Crusade in Europe

by Dwight D. Eisenhower

  The war-weary British public responded without a whimper to these added inconveniences and privations. Sustained by the certainty that a decisive effort was in the offing and inspired by the example and leadership of Winston Churchill, people cheerfully accepted the need of using their own streets and roads at the risk of being run down, of seeing their fields and gardens trampled, of waiting in long queues for trains that rarely arrived, and of suffering a further cut in an already meager ration so that nothing should interfere with the movement of the soldiers and the mountains of supplies we so lavishly consumed.

  After the abandonment of the May target date, the next combination of moon, tide, and time of sunrise that we considered practicable for the attack occurred on June 5, 6, and 7. We wanted to cross the Channel with our convoys at night so that darkness would conceal the strength and direction of our several attacks. We wanted a moon for our airborne assaults. We needed approximately forty minutes of daylight preceding the ground assault to complete our bombing and preparatory bombardment. We had to attack on a relatively low tide because of beach obstacles which had to be removed while uncovered. These principal factors dictated the general period; but the selection of the actual day would depend upon weather forecasts.33

  If none of the three days should prove satisfactory from the standpoint of weather, consequences would ensue that were almost terrifying to contemplate.34 Secrecy would be lost. Assault troops would be unloaded and crowded back into assembly areas enclosed in barbed wire, where their original places would already have been taken by those to follow in subsequent waves. Complicated movement tables would be scrapped. Morale would drop. A wait of at least fourteen days, possibly twenty-eight, would be necessary—a sort of suspended animation involving more than 2,000,000 men! The good-weather period available for major campaigning would become still shorter and the enemy’s defenses would become still stronger! The whole of the United Kingdom would become quickly aware that something had gone wrong and national discouragement there and in America could lead to unforeseen results. Finally, always lurking in the background was the knowledge that the enemy was developing new, and presumably effective, secret weapons on the French coast. What the effect of these would be on our crowded harbors, especially at Plymouth and Portsmouth, we could not even guess.

  It was a tense period, made even worse by the fact that the one thing that could give us this disastrous setback was entirely outside our control. Some soldier once said, “The weather is always neutral.” Nothing could be more untrue. Bad weather is obviously the enemy of the side that seeks to launch projects requiring good weather, or of the side possessing great assets, such as strong air forces, which depend upon good weather for effective operations. If really bad weather should endure permanently, the Nazi would need nothing else to defend the Normandy coast!

  A particularly difficult decision involved our planned airborne attack in the Cotentin Peninsula. The assault against the east coast of that peninsula, to take place on a beach called Utah, was included in the attack plan because of my conviction, concurred in by Bradley, that without it the early capture of Cherbourg would be difficult if not almost impossible. Unless we could soon seize Cherbourg, the enemy’s opportunity for hemming us in on a narrow beachhead might be so well exploited as to lead to the defeat of the operations. Rapid and complete success on Utah Beach was, we believed, prerequisite to real success in the whole campaign.

  The only available beach on the Cotentin Peninsula was, however, a miserable one. Just back of it was a wide lagoon, passable only on a few narrow causeways that led from the beaches to the interior of the peninsula. If the exits of these causeways should be held by the enemy our landing troops would be caught in a trap and eventually slaughtered by artillery and other fire to which they would be able to make little reply.

  To prevent this, we planned to drop two divisions of American paratroopers inland from this beach, with their primary mission to seize and hold the exits of the vital causeways. The ground was highly unsuited to airborne operations. Hedgerows in the so-called “bocage” country are big, strong, and numerous. The coast lines that the vulnerable transport planes and gliders would have to cross were studded with anti-aircraft. In addition, there were units of mobile enemy troops in the area and these, aside from mounting anti-aircraft fire, would attempt to operate against our paratroopers and glider troops before they could organize themselves for action.35

  The whole project was much argued from its first proposing, but Bradley and Major General Matthew Ridgway, our senior American airborne general, always stoutly agreed with me as to its necessity and its feasibility. At an early date it was approved for inclusion in plans and I supposed the matter settled, but it was to come up again in dramatic fashion, just before D-day.

  CARGO FOR INVASION

  “… we had … to build up on the beaches the reserves in troops, ammunition, and supplies that would enable us, within a reasonable time to initiate deep offensives …” This page

  Ships, Troops, Trucks, Supply Crowd French Beach (illustration credit 13.1)

  AXIS ALLY—MUD

  “Some soldier once said, ‘The weather is always neutral.’ Nothing could be more untrue.” This page. In Tunis, Italy, and across the Continent, mud was a formidable barrier to Allied advances.

  Even the Jeep Succumbed to Italian Mud (illustration credit 13.2)

  The staffs that were developing, co-ordinating, and recording all these details were, of course, working in constant co-operation with numerous agencies and personalities in London and Washington. During the preparatory period an endless stream of staff officers from Washington visited our headquarters to provide information on the availability of needed items, confirm dates of shipment, discuss plans for personnel replacements, for security, for photographic coverage, and a thousand related items.

  One of General Somervell’s principal assistants, Major General LeRoy Lutes, remained with us in Britain several weeks, investigating arrangements for insuring the uninterrupted flow of supplies all the way from the factories in the United States to the front line. At various times we had conferences with such people as Mr. Eden and Mr. Bevin of the British Cabinet, with Mr. Stimson and Mr. Stettinius from Washington, with Mr. Winant, Mr. Harriman, and Mr. Biddle, American representatives in London, and with General de Gaulle, who came up from Africa for the purpose. These conferences had to do with every type of subject, including that of future plans for controlling the areas in which we intended to operate and for governing Germany and Austria once we should reach those countries.

  During all this period my personal contacts with the Prime Minister were frequent and profitable. He took a lively interest in every important detail, and was able to lend us an effective hand when some of our requirements demanded extra effort on the part of overloaded British civil agencies.

  Visits to Chequers always had business as their main purpose. But the countryside was so pleasant and peaceful that an occasional hour spent in strolling through the fields and woods was real recreation. Chequers was at one time occupied by Cromwell; its setting, architecture, and furniture were all historically interesting.

  The Prime Minister would usually ask his guests to arrive during the late afternoon. Dinner would be followed by a short movie and then, at about 10:30 p.m., business conferences would begin. These sometimes lasted until three the next morning. Nearly always present were Mr. Eden and one or more of the British Chiefs of Staff. Every type of problem was discussed and often definite decisions reached. Operational messages arrived every few hours from the London headquarters, and Mr. Churchill always participated with the British Chiefs in the formulation and dispatch of instructions, even those that were strictly military, sometimes only tactical, in character.

  In such conferences as these I came to admire and like many of the people with whom I was so often in contact. One of them was Air Chief Marshal Sir Charles Portal, Air Member of the British Chiefs of Staff. He was a profound military student—bu
t with it all a man of action—and quiet, courteous, of strong convictions. It was a pleasure to discuss with him any problem of war, whether or not it pertained exclusively to his own field of the air. He enjoyed great prestige in British military and civil circles, as well as among the Americans of the Allied command. His distinguishing characteristic was balance, with perfect control of his temper; even in the most intense argument I never saw him show anger or unusual excitement.

  Mr. Churchill, on the other hand, rarely failed to inject into most conferences some element of emotion. One day a British general happened to refer to soldiers, in the technical language of the British staff officer, as “bodies.” The Prime Minister interrupted with an impassioned speech of condemnation—he said it was inhuman to talk of soldiers in such cold-blooded fashion, and that it sounded as if they were merely freight—or worse—corpses! I must confess I always felt the same way about the expression, but on that occasion my sympathies were with the staff officer, who to his own obvious embarrassment had innocently drawn on himself the displeasure of the Prime Minister.

  As in most other British homes, there was a guest book in Chequers. Each guest was expected to sign it every time he entered the house. Once, on a trip to the southern coast, I dropped in at Chequers to see Mr. Churchill for ten minutes, after which I dashed for the door to continue the journey. Just as I gained the seat of my car I became aware that the family butler, in all his dignity, was standing by to speak to me. He said, “Sir, you have forgotten the book,” and his solemn tone meant to me that he found it difficult to forgive my oversight. I corrected the omission and sped upon my way.

  In spite of all his preoccupations, Mr. Churchill constantly evidenced an intensely human side. When London had to endure the “Little Blitz” of February 1944 he took frequent occasion to urge me to occupy one of the specially built underground shelters in London. He even went to the extent of having an entire apartment, complete with kitchen, living room, bedroom, and secret telephones, fixed up for me. While I never used or even saw the place, yet he never ceased to show great concern for my safety, although paying absolutely no attention to his own. His single apparent desire, during an air raid, was to visit his daughter Mary, then serving in an anti-aircraft battery protecting London.

  In all our conferences Mr. Churchill clearly and concretely explained his attitude toward and his hopes for Overlord. He gradually became more optimistic than he had earlier been, but he still refused to let his expectations completely conquer his doubts. More than once he said, “General, if by the coming winter you have established yourself with your thirty-six Allied divisions firmly on the Continent, and have the Cherbourg and Brittany peninsulas in your grasp, I will proclaim this operation to the world as one of the most successful of the war.” And then he would add, “And if, in addition to this, you have secured the port at Le Havre and freed beautiful Paris from the hands of the enemy, I will assert the victory to be the greatest of modern times.”

  Always I would reply, “Prime Minister, I assure you that the coming winter will see the Allied forces on the borders of Germany itself. You are counting only on our presently available thirty-six divisions. We are going to bring in ten additional from the Mediterranean, and through the ports we capture we shall soon begin to rush in an additional forty from the United States.”

  He doubted that we could get the elbow room to do all this in the summer and fall of 1944 and often observed, “All that is for later; my statement still holds.” In reply to my insistence that the picture I painted him was not too rosy, even if the German continued to fight to the bitter end, he would smile and say, “My dear General, it is always fine for a leader to be optimistic. I applaud your enthusiasm, but liberate Paris by Christmas and none of us can ask for more.”

  On April 7, General Montgomery was ready, with co-operating air and naval staffs, to present the completed picture of the detailed plan for the ground assault against the beaches. A huge conference was arranged in St. Paul’s School in London and there an entire day was spent in presentation, examination, and co-ordination of detail.36

  The plan carried the troops straight southward against the shore of France with the Americans on the right, the British and Canadians on the left. The extreme right flank of the assault was against Utah Beach on the Cherbourg peninsula, the left flank at approximately the mouth of the river Orne. The entire front of attack was over sixty miles long.37

  Since our desire was to bring up close to the battle lines large numbers of fighter bombers and to seize areas in which our great tank strength could operate most effectively, the plan provided for the early capture by the British Second Army of the open plains lying south of Caen.38 To the right of that city the Americans were to advance southward from Omaha Beach abreast of the British, while farther right Major General J. Lawton Collins’ corps, after landing on Utah, was to make its principal objective the early capture of Cherbourg.39 Because large German forces were located in the Calais area it seemed probable that to preserve communications between that region and Normandy the enemy would concentrate heavily in the Caen area. It was certain also that he would make desperate efforts to hold Cherbourg and so deny us the use of that port. Nevertheless, we hoped that speed and surprise would gain for us early possession of the open ground outside Caen, while Bradley estimated that the Americans would take Cherbourg in from ten to thirty days, depending upon the degree of luck we might enjoy.

  Montgomery’s detailed plan also indicated the areas that he estimated we would probably be holding in successive periods following the assault. These estimates are shown on map “Overlord Forecast.”

  The anticipated development pictured in the phase lines was not, of course, an essential feature of the landing plan, since the first and great objective was to assault and capture a satisfactory and indestructible beachhead which we could build up as rapidly as possible for the later decisive battle for France. But progress predictions are always helpful to the supply staffs in order that they may plan their own operations according to a concept that gives some idea of the scope of responsibilities they will be called upon to meet. The predicted ninety-day line was actually reached slightly ahead of schedule, but those forecast for the earlier days of the operation proved impossible of attainment. Out of this circumstance developed some difficulties.

  The air plan, already in execution, called for the progressive wearing down of the Luftwaffe and the destruction of critical points in the rail and highway systems so as to isolate the coastal areas selected for assault. For D-day the air forces were charged with the responsibility of demolishing selected targets in the enemy’s coastal defenses, of providing overhead cover and rendering general fighter-bomber support as the troops progressed inland.40

  The naval plan was complicated by the configuration and nature of the coastal area, which provided little sea room for maneuver, and by the density and extent of mine fields. Nevertheless, the whole program of mine sweeping, escorting, preliminary bombardment, gunfire support, and general protection against enemy surface and submarine forces was provided for in detail.41 The logistic plan for transportation, care, and maintenance of troops and forwarding of supplies was fully as comprehensive as any of the others.

  On May 15 a final conference was held at St. Paul’s School under the supervision of SHAEF.42 At this final meeting every principal member of the British Chiefs of Staff and the War Cabinet attended, as did also the King of England and Allied generals by the score. Field Marshal Smuts came with his old friend, Mr. Churchill. During the whole war I attended no other conference so packed with rank as this one. The purpose was to assure that any doubtful points of the earlier conference would be ironed out and corrected. It also served to bring to the attention of all commanders the broad purposes of the highest headquarters and to give to each a fully completed and rounded picture of the support he could expect. Instructions for the briefing of small units and their care during the period of moving to the ports were checked and confirmed. Se
crecy was a dominating factor.

  This meeting gave us an opportunity to hear a word from both the King and the Prime Minister. The latter made one of his typical fighting speeches, in the course of which he used an expression that struck many of us, particularly the Americans, with peculiar force. He said, “Gentlemen, I am hardening toward this enterprise,” meaning to us that, though he had long doubted its feasibility and had previously advocated its further postponement in favor of operations elsewhere, he had finally, at this late date, come to believe with the rest of us that this was the true course of action in order to achieve the victory. The whole meeting was packed with dramatic significance. It not only marked the virtual completion of all preliminary planning and preparation but seemed to impart additional confidence as each of the scores of commanders and staff officers present learned in detail the extent of the assistance he would receive for his own particular part of the vast undertaking.