the Taiwanese soldiers who were out there. We had to be sure that communications were always open, that provisions could get there, that they could maintain themselves, and that they wouldn’t suffer serious casualties in any great numbers. Naturally, there were going to be casualties, but for the most part they were very few.
To take over the defense of Taiwan required increased U. S. military forces, so certain elements of the Seventh Fleet reported to me. I also called in the 11th Marine Air Wing Detachment from Japan—a tremendous group
Admiral Smoot, pictured below with Admiral H. C. Hopwood and Commander of the Nationalist Navy Admiral Liang to his left, steadfastly maintained the U. S. position to defend Taiwan but not render direct military support to help the Gimo, shown reviewing U. S. Marines on the USS Wasp (CVA-18), in his fight to return to the mainland.
As the Nationalists’ guns answered the Communist gunfire directed at offshore islands, Chiang Kai-shek expected more than logistic support from the United States—but, as in 1955, when the U. S. Navy moved supplies for Taiwan, that’s all he got.
of wonderful people who can take up their airfield and move it where it is needed and be ready to go in a week. These Marines are remarkable. And I called on the Fifth Air Force for what help it could give me with logistic planes, etc., from down in the Philippines. We served as escort for Taiwanese convoys, but we couldn’t let our ships or planes shoot at the mainland. The Taiwanese wanted to bomb the mainland, using their own planes and bombs. Their objective, which was very logical, was to silence all those guns. We put this development to Washington, because I honestly couldn’t answer it.
The reply, in essence, was, “No, don’t let them do it. Don’t tell them ‘no,’ but just tell them you’re not going to support them if they do. This is just what they’re waiting for—to develop some kind of big hassle over the mainland, and then we’ve got to help them.” Washington was right, of course, and we proceeded accordingly.
We developed a study which proved to them that for every one of those guns that they might silence by the type of bombing they had available, they’d probably lose almost a squadron of planes. This, of course, was too big a price to pay, and they were convinced of the proposal’s infeasibility. Behind it all, we knew—and I am sure that the majority of the Nationalist Chinese military planners knew—that the communists couldn’t keep that concentrated bombardment up indefinitely; it was too expensive. A continual artillery bombardment of several thousand shells per day depletes your arsenal pretty soon. Sometime in October, after about three months of bombardment, the communists announced that they thought they had punished their deserters enough, so they were going to resort to a system of firing on every other day. They still fire a few propaganda shells on every other day.
Those weeks were quite a strain. I lost about 15 pounds and was hardly ever home. I rarely ever left my office until after midnight, because that was when we could have direct communication with the United States. It was morning in Washington then, and the CNO and his staff were at work, so I could give them the latest reports directly. I had a wonderful staff of professionals who worked long hours. It was a strain, but it was interesting. But then, just like that, it was over.
The generalissimo is a military man himself, a good one, but he’s smart enough to know that the provisions of the treaty were clear. He knew enough to realize that he could not bully anybody into breaking them, even though I was fresh to the situation. He’s too much of a gentleman to try that. When he gets a direct “no,” he knows how to take it. He understands that it’s a military decision, and there’s nothing personal involved. It didn’t affect our personal relations in the least. In fact, I think it cemented them. I think he respected me more for standing up for
our position, although he was deeply disappointed in the American decision. It was his chance to return to the mainland, and this is his whole reason for being.
This is the thing that I think the American people don’t understand— this “return to the mainland” objective °f the Gimo. I think it’s one of the most important things I learned while there. The Gimo looks at his return as inevitable, that ultimately he will—and that we will help him. We look at it, and most of the world looks at it, as a stupid, foolish fancy. But there’s a story I can tell about it that takes out an awful lot of the foolishness.
The story begins on one very beautiful Taiwanese day when I was called by the president’s oldest son, Chiang Ching-kuo, a great and fine man. At that time, he was a three-star general in ibe Gimo’s army, and headed up an organization called the Special Forces.
be call came about a year and a half after the offshore island emergency was over; he asked, “Would you take a trip with me?”
I said, “Sure. Where are we going?”
He said, “I prefer not to tell you where we’re going. I understand that You can’t leave the island unless you nave the approval of your boss in the pacific, but we’re not going to leave |he island. We’re going to stay on the ‘sland, but we are going in my plane. I Prefer that you take your Chinese aide who can interpret for you. Be prepared 0 stay overnight.”
“Uniform?”
‘Yes, I prefer you be in uniform.”
“Okay.”
So we set out in his plane, and enjoyed three or four rounds of simply abulous noisy Chinese bridge. (I’m tinging this in, because it will be significant later.) There were all kinds of fiendly arguments and a wonderful nnch. His Chinese hostesses enter- ained us with Chinese aboriginal ances during the flight. I never looked at the territory; I didn’t know where we Were going, and didn’t care. It was the astest two hours of flight I’ve ever ad. The same thing was true of the 'ght back. They didn’t want me to now where I’d been—therefore, they Created distractions.
, landed in a place somewhere in e middle of the island of Taiwan, in I ts perfectly beautiful spot that looked ! e a great big extinct volcano. The j5st *bing that I could see was a field •led with a great number of tents.
ey seemed to stretch out for acres
and acres. We landed on a nice little airfield with a short runway.
Before we went to bed, I said,
“How long are we going to be here, Ching-kuo?”
He said, “We’ll be home probably for lunch tomorrow. 1 want you to see something tomorrow morning.”
We got up the next morning, and after breakfast, boarded jeeps and went to a big level field, adjacent to where all the tents were pitched, where I was treated to a beautiful review of the troops. We trooped in a magnificent procession of jeeps with flags flying. When the review was over, I was introduced to a two-star general who wore a peculiar type of insignia—that of the Special Forces. He took me to a tent and introduced me to a man from a little' town on the mainland, located in one of the most isolated areas of southern China. The man had relatives living in the region, as did every other man in that tent.
The general went on to say, “All of these 20 men who are in this one tent have been trained to perfection in the art of guerrilla warfare, and they have some of the nastiest and most horrible instruments you’ve ever seen. They are clever, and they are motivated. They’re quick and strong. They are to be dropped in some night.”
“There are 300 to 400 of these tents and 300 to 400 of these little villages up the Haaka Valley—all with relatives, all with families. These men know the towns; they know where the banks are; they know where the stores are. These people know all about them. The Gimo wants to drop these people— 5,000 of them—up the Haaka Valley some night, maybe two or three nights. They go up there night after night in these low-flying planes and come back. They don’t drop their people. They just go up there to show that they can do it, and hardly ever get fired upon or chased.”
The plan was to let 5,000 of these trained guerrillas loose in this isolated part of the mainland. They would be devils at night—able to kill, disrupt, and disturb all of the surrounding communist area, but during the day, they could disappear into the villages, blending in with the people who lived there, because they came from there.
What does the Gimo want? He wants the United States to support him in crossing the Taiwan Strait and also help him in supporting a beachhead on one of the isolated beaches on the mainland for about a week while he makes this landing. That’s all he wants, and that’s
his plan for a return to the mainland. Well, who knows whether that might work or not? I think it might.
I was taken on this trip probably to see a part of his major plan—not to talk about it, not to analyze it at all. I was taken on a special trip for a special purpose. On the way back, we again were entertained on the plane with a noisy bridge game, fun, and lots of food. I never saw where I’d gone and didn’t care. I reported it to the chief of naval operations, and he said, “Okay, they’ve got a special place down there. We can’t tell them that they can’t have that, but if he ever asks for any support, tell him no, we can’t support him.”
It got so that, before my time was over, the United States was letting them drop around 12 to 20 men at a time on the mainland. These were harassing forces for sabotage. They’d take a midget submarine and put 20 or 30 men ashore at night, then they’d go over where the communists had a bunch of guns annoying the offshore islands. The men would go and cut the throats of all the gun crews and then disappear. The communists would wonder why the guns weren’t firing, and in their investigation would find all the crews with their throats cut.
But the Gimo is not a foolish man.
He is not going to try to return to the mainland in force, and he’s not going to involve the United States and embarrass us and him by doing that.
I think that eventually Taiwan is probably going to be a source of embarrassment to the United States. The nations of the world are going to wonder why we’re still supporting Taiwan.
I think this will happen just as soon as there is a strong effort to approve a two-China seat in the United Nations. I think that when this occurs, we will find that the Gimo or the Gimo’s son— whoever is running Taiwan at that time—will have no part of it, and Taiwan will completely withdraw. If it withdraws from the United Nations, we’ve got to withdraw our support from Taiwan. Then Taiwan is on its own, and that’s it.
A detailed summary of Admiral Smoot’s entire transcript may be obtained by sending a stamped, self-addressed envelope to the Director of Oral History, U. S. Naval Institute, Annapolis, Maryland 21402. A catalog listing the approximately 140 volumes of ora! history in the Naval Institute's collection is available from the same address at a cost of $2.00.