No Less Than Victory

by Jeff Shaara

  “Thank you, sir. Up and about, no problems, I assure you. Monty is rather the nursemaid, though. Insists on a curfew much like his own.”

  There were patronizing laughs all around, and Eisenhower understood the meaning of that. The staffs were overly accommodating to anything Freddie de Guingand would say, this time laughing too hard at his mild joke. Eisenhower knew that Montgomery had established his own strict routine by going to bed at nine thirty every night, leaving the late-night work to his staff. As his chief of staff, de Guingand had always suffered the brunt of the labor, and he had served extremely well as the go-between who soaked up the distrust and animosity between Montgomery and most of the higher-ranking Americans, particularly Eisenhower himself. Other than Arthur Tedder, de Guingand was the British officer Eisenhower most enjoyed conversing with. The man’s sudden collapse had been discreetly described as a nervous breakdown, which had unnerved everyone, since de Guingand was such an important cog in the British machine. But Montgomery himself seemed almost unaffected by it, barely altering his own routines at all. If Montgomery showed few outward signs of relief to have his chief of staff back at work, every one of the American generals had sent profound best wishes for de Guingand’s health.

  Eisenhower scanned the room, the British officers holding teacups, a momentary mood of relaxation that Eisenhower rarely saw around Montgomery. But Montgomery was not yet there. De Guingand seemed to sense the momentary lapse in conversation, said, “Sir, Monty will be along shortly. He’s attending to some personal matter. Please don’t give it any significance.”

  “No problem, Freddie.”

  “Tea, sir?”

  “No. Just relax. He can keep me waiting. I’m used to it.”

  Eisenhower knew the cause of de Guingand’s uneasiness. It was one more routine Montgomery enjoyed. If he could not be the very first man into the room, arranging the maps and paperwork to suit his own plan, then he would be the very last. Then and only then could the meeting begin. Eisenhower knew better than to be annoyed by it, would never scold the British commander for what was, to most of the Americans, a show of rudeness. But Monty could play his games, since today, Eisenhower needed him to be in a good mood.

  He appeared now, beret affixed, the ever-present sweater, the casual appearance typical. Eisenhower refused to be affected by that, knew that the only man who insisted on neckties at every occasion was George Patton. If Montgomery was using his casualness as a show of disrespect, Eisenhower simply didn’t care. There were far more important things to worry about.

  “Ah, there you are! Good to see you, Ike, old chap. We’ve given the Hun quite a blasting, eh? A great deal more work to do, of course. I was just conferring with your General Hodges. His lines are finally coming up to shape, though I must admit, several of his divisions are somewhat slow to move. Can’t be helped, I suppose. This weather is a challenge, wouldn’t you say?”

  Montgomery stood facing him with his hands on his hips, and Eisenhower could only nod, did not expect this much sheer exuberance. He pointed to the long table, said, “May we sit?”

  “Oh, most certainly! Take your seats, gentlemen. Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

  Eisenhower wasn’t certain what point Montgomery was referring to, knew it would come soon enough. Montgomery waited for his own staff to arrange themselves, the chair at the far end of the table left empty, Monty’s own place. He moved that way, stood behind the chair, appraising the others, seemed satisfied, then took his seat.

  “We’ll be ready for them, Ike. Working like the devil to whip our boys into shape, convince them of the threat. Can’t fault your people for not quite pulling the rope, as it were. Hodges had his hands full, and some of his boys took a terrible licking. Takes time to bring those units back up to speed, you know. He’s also got quite a handicap with some of his newer people. Marvelous how you’ve managed to recruit so many new troops, marvelous indeed. You’re drawing from what seems to be a bottomless well. Training a bit lacking, but that will come in time. It took me a bit longer than I’d hoped to convince General Hodges of the danger. A few challenging fellows under his command. This fellow Ridgway … tough nut, that one. Paratroopers are harder to rein in than most, I suppose.”

  “I’m not here to appraise anyone’s leadership, Monty. I need you to press the enemy, and press him hard and fast. Brad believes we’re staring straight at an opportunity here, and I don’t want to see this one get away.”

  Montgomery seemed to ignore the meaning, too many failures that could only be placed at Montgomery’s feet, failures caused nearly always by a lack of speed, what Patton called audacity. Eisenhower knew that the man was far too prickly to absorb the blame that so many in the American camps were aiming at him.

  After a brief silent moment, Montgomery said, “I am doing all I can to put your people into line. The reinforcements have helped, no doubt. But we must be ready for the inevitable.”

  “The inevitable what?”

  Montgomery looked down, and Eisenhower detected the annoying smirk, that hint of dismissal for Eisenhower’s knowledge of strategy.

  De Guingand seemed to sense it as well, the arrogance that was a sore point for every American commander. De Guingand said, “Sir, we believe that the Huns are readying a strike near the Malmédy–Stavelot line, possibly intending a major push toward Liège. General Hodges has been most cooperative in shifting strength in preparation for the attack we believe will come in a matter of days.”

  The man’s tone was apologetic, and Eisenhower knew the words had been carefully chosen.

  “Sorry, Freddie, but I am not as convinced of the inevitability of the enemy’s movements. We have no information that the enemy is preparing any kind of large-scale assault. Quite the opposite. If we press him and press him hard, he will withdraw. He is dangerous still, but he has suffered horribly for the ground he has gained. If he is capable of any significant offensive operation, we should not allow him the time to regroup. On this point, I agree wholeheartedly with General Patton. The best defense is to attack. If we do not attack, and soon, then we are allowing the enemy to dictate our strategy. Whether that means attack or withdrawal, I do not intend to grant him those kinds of options. I spoke to Air Marshal Tedder yesterday. He phrased it quite well, I thought. The enemy has stuck his neck out. Imagine a chicken poking its head through a fence. As rapidly as possible, we should sever that head. Brad agrees, and has ordered Patton to continue to push northward from the area around Bastogne. Rather than waiting for General Hodges to receive an attack at Stavelot, I would much prefer he make an attack of his own and drive southward. The deep thrust into our lines has placed the enemy at an enormous disadvantage. Every salient has a vulnerable point, and it is usually at the base. We have an obvious opportunity. I should like you to agree with me on this one, Monty.”

  There was silence in the room, no one touching their teacups, eyes on Montgomery. After a long pause he looked up, his eyes not meeting Eisenhower’s.

  “Are you ordering me to attack the enemy’s salient?”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “When?”

  Eisenhower knew the smell of a trap, had already been over the strategy with Bradley. Bradley understood Montgomery as well as anyone, and Eisenhower knew that if the timetable was left up to Montgomery, he might require weeks of preparation. If the order was immediate, the kind of order Patton would leap at, Montgomery would simply claim it could not be done at all. Eisenhower let out a breath, looked at de Guingand, thought, dammit, I’m tired of this crap.

  “January third. You said that Hodges has his people in place, and I know he’ll be ready.”

  Montgomery seemed prepared with a response, stared past Eisenhower again, as though he was figuring out the strategy on the spot.

  “I suppose, if pressed, we can ready an assault. This weather might play the dickens with the roads, though …”

  Eisenhower had lost patience, saw the hint of concern on de Guingand’s face, Monty’s chi
ef of staff seeming to know exactly what was coming. Eisenhower said, “The enemy used this crappy weather to his advantage. We were caught completely by surprise. If these stinking snowstorms continue, he won’t be expecting us to do anything. If the snow quits, the air boys can lead the way. Either way, we have to make the first move.”

  Montgomery seemed to ponder his options. “Ike, I’ll tell you what. If your man Hodges feels he is ready to make a move, I’ll not stand in his way. But the maps show me that the opportunity is straight into the Hun’s face. With the troop positions we have now, including the reinforcements, we can strike eastward and drive the enemy straight back where he came from.”

  De Guingand spoke up now.

  “Sir, if I may clarify.”

  “Certainly, Freddie.”

  De Guingand looked at Eisenhower as though he was carefully asking for a favor.

  “Sir, we have our greatest strength in a strong position opposite the enemy’s deepest penetration, just east of the Meuse River. It would be tactically reasonable to strike from that position. Preparation for an assault would be minimal. I do not believe the timetable would be a challenge.”

  Compromise. The word echoed through Eisenhower’s brain. He knew that Montgomery’s stubbornness could not simply be ordered away. If I tell him to move down from the north, he’ll find a thousand reasons why he can’t. But he won’t say it here, not to my face. All the bitching will come tomorrow, after I’m gone.

  Montgomery was scowling, nodded grudgingly, said, “All right then. If you insist we make this assault, then Freddie’s idea is the most sound. We can hit the enemy from the west, and if we are fortunate, we shall push him back to where he began.”

  “The gap between Stavelot and Bastogne is less than thirty miles.” Eisenhower paused, let the word sink in. “Patton will continue his drive northward. It would be very beneficial for the morale of this army … this entire army, that the enemy not be allowed to escape. Do I need to explain this?”

  De Guingand responded, “Certainly not, sir. That is our goal as well.”

  You’re a good chief of staff, Eisenhower thought. You know when your boss needs to keep his answers to himself.

  Montgomery turned, scanned the wide map on the wall, seemed lost in thought. The teacups chattered, the staff relaxing, and Montgomery said, “This is a perfect example of the need we have to unite this army under a single ground commander.” He looked at Eisenhower now, wagged one finger in the air. “The perfect example. All sides of this attack can be best coordinated through one headquarters. Without such control, there is the potential for failure. I appreciate the strains you are under with a command as cumbersome as this. I completely understand. That’s why my idea should be reconsidered. A single field command, right here, could relieve you of the burden for the disposition of so many ground troops.”

  Eisenhower closed his eyes for a brief second, had not expected Montgomery to open this wound again.

  “You are assuming that if you are not placed in command of all ground forces in this theater of the war, we are destined for failure.”

  “Frankly, Ike, I am inclined to believe that the best course of action, given the threat the enemy still poses, is to shelve this talk of a general attack. With the weather so poor, and my certainty that the enemy is preparing to hit us again, we should consider withdrawing westward, behind the Meuse, and in the south we should pull back far behind the Moselle. Only then can we establish an impenetrable defense and await better campaigning weather. Reinforced with fresh troops, we could then launch the final unyielding thrust, driving the Hun all the way back behind the Rhine. Berlin could be ours in a matter of weeks.”

  Eisenhower was stunned, saw de Guingand shifting nervously in his chair.

  “Withdraw? Are you serious?”

  Montgomery seemed surprised at the question.

  “I always seek the best for my men, Ike. Always have. In this case—”

  “There will be no damn withdrawal.” Eisenhower was losing the battle with his own temper, thought of Patton. If I tell Georgie to retreat back to the Moselle, he’ll drive a tank straight into Monty’s headquarters. “And I do not want to hear any more talk of failure. You will launch your offensive assault on January third.”

  Montgomery shrugged.

  “Those are my orders?”

  “Yep.”

  On January 3, the Allies launched the next phase of the campaign. Despite Montgomery’s pessimism, the Germans mostly responded by backing away. But the fights were not all simple and one-sided. West of the snow-covered Ardennes, the German rear guard gave ground with grudging steps, striking out sharply at the Americans who pushed forward, increasing the casualty count on both sides.

  Though Hitler would not approve any requests from his commanders for a general retreat, the German officers in the field understood the odds against them. All across the front, tanks and trucks empty of fuel were abandoned or destroyed, many of the soldiers pulling back by whatever means they could find. Across the same ridges and snow-filled valleys where the Germans had so crushed their unprepared enemy, they now flowed back in the opposite direction.

  In the area of Alsace, where Patton’s Twentieth Corps and Jacob Devers’s Sixth Army Group held the line against the enemy at Hitler’s West Wall, Hitler had ordered a new offensive, designed to strike into American positions well south of the bulge. Hitler’s plan was to draw strength away from Patton’s northward push; possibly, if the Germans could penetrate deeply enough, Eisenhower would be forced to shift enough strength to that area to slow the progress in the Ardennes. Eisenhower ordered Devers to pull back and consolidate his lines, greatly strengthening his ability to hold the Germans away. But that area was also manned by the French First Army, led by officers who reacted with outrage that Eisenhower would order them to withdraw from French territory. Word was sent quickly from Alsace to Paris, to the man who had proclaimed himself leader of France. As the French people and their army had come to expect, their leader would not accept such a blow to French pride without vigorous protest. That protest would come in a meeting Eisenhower could not avoid. Charles de Gaulle loudly announced that he was going to Eisenhower’s headquarters.

  In what Eisenhower considered to be a lightning bolt of coincidence, his staff received word that he would have another visitor as well. Winston Churchill had decided he needed a brief look at how things were shaping up at SHAEF.

  SHAEF, VERSAILLES, FRANCE

  JANUARY 3, 1944

  De Gaulle was even taller than Eisenhower had remembered, a head taller than his gloomy interpreter. The uniforms on both Frenchmen were impeccable, a variety of decorations and official badges that made Eisenhower curious. But there was no chance he would give in to de Gaulle’s always present arrogance by asking just what the medals were for. De Gaulle had not been on a battlefield leading anyone since the Germans had crushed the French more than four years earlier, and even then he had ranked far below France’s military leaders in the field. Eisenhower waited for de Gaulle to take his seat, a slow, deliberate perch, thought, I guess if he’s the boss, he can award himself any honor he decides he’s earned. It must be a pain in the ass every time he takes off his coat.

  Churchill sat to one side, engulfed by a fat leather chair. He had spoken only a polite and smiling greeting to de Gaulle, and then had seemed to decide this conversation was Eisenhower’s alone. Once de Gaulle began to speak, Churchill kept completely silent.

  The interpreter never smiled, as though the task was far too mundane to require much energy on his part. But unlike so many confrontations before, this time Eisenhower sensed a surprising vulnerability in de Gaulle. Since he had claimed his place at the head of the French government, de Gaulle had tried forcefully to insert himself into the Allied hierarchy. But the Frenchman had been purposely left out of the specific planning for the Normandy invasion, Allied intelligence well aware that his headquarters in Algeria was leaking secrets to German operatives like water through a
sprinkler head. De Gaulle had been furious that he had not been consulted prior to the invasion, as he had been furious with the general practice at SHAEF to pass along most other strategic information after the events had actually occurred. It required very little imagination on anyone’s part to conclude that Eisenhower not only distrusted French security but—after so many confrontations with de Gaulle’s self-importance—had very little use for de Gaulle himself.

  Eisenhower had dreaded the meeting, of course, but de Gaulle was offering something different this time, charm, a friendly smile that didn’t seem to fit the man’s face. Eisenhower appreciated the gesture, even if it was purely superficial.

  “General Eisenhower, I must apologize to you. It was a mistake for me not to have congratulated you in a more timely fashion for you receiving your fifth star. I understand that in American military history, that places you among the very elite. You should be quite proud of such an achievement, such recognition by your government.”

  “Thank you. It was a most pleasant surprise.”

  De Gaulle held the smile, seemed to wait for some compliment to come back the other way. Eisenhower searched his brain, couldn’t think of one.

  De Gaulle continued, “Pride in one’s army is an essential part of any nation’s spirit. Your nation has much to be proud of, and by yourself, you are responsible for much of that. The reward is just. It is so much the same way in my country. Pride in our army is critical, especially since, for much of this war, we have borne the burden of the German curse. My people have suffered greatly. We are grateful to our allies for your efforts. I feel quite strongly that the tide of this struggle has turned in our favor. Everywhere I go, the French people are receiving their liberation with tears of great joy.”

  Eisenhower understood completely where de Gaulle was going. “Strasbourg is among those cities.”

  “Yes! I am pleased you understand. I was distressed when I heard the reports that you would have us abandon so much we have gained. The people of Strasbourg would suffer horrible circumstances should the Germans be allowed to regain control. I fear retribution would be bloody. The Boches have no morals. I am not telling you what you do not already know.”