Crusade in Europe

by Dwight D. Eisenhower

  What permanence the new-won peace might have; what stature the United Nations could attain; even what the future course of civilization would be—the answers to these questions now clearly involved, as an important factor, the ability of East and West to work together and live together in one world.

  In the past relations of America and Russia there was no cause to regard the future with pessimism. Historically, the two peoples had maintained an unbroken friendship that dated back to the birth of the United States as an independent republic. Except for a short period, their diplomatic relations had been continuous. Both were free from the stigma of colonial empire building by force. The transfer between them of the rich Alaskan territory was an unmatched international episode, devoid of threat at the time and of any recrimination after the exchange. Twice they had been allies in war. Since 1941 they had been dependent each on the other for ultimate victory over the European Axis.

  Ideologically, however, they were in diametric opposition; the United States was devoted to a social and political order based upon individual liberty and human dignity; Russia, dedicated to the dictatorship of the proletariat, seemed in Western eyes to be engulfed in a form of statism under the absolute direction of a few men. By the same token, it is probable that to them our adherence to a system based upon personal liberty was actually a political immaturity that permitted exploitation of the masses. Out of this cleavage between the governmental systems of two great powers there might develop in the world two hostile camps whose differences would ultimately provoke another holocaust of war. Should the gulf, however, be bridged practically by effective methods of co-operation, the peace and unity of the world would be assured. No other division among the nations could be considered a menace to world unity and peace, provided mutual confidence and trust could be developed between America and the Soviets.

  Obstacles, doubts, fears of failure in American-Soviet relations, there were on every side. But the alternative to success seemed so terrifying to contemplate that all of us on occupation duty sought every possible avenue through which progress might be achieved.

  Berlin, we were convinced, was an experimental laboratory for the development of international accord. There the West was joined with the East in the task of reorganizing a highly complex economy and re-educating a numerous people to political decency so that Germany, purged of its capacity and will for aggression, might be restored to the family of nations.

  If in that endeavor there could be developed friendly ways and means of solving our local differences and problems, a long step forward would be taken toward the friendly settlement of world problems. Overshadowing all goals for us Americans was the contribution we locally might make toward establishing a working partnership between the United States and Russia. My persistence in this effort and my faith also in the ultimate success of the United Nations were both rooted in my experience as supreme commander.

  In that capacity I had seen many nations work out a fixed unity of purpose, despite all the divergences in aim and outlook and way of life that characterized them as individuals and independent states. The combat direction of their military power and the commitment of their armies to battle—the most jealously guarded tokens of national sovereignty—they delegated to single authority. While they retained administrative control of their military forces, from the appointment of commanders to the establishment of troop rations, the Allied command was a single engine in its battle mission—the winning of war. Direction by committee, in which unanimity had to be achieved before unified action could be taken, was abandoned in favor of a single commander representing all the nations engaged.

  During the war it was demonstrated that international unity of purpose and execution could be attained, without jeopardy to any nation’s independence, if all were willing to pool a portion of their authority in a single headquarters with power to enforce their decisions. In the formation of the new United Nations and of the Allied organization for the control of Germany, this lesson had not yet been accepted. Its application would have meant some form of limited, federated world government which, while conforming to the Western Allies’ battle-front experience as providing the only sure way to success, was politically unacceptable to any of the great nations concerned. The insistence on retention of the veto during the United Nations Conference at San Francisco in June 1945 was based on the traditional but obsolete concept that international purposes could be decided only by unanimous action in committee. In Berlin the same unanimity was required on even minor matters.

  Our chief hope, therefore, was to build among those engaged in the German occupation a friendly acceptance of each other as individuals striving peacefully to attain a common understanding and common purpose—our mutual good. Once that spirit could be developed in Berlin, it would spread beyond Germany to our own capitals. The international good feeling manifested at Potsdam, between the heads of states, was a favorable start. If we could learn at the conference tables to conduct our business as friends, we could eventually live together as friends and ultimately work together in world partnership. A modus vivendi between East and West was our first objective.

  The President and his staff left Germany for the United States on August 2. A few days later I was informed from Washington that Generalissimo Stalin had sent me an invitation to visit Russia. This was a renewal of an invitation that originally had come to me in early June, when I could not accept because of a necessary appearance in the United States under War Department orders. With this invitation came an expression of my government’s hope that I could accept.

  The Generalissimo suggested that a particular date to be included in my visit was August 12, a day set aside for a National Sports Parade in Moscow. I was pleased at this chance to see a country that I had never before visited, but I was even more pleased by the implication that the Soviet Government was as interested in developing friendly contacts as we were. I promptly accepted and was informed that Marshal Zhukov would be my official host for my stay in Russia and would accompany me from Berlin to Moscow.1

  When news of my impending visit got around headquarters, literally scores of individuals submitted personal requests to go with me. Out of consideration for Moscow’s limited accommodations I took on this journey only General Clay and my old friend Brigadier General T. J. Davis. As an aide for this one trip, I wanted my lieutenant son John, who had been serving, for some months, in the European theater. His commander approved. Master Sergeant Leonard Dry, who served with me all through the war, also was in the party.

  Upon arrival in Moscow we were housed at the American Embassy with my good friend Averell Harriman, who was then ambassador. His hostess was his charming daughter Kathleen. During a long war association I had formed a high opinion of Mr. Harriman’s abilities and public-spirited attitude and was delighted to have him as my mentor and guide during an important visit to a country in which I was a complete stranger.

  Our first conference was with General Antonov, Chief of Staff of the Red Army. He took me into his war room and explained the dispositions of the Red armies in the Far East and showed me the exact plan of campaign, which had been initiated only a few days before. Everywhere in the Manchurian area things were going according to plan and Antonov was confident of a quick and easy victory. We discussed military subjects until late in the evening, all in an atmosphere of greatest cordiality and mutual confidence.

  The following morning was the appointed time for the big Sports Parade. This was staged in the Red Square, a paved area of considerable acreage. The only people present were the specially invited guests of the government and the performers. Estimates as to the number of the latter varied between twenty and fifty thousand. I calculated that the lower figure was more nearly correct than the higher one.

  Public attendance was not permitted and the whole area was well guarded by military personnel. The several hundred spectators were allotted spaces on a stadiumlike structure, which had no seating arrangements of any kind. Everyone had t
o stand. Just after we had arrived at the raised section of concrete reserved for the American ambassador and his party, General Antonov came to say that Generalissimo Stalin had extended to me an invitation to join him on top of Lenin’s tomb, provided I should like to do so. Since I was in the company of the American ambassador, whose prestige as representative of the President was important, I was doubtful as to the propriety of deserting him to join the Generalissimo. The necessity of saying everything through an interpreter denied me any opportunity to ask General Antonov, on a personal basis, for further details, and I momentarily hesitated. However, he relieved the situation by giving me the remainder of the Generalissimo’s message, which was: “The Generalissimo says that if you would like to come he also invites two of your associates, if you would like to bring them.” I turned to consult quickly with the ambassador. He said that the invitation was precedent-making; to the best of his knowledge, no other foreigner had ever been invited to set foot on top of Lenin’s tomb. Realizing, therefore, that a special courtesy was intended, I quickly told General Antonov that I would be happy indeed to accept and that the associates I wanted were the ambassador and, the head of the United States Military Mission to Moscow, Major General John R. Deane. My thought was that if there was any local prestige to be gained, then the people to whom it would be most useful were the ambassador and his assistant.2

  We stood for five hours on the tomb while the show went on. None of us had ever witnessed anything remotely similar. The groups of performers were dressed in the colorful costumes of their respective countries and at times thousands of individuals performed in unison. Every kind of folk dance, mass exercise, acrobatic feat, and athletic exhibition was executed with flawless precision and, apparently, with greatest enthusiasm. The band was said to number a thousand pieces, and it played continuously, presumably by sections, during the entire five-hour performance.

  The Generalissimo showed no sign of fatigue. On the contrary, he appeared to enjoy every minute of the show. He invited me to his side and, through an interpreter, we conversed intermittently during the entire period of the show.3

  He evinced great interest in the industrial, scientific, educational, and social achievements of America. He repeated several times that it was necessary for Russia to remain friends with the United States. Speaking through the interpreter, he said in effect: “There are many ways in which we need American help. It is our great task to raise the standards of living of the Russian people, which have been seriously damaged by the war. We must learn all about your scientific achievements in agriculture. Likewise, we must get your technicians to help us in our engineering and construction problems, and we want to know more about mass production methods in factories. We know that we are behind in these things and we know that you can help us.” This general trend of thought he pursued in many directions, whereas I had supposed that he would content himself merely with some general expression of desire to co-operate.

  At that time Marshal Zhukov was patently a great favorite with the Generalissimo. Zhukov was included in every conversation I had with Stalin and the two spoke to each other on terms of intimacy and cordiality. This was highly pleasing to me because of my belief in the friendliness and co-operative purpose of Marshal Zhukov.

  The Generalissimo turned the conversation to the work of the Berlin Council and remarked that it was important not only because of its specific task but because it provided a testing ground to determine whether great nations, victors in a war, could continue to co-operate effectively in the problems of peace.

  This thought coincided exactly with the convictions Clay and I held, but we thought also that one of the impediments to greater progress in Berlin was the apparent necessity for Zhukov to refer every new question, no matter how trivial, to Moscow. In the early days of the Council I had noted that, whereas Zhukov frequently seemed to be in agreement with some logical proposal of local import, he could apparently never give an immediate answer on his own authority. This led me to explore the remote possibility that I might be able to do something about it.

  Knowing that everything my associates and I did and said was reported instantly to Moscow, and knowing also that national pride would impel the Russians to watch the comparative prestige and authority of their Berlin representative, I had adopted a simple plan which I hoped would have some effect. It was merely to take occasion, whenever possible, to make sure that Marshal Zhukov was aware of the degree of independence accorded me by my Washington superiors in dealing with all matters that did not violate approved policy. Whenever I had anything to discuss with Marshal Zhukov I made an opportunity to see him, usually just before or after a formal meeting of the Berlin Council. I then outlined the suggestion, which normally served the best interests of the Russians as well as of ourselves, and placed it before him in terms of a definite proposal. Then I would remark rather casually: “If this project looks well to you, I am ready to put it into effect whenever you say. If you want some time for study, or if you would like to refer the matter to Moscow, I am quite content to await your answer. But I am ready to act instantly.”

  Once or twice he was fortunately prompted to ask: “What will your government say about this?” to which I would reply, “If I sent such small details to Washington for decision I would be fired and my government would get someone who would handle these things himself.”

  Whether or not this personal campaign had any effect I do not know, but as time went on Marshal Zhukov began to exhibit a greater independence in action than he had at first been able to exercise. He discarded the practice of keeping his political adviser by his side and we would meet with no one present except an interpreter. Moreover, he became much more prone to say yes or no to a proposal than merely to ask for a delay in order to consider it.

  So while standing on Lenin’s tomb, when the Generalissimo brought up the matter of the Berlin Council, I decided to follow up my Berlin campaign. I said to the Generalissimo: “Of course Marshal Zhukov and I get along splendidly. This is because great and powerful countries like yours and mine can afford to give their proconsuls in the field a sufficient amount of authority to achieve accord in local details and administrative matters. Smaller or weaker countries might possibly find it impossible to do this and difficulties would arise. But because Marshal Zhukov and I have such great leeway in reaching agreement we two usually overcome the little obstacles we encounter.”

  The Generalissimo agreed with me emphatically. He said, “There is no sense in sending a delegate somewhere if he is merely to be an errand boy. He must have authority to act.”

  A final remark of the Generalissimo’s while we were watching the sports spectacle was that mass athletics and exercises were fine because of their effect upon the populace. He said, “This develops the war spirit. Your country ought to do more of this,” and then he added: “We will never allow Germany to do this.” At that moment we were still at war with the Japanese.

  During the few days we had in Moscow we went to a football game attended by 80,000 enthusiastic rooters. We visited the subway, of which the Russians are very proud, and went to one of their art galleries. We spent an afternoon in the Stormovik airplane factory and another day at state and collective farms. Everywhere we saw evidence of a simple, sincere, and personal devotion to Russia—a patriotism that was usually expressed in the words, “But this is for Mother Russia and therefore it is not hard.” A group of workers in the Stormovik factory told me that their work week during the war was eighty-four hours, and they proudly stated that the factory’s attendance record was something over ninety-four per cent. Many of the workers were women and children, and it is difficult to see how, with their meager rations and serious lack of transportation facilities, they could have maintained such a record. The same was true on farms.

  The social highlight of the Moscow trip was dinner at the Kremlin. In the glittering dining hall there was an array of Red Army marshals, with Mr. Molotov present, and a number of Foreign Office officials to
act as interpreters. Officers of my party attended, as did the ambassador and General Deane. Toasts were many, each of them directed to the spirit of co-operation and teamwork that had been gradually evolved during the war. After dinner we saw a movie. It was a picture of the Russian operations to capture Berlin, in which battle, the interpreter told me, they had used twenty-two divisions and an enormous concentration of artillery. I expressed an interest in the picture and the Generalissimo promptly said he would give me a copy. I suggested that I should also like a picture of himself and he forgot neither detail. Within a few days I received in Berlin the complete movie film together with a generously inscribed photograph of the Generalissimo.

  He asked that I extend to General Marshall an expression of his personal regret for an act of what he termed personal rudeness during the progress of the war. He said that once he had received from General Marshall a piece of information concerning the enemy that later turned out to be false and occasioned some embarrassment to the Red armies. In his irritation, he said, he sent a sharp radio message to General Marshall, but later regretted this because of his confidence that Marshall was acting in good faith. He earnestly charged me with the errand of conveying his expressions of regret to the Chief of Staff.4

  Throughout our stay Marshal Zhukov and other Russian officials pressed me to designate the spots I should like to visit. They said there was no place, even if it took us as far as Vladivostok, that I could not see. My time was limited but before leaving Moscow I did want to see the museum in the Kremlin. Upon expression of this desire, a visit was immediately arranged and I was invited to bring with me such aides or assistants as I might wish. It is possible that my hosts had in mind only the little group who accompanied me from Berlin but when the time came for the visit I found that almost the entire American Embassy staff had volunteered to act as aides-decamp that day. None of them had ever been permitted to visit the Kremlin and so I laughingly agreed to class them all as temporary aides. The entire party of some fifty or sixty people spent the afternoon viewing accumulated treasures of the czars.5 Jewelry, gorgeously incrusted costumes, flags, and decorations of every description filled the great halls and constituted a magnificent display.