Supreme Commander (11 page)

In the two years preceding the war, Eisenhower had visited a number of divisions engaged in field exercises, and he continued to do so throughout the war. One result, he told a West Point classmate, Brigadier General Vernon E. Prichard, was that he had “developed almost an obsession as to the certainty with which you can judge a division, or any other large unit, merely by knowing its commander intimately.” Eisenhower knew that Prichard had been told that hundreds of times, but confessed that he himself had never realized fully “how infallibly the commander and unit are almost one and the same thing.”

At the time Prichard had not gone high up the rank or command ladder (he later had an armored division in Italy), and partly to buck up his spirits, partly to say some things that he felt deeply, Eisenhower continued: “This is a long tough road we have to travel. The men that can do things are going to be sought out just as surely as the sun rises in the morning. Fake reputations, habits of glib and clever speech, and glittering surface performance are going to be discovered and kicked overboard.” For a man to make it in this war, he had to be a leader with “inexhaustible nervous energy … and iron-clad determination to face discouragement, risk, and increasing work without flinching.…” He would also need imagination—Eisenhower confessed he was “continuously astounded by the utter lack of imaginative thinking among so many of our people that have reputations for being really good officers.” Finally, the man had to be able to forget himself and his personal fortunes.

Promotions to date, Eisenhower told Prichard, had been based on personal propinquity, wild guesses, school records, past friendships, and other unimportant factors. “But the stark realities of distress, privation and discouragement will bring character and ability into their own,” and all those with ability would rise to high command. “I am almost ashamed to send this letter,” he concluded, and only dared unburden his soul to Prichard because he was sure Prichard would understand “that I am talking sincerely and am not indulging a bombastic ego.”
¹⁷

Selecting the right commanders, creating an efficient staff, maintaining good relations with the British and preparing his men for combat were parts of Eisenhower’s task, but his objective was the defeat of the Axis. Had he ever been tempted to forget it, a July issue of
Life
that gave
him his first personal publicity would have reminded him. In cutting language that took much of the pleasure from his own publicity,
Life
began its story on Eisenhower by saying, “The U. S. Army, nearly eight months after Pearl Harbor, has yet to deliver an offensive land attack on any enemy anywhere,” even though it had 3,500,000 men and 80 divisions in the Army and 225 battle squadrons in the Air Force. The same issue carried a story on the Russian front, which pointed out that the Russians were buying time for the Western Allies at a cost of “tens of millions of its people.”
Life
commented, “Compared with this awful sacrifice, the war effort of the Anglo-Saxon nations is so far pitifully puny.”
¹⁸
On July 16 Eisenhower read three editorials in American newspapers urging a second front in 1942.
¹⁹
This kind of reporting, widespread in the U.S. that summer, put enormous pressure on Roosevelt and the Army to get something going somewhere. It was the same kind of pressure Horace Greeley had brought to bear on President Lincoln in July of 1861 with his “On to Richmond” cry, and it would soon have a direct effect on the commander of ETO.

In the middle of July, just as Eisenhower was settling into a routine, the fundamental question of where to strike the Germans arose again. Eisenhower and his staff had been preparing for SLEDGEHAMMER and ROUNDUP, but it had become obvious to them that they were getting neither co-operation nor encouragement from the British. On June 30 Eisenhower had confessed to Marshall that he could “discover little if any real progress in the formulation of broad decisions affecting the operation as a whole” and said he had undertaken, as his principal task, to force decisive action. He had visited with most of the British officers involved but, perhaps because of the unsettled command situation, could not get to Brooke, “who has been practically incommunicado.…” Summing up, Eisenhower noted “there seems to be some confusion of thought as to the extent of the British commitment toward a 1942 operation.”
¹

Over the next week and a half Eisenhower had daily meetings with Mountbatten, General Sir Bernard Paget, commanding the Home Forces, Admiral Sir Bertram H. Ramsay, Air Chief Marshal Sir Sholto Douglas, commanding the British Expeditionary Air Forces, and their staffs. The British more and more openly criticized SLEDGEHAMMER, as did the Prime Minister, who had always been opposed to a 1942 invasion. For Eisenhower the meetings were frustrating since he could not talk with the man who was really making British policy and the British officers simply raised objections to SLEDGEHAMMER while offering nothing constructive. Since no one was in over-all command of the proposed invasion, no decisions could be made.
²

Churchill, meanwhile, was mounting his own campaign. He had, he later confessed, “made a careful study of the President’s mind and its
reactions for some time past” and now he prepared to use his knowledge to influence grand strategy.
³
SLEDGEHAMMER, he told Roosevelt, could not work, and even if it did it would exert no influence on events on the Russian front, since the Allies could send no more than nine divisions to France and the Germans already had twenty-five divisions there.
⁴
On June 20 Churchill had thrown in a requirement that, as far as he and his staff were concerned, doomed SLEDGEHAMMER—the British laid it down as a condition that they would undertake no landings in France in 1942 unless they could stay ashore.
⁵

Eisenhower and his staff made some proposals to meet the requirement, but none of them convinced the British, who were unwilling to go through with a suicide operation no matter how desperate the situation on the Russian front became. Besides, Churchill insisted that nothing should be done to halt ROUNDUP, and he argued that SLEDGEHAMMER would probably end in disaster, which “would decisively injure the prospect of a well-organized large-scale action in 1943.”
⁶
This argument put Churchill in the ideal position of opposing SLEDGEHAMMER because of his keen desire for ROUNDUP. It also allowed him to add that it was a pity nothing was being done in 1942.

On July 11 Eisenhower wired Marshall to say that the BCOS and the Prime Minister had “decided that SLEDGEHAMMER can not repeat not be successfully executed this year under the proposition that the invading force must be able to remain permanently on the continent.” The BCOS, Eisenhower added, “are most fearful that in making this decision they may be giving you a feeling that they have partially let you down,” but they hoped Marshall would understand and agree with their conclusions. For his part, Eisenhower thought “an attempt at SLEDGEHAMMER in spite of its obvious risks and costs would be preferable to GYMNAST or other major expedition intended to open up an entirely new front unrelated to this theater.”
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Inasmuch as the Americans had always thought of SLEDGEHAMMER as an emergency operation, the decision to drop it did not abandon anything (unless an emergency arose) and in any case, since the British would have to supply the bulk of the forces for the operation, there was nothing the Americans could do. For Marshall and Eisenhower the danger was that, having abandoned the SLEDGEHAMMER concept, the British would want to use their force elsewhere to open a new theater, which would so deeply commit the Allies that they would not be able to mount ROUNDUP. For Marshall, holding to the concept of SLEDGEHAMMER was essential to getting the reality of ROUNDUP,
and he did not for a minute believe Churchill’s protestations that the British were dropping SLEDGEHAMMER to ensure ROUNDUP.

At all times the key to the debate was the probable effect of a North African invasion (GYMNAST) on ROUNDUP. Both heads of government wanted ROUNDUP, or so at least they said. Churchill argued that the only way to get it was to drop SLEDGEHAMMER and go for GYMNAST. Marshall felt that GYMNAST would kill off ROUNDUP. Roosevelt had the deciding vote, and he agreed with the Prime Minister that a diversion to the Mediterranean in 1942 would not rule out a cross-Channel operation in 1943.
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Marshall wired Eisenhower on July 13 to say he thought it important to continue SLEDGEHAMMER planning, as it would be useful for ROUNDUP and would keep the British from attempting other operations. Eisenhower knew all this, but he may have been surprised at the depth of Marshall’s anger over what the Chief regarded as a double-cross. Marshall said that if the British were going to abandon SLEDGEHAMMER he would advise the President to turn to the Pacific and make the major U.S. offensive there.
⁹

In the history of World War II, Marshall’s threat to drop the Germany-first strategy if the British would not do it his way has gone down as “something of a red herring.” Marshall himself was the first to use those words.
¹⁰
It may have been bluff, but the head of the British Joint Staff Mission in Washington, Field Marshal Sir John Dill, who was close to Marshall, thought the Chief was serious. In a cable to his superiors, Dill warned that if the BCOS continued to push GYMNAST at the expense of BOLERO the result would be to drive the U.S. into a “we are finished off with the West and will go all out in the Pacific” attitude. Dill noted that such a reversal in strategy would be “immensely popular” with the U. S. Navy, Australia, New Zealand and China, and sections of the American population. Dill had just talked with Marshall, who claimed that the switch from the Atlantic to the Pacific would be comparatively easy to make.
¹¹

Marshall, in short, felt more strongly about dropping SLEDGEHAMMER than he did about any other issue in the war. The British made the strength of their feelings equally clear by ignoring Dill’s warnings. Nor did the BCOS pay any attention when Eisenhower told them of the “transcendent importance of keeping Russia in the war” and said that it was his opinion “that the collapse of Russia would force the United States to go on the defensive throughout the Atlantic and to build up offensive operations against Japan.”
¹²
The British could afford to ignore
the warnings, threats, and angry outbursts because they knew that Marshall and Eisenhower were not setting American policy, and they were always confident that Roosevelt would not let the Army turn away from Europe.

On July 16 Eisenhower learned that Marshall, King, Harry Hopkins, and various aides were on their way to London. Roosevelt was sending them over with instructions either to get the British to agree to SLEDGEHAMMER or else to find a 1942 alternative. In the next few days the Western Allies made their most important strategic decision of the war, with the possible exception of the agreement to defeat Germany first. The decision the CCS made was to invade North Africa; it is still controversial. Marshall died convinced that a mistake had been made. Churchill was always sure he had been right. After the war Eisenhower, who had supported Marshall throughout the debate, decided that “those who held the Sledgehammer operation to be unwise at the moment were correct in their evaluation of the problem,” and he admitted that greater results came from the North African landings than could have come from SLEDGEHAMMER.
¹³

Since operations in 1943 flowed directly from the decision reached in July 1942, and operations in 1944 were drastically influenced by that decision, it must be examined in some detail. In simplest terms, the British were willing to gamble that the Russians would hold on in 1942 without a second front (and even with a cut in lend-lease—one convoy was called off to supply North African forces), while the Americans were not willing to take the risk. The British were not so foolish as to hope for a Russian defeat, as right-wing admirers and left-wing critics have said, nor did they have better information than the Americans. To the Prime Minister and the BCOS, it just looked impossible to do anything in Europe to help the Russians.

There was a difference in emphasis between the Allies. For the Americans, a chief requirement was to keep Russia in the war, and beyond that to get an Allied land army operating in France. The British gave verbal agreement to this, but their hearts belonged to the Middle East. For them, Egypt was the main theater, and it was in as much danger as Stalingrad or Moscow. Especially after the fall of Tobruk, the British were determined that by the end of 1942 the Middle East would be secure. To the Americans this seemed foolish. At the time the Germans had taken Sevastopol, encircled Rostov, crossed the Don River, and were preparing for their assault on Stalingrad. They were poised for a sweep into and beyond the Caucasus Mountains, which would give
them the bulk of Russia’s oil fields. By comparison, the importance of the British Eighth Army in Egypt or of French North Africa seemed minuscule.
¹⁴

Another difference was the way the two sides looked at the situation. The Americans, with no experience of defeat, felt they were quite capable of taking on the German Army and were anxious to do so. They also felt the pressure to end the war in Europe so that the full fury of the United States could be turned against Japan. The British mood differed. Under no circumstances did they want to be chased in disgrace from the Continent again. They had held on, alone, for a year; the Russian and then American entry into the anti-Axis coalition ensured Hitler’s defeat—as long as no mistakes were made.

General Sir Ian Jacob has expressed the British feeling best. “The general war situation in July, 1942,” he recalled in 1946, “was by no means favourable.” Rommel had just inflicted a severe defeat on the British, the Japanese were threatening Australia, while the Germans in Russia rolled forward unchecked. At sea the submarines raised havoc with Allied shipping, and in the air the RAF Bomber Command could deliver only small attacks against the German homeland. The war production potential of the United States was still comparatively undeveloped. There was, for example, no flow of modern tanks from the assembly line. Jacob points out that, under the circumstances, “Everyone could see the need for early action in the West to influence the developments on the Eastern fronts, and to draw off German forces, but it was not so easy to see how action could be taken. A landing in Northern France was the accepted goal of the Anglo-American strategy, but nothing could be more fatal to the Allied cause than an unsuccessful attempt.”