The Supreme Commander

by Stephen E. Ambrose

  Eisenhower’s advice to Mountbatten, dictated at odd moments by a man whose responsibilities were enormous and whose working day never had enough hours, remains today what it was in 1943—the best description in military literature of what an Allied commander should strive to be in his non-battlefield capacity. Its weakness, reflecting Eisenhower’s, was vagueness about how the Supreme Commander should take control of a battle. This was, perhaps, inevitable. Any firm battlefield decision Eisenhower made in a situation involving an American and a British army would inevitably anger one side. Given Eisenhower’s priorities, it is difficult to see how he could have acted differently, how he could have afforded or seen fit to intervene to direct the battle. Decisions could not be made solely on military grounds, as Alexander’s experience in Tunisia illustrated. Pulling the Americans, especially the 34th Division, out of the line in Tunisia was the best military policy, but Alexander could not do it because of the alliance. Eisenhower felt such pressures even more than Alexander did.

  Comparisons between Eisenhower and other commanders cannot be made, because the role he played was unique. No one before or since has commanded such a thoroughly mixed force, had such wide responsibilities, or took orders from so many different superiors. Later in the war Montgomery, recognizing this, suggested that Eisenhower leave the land battle to someone else, concentrating his attention on diplomatic, logistical, and strategical matters. Montgomery believed that this would allow the general who ran the land battle to make his decisions on solely military grounds. But if Montgomery had studied Alexander’s actions in Tunisia, he would have known better. Whoever might be in charge would feel the same pressures Eisenhower did, for giving the real command to someone under Eisenhower would not change the nature of the role. The other difficulty with Montgomery’s proposal was that the land commander would not carry the prestige the Supreme Commander did. Once the decision was made to put first the holding together of the alliance, a price had to be paid in a lack of over-all direction on the battlefield. The alternative was to put affairs in the hands of someone like Montgomery or MacArthur. Given the vehemence with which Brooke and Marshall defended the interests of their respective armies, even when commanded by Eisenhower, such a move would have been courting disaster. All of this indicates that Eisenhower’s passivity about battle may have been a reflection not so much of his personality as of his role.

  On Sicily the battle continued. While Patton raced for Palermo, away from the enemy, Bradley, whose II Corps was operating almost independently, undertook the much less glamorous but far more meaningful task of pushing eastward through central Sicily. This campaign, which never received much publicity, was one of the toughest for American soldiers in the war. At Troina, for example, the ground was rocky and broken and the Germans augmented the rugged terrain with mine fields, road blocks, and demolitions. The Germans also launched twenty-four separate counterattacks during the battle. Several days after the capture of the position by the 1st Division, American soldiers were astonished to find in one small valley a field with several hundred German dead, victims of American artillery fire.17

  By the time Bradley took Troina (August 5) he had significant help from Keyes’ Provisional Corps, which had moved out from Palermo and was racing eastward along the northern coast. It was too late, however. At the end of July Guzzoni had decided to evacuate what Italian troops there were left on the island and turned the battle over to German General Hans Hube. Hube had already selected five positions upon which he would base his delaying actions while the evacuation took place, and nothing Patton did was enough to upset his delaying schedule or evacuation.

  Nearly all military historians condemn the campaign in Sicily. The landings should have been made, according to the critics, closer to Messina. Failing that, a plan to exploit the bridgehead and get into Messina quickly should have been available. It was inexcusable, in view of Allied air, sea, and land superiority, that it took so long to take the island and that the bulk of the German defenders escaped.

  Postwar German comments were filled with references to Allied “caution.” The Germans were amazed that the Allies did not land near Messina or at least at Catania. Eisenhower himself came to agree with this; Butcher reported on August 14, “Ike now thinks we should have made simultaneous landings on both sides of the Messina Strait, thus cutting off all Sicily and obtaining wholesale surrender and saving time and equipment, particularly landing craft, which would have permitted a rapid rush on the mainland itself.” Von Kesselring spoke of the “exceptionally systematic actions of the Allied forces” and “the slowness of the Allied advance.” The German field marshal was astonished that “strong forces had been dispersed to the western part of Sicily which … just marched and captured unimportant terrain, instead of fighting at the wing where a major decision had to be reached.”18

  Sicily did pay some dividends, however; perhaps the most important being the lessons it taught. Aside from purely tactical considerations, it was a proving ground for the decisive invasion of Europe across the English Channel, especially in the selection of commanders. Eisenhower had known Patton and Bradley long enough to have a good idea of each man’s strengths and weaknesses. Sicily reinforced his impressions. Patton was seen as excellent in the pursuit, in driving his own troops to the limit, but his strategic sense was limited and his tendency to dash off after the spectacular instead of settling for the necessary was disturbing. He had reached his limit as an army commander. Bradley, on the other hand, was, in Eisenhower’s view, capable of almost anything.19

  Eisenhower himself played practically no role in the development of the campaign. From July 25 on he was deeply involved in political and diplomatic affairs, and he left the ground to Alexander. In late July, Smith made a trip to Sicily for Eisenhower and conferred with Montgomery, Patton, and Alexander. Smith returned in a pessimistic mood; Montgomery had said it would “take another month.” Eisenhower was irritated at the delay. He said he could not see why, with overwhelming air support and naval bombardment from the sea, 500,000 Allied troops could not settle the issue with 60,000 Germans more quickly. He was inclined to take some drastic action but Smith, after visiting the scene, was just as cautious as the commanders on the spot and urged him to leave the planning to Alexander.20 Eisenhower agreed; it was simply too late for him to take a tight grip on the battle.

  A few days later Eisenhower was upset when his G-2, the British General Strong, reported that in his opinion Montgomery could have taken Catania on the first or second day if he had made a bid for it. Strong said there had been only one regimental combat team against the Eighth Army at the outset, and if Montgomery had been “less conservative and his forces more mobile, he could probably have been to Messina during the first week.”21 Eisenhower tended to agree with Strong’s estimate. On August 5 he passed Strong’s report on to the CCS, but in accordance with the advice he gave Mountbatten he took the blame for Montgomery’s mistake himself. “I did not sufficiently appreciate the situation,” Eisenhower declared.22

  In Sicily, meanwhile, Montgomery’s and Patton’s slow advance toward Messina continued. The Germans used every rock, every piece of high ground, every obstacle nature had put on the island to delay the Allies. The Provisional Corps had to channel its attack along the single coastal road and at times was reduced to moving forward in single file. Patton was a bundle of energy. He spent most of his time either at the front or in various divisional headquarters, urging his men onward. In co-operation with the Navy, he made three end runs, landing troops along the coast behind German lines. Each was a tactical success, but the landings were not large enough or far enough behind German lines to achieve a strategic victory. The Americans were getting closer to Messina, but they were getting there on German terms, not their own.

  By August 16 Eisenhower could report to the CCS that the “campaign is now drawing rapidly to a close.” The Germans were pulling out, retreating to the toe of Italy, but in spite of “every effort by all three services” we
re succeeding in getting most of their men and material evacuated.23

  It was a rather dismal conclusion to a campaign that had already taken too long. Eisenhower had little time to worry about it, however, for just at this time he received a report about Patton’s personal conduct that was “shocking in its allegations.”24 On August 10 Patton, who at that time was almost beside himself because of the slowness of the advance, visited a forward hospital. After talking with some of the wounded men, he lost his self-control when he saw a soldier who apparently had nothing wrong with him. Patton asked what the trouble was. The soldier replied, “It’s my nerves,” and began to sob. Patton screamed at him, “What did you say?” The soldier replied, “It’s my nerves. I can’t stand the shelling any more.” He continued to sob.

  “Your nerves hell,” Patton yelled. “You are just a Goddamn coward, you yellow son of a bitch.” He slapped the man. “Shut up that Goddamned crying. I won’t have these brave men here who have been shot seeing a yellow bastard sitting here crying.” He struck the man again, then turned to the Receiving Officer and ordered him not to admit the soldier to the hospital.

  The slapping incident had taken place in the II Corps area. Two days after it occurred the doctors sent a full report to Bradley. After reading the report, Bradley decided to do nothing and had it locked in the safe. A copy of the report reached Alexander, who also pigeonholed it. The doctors, however, were not willing to let Patton off so easily. The Seventh Army’s surgeon sent the report to Brigadier General Frederick A. Blessé, Eisenhower’s surgeon general. Blessé took it to T. J. Davis, the adjutant general, who took Blessé in to see Eisenhower.

  It was 10:30 A.M., August 17, and Patton’s men had just entered Messina. Eisenhower was feeling friendly toward Patton and after reading the report said mildly, “I guess I’ll have to give General Patton a jacking up.” He then praised Patton for the “swell job” he had done in Sicily. Eisenhower did order Blessé to go to Sicily and conduct a full investigation, but warned him to keep it quiet. “If this thing ever gets out,” Eisenhower said, “they’ll be howling for Patton’s scalp, and that will be the end of Georgie’s service in this war. I simply cannot let that happen. Patton is indispensable to the war effort—one of the guarantors of our victory.”25

  After giving Blessé his orders, Eisenhower sat down and wrote by hand a personal letter to Patton. By now he was beginning to see the enormity of Patton’s offense and to realize that more than a “jacking up” was required. “I clearly understand that firm and drastic measures are at times necessary in order to secure desired objectives,” Eisenhower wrote, “but this does not excuse brutality, abuse of the sick, nor exhibition of uncontrollable temper in front of subordinates.” Eisenhower said it was “acutely distressing” to learn of such charges on the very day that an American army under Patton’s leadership had attained a success “of which I am extremely proud,” and added that he did not intend to institute any formal investigation. Eisenhower did warn that if the reports were true he would have to “seriously question your good judgment and your self-discipline.” This would “raise serious doubts … as to your future usefulness.” In the meantime, Eisenhower ordered Patton to submit a full report of his own and to apologize to the soldier he had struck and to the nurses and doctors in the forward hospital.

  Eisenhower would go to almost any length to keep Patton. He knew Patton’s shortcomings better than almost anyone else in the Army, and dealing with a safe, quiet, dependable leader like Bradley was much easier than handling the wild, unpredictable, coarse Patton. But Patton had something to offer too. No one else in the American Army could drive so hard in the pursuit, keeping the troops moving and the enemy off balance. When the decisive test came, Eisenhower wanted Patton with him.

  “In Allied Headquarters,” Eisenhower assured Patton, “there is no record of the attached report or of my letter to you, except in my own secret files.” He promised to keep Patton’s reports secret. In short, there would be no official reprimand. Patton’s record would remain immaculate.

  In conclusion, Eisenhower declared, “No letter that I have been called upon to write in my military career has caused me the mental anguish of this one, not only because of my long and deep personal friendship for you but because of my admiration for your military qualities.” But, Eisenhower warned, “I assure you that conduct such as described in the accompanying report will not be tolerated in this theater no matter who the offender may be.”26

  Eisenhower gave the letter to Blessé and told him to hand-deliver it to Patton. He then sent Dr. Perrin H. Long, the theater medical consultant, to Sicily to make a separate investigation “for my eyes only.” Eisenhower also ordered Major General John Lucas, an assistant, to undertake a third investigation, this one strictly from the soldier’s point of view.27 With that, he hoped, the incident could die.

  But when a general slaps a private the story does not die easily. The next day the press corps in Sicily got hold of it. The reporters made their own investigation, found the truth, and prepared to file the story. Someone suggested that they ought to take it up with Eisenhower first, and Demaree Bess of the Saturday Evening Post (who had recently done a flattering profile on Eisenhower), Merrill Mueller of NBC, and Quentin Reynolds of Collier’s came to Algiers. On August 19 they handed Smith a complaint against Patton along with a full description of the incident. “If I am correctly informed,” Bess wrote, “General Patton has subjected himself to general court-martial by striking an enlisted man under his command.” The reporters offered what amounted to a deal—they would refrain from filing the story if Patton was removed from command. “I might have to send Georgie Patton home in disgrace after all,” Eisenhower sadly told Smith.28

  Eisenhower would not quit without a fight. He called Bess, Mueller, and Reynolds into his office and confessed that he was doing everything he could to keep Patton. “His emotional tenseness and his impulsiveness are the very qualities that make him, in open situations, such a remarkable leader of an army,” Eisenhower explained. “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.” Eisenhower pleaded with the correspondents to keep the story secret so that Patton could be “saved for the great battles facing us in Europe.” Smith, meanwhile made a similar plea to the correspondents based in Algiers. The effort worked. The correspondents entered into a gentlemen’s agreement to sit on the story.29

  Patton, meanwhile, acted abject. He humbly apologized to the soldier he had struck, and to the nurses and doctors. He wrote Eisenhower, “I am at a loss to find words with which to express my chagrin and grief at having given you, a man to whom I owe everything and for whom I would gladly lay down my life, cause for displeasure with me.”30 The incident was closed, or so Eisenhower hoped.

  So was the campaign in Sicily, although it offered nothing to boast about either. The Germans had won a moral victory. Their few divisions had surmounted their Italian ally’s defections and rout, and for thirty-eight days some 60,000 Germans had held off an Allied force of 500,000. Then, despite overwhelming Allied air and sea superiority, the Germans carried out a successful evacuation. The total German loss was around 12,000, while the Allies lost 20,000. Eisenhower and his commanders, as will be seen, were busy with other matters, and this was perhaps the main reason that the evacuation was so successful. Still, the record—especially in the air—was poor. Tedder was more concerned with strategic bombing than he was with interfering with the evacuation, so the air forces tended to ignore Messina. The Germans began by moving troops to Italy only at night, but they soon found that Allied interference was so ineffective that they also moved by day.31

  There were some bright spots. The Allies had won Sicily and were ready to go after the Italian mainland. Everyone had learned from the campaign. Once Patton began moving toward Messina, his men had done well in an arduous campaign. They kept marching, Eisenhower reported to Marshall, “when no skin w
as left on the bottom of their feet,” and they “fought magnificently and successfuly in one of the most unrelenting offensives in which American troops have ever participated.” The men of the Seventh Army had established themselves as a “completely worthy teammate for the famous British Eighth Army.”32

  The American generals also learned and improved. A week after the campaign ended Eisenhower sent a report on his subordinates to Marshall, for Marshall’s use in selecting his army commanders for the invasion of France. Eisenhower said that Patton’s chief characteristics were energy, determination, and unflagging aggressiveness. He kept the troops going when anyone else would have let them stop and rest. Nevertheless, “George Patton continues to exhibit some of those unfortunate personal traits of which you and I have always known and which during this campaign caused me some most uncomfortable days.” Eisenhower had not reported the slappings to Marshall; in his recommendation he hinted at them by saying that Patton’s “habit of impulsive bawling out of subordinates” had extended to “personal abuse of individuals.” Eisenhower said he had taken “the most drastic steps; and if he is not cured now, there is no hope for him.”

  Eisenhower believed that Patton was cured, partly because of his “personal loyalty to you and to me” but mainly because “he is so avid for recognition as a great military commander that he will ruthlessly suppress any habit of his own that will tend to jeopardize it.” Patton was, in sum, an excellent combat commander. By implication, that was his limit; commanding an army group was beyond his capabilities.

  Bradley was an intelligent leader with a thorough understanding of the requirements of modern battle. “He has never caused me one moment of worry,” Eisenhower said, in a sentence that summed up the relationship of the two men. Eisenhower believed that no job was beyond Bradley—by implication, therefore, he could handle an army group.