On the forward journey Bradley and I made a slight detour around an area in which fighting was still in progress, but entered Paris quietly and secretly, as we supposed, before noon on Sunday, August 27. We went immediately to call on De Gaulle, who was already surrounded by the traditional Republican Guards in their resplendent uniforms. We visited General Gerow, at the headquarters of the American V Corps, and stopped to see General Koenig, who as a subordinate of SHAEF was commanding all the Free French Forces of the Interior. As we moved about the city word apparently got out that Bradley and I were in town and when we went past the Arc de Triomphe on the Etoile we were surrounded by a crowd of enthusiastic citizens. The exuberant greetings of the liberated population were a bit embarrassing and we made our way as quickly as possible to one of the exit gates and returned to Bradley’s headquarters, near Chartres.8
While I was in the city General de Gaulle communicated to me some of his anxieties and problems. He asked for food and supplies. He was particularly anxious for thousands of uniforms for issue to the Free French forces, so as to distinguish between them and the disorderly elements who, taking advantage of temporary confusion, might begin to prey upon the helpless citizens. He also wanted additional military equipment, with which to begin organizing new French divisions.
A serious problem in view of the disorganized state of the city was the speedy establishment of his own authority and the preservation of order. He asked for the temporary loan of two American divisions to use, as he said, as a show of force and to establish his position firmly. My memory flashed back almost two years, to Africa and our political problems of that time. There we had accepted the governmental organization already in existence and never during our entire stay had one of the French officials asked for Allied troops in order to establish or affirm his position as a local administrative authority. Here there seemed a touch of the sardonic in the picture of France’s symbol of liberation having to ask for Allied forces to establish and maintain a similar position in the heart of the freed capital.
Nevertheless, I understood De Gaulle’s problem, and while I had no spare units to station temporarily in Paris, I did promise him that two of our divisions, marching to the front, would do so through the main avenues of the city. I suggested that while these divisions were passing through Paris they could proceed in ceremonial formation and invited him to review them. I felt that this show of force and De Gaulle’s presence on the reviewing stand would accomplish all that he sought. I declined personally to be present at this formation but told him that General Bradley would come back to the city and stand with him on the reviewing platform to symbolize Allied unity.
Because this ceremonial march coincided exactly with the local battle plan it became possibly the only instance in history of troops marching in parade through the capital of a great country to participate in pitched battle on the same day.
A section of the British press commented that “the Americans love a parade,” and somewhat critically observed that British troops, also, had participated in the campaign to free France and that none of the Allies should seek to take the glory. No one in official position, however, misunderstood the circumstances or criticized the incident. Moreover, as soon as the offending papers learned of the reasons, they were quick to retract, but it was merely another instance of the necessity, in modern war, for a commander to concern himself always with the appearance of things in the public eye as well as with actual accomplishment. It is idle to say that the public may be ignored in the certainty that temporary misunderstandings will be forgotten in later victory.
A similar instance, involving the press of both America and Britain, occurred during August when a story appeared in American papers alleging that General Montgomery was no longer in a co-ordinating position with respect to the ground forces and that both he and General Bradley, on equal status, were already reporting directly to me. This was denied from SHAEF merely because the described arrangement was not yet in force. The press report was completely accurate although premature: the change had long been planned but was not to be put into effect until September 1.9
British newspapers greeted the story with great resentment, alleging that Montgomery had been demoted because of his success. The American press, on the other hand, hailed the story with considerable satisfaction because it indicated that the American troops, in their own channel of invasion, were now operating on a truly independent basis. The prompt denial from SHAEF consequently created confusion in America and General Marshall found it necessary to send me a telegram of inquiry on the point. I had to repeat at great length the exact details of our arrangements for the passing of command. I also allowed myself to express a certain amount of irritation by remarking in my telegram that “it wasn’t enough for the public to obtain a great victory, the manner in which it was gained seemed to be more important.” However, the reactions in both countries were completely normal. Were it not for the intensive patriotism and esprit that create this kind of nationalistic pride the task of organizing and maintaining armies in the face of continuing losses would be an impossible one. The incident became just one more profitable lesson in handling matters in which the public was certain to have great concern.
Complete wartime co-ordination and perfect co-operation can never be achieved between the press and military authorities. For the commander secrecy is a defensive weapon; to the press it is anathema. The task is to develop a procedure that takes into account an understanding of both viewpoints.
The press is primarily and properly concerned with providing information to the public at home. Civilian effort produces the fighting formations and the equipment necessary to achieve victory. Civilians are entitled to know everything about the war that need not remain secret through the overriding requirement of military security. Indeed, the commander in the field must never forget that it is his duty to co-operate with the heads of his government in the task of maintaining a civilian morale that will be equal to every purpose.
To do this effectively, the principal agency available to the commander is the body of press representatives in his theater. These represent every type of newspaper and periodical, radio chain, and photographic service, both motion and still. Some commanders resent the presence of this body of non-combatants, which sometimes grows to a considerable size; there was, at one time, a total of 943 within the European theater.
When I first met Generals Alexander and Montgomery in Africa they favored the imposition upon press representatives of strict rules and regulations, and their list of censorable items was long. They were aware that reporters were present in the theater of operations by the authority of the government, but so great was their concern for secrecy that they appeared to treat the press as a necessary evil rather than as a valuable link with the homeland and as an agency that could be of great assistance in the waging of a campaign.
There was a sound reason, particularly at the beginning of the war, for the British to evidence more reserve and conservatism in their treatment of the press than was reflected in the policies that American headquarters always favored. In the early days of the war, particularly when Britain stood alone in 1940 and 1941, the British had little with which to oppose the German except deception. They resorted to every type of subterfuge, including the establishment of dummy headquarters and the sending of fake messages in order to confuse the German as to the amount of military strength available and, more important than this, its disposition. Out of this necessity was born a habit that was later difficult to discard.
I believed that the proper attitude of the commander toward representatives of the press was to regard them as quasi staff officers; to recognize their mission in the war and to assist them in carrying it out. Normally the only justifiable excuse for censorship is the necessity to withhold valuable information that the enemy could not otherwise obtain. During the war I personally violated this general rule by imposing temporary political censorship in North Africa and by withholding advance notice
of the eventual command arrangements in Normandy. Though my reasons, on both occasions, seemed valid to me, I never failed to regret what later proved to be a mistake.
In World War II the great body of the American and British press representatives comprised an intelligent, patriotic, and energetic group of individuals. They could, with complete safety and mutual advantage, be taken into the confidence of the commander. When this was done the press body itself became the best possible instrument for the disciplining of an individual who violated any confidence or code under which the group was operating. Throughout the campaigns in the Mediterranean and Europe, I found that correspondents habitually responded to candor, frankness, and understanding.
In the handling of the press, the American practice was to provide every facility that would permit an individual to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. While this imposed upon us some additional administrative burdens, it paid off in big dividends because of the conviction in the minds of all that there was no attempt to conceal error and stupidity. These, when discovered, could be promptly aired and therefore did not grow into the festering sores that would have resulted from any attempt at concealment.
Censorship applied to the designation of units already committed to action denies the commander one of his greatest aids in the development and maintenance of morale among his own fighting troops. The combat soldier wants to be recognized; he wants to know that his sufferings and privations are known to others and, presumably, appreciated. Nothing seems to please him more than to find his own battalion, regiment, or division mentioned favorably in the press. To cover the whole under an umbrella of impersonality deprives the soldier of this satisfaction and is sooner or later reflected in open complaint. Moreover, any enemy worthy of the name quickly learns through front-line contacts the identity of all units opposing him. To pursue the ostrichlike policy of pretending the contrary merely enrages the press and does no good.
Under the policy adopted by the American forces in Europe, a great deal of responsibility devolves upon the accredited press representatives. One of these is to write fairly and with a sense of perspective. Some tend to become advocates and supporters of a particular unit or a particular commander. This becomes serious, in an allied command, when the bias has also a nationalistic tinge. Unpleasant incidents of course arose, and the fault was sometimes definitely with the press, just as at others it was with the commander. But when there is considered the enormous opportunity that existed for prejudiced reporting and for troublemaking between units, services, and whole peoples, it must be concluded that the press in the field measured up as well as any other group to the fundamental requirements of allied co-operation.
From August on, the friendly relationship between the press and the military was strengthened by the presence of Brigadier General Frank A. Allen, Jr., as my public relations officer. He had been a successful leader of an armored combat command in North Africa and France but I believed that his ability to maintain military security and at the same time to assure the public the information it wanted and needed would prove most valuable to the war effort. By his assignment to headquarters duty, although I lost a proved combat commander thereby, I was relieved of many worrisome problems.
The liberation of Paris on the twenty-fifth of August had a great impact on people everywhere. Even the doubters began to see the end of Hitler. By this time enemy losses were enormous. Since our landings three of the enemy’s field marshals and one army commander had been dismissed from their posts or incapacitated by wounds. Rommel was badly wounded by one of our strafing planes on July 19. Some months later he committed suicide to escape trial for alleged complicity in the July 20 murder plot against Hitler. One army commander, three corps commanders, and fifteen division commanders had been killed or captured. The enemy had lost 400,000 killed, wounded, or captured. Half the total were prisoners of war, and 135,000 of these had been taken in the month subsequent to July 25.
German matériel losses included 1300 tanks, 20,000 other vehicles, 500 assault guns, and 1500 pieces of artillery. In addition the German air forces had suffered extensively. More than 3500 of his aircraft had been destroyed and this in spite of the fact that the Luftwaffe had been seriously depleted before the invasion began.10
There was a definite drop in enemy morale. So far as prisoners were concerned this was more noticeable among the higher officers because they, with professional training, could see the inevitability of final defeat. But the Army as a whole had clearly not yet reached the stage of mass collapse and there was no question that the German divisions, given decent conditions, were still capable of putting up fierce resistance.11
With the capture of Paris we were substantially on the line that had been predicted before D-day as the one we would attain three to four months after our landing. Thus, in long-term estimate, we were weeks ahead of schedule, but in the important particular of supply capacity we were badly behind. Because almost the entire area had been captured in the swift movements subsequent to August 1, the roads, railway lines, depots, repair shops, and base installations, required for the maintenance of continuous forward movement, were still far to the rear of the front lines.12
When the German forces succeeded, in spite of defeat and disorder, in withdrawing significant numbers of their troops across the Seine, there still remained the hope of constructing another trap for them before they could reorganize and present an effective defensive front. Portions of the German Fifteenth Army still remained in the Calais area, where they would provide a stiffening core for the retreating troops of the First and Seventh Armies. It was considered possible that some resistance would be attempted along one of the natural defenses provided by the waterways of Belgium. A surprise vertical envelopment by airborne troops appeared to offer the best hope of encirclement if the enemy chose to make a stand.
As quickly as the defeat of the Germans on the Normandy front became certain, airborne forces were directed to prepare plans for drops in a number of successive positions, the appropriate spot to be selected when the developing situation should indicate the one of greatest promise. The mere paper planning of such operations was, while laborious, a simple matter. However, when actual preparation for a planned drop was undertaken, delicately balanced alternatives presented themselves. Preparation for airborne attack required the withdrawal of transport planes from supply purposes, and it was difficult, at times, to determine whether greater results could not be achieved by continuing the planes in supply activity.
Unfortunately this withdrawal of planes from other work had to precede an airborne operation by several days, to provide time for refitting equipment and for briefing and retraining of crews. In late August, with our supply situation growing constantly more desperate, and with all of us eagerly following combat progress in the search for another prospect of cutting off great numbers of the enemy, the question of the Transport Command employment came up for daily discussion. On the average, allowing for all kinds of weather, our planes could deliver about 2000 tons a day to the front. While this was only a small percentage of our total deliveries, every ton was so valuable that the decision was a serious one.
It appeared to me that a fine chance for launching a profitable airborne attack was developing in the Brussels area, and though there was divided opinion on the wisdom of withdrawing planes from supply work because of the uncertainty of the opportunity, I decided to take the chance. The Troop Carrier Command, on September 10, was withdrawn temporarily from supply missions to begin intensive preparation for an airborne drop in the Brussels area.13 But it quickly became clear that the Germans were retreating so fast as to make the effort an abortive one. Except with rear guards, the Germans made no attempt to defend in that region at all.
All along the front we pressed forward in hot pursuit of the fleeing enemy. In four days the British spearheads, paralleled by equally forceful American advances on their right, covered a distance of 195 miles, one of the many fine feats of marching by our format
ions in the great pursuit across France. By September 5, Patton’s Third Army reached Nancy and crossed the Moselle River between that city and Metz. Hodges’ First Army came up against the Siegfried defenses by the thirteenth of the month and was shortly thereafter to begin the struggle for Aachen. Pushed back against the borders of the homeland, the German defenses showed definite signs of stiffening. On September 4, Montgomery’s armies entered Antwerp and we were electrified to learn that the Germans had been so rapidly hustled out of the place that they had had no time to execute extensive demolitions. Marseille had been captured on August 28 and this great port was being rehabilitated.
These developments assured eventual solution of our logistical problem, which meant that within a reasonable time we would be in position to wage on the German border a battle of a scale and intensity that the enemy could not hope to match. However, there was much to be done before we could be in this fortunate position, and we had little remaining elasticity in our overstrained supply lines. On the south Patch’s and Bradley’s forces had to make a junction, and railway lines up the Rhone would have to be repaired. On the north we were faced by even greater difficulties.
Antwerp is an inland port connected with the sea by the great Scheldt Estuary. The German defenses covering these approaches were still intact and before we could make use of the port we had the job of clearing out those defenses.
The task on the north comprised three parts. We had to secure a line far enough to the eastward to cover Antwerp and the roads and railways leading out of it toward the front. We had to reduce the German defenses in the areas lying between that city and the sea. Finally, I hoped to thrust forward spearheads as far as we could, to include a bridgehead across the Rhine if possible, so as to threaten the Ruhr and facilitate subsequent offensives.
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