Crusade in Europe

by Dwight D. Eisenhower

  But the evening wore on and the wind velocity increased alarmingly. There was nothing we could do but pray, desperately.

  Chapter 10

  SICILY

  AND SALERNO

  THE FIRST TROOPS SCHEDULED TO REACH THE island were the airborne contingents. The route of some of these lay directly across Malta and a number of us went out on the hilltops to watch them pass. In the wind and storm it was difficult for them to keep direction. Our plotting board in the air operations room showed that many planes and tows were blown far off course, but generally the columns kept on target and when the one we were watching had passed overhead, we returned to headquarters to await reports. Most of us turned in to catch a few hours of sleep.

  The first messages in the morning were a mixture of good and bad. A number of the gliders participating in the airborne attack on the British front had been cast loose too far from their targets and the high wind had dropped some into the sea. We feared a heavy loss of life and, though statistics later showed that casualties were less than we feared, it was still a tragic incident. On both flanks the landings from the sea seemed to be proceeding well with only moderate opposition.1

  On the southern front the parachutists had landed, although in certain instances far from their appointed landing grounds. We were almost amazed at the reports of progress in the American sector, where we had thought it possible Rear Admiral Alan Kirk, in command of the assault convoy, might even postpone the transfer to small boats for several hours, hoping for better weather conditions. It was so difficult for Admiral Cunningham to believe that landings in that area were feasible that he promptly took off in a destroyer to see what had happened. He came back and reported that the landings in the 45th Division sector constituted one of the finest exhibitions of seamanship it had been his pleasure to witness in forty-five years of sailoring.

  As battle reports began to arrive it was evident that the enemy had been badly deceived as to the point of attack. His best formations were located largely on the western end of the island, which he had apparently believed we would select for attack because of its proximity to our own North African ports. His reaction was typical. He pushed east and south with his most mobile forces to attack the American 1st Division at Gela.2 The division was not yet well ashore and these attacks seriously threatened to pierce through to the beach, but the enemy was short of supporting troops, particularly infantry and artillery. The gallant action of the 1st, supported steadfastly by an airborne formation and with assistance from naval gunfire, repulsed the counterattack after some hours of bitter touch-and-go fighting.

  Believing that the enemy might persist in his counterattacks on this portion of our forces, I left Malta that night in a British destroyer to visit Patton and Hewitt, the ground and naval commanders directly concerned.3 When I arrived the following morning the German was pulling back, presumably to strengthen his defenses in the critical Catania area. Everybody was in fine fettle, and though we in the destroyer saw little more of the fighting than sporadic gunfire, yet we got a good conception of the whole action on the south coast, and two accompanying pressmen, of whom John Gunther was one, picked up local color for their dispatches. I seized the chance to stop on the beach to send the Canadian division a message of welcome to the Allied command.

  Up to that moment no amphibious attack in history had approached this one in size. Along miles of coast line there were hundreds of vessels and small boats afloat and antlike files of advancing troops ashore. Overhead were flights of protecting fighters.

  The point we wanted to capture at the earliest possible moment was Messina, the enemy port in the northeastern end of the island, directly across the narrow strait from the Italian mainland. Through this port almost all enemy supplies would have to flow, and once it was secured the position of the garrison on the island would be hopeless. The enemy of course saw this simple truth as clearly as we and rapidly gathered up his forces to bar the progress of Montgomery, who was closest to Messina. In this effort the enemy was tremendously favored by the ground. Mount Etna dominates the whole northeast corner of the island and the Eighth Army’s route to the northward lay over a narrow road along the seaward shoulder of the mountain. Montgomery’s attack initially proceeded swiftly and quickly overran the eastern beaches to include the Nazi port of Syracuse, most important to our supply plan. From there toward Catania opposition grew increasingly stern. From July 17 onward the Eighth Army lay in the Catania plain facing the Mount Etna bastion with small prospect of penetrating the passes to the northward.4 Montgomery began to build up his reinforcements so as to throw an encircling column to the westward as his only hope of forcing his way onward to the ultimate goal.

  The plain was infected with malaria. In no other area during the Mediterranean campaign did we suffer equal percentage losses from disease. At other points in Sicily we likewise had a serious casualty list from malaria, but Catania was the pesthole of the region.

  Patton in the meantime pushed vigorously forward to the center of the island, while with his extreme left flank he threw mobile columns around the western perimeter of the island, entering Palermo within twelve days after the initial landing.5 His rapidity of movement quickly reduced the enemy ports to the single one of Messina; it broke the morale of the huge Italian garrison and placed Patton’s forces in position to begin the attack from the westward to break the deadlock on the eastern flank.

  Patton was a shrewd student of warfare who always clearly appreciated the value of speed in the conduct of operations. Speed of movement often enables troops to minimize any advantage the enemy may temporarily gain but, more important, speed makes possible the full exploitation of every favorable opportunity and prevents the enemy from readjusting his forces to meet successive attacks. Thus through speed and determination each successive advantage is more easily and economically gained than the previous one. Continuation of the process finally results in demoralization of the enemy. Thereupon speed must be redoubled—relentless and speedy pursuit is the most profitable action in war.

  To insure rapidity of action all commanders, and troops, must recognize opportunities and be imbued with the burning determination to make the most of them. The higher commander must constantly plan, as each operation progresses, so to direct his formations that success finds his troops in proper position and condition to undertake successive steps without pause. Long periods of inaction for regrouping are justified only by sheer necessity. Veteran troops realize that by continuing the advance and attack against a shaken enemy the greatest possible gains are made at minimum cost. Speed requires training, fitness, confidence, morale, suitable transport, and skillful leadership. Patton employed these tactics relentlessly, and thus not only minimized casualties but shook the whole Italian Government so forcibly that Mussolini toppled from his position of power in late July.6

  As the Seventh Army approached the western slopes of the Mount Etna highlands fighting became more and more severe. The Battle of Troina, conducted largely by the 1st Division, was one of the most fiercely fought smaller actions of the war.7 The enemy launched twenty-four separate counterattacks during the battle. The ground was rocky and broken, with hidden areas difficult to clean out. Several days after the capture of the position our troops were astonished to find in one small valley a field of several hundred German dead, so far uncounted. They were victims of American artillery fire.

  In the advance eastward from Palermo the left flank of the Seventh Army, following the coast line, made a series of small amphibious operations, the strength of the landings varying from one to two battalions.8 A small naval task force under Rear Admiral Lyal A. Davidson and the troops advancing along the rocky coastal cliffs of Sicily achieved a remarkable degree of co-ordination and efficiency in carrying out these attacks. The only road was of the “shelf” variety, a mere niche in the cliffs interrupted by numerous bridges and culverts that the enemy invariably destroyed as he drew back fighting. The advance along the coast line toward Messina by the
Seventh Army was a triumph of engineering, seamanship, and gallant infantry action.

  By the end of July the Italian garrison, except for a few small elements under the direct domination of their German overlords, had entirely quit, but along the great saw-toothed ridge of which the center was Mount Etna the German garrison was fighting skillfully and savagely. Panzer and paratroop elements here were among the best we encountered in the war, and each position won was gained only through the complete destruction of the defending elements.

  Nevertheless, by the time the Seventh and Eighth Armies had closed up into position for their final assault against the Mount Etna bastion the Germans saw that the game was up and began the evacuation across the Strait of Messina.9 Our bombers operated against this line of escape, but the narrowness of the strait allowed the enemy to get out most of the badly battered German garrison during hours of darkness.

  Early on August 17 the U. S. 3d Division pushed into the town of Messina.10 A detachment from the Eighth Army soon after arrived and on that date the last remaining element of the enemy forces on the island was eliminated.

  In the original study of the Sicilian operation Alexander had faintly hoped that the forces landing on the east of the island would quickly push to the northward, close to Messina. There they could effectively block the easy avenue for enemy evacuation, and would also be in a position to make a possible surprise landing across the narrow strait and thus assist in a speedy transfer of our troops to the Italian mainland later on.

  Montgomery’s operations on the east coast had begun auspiciously, and for a few days it looked as if Alexander’s hope might be realized. But by the time Montgomery was ready to assault the natural defensive barriers running from Mount Etna to the sea the enemy had brought up too much strength. The chance for a coup de main passed, if it ever had existed. Thereafter the northward path of the Eighth Army was fully as difficult from the terrain viewpoint as was the eastward advance on the left of the Seventh Army. In addition the Eighth Army had to overcome the preponderance of enemy strength. On the cliffs facing the sea just to the eastward of Mount Etna, I saw an almost incredible feat of field engineering. The road, completely blown away through a gap of two hundred yards, presented nothing but a sheer cliff hundreds of feet in height. Across this gap the engineers built a trestle capable of supporting the heaviest army loads; it was another example of what troops in the field can do when they are faced with stark necessity.

  Nevertheless, again there cropped up criticisms of Montgomery’s “caution,” which I had first heard among pressmen and airmen when he was conducting his long pursuit of Rommel across the desert. Criticism is easy—an unsuccessful attack brings cries of “butcher” just as every pause brings wails of “timidity.” Such charges are unanswerable because proof or refutation is impossible. In war about the only criterion that can be applied to a commander is his accumulated record of victory and defeat. If regularly successful, he gets credit for his skill, his judgment as to the possible and the impossible, and his leadership. Those critics of Montgomery who assert that he sometimes failed to attain the maximum must at least admit that he never once sustained a major defeat. In this particular instance I went over all details carefully, both with Montgomery and with Alexander. I believed then, and believe now, that a headlong attack against the Mount Etna position, with the resources available in the middle of July, would have been defeated. And it is well to remember that caution and timidity are not synonymous, just as boldness and rashness are not!

  Among the American leaders, Bradley had done so well in Sicily that when General Marshall, toward the end of August, asked my recommendation on the Army commander for the United States troops in Great Britain, I answered: “The truth of the matter is that you should take Bradley and moreover I will make him available on any date you select.” Shortly thereafter General Bradley assumed his new duties in England.11

  One of the valuable outcomes of the campaign was the continued growth and development of the spirit of comradeship between British and American troops in action. The Seventh Army, in its first campaign, had established a reputation that gained the deep respect of the veteran British Eighth, while on the American side there was sincere enthusiasm for the fighting qualities of their British and Canadian partners.

  The operations brought to a high degree of efficiency the co-ordination among air, naval, and ground forces. The Navy, in its escorting, supporting, and maintenance functions, performed miracles and always in exact co-ordination with the needs and support of the other arms. The real preliminary to the assault was a vast bombing operation by air.12 Entirely aside from its success in defeating the enemy air forces, it so badly battered the enemy communications in Sicily and southern Italy that the mobility of his forces was materially lowered and the supply of his troops was a most difficult process.

  The development of this international and interservice spirit had begun with the establishment of a headquarters in London in July of the previous year. By the end of the Sicilian campaign it was so firmly established and so much a part of the daily lives of commanders and staffs that it was scarcely necessary longer to treat it as a problem.

  It was during this campaign that the unfortunate “slapping incident” involving General Patton took place.13 Patton, on a visit to base hospitals to see the wounded, encountered, in quick succession, two men who had no apparent physical hurts. Of the first one he met, Patton inquired why he was a patient in the hospital. To this the man replied, “General, I guess it’s my nerves.” Patton flew into a rage. He had, himself, been under a terrific strain for a period of many days. Moreover, he sincerely believed that there was no such thing as true “battle fatigue” or “battle neurosis.” He always maintained that any man who began to show signs of breaking under battle conditions could by shock be restored to a sense of responsibility and to adequate performance of duty. At the moment, also, Patton was in a highly emotional state because of the sights he had seen and the suffering he had sensed among the wounded of the hospital. He broke out into a torrent of abuse against the soldier. His tirade drew protests from doctors and nurses, but so violent was his outbreak that they hesitated to intervene.

  Within a matter of moments he met a second soldier under somewhat similar circumstances. This time his emotions were so uncontrollable that he swung a hand at the soldier’s head. He struck the man’s helmet, which rolled along the ground, and by this time doctors and nurses, overcoming their natural timidity in the presence of the commanding general, intervened between Patton and the soldier.

  Both enlisted men were, of course, badly upset. One of them was seriously ill. Doctors later testified that he had a temperature of 102. Patton soon gained sufficient control of himself to continue his inspection and left the hospital. But throughout his visit he continued to talk in a loud voice about the cowardice of people who claimed they were suffering from psychoneuroses and exclaimed that they should not be allowed in the same hospital with the brave wounded men.

  The story spread throughout the hospital and among neighboring units with lightning speed. I soon received an unofficial report from the surgeon commanding the hospital and only a few hours thereafter was visited by a group of newspaper correspondents who had been to the hospital to secure the details. Their report substantially corroborated the one I had already received from the doctor. The question became, what to do? In forward areas it is frequently necessary, as every battle veteran knows, to use stern measures to insure prompt performance of duty by every man of the organization. In a platoon or in a battalion, if there is any sign of hesitation or shirking on the part of any individual, it must be quickly and sternly repressed. Soldiers will not follow any battle leader with confidence unless they know that he will require full performance of duty from every member of the team. When bullets are flying and every man’s safety and welfare depend upon every other man in the team doing his job, men will not accept a weakling as their leader. Patton’s offense, had it been committed on the ac
tual front, within an assaulting platoon, would not have been an offense. It would merely have been an incident of battle—no one would have even noted it, except with the passing thought that here was a leader who would not tolerate shirking.

  But because of the time and place of his action Patton’s offense was a serious one, more so because of his rank and standing. Thus to assault and abuse an enlisted man in a hospital was nothing less than brutal, except as it was explained by the highly emotional state in which Patton himself then existed. His emotional tenseness and his impulsiveness were the very qualities that made him, in open situations, such a remarkable leader of an army. In pursuit and exploitation there is need for a commander who sees nothing but the necessity of getting ahead; the more he drives his men the more he will save their lives. He must be indifferent to fatigue and ruthless in demanding the last atom of physical energy.

  All this I well understood, and could explain the matter to myself in spite of my indignation at the act. I felt that Patton should be saved for service in the great battles still facing us in Europe, yet I had to devise ways and means to minimize the harm that would certainly come from his impulsive action and to assure myself that it would not be repeated. I was then working intensively on plans for the invasion of Italy, and could not go immediately to Sicily. In these circumstances I sent to Sicily three different individuals in whose judgment, tact, and integrity I placed great confidence.14 One of these I sent to see General Patton. Another went to visit the hospital in which the trouble occurred. Still a third was sent to visit the divisions of Patton’s army to determine for himself the extent to which the story had spread among the troops and to determine their reaction. I not only wanted independent reports from several sources, but I wanted to accomplish the whole investigation as rapidly as possible.