Crusade in Europe

by Dwight D. Eisenhower

  In early July we received word that the Potsdam Conference would soon convene. Again we had to prepare accommodations and protection for the reception of VIPs (soldiers’ language for Very Important Persons), but in this instance my task was limited to that of receiving and caring for the American delegation only. I went to Antwerp to meet the cruiser on which President Truman and Secretary Byrnes came to Europe. There I had an opportunity to discuss with them a few points which I thought important.

  First, I urged that civilian authority take over military government of our portion of Germany at the earliest possible date. I pointed out to the President and the Secretary that, while the Army would obviously have to stay in control until order was assured, the government of individuals in their normal daily lives was not a part of military responsibility. I felt that no matter how efficiently and devotedly the Army might apply itself to this task, misunderstandings would certainly arise. In the long run American concepts and traditions would be best served by the State Department’s assuming over-all responsibility in Germany, using the American Army there merely as an adjunct and supporter of civil authority and policy. In principle both the President and the Secretary emphatically agreed with me and I was encouraged to believe that this development would come about within a period of a few months.23

  When I returned to the United States in late 1945 as Chief of Staff of the Army, I continued to urge the wisdom of this move upon Secretary Byrnes, but learned that he had undergone a change of heart. Though always agreed in principle, he would not agree to implement the idea because of the administrative and financial burdens that would thus be placed upon the State Department.

  Another item on which I ventured to advise President Truman involved the Soviets’ intention to enter the Japanese war.24 I told him. that since reports indicated the imminence of Japan’s collapse I deprecated the Red Army’s engaging in that war. I foresaw certain difficulties arising out of such participation and suggested that, at the very least, we ought not to put ourselves in the position of requesting or begging for Soviet aid. It was my personal opinion that no power on earth could keep the Red Army out of that war unless victory came before they could get in. However, I did not then foresee the future relentless struggle born in ideological antagonisms, or the paralysis of international co-operation because of that struggle. I merely feared serious administrative complications and possible revival of old Russian claims and purposes in the Far East that might prove very embarrassing to our own country.

  A third suggestion I made to the President was that we preserve some flexibility in the termination of Lend-Lease arrangements with the French and British. I was unfamiliar with the exact provisions of the law covering the matter, but I knew that the mere cessation of hostilities did not instantly and appreciably lessen French and British need for quantities of food and supplies from us, upon which they had counted with confidence. I thought that arbitrary and sudden termination of the agreement should be avoided in favor of a scheme that would give those countries a chance for prompt readjustment.

  I informed the President of my belief that we should handle the German economy, and particularly the problem of reparations, in such a way as to insure Germans an opportunity to make a living, provided they were ready to work. Of this readiness there was no doubt. From the day we entered Germany the willingness of the ordinary citizen to work from dawn to dark for a meager living was noticeable. Even before we crossed the Rhine, I had seen German women and their children in the fields, under sporadic gunfire, spading the ground and planting seed in order to produce some semblance of a crop that year.

  Clay and I were convinced that rehabilitation of the Ruhr was vital to our best interests. Nowhere else in Europe were there coal deposits equal in quality and so easily workable. And already it was apparent that coal would be the key to successful administration of Occupied Germany. Without coal, transportation could not be restored and without transportation the whole country would remain paralyzed. I told the President that unless we emphasized Ruhr rehabilitation Germany would soon be starving. Americans, of course, would never permit even their former enemies to starve and would voluntarily assume the costly task of feeding them. But I thought that this financial burden could be prevented. It appeared to me that if Ruhr coal production were pushed and transportation restored Germany could soon be exporting products of light industry not in any way related to the banned war industries. Payment for these would enable her to buy and import from others enough food stocks to meet inevitable shortages.

  At Potsdam, I called several times upon various members of the American delegation, but because the European war was over I did not participate in the conference either as an official witness or as an adviser.

  I had a long talk with Secretary Stimson, who told me that very shortly there would be a test in New Mexico of the atomic bomb, which American scientists had finally succeeded in developing. The results of the successful test were soon communicated to the Secretary by cable. He was tremendously relieved, for he had apparently followed the development with intense interest and felt a keen sense of responsibility for the amount of money and resources that had been devoted to it. I expressed the hope that we would never have to use such a thing against any enemy because I disliked seeing the United States take the lead in introducing into war something as horrible and destructive as this new weapon was described to be. Moreover, I mistakenly had some faint hope that if we never used the weapon in war other nations might remain ignorant of the fact that the problem of nuclear fission had been solved. I did not then know, of course, that an army of scientists had been engaged in the production of the weapon and that secrecy in this vital matter could not have been maintained. My views were merely personal and immediate reactions; they were not based upon any analysis of the subject. In any event it was decided that unless Japan surrendered promptly in accordance with the demands communicated to the Japanese Government from Potsdam the plan for using the atomic bomb would be carried out.25

  While the President was in Germany he expressed a desire to inspect some American troops. I arranged for him to come into the American area and by good fortune the 84th Division was selected as one of those he was to see. In that division his cousin, Colonel Louis Truman, was chief of staff; and so the meeting was not only a pleasant official experience for the President but held a nice personal touch as well.

  One day when the President was riding with General Bradley and me he fell to discussing the future of some of our war leaders. I told him that I had no ambition except to retire to a quiet home and from there do what little I could to help our people understand some of the great changes the war had brought to the world and the inescapable responsibilities that would devolve upon us all as a result of those changes. I shall never forget the President’s answer. Up to that time I had met him casually on only two or three occasions. I had breakfasted with him informally and had found him sincere, earnest, and a most pleasant person with whom to deal. Now, in the car, he suddenly turned toward me and said: “General, there is nothing that you may want that I won’t try to help you get. That definitely and specifically includes the presidency in 1948.”

  I doubt that any soldier of our country was ever so suddenly struck in his emotional vitals by a President with such an apparently sincere and certainly astounding proposition as this. Now and then, in conversations with friends, jocular suggestions had previously been made to me about a possible political career. My reaction was always instant repudiation, but to have the President suddenly throw this broadside into me left me no recourse except to treat it as a very splendid joke, which I hoped it was. I laughed heartily and said: “Mr. President, I don’t know who will be your opponent for the presidency, but it will not be I.” There was no doubt about my seriousness.

  The co-operative note, on the international political level, which marked the end of the Potsdam Conference was echoed on the levels of military administration. In all our dealings with the Russian authori
ties in Berlin we were particularly careful to carry out to the letter every commitment and engagement, even where these were only implied or understood. During the months of August, September, and October there prevailed, locally, a general attitude that encouraged us to believe that eventual full success was possible. This does not imply an absence of annoying details. On the contrary, there were many occasions when patience wore thin in the attempt to achieve the unanimous agreements necessary to progress of any kind. Normally the British and ourselves were in general agreement, although naturally we had occasional sharp differences. With the French we always differed on the basic question of centralized German government—we on the affirmative and the French on the negative. But with the Soviet authorities, in addition to the same occasional basic differences, there seemed to be an unending stream of paltry details to provide reason or excuse for complaint and consequent explanation.

  One of the subjects concerning which the Soviet authorities wrote us frequent letters of complaint was what they claimed to be unauthorized flights of American airplanes over Russian-occupied Germany. For flights in and out of Berlin the Russians had allotted us a narrow corridor, within the limits of which all our planes were supposed to stay. Often a new pilot, unfamiliar with the country, got slightly outside the established boundaries; and in cloudy weather even the most experienced pilot might violate the agreement, technically and temporarily. Periodically the Russians submitted to us a detailed list of these alleged violations, in such numbers that specific investigation was completely futile.

  All we could do was urge all air units to be careful in this regard, but finally I went to Marshal Zhukov and told him that I thought these inconsequential and unintentional violations were far too petty to engage the constant attention of us both. I remarked that in each case he had to write a letter, which I then had laboriously to answer. He instantly agreed that they were minor matters and should not take up our time, but he explained that all these violations were reported to Moscow by the Russian anti-aircraft organization. This organization, he said, was separate from the other ground forces, and not under his command. When these reports reached the capital they were sent back to him and he was then required to ask for a reply from me. It seemed an astonishing sort of system but somewhat in line with what we considered to be the Russian practice of overcentralization. In any event I told Marshal Zhukov to keep sending the letters and that I would keep sending him the same stereotyped replies. He said that was quite satisfactory.

  We encouraged the exchange of social visits, particularly between Americans and Russians, and these affairs seemed to be thoroughly enjoyed by both sides. The Russians love entertainment and genuinely appreciate any kind of music; so the jokes, companionship, and the orchestras at a dinner made all these occasions successful.

  We learned another lesson when at the Council of Foreign Ministers in London sharp official differences reportedly developed between Secretary Byrnes and Mr. Molotov. Instantly a strained and stiff attitude became apparent among the Russians in Berlin. Red Army officers who had already accepted dinner invitations from Americans either sent their regrets or failed to keep the engagement. Formerly pleasant faces clouded up; it seemed that no Russian was any longer allowed to smile at, or talk pleasantly with, an American. This lasted for some days, but then, just as mysteriously as it had begun, it completely disappeared. However, its occurrence did not affect Marshal Zhukov and me. We continued our friendly association and conducted our business on that basis.

  During those months of the summer and early fall I maintained contacts and friendships with many of my British wartime associates. The British War Office allowed me to keep, until the last of August, my personal British military assistant, Colonel James Gault. He was a devoted, loyal, and efficient officer who for more than two years daily took on his own shoulders a multitude of detailed, sometimes exasperating problems which otherwise would have fallen to me.

  Another Briton, with whom I still had occasional conferences and who had been a stalwart support in the most trying days of war, was General Sir Hastings Ismay. One of the prominent military figures in Great Britain, he was the immediate associate of Mr. Churchill in the latter’s capacity as Defense Minister. Ismay’s position as head of the secretarial staff to the War Cabinet and the British Chiefs of Staff was, from the American point of view, a critical one because it was through him that any subject could at any moment be brought to the attention of the Prime Minister and his principal assistants. It was fortunate, therefore, that he was devoted to the principle of Allied unity and that his personality was such as to win the confidence and friendship of his American associates. He was one of those men whose great ability condemned him throughout the war to a staff position. Consequently his name may be forgotten; but the contributions he made to the winning of the war were equal to those of many whose names became household words.

  When Mr. Churchill’s political party was defeated in the British summer elections of 1945 and he ceased to be Prime Minister he decided to go on a short vacation. He had withstood well the wear and tear of his great responsibilities throughout the war years, but now, with official responsibilities ended, Mr. Churchill wanted and needed a short rest. I was pleased and honored that he asked me to put him up; his suggestion implied that he felt for me some little fraction of the great respect, affection, and admiration I had developed for him. I made arrangements for his vacation in one of the pleasantest parts of our theater. I have always felt myself fortunate that I could, as his personal host for a few days, repay in a small way part of the debt I owe him for staunch support and unwavering courtesy, to say nothing of personal hospitality.

  I sometimes saw Field Marshal Brooke, General Frederick Morgan, Air Chief Marshal Tedder, Sir Andrew Cunningham, Field Marshal Montgomery, and others of the British service heads and high commanders with whom I had served during the war. All were my good friends. Strangely enough our conversations rarely turned backward, in the habit of old soldiers, to incidents of the war. Even then we seemed to sense that the future problems of peace would overshadow even the great difficulties we had to surmount during hostilities. Consequently our talk nearly always dealt with the probabilities of the future: particularly the prospects for establishing clear and mutually observed understandings between the Western Allies and the Soviets.

  During those months we had also at our headquarters a constant stream of visitors from the United States. Among these were congressional committees and various official and semiofficial bodies gathering material on the conduct of the war or informing themselves as to details of current administration. These visitors we were always delighted to have. We gave them every needed facility for the conduct of their investigations and explorations, and opened up to them every kind of information in our possession. They, on their part, always brought us news of the homeland, and frequently were good enough to carry personal letters from families at home to members of the command. This, in particular, was a distinct kindness on their part, for letters sent through them would take only one or two days for delivery, whereas in the ordinary mail, because of its volume, two or three weeks were sometimes required.

  Chapter 23

  OPERATION

  STUDY

  IN THE SUMMER OF 1945, ALTHOUGH OUR MAIN effort was redeployment of troops, establishment of occupation, and execution of many minor tasks directly connected with our mission, we were also occupied in a professional sequel to the war—the study and evaluation of its lessons.

  The material confronting us was monumental in its bulk, and in its content unique. The campaigns in the Mediterranean and in Europe had no prior parallel in the history of warfare; throughout them, the United States Army had engaged in operations without comparable precedent since its establishment in 1775.

  For the operations in Africa and Europe there had been involved the organization of a vast ground force. Built around forty-seven infantry divisions and their artillery, it included sixteen armored divisions and fo
ur airborne divisions, a mountain division, four seaborne brigades for the operation of landing craft, besides amphibious and combat engineer units, brigade, and separate battalions of anti-aircraft units, field artillery and tank destroyer battalions by the score. Equally stupendous was the growth of American air strength in those two theaters; between our entry into the war and the German surrender our fighter planes had won superiority over the Luftwaffe and our bombers had penetrated every defense which the German had raised against them.

  Intercontinental communications, transport and administrative systems were established and a military government structure was built to control millions of enemy nationals. Conduct of operations required co-ordination with the civil ministries of foreign nations organized differently from our own, combined staff work with Allied armies, new methods of strategic command within our own military establishment, and diplomatic negotiations seldom entrusted to a combat force. No prewar definition of the Army’s mission could adequately have forecast the scope or ramifications of its job against the European Axis. From study of both achievements and mistakes much could be learned.

  Purely military operations constituted a vast and continuous offensive, prolonged over many months, that required assessment and evaluation of its lessons. The task set for the Allied Force was one of the most difficult ever to confront an army in the field. From North Africa through Sicily and Italy and the assault against Festung Europa, our units had to land on beaches, fight many days without the support of even a mediocre port, make good their positions against superior ground forces, and finally build up a strength that could accomplish the complete destruction of the enemy.