Crusade in Europe

by Dwight D. Eisenhower

  By comparison with other possible avenues of approach, considering the need for concentration, quick access to the heart of the enemy country, avoidance of impassable terrain obstacles, and rapidity of build-up, the best choice was invasion of northwest Europe, using England as a base.

  All these things were so obvious as to be axiomatic; there was no quarrel. But from that point on we encountered the obstacle on which all discussions split and practically exploded in our faces. This was a very definite conviction, held by some of our experienced soldiers, sailors, and airmen, that the fortified coast of western Europe could not be successfully attacked. Already much was known of the tremendous effort the German was making to insure integrity of his Atlantic wall. Moreover, a considerable amount of the German Air Force could still be disposed in those areas, and important elements of his fleet were lying in the harbors of northern France, in Norway, and in the Baltic Sea. The coast line was crowded with U-boat nests, while undersea mining was rapidly covering every possible approach.

  Many held that attack against this type of defense was madness, nothing but military suicide. Even among those who thought direct assault by land forces would eventually become necessary, the majority believed that definite signs of cracking German morale would have to appear before it would be practicable to attempt such an enterprise.

  A very few—initially a very, very few—took a contrary view. General Marshall, who had already been informed of the basic conception on which we were working, was one of the believers. Others were Major Generals McNarney and Carl Spaatz of the Air Corps, while my little band of faithful assistants in the Operations Division, including Generals Handy and Crawford, and Colonels Hull and Wedemeyer, were nothing less than enthusiasts. In the aggregate, not many officers were really aware of the existence of the project, nor had they heard any of the great arguments pro and con that went into its making. Many with whom we had to consult were always ready to express doubts of the blackest character, but these never discouraged the group responsible for the preparation of the project.

  This group held that if we would plan for an operation on the assumptions that our Air Force would be, at the chosen moment, overwhelming in strength; that the German air forces would be virtually swept from the skies and our air bombers could practically isolate the attack area from rapid reinforcement; that the U-boat would be so effectively countered that our convoys could count with comparative certainty on making a safe Atlantic crossing; that our supporting naval vessels would be present in strength to batter down local defenses and that specialized landing craft could be available in such numbers as to make possible the rapid pouring ashore of a great army through an initial breach—then the assault against the Atlantic wall was not only practicable but would lead to the definite defeat of Germany. Moreover, this tiny group solidly held that no other operation could do more than peck at the outer perimeter of the German defense; that unless this particular campaign were undertaken the prospect of defeating Germany on land was completely black.

  We felt we were bringing a new concept, almost a new faith, to strategic thinking, one which envisioned the air co-ordinated with ground operations to the extent that a ground-air team would be developed, tending to multiply the effectiveness of both.

  Many ground soldiers belittled the potentialities of the airplane against ground formations. Curiously enough, quite a number of Air Force officers were also antagonistic to the idea, thinking they saw an attempt to shackle the air to the ground and therefore a failure to realize the full capabilities of air attack. It was patiently explained over and over again that, on the contrary, the results of co-ordination would constantly advance the air bases and would articulate strategic bombing effects with ground strategy, so that as the air constantly assisted the advance of the ground forces its long-range work would not only be facilitated but destruction of its selected targets would contribute more effectively and directly to Nazi defeat. All this—so easy now to see—was then the subject of prolonged and earnest argument, extending over days and weeks.

  These reasons and supporting arguments, coupled with a great number of technical papers, were finally drawn up in a tentative strategic outline for presentation to the Chief of Staff.12 He had been aware, of course, of its preparation.

  With his usual receptiveness and openmindedness, General Marshall invited a full explanation of the scheme. The burden of proof was on us, but the critical point, the very basis of the whole plan, had to be taken almost on faith. This basis was the conviction that through an overpowering air force, numbering its combat strength in thousands rather than in hundreds, the German’s defenses could be beaten down or neutralized, his communications so badly impaired as to make counterconcentration difficult, his air force swept from the skies, and that our ground armies would have an ever-present asset of incalculable power. Without this conviction the whole plan was visionary. Yet there was no way of proving this particular point because, among other things, the airplanes we needed did not then exist.

  The Chief of Staff listened patiently through long presentations and at the end said, “This is it. I approve.” He immediately conferred with Admiral King and General Arnold, who also approved. The next step was to secure the approval of the President.13 Then our Allies would have to be convinced. It was manifest that the wholehearted support of the British Government must be obtained or the scheme would fall of its own weight. Without unstinted co-operation by the British there was no possibility of turning that country into an armed camp of Americans, much less of obtaining British naval, air, ground, and logistic support. The President directed General Marshall to proceed to London. With him went Mr. Harry L. Hopkins, intimate assistant of the President. They departed on April 7.14

  During the succeeding months I was to have many meetings with Mr. Hopkins. Preoccupied with the war, I never learned, at first hand, much about his personal political philosophy, a subject of bitter argument throughout his tour of public service in Washington. But he was almost fanatically loyal to the President and his loyalty did not hesitate to express itself, when he deemed it necessary, in opposition and prolonged argument. He had a grasp of the broad factors in military problems that was almost phenomenal and he was selflessly devoted to the purpose of expediting victory. He never spared himself, even during those periods when his health was so bad that his doctors ordered him to bed. His function as a lieutenant to the President with an endless variety of jobs, mainly concerned with the prosecution of the war, absorbed his full attention and made him a most important figure.

  Concerning the details of the negotiations in London, General Marshall has never talked to me. I do know that he came back with the agreement between the British and American governments to make the attack across the English Channel the principal offensive effort of the two governments in Europe. This decision was made in April 1942.15

  History has proved that nothing is more difficult in war than to adhere to a single strategic plan. Unforeseen and glittering promise on the one hand and unexpected difficulty or risk upon the other present constant temptation to desert the chosen line of action in favor of another. This one was no exception—realization of the plan was far removed from its making, and countless occasions were to arise when argument, blandishment, and exhortation would seek its abandonment. But the war in Europe was finally won because through every trial and every temptation—in spite of difficulty, delay, pressure, and profitable preliminary operations in the Mediterranean which themselves offered a temptation to forsake the original concept—the President, General Marshall, and many others never wavered from their purpose of launching a full-out invasion of Europe across the English Channel at the earliest practicable moment.

  RECONNAISSANCE INTO RUIN

  “In Germany … a carpet of destruction and desolation had spread over the land. Her bridges were down, her cities in ruins …” This page

  Infantry Patrol Advances Through Zweibrücken (illustration credit 3.1)

  PEACEFUL I
S BATTLE’S EVE

  “During those hours that we paced away among Gibraltar’s caverns, hundreds of Allied ships, in fast- and slow-moving convoys, were steaming across the North Atlantic …” This page

  U. S. Navy-Escorted Convoy Nears North Africa (illustration credit 3.2)

  Chapter 4

  PLATFORM

  FOR INVASION

  VERY SHORTLY AFTER GENERAL MARSHALL returned from the April conference in London he called me to his office. He said that during his visit he had found little chance to look over American activity but had become concerned because American officers on duty in London were not familiar with the broader problems and objectives of the War Department.1 Specifically, they seemed to know nothing about the maturing plans that visualized the British Isles as the greatest operating military base of all time. Marshall directed me to visit London to see what I could do about correcting this situation and to bring back recommendations involving future organization and development of our European forces. I requested permission to take with me Major General Mark Clark, then chief of staff for General McNair, head of the ground forces. I felt that Clark’s observations regarding the suitability of the United Kingdom as a training and staging ground would prove valuable.

  We started just after the middle of May. Our trip took us over the Northern Air Route, developed by the Army Air Forces and destined to become a significant factor in the final defeat of the European Axis. Airfields in Maine, Newfoundland, Labrador, Greenland, Iceland, and Scotland eventually made it possible to ferry all our planes, even fighters, to Europe. Without that route, built in spite of difficulty, discouragement, and even great skepticism as to its usability, we could scarcely have maintained the forces we put into Europe.

  Upon our arrival in England we met the United States commander, Major General James E. Chaney, who had been assigned there as a “military observer” before our entry into the war.2 He and his small staff had been given no opportunity to familiarize themselves with the revolutionary changes that had since taken place in the United States and were completely at a loss in their earnest attempts to further the war effort. They were definitely in a back eddy, from which they could scarcely emerge except through a return to the United States. Up to that time American preoccupation with the Pacific war had been so great that the very existence of the London group was all but forgotten—the spotlight had not yet turned toward Europe.

  Our inspection team spent ten days in the United Kingdom. I returned home to report to the Chief of Staff that in my opinion the individual to take charge of the American effort in Europe should be someone thoroughly indoctrinated in the plans of the United States Government, with a working knowledge of our capabilities in the production of land, air, and naval units and materials to support them in offensive fighting. In his quick way General Marshall asked me who should take the job, and this time I had my answer ready. I recommended General McNarney. I knew that McNarney had previously served some months in London, was thoroughly familiar with the workings of the British service departments, and was acquainted with many of the key officers therein. Moreover, it was apparent that the earliest operations of the United States out of Great Britain would be limited to air raids, because the building up of the great air forces visualized in the invasion plan would have as a first result the initiation of a long and vigorous bombing campaign. Finally, I knew that General McNarney firmly believed in the Air Force’s ability to make ground invasion of France possible.

  The Chief of Staff rejected this recommendation. He had just appointed McNarney Deputy Chief of Staff for the War Department and there was no other suitable officer to take over the post.3 To insure integration and to build up mutual confidence, General Marshall felt it essential that, at that time, his deputy should be from the Air Corps.

  On June 8, I submitted to the Chief of Staff a draft of a “Directive for the Commanding General, European Theater of Operations,” which provided for unified command of all American forces allocated to the European area.4 I remarked to General Marshall that this was one paper he should read in detail before it went out because it was likely to be an important document in the further waging of the war. His reply still lives in my memory: “I certainly do want to read it. You may be the man who executes it. If that’s the case, when can you leave?” Three days later General Marshall told me definitely that I would command the European theater.

  Naturally I have often wondered what led to that particular and apparently sudden decision. General Marshall has never volunteered a word but of course I did realize that it was sudden only to me; he had thought the matter over carefully. The transfer from staff to command duty would have been welcomed by any soldier; but the weight of responsibility involved was so great as to obliterate any thought of personal elation and so critical as to compel complete absorption in the job at hand. In any event, the unexpected orders started me on a hurried round of preparation, most of which involved the transfer of War Department duties to my successor, General Handy.

  I had several meetings with important officials. In a short talk with Secretary of War Stimson, I gained the impression that he was counting on the start of active operations very soon. I commented that a long period of build-up would have to precede any attack on the European continent, but I did learn that he was a firm supporter of the plan.

  A later call on President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill, a guest at the White House, was no more than an informal chat. It had no military significance, but it was the first time I ever had a personal talk with either of these two men. Tobruk, in the African desert, had just fallen to the Germans and the whole Allied world was thrown into gloom. These two leaders, however, showed no signs of pessimism. It was gratifying to note that they were thinking of attack and victory, not of defense and defeat.

  I also went to see Admiral King. He was a naval officer of the fighting type, abrupt, decisive, and frequently so blunt as to frighten his subordinates. In our conversation he stressed the point that the venture on which I was going to Britain would mark the first deliberate attempt by the American fighting services to set up a unified command in the field for a campaign of indefinite length. He assured me that he would do everything within his power to sustain my status of actual “commander” of American forces assigned to me. He said that he wanted no foolish talk about my authority depending upon “co-operation and paramount interest.” He insisted that there should be single responsibility and authority and he cordially invited me to communicate with him personally at any time that I thought there might be intentional or unintentional violation of this concept by the Navy.

  All this was of vital importance to me because, before that time, Joint Regulations for the control of Army-Navy forces in the field had stressed the principle of “paramount interest”5 in determining which service should have directing authority and responsibility.

  General Clark and I, with a few assistants, left Washington in late June 1942.6 This time the parting from my family seemed particularly difficult although it was, in a sense, a mere repetition of previous instances covering many years. Our son came down from West Point; he, my wife, and I had two days together, and then I left.

  Our party landed in England without incident and I immediately assumed command of the European Theater of Operations, United States Army, which then comprised only the United Kingdom and Iceland. Since it was a wartime habit to manufacture new words from group initials, it was inevitable that the theater should quickly acquire the popular name of ETOUSA.

  The United States theater in Europe was established for the purpose of preparing the American part of the invasion of the Continent, agreed upon between the British and American governments as the main strategical effort in defeating Germany. Here are short excerpts from the directive;

  The Commanding General … European Theater, … will command all U. S. Army Forces and personnel now in, or hereafter dispatched to, the European Theater of Operations, including any part of the Marine Corps ther
ein which may be detached for service with the Army.

  By agreement between Navy and War Departments, planning and operational control … will be exercised by the Commanding General … over all U. S. Navy Forces assigned to this Theater.

  Subject to such limitations within the British Isles as are necessary to avoid any violation of British sovereignty, the Commanding General, European Theater, is charged with the tactical, strategical, territorial and administrative duties of a theater commander.

  The mission of the Commanding General, European Theater, will be to prepare for and carry on military operations in the European Theater against the Axis Powers and their Allies.7

  In late June 1942 the press of the United States and Great Britain was echoing the Russian cry for a “second front.” To the professional soldier this was disturbing, not because of any quarrel with the soundness of the idea but because the impatience of the public clearly demonstrated a complete lack of appreciation of the problems involved, particularly of the time that must elapse before any such operation could be launched. Unless there is some understanding of the vastness of those problems, any account of what happened during the ensuing two years will remain meaningless and unintelligible. To help toward such an understanding, here are a few statistics.

  When the actual invasion of northwestern Europe took place on June 6, 1944, there were in England ready for use:

  17 British Empire divisions, including 3 Canadian

  20 American divisions

  1 French division

  1 Polish division