It must be borne in mind that Hitler at his headquarters strictly controlled any alterations in these dispositions, and also that Kesselring’s were divisions in name only, except for the 16th Panzer Division, refitting after being decimated in Russia, and being fleshed out to full establishment before returning to that theatre. As for the Italians, the Germans realised after the coup of July 25 that they could no longer be relied on to resist an Allied invasion. Accordingly they made arrangements for all Italian forces to be disarmed at the first sign of treachery. The members of the provisional Government were well aware of their own personal danger should their Axis partners get wind of the peace negotiations, or if there were a premature announcement of an armistice, but were too timid to make their own plans or reveal their fears directly to the Allies. Eisenhower was only to discover the full extent of Italian irresolution on the very eve of AVALANCHE, launched in the hope that the landing at Salerno would be unopposed. On September 9 the British and American servicemen of the Fifth Army were to be suddenly and brutally disillusioned.
* To say nothing of the débâcle at the port of Tanga in German East Africa, November 1914.
2
GENERAL EISENHOWER’S PROBLEMS
Plan followed plan in swift succession
Commanders went, commanders came
While telegrams in quick succession
Arrived to fan or quench the flame.
Rhyme composed in the British
Fourteenth Army during a planning frenzy
Italy is a boot. You have to enter it from the top.
Napoleon
One of the most fortunate events in the early history of the Anglo-American alliance was the discovery of Colonel Dwight D. Eisenhower, US Army, and his rapid ascent to the post of commander-in-chief of the Allied forces in North Africa. He was not a “great captain” in the classical sense, although it can be said that he had the same flair for coalition war as the Duke of Marlborough and the same earthy American horse sense as his fellow countryman Ulysses S. Grant and like him became a president of the United States. He was never a battle-fighting general, able to “ride the whirlwind and direct the storm”, nor would he have regarded such metaphor as anything but highfalutin, for he was at heart a simple boy from the Middle West of the United States, with a taste for open-air pursuits like golf and fishing, who seldom read anything other than thrillers for relaxation. Though he was no intellectual he had plenty of brains, and had he not been trained as a soldier he might well have proved the successful head of a large international business corporation. Eisenhower was however well-educated in military affairs and a commander with a will of his own. That glamorous species, the “great captain” of old, deciding on his strategy, making his own plans and personally directing his troops in battle, was not only extinct but obsolete. The complexity of twentieth-century warfare demands an altogether new sort of commander at the top level; below the purely political direction of a war, yet fully aware of the political dimension and able to respond sensibly to its pressure; an organiser and director of operations by air, land and sea, remote from the hurly-burly of the battlefield, yet watchful and involved in its events. Like the head of a great corporation he is concerned with goals, the allocation of resources and the appointment of “top managers”, but the analogy may not be pressed too far, because the modern commander must continue to be “a general” in the full sense of the term and not pretend to be the chairman of a board. He is still a commander, not a manager, able to withstand the emotional stresses of warfare and take cruel decisions without agonising over the possible consequences.
Eisenhower had many of the attributes of such a paragon, though he had no experience on the staff or in command of the conduct of active operations. He had in full the American genius for managing very large enterprises. He was a very likeable man, able to win not only the respect but the affection of his subordinates. His career in the Philippines, when he was staff officer to General Douglas MacArthur during the transition of that country to independence, and later in London, when the great American force build-up for the invasion of France and the liberation of Europe was being planned, had made him familiar with politics, politicians and command problems at the highest level. All this was to stand him in good stead, for when he arrived in North Africa every strategic problem had a political dimension. Like all successful politicians Eisenhower had a strong sense of the possible, and understood that the essential prerequisite for success is to survive.
His first requirement, therefore, was to keep in the good books of his powerful superior, George Marshall, while dealing even-handedly as an international commander, trying to please all his masters. Next, he had to assert his authority over the young bulls of the herd, men like the British Air Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder and the American Lieutenant-General Carl Spaatz, respectively the British and American air force chiefs. They formed a powerful combination, for the RAF and the USAAF were bound together by common interest as well as the freemasonry of the air. Tedder was a firm believer in the doctrine that the air force was an independent service and not in any way the handmaiden of the army. He had agreed to an ingenious system of command and control by which the army could obtain direct support on the battlefield, but he insisted that his first priority was to win the battle for air control against the opposing air force, in his own way and using his own judgment. Only then would he consider providing fighter cover for the army over the battlefield, or invasion beaches, or act as its flying artillery. The USAAF, though still nominally part of the army, held the same views and was anxious to acquire the autonomy enjoyed by the RAF, and so the two air forces presented a united front to the supreme commander and the other services. Eisenhower therefore had to combine tact with authority to obtain the full and cheerful cooperation of the airmen in operations that were essentially tri-service and combined.
He had no problems with the admirals. The sea service is a thing apart, seamen have a strong sense of superiority over land soldiers, and whether it was due to the common bond that unites seamen being stronger than the past history of conflict between the two navies, or a fortunate rapport between Vice-Admiral H. Kent Hewitt, USN, and the Fleet Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham, RN, and their subordinates, the naval aspects of the war caused Eisenhower little anxiety as far as command relationships were concerned. (What friction there was occurred between the sailors and the airmen. During the Battle of Salerno Admiral Hewitt was incensed when the British Air Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham, far away in Algiers, took upon himself to decide the level of fighter cover the fleet required. Montgomery and Admiral of the Fleet Sir Andrew Cunningham were incompatible and quarrelsome, and Eisenhower had to intervene between them over the provision of landing craft.)
On land the situation was not so simple. The US Army commanders in North Africa were not predisposed to like or admire their British colleagues, by reason of history (many regarding Britain as their ancient enemy), their isolation and their upbringing. As yet inexperienced, they were extremely sensitive to criticism spoken or implied. Many British officers, understandably at that stage in the war, felt that they had given the Germans one good beating and they knew the answers, but were foolish and tactless enough not to conceal their opinions.* Eisenhower’s first and important success was to organise a model, international, integrated HQ, the first of its kind, using all his authority, political skill and undoubted charm to ensure harmony.
As regards his own role he found as soon as he had arrived in Africa that he was involved in the most complicated negotiations with the French, while at the same time discussing strategic options of every variety with the Combined Chiefs of Staff, London and Washington. He needed a land forces commander on a level with the two other services, who shared his views, and the British provided him in General Sir Harold Alexander, who, as commander of the 18th Army Group had the role of coordinating the converging operations of the British-Indian-New Zealand Eighth Army and the British First Army, with British, US Army and French un
its under command.* Alexander was a man with whom Eisenhower found he could deal comfortably.
Eisenhower’s first operational mission in Africa was simple and straightforward. The Axis forces had been caught in a vice between the converging Allied armies and all that was required was to coordinate their efforts. London and Washington had hoped for a quick kill, but the problem although simple to pose was difficult to solve, because of the realities of war, and the Axis forces in Africa were not liquidated until April 1943. Nevertheless it was a victory for Eisenhower and his unique command apparatus, and he had consolidated his position both militarily and politically.
The second, in Sicily, was straightforward as far as the purely military factors went. The object was clear, the resources ample and both the army commanders, Montgomery and Lieutenant-General George Patton, the commander of US Seventh Army, were experienced warriors. To be sure, a more experienced supreme commander and one with full disciplinary powers over his subordinates might possibly have anticipated and corrected the mismanagement and jealousies which marred the battle for Sicily, but Eisenhower should not have had to bother with current operational issues; that was the very reason for which he had asked for a land commander. His concern was with future strategy, and there he had problems difficult enough to daunt any general.1
Primarily these stemmed from the need to steer a cautious path between the opposed intentions of his real master, George Marshall, who was against any Italian involvement, and Churchill, who was still at heart the same unregenerate advocate of an “eastern” strategy he had been in 1915. On the one hand Eisenhower, as said, had by November to part with a substantial part of his forces and landing craft, and Marshall also refused to allow the US strategic air forces to be diverted from the Combined Bomber Offensive for the preliminary air battle to wear down the Luftwaffe before the projected invasion of the mainland. On the other, in accordance with the directive given to Eisenhower by the Combined Chiefs of Staff, he had to develop operations calculated to knock Italy out of the war, which would only be done by invading the mainland. In short, he was expected to obtain grand political-military results with slender means. His reactions were, as usual, politically astute. He was not a Montgomery, given to writing forthright appreciations ridiculing sloppy strategical thinking. He set his planning staffs to work churning out every possible combination of plans for landings from north of Naples round the coast to Taranto, leaving the adverse balance between the force levels required as deduced by the planners and those he could actually convey to the objectives to speak for itself. (See sketch map and connected table on pp. 28–9.)
These fell into two distinct groups. The first was made up of plans aimed at the capture of Rome or Naples, either by direct attack or envelopment by air and sea; all strategically rewarding if they came off but operationally very risky. Eventually Eisenhower took the advice of his naval and air commanders and settled for the Bay of Salerno, as the point furthest north where cover by land-based fighter aircraft from airfields in Italy could be provided. The second was of landings in the south of Italy, safe and certain to succeed but strategically unrewarding. They were too far from Rome to make a sharp political impact, and the terrain and communications offered infinite possibilities for delaying tactics. Eisenhower kept all his options open and waited on events, as we have said, which proved startling.
When Mussolini fell and the secret emissaries of the Badoglio Government arrived the situation was, as it were, stood on its head. Eisenhower’s problem was no longer how to inflict another swingeing defeat on the Axis on the scale of Tunis and Sicily, but to exploit an Italian surrender. It became imperative, therefore, to take operational risks which so far had been unacceptable. This new factor dominated Eisenhower’s strategic concept. If he could act boldly and quickly he might secure great gains: Italy as a co-belligerent and a German withdrawal to the northern Apennines, or even the line of the Alps. It is only with hindsight that he can be condemned for entertaining an illusion based on a common intelligence fallacy, that of assuming that your opponent’s mind works like your own. Eisenhower’s real difficulty was that he had no reliable intelligence coming out of Italy on German intentions. It is no wonder that he became irritated with the far more canny Montgomery who was raising every difficulty about hopping over the Messina strait, which Eisenhower believed could be crossed in “row-boats”. He was not alone in his optimism. The invasion of the mainland would be conducted as if it were a pursuit until the Allied land commanders came hard up against reality at the end of the year in the shape of the Italian winter, the Italian mountains and the fortifications of the Gustav Line.
While negotiating with the Italians and juggling with future plans Eisenhower had to consider commanders. Alexander fell naturally into place as commander overall with his army group HQ. Montgomery was in position to undertake the invasion of Calabria and in fact, bored with the closing stage of the battle for Sicily, had already delegated control of operations there to the commander of the 13 th Corps, Lieutenant-General Sir Oliver Leese, and on his own initiative directed the unemployed commander of his 10th Corps, General Sir Brian Horrocks, to begin to plan. What emerged was BAYTOWN, the direct crossing of the Straits of Messina, and BUTTRESS, a landing on the west face of the toe of Italy in the Gulf of Gioia. Of the American commanders General George Patton, Seventh Army, was fully occupied in Sicily and in any case his future employment was in doubt because of an indiscretion. (A highly strung and impulsive man, he had struck a psychiatric casualty he found in a field hospital, believing that he was a malingerer, and even repeated the same offence on another victim later.) Omar Bradley, who might have altered the history of the Italian campaign, had been appointed an army commander designate to OVERLORD. There remained the commander of the US Fifth Army stationed in North Africa, the obvious choice. In this way the fateful conjunction of Alexander and Mark Wayne Clark came about.
Harold Alexander was the third son of the Earl of Caledon in the peerage of Ireland. Educated at Harrow and Sandhurst he seems to have drifted into the army without any great sense of purpose – he had toyed with the idea of becoming an artist. Commissioned in 1911, he was accepted by the Irish Guards, to spend the whole war in the firing line with the infantry with only two interruptions, to recover from wounds. He was twice decorated, commanded a battalion and briefly a brigade, and ended the war as a lieutenant-colonel. He then chose to dedicate himself to the profession of arms. In the 1920s the only sure road to advancement was through the Army Staff College (which was also in effect a war college) and he insisted on being allowed to attend it, even though this meant that he had to accept a reduction in rank. The regime was extremely competitive and testing, and Alexander did not impress two of the directing staff who observed him closely – the future Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Alan Brooke, and Bernard Montgomery. This did not impede his promotion. He was, most unusually as a British service and Guards officer, appointed commander of an infantry brigade in the Indian Army and distinguished himself in active operations on the North-West Frontier of India. (He astonished its officers by learning to speak Urdu.) By 1939 he was commanding a division, part of the British Expeditionary Force. In 1940 he was given command of a corps.
Fate then decreed that he would be given in succession three missions in the hope that he could retrieve an impending disaster. The first was to extricate the British forces trapped at Dunkirk. There his courage and sangfroid proved a tonic and he succeeded. He was the last man to leave the beaches, after searching them from end to end for stragglers. In March 1942 he was given the impossible task of winning a battle already lost in Burma. In August of the same year Churchill selected him to succeed General Auchinleck as Commander-in-Chief in the Middle East. There again, he was able to achieve little, but for happier reasons. The only force engaging the enemy, the Eighth Army, had just been gripped by his former instructor, Montgomery, now his subordinate, and he could do little but lend him support and encouragement. Nevertheless, the lus
tre of the Eighth Army’s victories was naturally shared by the commander-in-chief, and Alexander seemed the best choice for commander of the ground forces (and later 15 th Army Group commander) under Eisenhower during the last phase of the war in North Africa.
There were mixed feelings about the wisdom of this choice. Alexander had never had any experience of planning and directing a major, successful offensive operation. His first big battle, to crush the Axis forces holding the western front in Tunisia, was a failure, and the coup de grâce had to be organised by Lieutenant-General Brian Horrocks, a corps commander lent by Montgomery. Brooke felt strongly that Alexander required the assistance of a first-class chief of staff, to think for him. The intolerant Montgomery regarded his chief as incompetent. In sharp contrast, Harold Macmillan, a politician but also a Guardsman and a veteran of the Western Front, was impressed by Alexander’s qualities.* What Alexander had was something Macmillan admired, style. His unshakable calm, courtesy, readiness to listen to the views of his subordinates and sensitivity to the undercurrents of national prejudice and jealousy were all essential to the successful command of a coalitionary army group.
The mess of an ordinary field headquarters was a place where hard-pressed staff officers snatched a hasty meal and continued to transact business. Alexander’s own mess, as Macmillan recorded in his diary, resembled rather the high table of a college in Oxford or Cambridge. The war was “politely ignored”. The conversation dwelt on such topics as “the campaigns of Belisarius, the advantages of classical over Gothic architecture or the best ways to drive pheasants in flat country…” The arrival of an urgent operational signal was not allowed to interrupt this flow of civilised chat. Alexander would ask permission to read it, continue the conversation for a minute or two and if necessary “unobtrusively retire” from the table. “There was no fuss, no worry, no anxiety – and a great battle in progress!”2
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