Crusade in Europe

by Dwight D. Eisenhower

  While SHAEF existed the British and American efforts in military government were combined. The British had established a training school in England similar to ours at Charlottesville, Virginia. The latter school had already furnished the American contingent of the military government organization in Sicily and Italy.

  Final training of the officers needed for military government in the American Zone in Germany was conducted in England. We established in SHAEF a general staff division charged with co-ordination of the whole effort. It was headed by Lieutenant General A. E. Grasett, of the British Army, and Brigadier General Julius C. Holmes, of the American Army.12

  Our first military government experience in Germany was gained at Aachen before the crossing of the Rhine. This showed us the kind of problem that we were apt to meet later on when the occupation had extended deep into Germany. The situation was new and difficult, and became more acute because of our policy of non-employment of Nazis for any governmental work. In much of our necessary public utility work it was only the local Nazis who had sufficient knowledge to be of assistance. The question at once arose as to whether we should use them or non-Nazis, who knew little or nothing about the particular facility. It was difficult, but as quickly as possible we got rid of party members and trained others for necessary operation of public works, public utilities, sanitary service, posts, telegraphs, and telephones.

  The life of a military government officer was never dull. Usually he had been commissioned in the Army because of his administrative or technical background. But with the housekeeping of a whole town or city on his shoulders, the officer had to meet every conceivable kind of problem in human relations, to keep local peace and order while ferreting out those wanted by the Allies for trial, to begin restoration of productive activity while carrying out his share of broad Allied policy as it was given to us from Washington in a document known as JCS/1067.13 He was often forced, in the beginning, to act as a referee in personal feuds. As soon as the Germans learned of our de-Nazification program every complaint by an individual against another was on the basis of “He is a Nazi.” In the chaos of postwar Germany errors were inescapable, and this applied to features of general policy as well as to details of execution by local functionaries. But by and large, the military government group of Americans did a remarkable job—one that reflected their sincerity and intelligence as well as the soundness of their special training.

  Lieutenant General Lucius Du B. Clay came to Europe in April 1945 to act as my deputy for the military government of Germany. For a brief period, earlier in the war, he had performed invaluable services in the European theater in our logistics system. From the beginning he agreed with me that a civil agency of government should eventually take over the control of Germany, and his whole organization was definitely separated from the military staff. In this way we were prepared to turn over military government to the State Department with no necessity for complete reorganization.14 General Clay later succeeded General McNarney as American commander in Germany, and always maintained this distinction in organization. More than any other two individuals, Clay and Wickersham deserve credit for the initial establishment of American Military Government in Germany—a performance that, in view of the frustrations, obstacles, divided counsels and responsibilities, and difficulties in postwar Allied co-operation, must be classed as brilliant.

  By agreement on the political level, SHAEF went out of existence on July 14. To mark the occasion I sent a final message of thanks and good-by to the entire command. For the first time in three years I ceased to be an Allied commander. Thenceforth my responsibilities were American only.15

  My personal staff was now joined by Lieutenant Colonel James Stack. Sergeant major in the 3d Division when I was with it at Fort Lewis, later commissioned and transferred to the Operations Division, where he became executive officer, Colonel Stack had served as my personal representative at the War Department throughout the Mediterranean and European campaigns.

  Preliminary agreements for an initial meeting of the Allied Council in Berlin were accomplished with difficulty. Complications included differences in language and laborious methods of communication, the lack of intimate contacts between senior commanders, and the destruction in the city of Berlin which so stringently restricted accommodations. It was not until June 5 that we progressed far enough with all these tortuous negotiations to hold the first formal meeting of the Allied commanders in Berlin.16

  The purpose was merely to sign our basic proclamation, a document announcing the formation of the Council and assumption of joint responsibility for the administration of Germany. We thought that the papers in the case had been completely agreed upon before we went to Berlin, but when we reached there we discovered that there were questions which the Russians still considered unsettled.

  The meeting was arranged for the middle of the afternoon and before it began I seized the opportunity to call at Marshal Zhukov’s headquarters to present him with the Chief Commander grade of the Legion of Merit, awarded him by the American Government. I thought Marshal Zhukov an affable and soldierly-appearing individual.

  When I got back to my own temporary quarters in Berlin I found that there was an unexpected delay in convening the meeting, at which Marshal Zhukov was to act as host. This was annoying, as I had to return to Frankfurt that evening. Through the long afternoon hours we waited, but the English-speaking liaison officer from Zhukov’s headquarters could give us no explanation for the delay. Finally, late in the afternoon, I determined to force the issue. Because I knew that all the documents to be handled had been previously studied and revised by each of the governments concerned, I could see no valid reason for a delay that began to look deliberate. I therefore asked the liaison officer to inform Marshal Zhukov that, much to my regret, I should be forced to return to Frankfurt unless the meeting began within thirty minutes. However, just as the messenger was ready to depart word came that we were expected at the conference room, to which we all instantly repaired. The marshal tendered an explanation for the delay, saying that he had been awaiting final Moscow instructions on an important point. The rest of us accepted the statement in good part and the Berlin Council got off to a start in an atmosphere of friendly cordiality.

  The circular conference table was the largest I have ever seen. Each national delegation was assigned a ninety-degree quadrant at the table. The commanders were surrounded by a crowd of military and political assistants, photographers, newsmen, and others who seemed merely to be present. My political adviser was Robert Murphy, of North African days. Mr. Vishinsky, who had attracted considerable publicity some years earlier as the prosecutor in Russian purge trials, was Marshal Zhukov’s first political adviser. There were four copies of each of the documents before us and each copy had to be signed by all four Council members; after some little discussion on minor details of wording the laborious business was completed.17

  It then developed that Marshal Zhukov had arranged an elaborate banquet for his guests, but I was not prepared to spend the night in Berlin. Moreover, I had allowed so many people to accompany me to Berlin that there was no possibility of taking care of them in the cramped quarters allotted us. I therefore told Zhukov that I would have to go back to Frankfurt that evening, sufficiently early to land before dark. He asked me to compromise by coming to the banquet hall for a toast and to hear the Red Army choir sing two songs. He promised me a speedy trip through the city to the airfield, saying he would go along himself to see that there was no delay.

  Because of the marshal’s hospitable gesture toward his Allies I regretted my inability to stay. The singing of the Red Army chorus was remarkable, and the table was piled with Russian delicacies. Before I left Marshal Zhukov announced that he had just received a message from Moscow instructing him, with the approval of Generalissimo Stalin, to confer upon Field Marshal Montgomery and me the Russian Order of Victory, a Soviet decoration that had never previously been given to a foreigner. The marshal asked me when I should lik
e to have the decoration presented and I invited him to visit my headquarters at Frankfurt for the ceremony. He accepted and I was pleased when Montgomery tactfully suggested that since he had served throughout the European campaign under my command he would also like to receive his decoration in my headquarters.

  I invited Zhukov to bring to the ceremony at Frankfurt a number of staff assistants and to stay as long as he pleased, with the assurance of a warm welcome. He replied that he would come on June 10 and would be accompanied by no more than ten staff officers, but could stay for the day only. Consequently I planned a state luncheon for him and his party. Just a few hours before his arrival I received a telegram saying that in addition to the ten staff officers he was bringing five officer bodyguards. An officer bodyguard was a functionary of whom I had never heard and I was somewhat puzzled as to what to do with five at a luncheon. I directed the mess officer to keep his arrangements flexible and said I would let him know what to do after the marshal arrived.

  We met Zhukov at the airport with a guard of honor and the United States Army Band, and we then, with an interpreter, got into my car for the trip back to headquarters. I promptly brought up the question of the proper place for officer bodyguards at a luncheon. I told him that he could have them seated immediately around him, standing behind him, or at the far end of the table. When all this was interpreted to him he blurted out: “Please tell the general he can put them wherever he pleases. I brought them along because I was told to do so.” That settled the question of the officer bodyguards very satisfactorily.

  The luncheon at Frankfurt was a great success. It was a beautiful summer day and we first took our guests to a large gallery, open to the sky, where wines and pre-luncheon refreshments were served. For this interval we had arranged a parade of a large segment of our Air Force, on the assumption that Marshal Zhukov would consider it a compliment. From nearby fields we brought over hundreds of fighter planes, followed by bombers ranging in size from the lighter types on up to the heaviest equipment we possessed. In the bright sunlight it was a tremendous show and Zhukov seemed much impressed.

  Conforming to the Russian custom, as far as we knew it, the luncheon period included a series of toasts. The marshal was an accomplished speaker, or at least he sounded so to us, and the sentiments he expressed through the interpreter were complimentary to the Allies and hopeful of success in our co-operative purposes. Everybody had his turn at offering a toast—British, Americans, Russians, and French. We must have risen to our feet at least a dozen times but I noticed that most of the Americans soon followed my example and filled their glasses with water, colored only sufficiently with red wine to give the drink an appropriate appearance.

  The decorations presented to Montgomery and me were among the few I have seen that have great intrinsic rather than exclusively sentimental and symbolic value. Designed in the form of a star, each contains some eighty or ninety diamonds surrounding a group of synthetic rubies, in the center of which is a small enameled representation of the Kremlin.

  On the part of Zhukov and his assistants there was discernible only an intense desire to be friendly and co-operative. Looking back on it, that day still seems to have held nothing but bright promise for the establishment of cordial and close relations with the Russians. That promise, eventually lost in suspicion and recrimination, was never to be fulfilled. But so far as the friendly association between Marshal Zhukov and myself was concerned, it continued to grow until the moment I left Europe in November 1945. That friendship was a personal and individual thing and unfortunately was not representative of a general attitude.

  From the record of Russian contacts with the Western Allies during the war, Generals Smith, Clay, and I believed in the early summer of 1945 that success in joint government of Germany would be measured almost exclusively by the degree to which the Western Allies, both generally and locally, overcame Russian suspicion and distrust. There was a vast gulf to be bridged between governmental systems, and manifestly it could never be crossed unless, on highest political levels, mutual confidence and trust were achieved. But, assuming that the heads of states would be reasonably successful, a great responsibility still devolved upon us in Berlin. We were in daily and hourly contact with problems on which unanimous agreements had to be reached—and we felt that a record of local achievement would have a happy and definite effect upon the whole question of whether Communism and democracy would find a way to get along together in the same world. Consequently, in personal as well as in official relationships, we spared no pains or trouble to demonstrate good faith, respect, and friendly intent.

  At the time, however, the difficult problem of displaced persons pressed more immediately on my attention than my personal relations with the Russians. A displaced person was defined as a civilian outside the national boundaries of his or her country by reason of war, who was desirous but unable to return home or find a home without assistance, or who was to be returned to enemy or ex-enemy territory.18

  Hundreds of thousands were quickly evacuated. These were in addition to prisoners of war and were those civilians who had homes somewhere in Europe and desired to return to them at once. We organized camps to take care of these classes temporarily and fed them while we worked out transportation plans.19

  But those that we soon came to designate particularly as Displaced Persons, DPs for short, did not include these easily dispersible thousands. The truly unfortunate were those who, for one reason or another, no longer had homes or were “persecutees” who dared not return home for fear of further persecution. The terror felt by this last group was impressed on us by a number of suicides among individuals who preferred to die rather than return to their native lands. In some instances these may have been traitors who rightly feared the punishment they knew to be in store for them. But in many other cases they belonged to the oppressed classes and saw death as a far less terrifying thing than renewed persecution.

  The Allies had, on the political level, worked out formulas for distinguishing between displaced persons who were to be returned to their own countries and those who were to be cared for by the occupying powers. These policies and agreements we first tried to apply without deviation, but we quickly saw that their rigid application would often violate the fundamental humanitarian principles we espoused. Thereafter we gave any individual who objected to return the benefit of doubt.20

  Of all these DPs the Jews were in the most deplorable condition. For years they had been beaten, starved, and tortured. Even food, clothes, and decent treatment could not immediately enable them to shake off their hopelessness and apathy. They huddled together—they seemingly derived a feeling of safety out of crowding together in a single room—and there passively awaited whatever might befall. To secure for them adequate shelter, to establish a system of food distribution and medical service, to say nothing of providing decent sanitary facilities, heat, and light was a most difficult task. They were, in many instances, no longer capable of helping themselves; everything had to be done for them.21

  Other groups of unreturnables included former citizens of the Baltic States—Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania—which had been incorporated into the U.S.S.R. Thousands of the Balts we found in western Germany were classified as stateless; they had fled because of a record of opposition to the seizure of their countries and could not return. They were relatively healthy, strong, and quite ready to work to improve their buildings and surroundings. Along with these were also Poles, Ukrainians, Rumanians, Yugoslavs, and others.22

  As soon as the news spread about eastern Europe that the Western Allies were treating displaced persons with consideration, additional thousands began seeping into our zones. Facilities were always overcrowded, food could be issued only at a subsistence level, and in spite of everything we could do progress was slow.

  As usual, individuals with no responsibility in the matter, their humanitarian impulses outraged by conditions that were frequently beyond help, began carrying to America tales of indiffer
ence, negligence, and callousness on the part of the troops. Generally these stories were lies. The thousands of men assigned to the job of rescuing the DPs and organizing relief for them were Americans. They were given every facility and assistance the Army could provide, and they were genuinely concerned in doing their utmost for these unfortunate of the earth. But because perfection could not be achieved some so-called investigators saw a golden chance for personal publicity. They did so at the expense of great numbers of Americans who labored night and day to alleviate the average lot of people who had suffered so much that they seemed at times beyond suffering.

  With commanders and members of my staff I made frequent visits to these camps. We would spend hours in each, discovering at first hand what was needed or most desired, and supplying these whenever possible.

  In the months since, great improvements have gradually been made; but the problem is not yet solved. Of all the distressing memories that will forever live with American veterans of the war in Europe, none will be sharper or more enduring than those of the DPs and of the horror camps established by the Nazis.

  THESE WERE HITLER’S ELITE

  “… within eighteen days of the moment the Ruhr was surrounded it had surrendered with an even greater number of prisoners than we had bagged in the final Tunisian collapse …” This page

  Nazis Taken Prisoner in the Ruhr Pocket (illustration credit 22.1)

  DOUBLE-LOADED FOR HOME

  This plan required “one man to sleep in the daytime so that another could have his bunk during the night.… I never afterward heard of a single complaint …” This page

  The Queen Elizabeth Brings Them Home (illustration credit 22.2)

  The first business meeting of the Berlin Council was held on July 10. Chairmanship of the Council was to rotate monthly and a fine spirit was initially noticeable. Differences of opinion developed but most of these involved details of procedure or method, and in the prevailing co-operative atmosphere none of them seemed to threaten great difficulty.