Belief in an underlying cause is fully as important to success in war as any local esprit or discipline induced or produced by whatever kind of command or leadership action. Cromwell’s “Ironsides” marched into battle singing hymns. Their iron discipline was matched by an inner conviction that never deserted them in any kind of dramatic crisis.
Grosvenor Square, where our headquarters and the American Embassy were located, through the soldier’s love of nicknames soon became “Eisenhowerplatz,” and was so referred to, at times, in the press.
This was merely amusing, but the location made it difficult to lead a quiet personal life. British hospitality and the presence in London of a number of American friends combined to bring me innumerable invitations of all kinds. Finally, to avoid the inescapable incidents of hotel life, I moved my personal quarters to a quiet little cottage on the edge of the city. I lived there with my naval aide, Commander Harry C. Butcher, and my orderly, Sergeant Michael McKeogh. Two Negro soldiers, Sergeants John Moaney and John Hunt, joined us to take care of the house and a simple mess. They stayed with me throughout the war.
From July onward I did not, during the war, accept any invitations except from the Prime Minister or from members of the American or British armed services. These always had business as their primary object.
Visits to the troops had not yet assumed their later proportions on my schedule; there were still relatively few units in the United Kingdom to visit. One of the earliest trips of this sort was in connection with our first offensive operation against the enemy—a bombing raid to celebrate July 4, 1942. The targets were four German airdromes in Holland. Six Bostons under command of Captain Charles C. Kegelman, included as part of a larger British formation, ran into severe flak and two failed to return.16 To mark our entry into the European fighting I took time to visit the crews immediately before the take-off, and talked with the survivors after their return.
During the war Mr. Churchill maintained such close contact with all operations as to make him a virtual member of the British Chiefs of Staff; I cannot remember any major discussion with them in which he did not participate.
An inspirational leader, he seemed to typify Britain’s courage and perseverance in adversity and its conservatism in success. He was a man of extraordinarily strong convictions and a master in argument and debate. Completely devoted to winning the war and discharging his responsibility as Prime Minister of Great Britain, he was difficult indeed to combat when conviction compelled disagreement with his views. In most cases problems were solved on a basis of almost instant agreement, but intermittently important issues arose where this was far from true. He could become intensely oratorical, even in discussion with a single person, but at the same time his intensity of purpose made his delivery seem natural and appropriate. He used humor and pathos with equal facility, and drew on everything from the Greek classics to Donald Duck for quotation, cliché, and forceful slang to support his position.
I admired and liked him. He knew this perfectly well and never hesitated to use that knowledge in his effort to swing me to his own line of thought in any argument. Yet in spite of his strength of purpose, in those instances where we found our convictions in direct opposition, he never once lost his friendly attitude toward me when I persisted in my own course, nor did he fail to respect with meticulous care the position I occupied as the senior American officer and, later, the Allied commander in Europe. He was a keen student of the war’s developments and of military history, and discussion with him, even on purely professional grounds, was never profitless. If he accepted a decision unwillingly he would return again and again to the attack in an effort to have his own way, up to the very moment of execution. But once action was started he had a faculty for forgetting everything in his desire to get ahead, and invariably tried to provide British support in a greater degree than promised. Some of the questions in which I found myself, at various periods of the war, opposed to the Prime Minister were among the most critical I faced, but so long as I was acting within the limits of my combined directive he had no authority to intervene except by persuasion or by complete destruction of the Allied concept. Nevertheless, in countless ways he could have made my task a harder one had he been anything less than big, and I shall always owe him an immeasurable debt of gratitude for his unfailing courtesy and zealous support, regardless of his dislike of some important decisions. He was a great war leader and he is a great man.
Our planning and organizational work sometimes involved differences in national conceptions that struck at the very foundation of our basic plan. These points were discussed in an atmosphere of cordiality and objectivity, but they were none the less serious. Whenever I found myself opposed to the views of the Prime Minister, he was, of course, supported by his War Cabinet and technical advisers. That differences should occur was inescapable and natural. Varying situations in national geography bring with them differences in military doctrine, and special war experiences bring with them strong differences in projected strategy. An early instance involved the proposed employment of our slowly developing bombing force.
The U. S. Army Air Forces believed in daylight bombing with the heavily defended Fortress type of bomber as the backbone of the organization.17 I emphatically agreed. Each of these planes carried ten .50-caliber machine guns for defense. We believed that, in suitable close formations permitting concentration of a terrific fire power, they could proceed well outside of the area in which they could be protected by their own fighters and could carry out daylight bombing operations without undue losses.
The Prime Minister was convinced that this view was false and that the United States was merely wasting its effort and resources in making the attempt. General Spaatz knew, of course, that the United States was already developing long-range fighters which would become available by the time his Eighth Air Force could reach its scheduled strength. However, for some months his forces would have to employ the P-39 and P-40 fighters, which had a very limited operational radius, roughly about three hundred miles.18 The Prime Minister urged us to give up the whole idea of daylight bombing and start training our crews for night work. British air experience at that time was far greater than ours. Following hard upon the Battle of Britain in 1940, they had begun laboriously to build up a bomber force that could strike deep into the heart of Germany. Their experience had driven them to bomb only at night; otherwise they suffered unsupportable losses. The British staged their first 1000-plane raid in an attack against Cologne on the night of May 30–31, 1942. Losses amounted to 42 planes.19
The British bombers could not, in daylight, have undertaken such an operation except with prohibitive losses. We believed that this was due to the fact that they were designed for range and weight lifting at the expense of speed and defensive fire power. The British fighter called the Spitfire was handicapped by very short range, although in other respects it was one of the finest then in existence. While acknowledging the superior defensive power of our Fortress formations, the British still held that unless we quickly turned to night bombing our losses would be prohibitive and our effort futile.
The arguments on this point were long, with neither side convinced. It was granted by all that daylight precision bombing, if successful, would be far superior to night area bombing in ton-for-ton effect. Consequently discussions centered exclusively around the one point of feasibility. General Spaatz and I were supported in our position by the United States Chiefs of Staff and we insisted that our system should first be thoroughly and completely tested before anything could lead us to deviate from it.
In the final outcome, months later, both sides were proved to be partially right. When our heavy bombers first began operating in formation outside fighter range, the volume of their defensive fire so astonished the enemy that for a period we enjoyed a considerable degree of immunity. Gradually, however, the German devised new tactics and methods and began to use his fighters in large concentrations against our units. Our percentage of losses beg
an to mount rapidly. On June 13, 1943, the U. S. Eighth Air Force attacked Kiel with 76 planes, without fighter support, and lost 22.20 A later raid by 291 planes suffered a loss of 60. With each plane shot down went also a minimum of ten officers and men. In the face of such percentage losses it became certain that but for the mass production of the long-range efficient fighter we would have had to modify our bombing program and could have proceeded into Germany itself only under cover of darkness or bad weather.
But in the initial arguments these experiences still belonged to the future. A great factor in my own calculations was the degree of dependence I placed upon the operation of the precision bomber in preparing the way for a ground invasion of France.
This was the keynote of the invasion plan. Unless accurate daylight bombing was feasible, I believed, large-scale invasion of the Continent would be exceedingly risky. Therefore I maintained that even if we could carry on precision bombing only to the extreme range of our fighters we must continue to develop the United States forces on that basis, so as to have available the great force that would be needed to carry out the preparatory work in the areas selected for invasion.
The upshot was that the United States Air Forces stuck to their program of precision bombing, while the British Bomber Force continued to concentrate on increasing the efficiency of night bomber operations. While the question was raised again, on the highest levels, at the Casablanca Conference in January 1943, the result was merely to confirm this earlier decision.21
Coupled with our organizational and preparatory program was the task of developing an operational plan to carry out the agreed-upon strategical concepts of the two governments. At that time General Sir Bernard Paget was commanding the Home Forces of Great Britain, from which would have to come the British contingent of the invading army. His troops included a number of Canadian divisions serving under the command of General Andrew McNaughton. Air Chief Marshal Sir Sholto Douglas was designated as the commander for the British Expeditionary Air Forces. Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay was named to head British naval forces. It was in co-operation with these men that the original work of developing a European invasion plan was undertaken by United States headquarters.
It is difficult now to recapture the sober, even fearful, atmosphere of those days: the state of the public mind which was reflected in the thinking of so many people in and out of the service. Except for the early June defeat of the Japanese fleet at Midway, Allied fortunes were at low ebb. Prospects were bright only in their long-range aspect, and were contingent on Russia’s maintaining herself in the war with the material help that could be given her while the United States developed her latent power. Moreover, it was essential that Great Britain hang on grimly in India and the Western Desert in order to keep our two principal enemies divided and to deny them the Middle East oil.
In the summer of 1942 it took a very considerable faith, not to say optimism, to look forward to the day when the potentialities of the United States would be fully developed and the power of the three great Allies could be applied simultaneously and decisively against the European Axis. This attitude of faith was demanded at all superior headquarters. Any expression of defeatism or any failure to push ahead in confidence was instant cause for relief from duty, and all officers knew it.
At the time of my first visit to London, in May, no detailed study of tactical plans for an invasion of the coast line of northwestern Europe had been made. Requirements in troops, airplanes, supplies, and equipment were all yet to be determined. In general terms I was thinking of an assault to be launched early in 1943, conducted during its initial stages by British troops supported by possibly ten or twelve American divisions. This general idea presupposed the existence in England of an air force capable with some reinforcement of carrying out the preliminary and supporting action that we believed to be necessary. It presupposed, also, British capacity for assisting materially in the quick delivery of all the amphibious equipment we would need, and, of course, contemplated the regular arrival of new divisions from the United States in sufficient strength to support the attack constantly and to enlarge the operations against the enemy.
With these general ideas in mind but with no detailed studies upon which to make a firm conclusion, I went to an informal meeting with the British Chiefs of Staff. Shortly after the conference began I was invited to present my general views concerning the nature of the projected operation. Speaking as an American planner assigned to the War Department in Washington, and with no idea that I would later be assigned to Britain, I said in substance, “The first thing to do is to name a commander for the operation. That man must be given every bit of power that both governments can make available to him. He must be directed to plan for an invasion of Europe on the basis that it will certainly be successful, at least to the extent of establishing on the Continent a solid front capable of carrying out effective operations against the German. He must be directed instantly to prepare his outlined plan and to submit to the Chiefs of Staff his requirements not only in troops of all kinds but in all types of additional equipment—land, sea, and air.”
The first question asked me was, “And who would you name as commander of this expedition?”
Still thinking of an operation in early 1943, when the British would necessarily provide the major portion of the forces during initial stages, I replied, “In America I have heard much of a man who has been intensively studying amphibious operations for many months. I understand that his position is Chief of Combined Operations, and I think his name is Admiral Mountbatten.22 Anyone will be better than none; such an operation cannot be carried out under committee command. But I have heard that Admiral Mountbatten is vigorous, intelligent, and courageous, and if the operation is to be staged initially with British forces predominating I assume he could do the job.”
My remarks were greeted with an amazed silence. Then General Brooke said, “General, possibly you have not met Admiral Mountbatten. This is he sitting directly across the table from you.” My failure to recognize him when I entered the meeting and my later personal remarks about him naturally caused a moment of embarrassment. Nevertheless, I stuck to my guns and retorted, “I still say that the key to success is to appoint a commander and give him the necessary authority and responsibility to carry out the planning and preparatory work that otherwise will never be done.”
The meeting was merely for an exchange of ideas and nothing was done. Almost needless to add, however, from then on Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten was my warm and firm friend.
Upon my permanent assignment to London, there began a series of meetings among the commanders concerned to examine into the detailed requirements of the projected operation. Ordinarily these discussions involved General Paget, Admiral Ramsay, Air Chief Marshal Douglas, General Spaatz, Admiral Mountbatten, and myself, together with groups from our respective staffs. No one was in authority so no decisive action could be planned. Dozens of different ideas affecting strategy, tactics, organization, and supply were discussed interminably. These discussions were complicated by service and personal prejudices and by varying convictions regarding the usefulness of the air in ground operations.
But through these studies and conferences the Americans became more fully acquainted with the details of the strategic, tactical, and logistic problems involved in an invasion of Europe on a decisive scale We gained access to all the British intelligence and learned the exact strength and commitments of British land, sea, and air forces. Further mobilization of British power, in any significant amount, was impossible; they had already organized their full strength, including women between the ages of eighteen and fifty-two.
We learned a number of things that caused us to revise radically our earlier general ideas of the operation. The first of these was that the British Air Force was not equipped either in types and numbers of planes or in training of personnel to carry out the intensive preparatory work by air that we deemed a prerequisite to successful invasion. The second was that the
British fleet, necessarily holding itself in reserve at all times to meet any threat of a sortie by the German surface fleet, could not provide the amount of direct support and the intensity of naval bombardment that would be required for successful landings.
In land forces, also, the British were badly stretched. Considering their commitments in India, the Middle East, and their precarious position in the Western Desert, they could not possibly provide for the new invasion more than some fifteen divisions.23 Finally, we found that in the matter of landing craft, special equipment, and the great stores of material reserves that would be necessary the British were not much better off than we. All this meant that there was no hope of beginning a major invasion of Europe until America could produce the necessary land, sea, and air power to participate in the initial operation on at least an equal basis and be prepared, thereafter, to provide the great bulk of the ground and air units that would be needed. Moreover, the attack could not take place until American industry could largely supply the vast amount of special equipment and supplies that would be necessary.
It became increasingly doubtful to the American headquarters that a full-out attack could be launched in the early spring of 1943, and because it would be extremely hazardous to begin a major operation across the English Channel in the fall of the year, we began to realize that a large-scale invasion might not be possible before the spring of 1944.
This was a bitter possibility to contemplate. It was bitter for ourselves, for our Chiefs of Staff, and far more so for the political heads of the two countries: they not only had the burden of directing the industrial effort to produce the ships and guns and tanks and planes and of mobilizing millions of men, but they had also to maintain civilian morale during the period of preparation. Moreover, most of these delays could not be explained to the public. To do so would be to expose our own current weaknesses, with the danger of intensifying the gloom and despondency that were then so heavy, owing to the rapidity of the Japanese conquest and the misfortunes which had overtaken the British forces in the desert during the early summer.24
Crusade in Europe Page 9
