Churchill 1940-1945: Under Friendly Fire

by Walter Reid

  On 5 September Churchill set off from Greenock on the Queen Mary, taking with him a nurse and a penicillin expert. When he discovered that American servicemen on board were going to lose a week’s leave because their departure had been delayed on his account, he at once telegraphed Roosevelt asking if the week could be reinstated. ‘It would be a pleasure to me if this could be announced before the end of the voyage and their anxiety relieved.’ This was one request to which Roosevelt felt able to agree.

  Difficult discussions about the Far East took place at a staff conference on board the Queen Mary on 8 September 1944. Churchill was realistic about the life left in the German enemy. He was very perturbed about the prospect of moving troops from Italy to the Far East at a very early date, on the assumption that a German collapse was imminent.

  He was also occupied on the voyage with another dispute, this one with Attlee and the War Cabinet over increased pay to be given to troops for fighting in the Japanese War. He had already said that he considered the proffered terms to be inadequate, and was accordingly furious that the War Cabinet proposed nonetheless to publish them in his absence. A violent reply to Attlee’s telegram was dictated, but a more temperate one followed. Eden’s ‘aid and friendship’ was invoked. The Prime Minister was entitled to some consideration ‘when I am absent on public duty of highest consequence’.5

  At the conference, the American Secretary of the Treasury, Henry Morgenthau, argued for punitive de-industrialisation of Germany post-war: the great factories of the Ruhr would be closed, as would the shipyards. His plan had been discussed at length by the President and the Treasury Secretary. Churchill’s immediate reaction – of humanity and honour – was typical: ‘I’m all for disarming Germany, but we ought not to prevent her living decently. There are bonds between the working classes of all countries and the English people will not stand for the policy you are advocating. I agree with Burke. You cannot indict a whole nation. What is to be done should be done quickly. Kill the criminals, but don’t carry on the business for years.’ What happened next is not clear. He changed his mind, accepted Morgenthau’s plan for what he called the ‘pastoralization’ of Germany, subject to some minor alterations. Moran says Churchill was persuaded by arguments from Cherwell;6 or he may have felt that his first duty was to his own: Britain had been offered a three billion dollar loan from Morgenthau on generous terms.

  At this point Eden turned up, and when he arrived at the conference he attacked the plan vigorously. Apart from anything else, he was satisfied that in the long term the destruction of factories and industrial equipment and the flooding of mines could not work to Britain’s economic interest. Churchill did not much like being opposed publicly by his Foreign Secretary. Eden was told that they had to choose between ‘our own people’ and the Germans: he was referring to Britain’s economic distress. In his history of the war Churchill says, ‘We had much to ask from Roosevelt and Morgenthau’. When he dictated a telegram for the War Cabinet two days later, he referred to the benefits which Britain might receive from the pastoralisation of Germany, and an agreement with Roosevelt was initialled that same day.

  Further reflection brought Churchill back to his original opposition to an essentially inhumane arrangement; by then, fortunately for history and humanity, the Americans themselves had ditched the plan: it was vetoed by Stimson and Hull. The whole episode was not a prepossessing one. Churchill concedes that he ‘had not had time to study the terms of the memorandum in detail’, in which case he should not have initialled it. Roosevelt, too, distanced himself from the plan – ‘I dislike making plans for a country we do not yet occupy’ – in which case he should not have initialled it.

  48

  Breakout: Allies at Loggerheads

  By the time Churchill reached Greenock again on 26 September, the news of the failure at Arnhem reached him. Generally the Allied breakout from Normandy had not been going well. British forces had reached Brussels but Boulogne, Calais and Dunkirk were still in German hands, and Metz had been retaken. The Russians were moving much faster: Bulgaria had surrendered to Russia on 9 September, and Romania had changed sides.

  The original concept of Normandy was of a drive west to capture the ports on the Cherbourg and Brittany peninsulas. Then the armies would regroup on the Seine before the next phase. In the event Patton saw opportunities in wheeling east. Bradley and Montgomery agreed on 3 August, and 60,000 Germans were trapped at Falaise. Montgomery was persuaded by Bradley to close the pincers round the Falaise–Argentan gap further west than planned, so that parts of the German army were allowed to escape. Patton now had the chance to press on forward and, disobeying Bradley, did just that. The Allies pushed on towards Paris and Brussels until the German counter-attack in the Ardennes and stalemate.

  There was dispute about the nature of their advance. Montgomery and Bradley argued for a narrow thrust into Germany with a force of forty divisions, directed north of the Ardennes towards the Ruhr. Eisenhower, on the other hand wanted an attack on a broad front. There were political tensions. America suspected that Britain wanted Germany and Russia to fight each other to a standstill; the British suspected America of trying to do a deal with Russia in exchange for a declaration of war against Japan.

  Relations between Monty and Patton had been bad ever since the American attended a post-North Africa debriefing as an observer. Patton said afterwards that there had been too much talk and the comment was relayed to Montgomery, who said, ‘The next time I see Georgie Patton, I’ll have just three things to say to him: “Get out of my way; take your troops back and train them, and leave me your petrol” ’. This was well known at American Headquarters, and it rankled. After the liberation of France Patton toyed with sending Monty, who was far in his rear, a five-gallon can of petrol with a suitable message.

  The two men approached matters in very different ways and the Americans generally were surprised by the caution of the British commanders after D-Day. Monty was always Brooke’s favourite, rather than Churchill’s, and the Prime Minister was annoyed when Montgomery became bogged down before Caen. The Germans, whose principles of command had been taken as models by the British before the war, understood better what Montgomery was doing, although they too criticised his failure to capitalise on success. Without the experience of the reverses in North Africa – or indeed of the huge losses in the First World War which the British generals had seen – Americans could too easily misunderstand such incidents as the hesitation before the attack on Walcheren Island, when according to American lore Ike had to order Montgomery to attack.

  When the Allied advance stalled, Churchill came to the view that Monty’s narrow-fronted attack might have delivered speedier results.

  On his way back from Italy to England, Montgomery had been told by Eisenhower that he would command all the land forces, including the Americans, until Ike moved from England to France. Then Bradley would be given command of 12th US Army Group and Montgomery would command 21st Army Group, consisting of First Canadian and Second British Armies. This changeover took place on 1 September 1944 and Ike assumed operational command. Monty was promoted field marshal to counter the ‘demotion’ that was perceived in Britain.

  Although the change in the system of command had been envisaged from the start, that fact had never been highlighted. The War Office only learned that it had taken place from a letter from Montgomery of 21 August 1944. He reported that at a staff meeting at Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF) the previous day it had been decided both to change the command and to send part of his forces east to the Saar. Montgomery had not been present at this meeting. At the suggestion of de Guingand, his Chief of Staff, he was consulted before the decision was implemented. He argued, of course, that to change the system of command was a bad and unnecessary idea, and that the quickest way to win the war was to sweep north, clear the coast and then advance into the Ruhr. Eisenhower listened, but overruled him. Neither the Chiefs of Staff nor Churchill could interfere with a
decision that had overwhelming political support from America. The Director of Military Operations, speaking for the War Office, suspected that the war was lengthened thereby by some six months.1

  Relations between the two armies were at their worst after American forces experienced the fierce German onslaught in the Ardennes and were brought to a halt in the snow of the Bulge. The British press said that the Americans simply could not cope, and there was great pressure for Monty’s appointment as a permanent Ground Force Commander. Monty himself had put the idea forward as early as September, and Churchill almost certainly supported it. Eisenhower was widely thought to have proved indecisive in August, and the British Chiefs had in any case never intended that SHAEF should exercise day-to-day military control. Eisenhower declined the suggestion, but his response was in an unfortunately defensive tone, rehearsing what the Americans had done since D-Day.

  Churchill considered that Eisenhower had suffered ‘a strategic reverse’. He told Smuts that ‘before the offensive was launched we placed on record our view that it was a mistake to attack against the whole front and that a far greater mass should have been gathered at the point of desired penetration. Montgomery’s comments and predictions beforehand have in every way been borne out.’ He went on to remind Smuts however that as the British armies were only about half the size of the American, soon to be little more than a third, ‘it is not as easy as it used to be for me to get things done’.2

  As always, Montgomery’s prodigious arrogance did him no favours. The promotion to Field Marshal to placate the British press meant that he formally outranked Ike, as he would continue to do until the latter’s promotion towards the end of the war. As long as he did so, he declined to visit the Supreme Commander, but insisted that Ike attend on him, which he usually did. Monty happily flew to see his subordinates, but refused to fly to Ike’s HQ. It was the duty of a Supreme Commander to visit his forward commanders. No wonder that while Brooke thought Montgomery ‘the finest tactical general we have had since Wellington’, he added, with a shake of his head, ‘but on some of his strategy, and especially on his relations with the Americans, he is almost a disaster’.3 Monty did not even make the suggestion to Ike that he become Ground Force Commander personally: he sent his Chief of Staff, Freddie de Guingand, on his behalf.

  After Bradley’s breakthrough in the Ardennes at Bastogne, there was a physical gap between the American armies, and to fill it Montgomery was given command of the First and Ninth American Armies. The arrangement was explicitly a temporary assignment, and the two armies were to revert to American control once the crisis in communication was over. But British public opinion never thought that would happen; nor, almost certainly, did Monty. He might indeed have secured his prize if he had not yet again displayed a disastrous lack of tact. He gave a press conference on 7 January 1945 at which he patronised the Supreme Commander, indicated that he personally had always found him a charming fellow and deprecated the criticism of him that was so widespread. The suggestion was that there could be room for them both, although Ike’s role would be no more than that of a figurehead. It was a spectacular performance. It put a complete end to any hope of Monty’s becoming Ground Force Commander, and there was feeling that his command might be at an end.

  The antipathy among the Allied generals came into the open. Bradley was prepared to resign rather than serve under Monty, and Patton had undertaken to go with him.4 Bradley too called a press conference. He declared publicly that Monty’s command of First and Ninth Armies was only temporary. And he went further and said not only that Monty had not won the Battle of the Ardennes, but also that he could not have done so because he played no part in it until the final stages and even then only on the northern end and not where it was won, at Bastogne.

  The British press represented Bradley’s intervention as an insult to Montgomery, and public opinion was outraged; but the facts were incontrovertible and Churchill, who had not intervened until now, was obliged to contact Eisenhower and apologise for his field marshal; he said the trouble had all been stirred up by a group of his friends who were frankly ‘an embarrassment to the British Government’.5 American military opinion was not impressed by Montgomery’s attempted coup and they saw Churchill’s intervention as a belated and unconvincing move to distance himself from it.

  Montgomery’s appalling failure to comprehend how other people’s minds work was doing as much damage to inter-allied relations now as in Sicily in 1943, and Churchill had to exercise some diplomacy to undo the damage. Montgomery had made a whole series of cack-handed interventions in Eisenhower’s plans. Back in August 1944, when Montgomery had pressed Eisenhower to allow him to make a pencil thrust into the heart of Germany with a consequent diversion of American resources to support him, Eisenhower, who was far from the compliant cipher that the British had earlier thought him, rejected the plan perfectly clearly. Montgomery appeared to acquiesce, but in fact continued to press his position so strongly that Eisenhower flew up to the British Commander’s Advanced Headquarters on 10 September. In Eisenhower’s aircraft Montgomery was so intemperate in his language that Eisenhower, with commendable restraint, leaned forward and put his hand on Montgomery’s knee, saying ‘Steady, Monty! You can’t speak to me like that. I’m your boss’. Montgomery replied, ‘I’m sorry, Ike’.

  This was not the first time Eisenhower had been unhappy with Montgomery. He was uncharacteristically infuriated by what he regarded as undue timidity in GOODWOOD, the planned breakout at Caen. Here he was unfair. To the Americans the Germans at Caen simply had to be smashed, with the usual American application of force to force. Montgomery’s position was a little subtler. He knew that Caen was defended more heavily than any other sector, and, rather than waste troops in a great attritional assault, he drew more German forces in, so as to make a breakout elsewhere easier. By the end of June there was only half a panzer division and 140 tanks on the American front, as opposed to seven and a half armoured divisions and over 700 tanks at Caen. And yet the Americans promoted the myth that it was they who had had to help out Montgomery. It is not easy to feel sorry for the man, but occasionally it happens.

  While Churchill was also displeased by Montgomery’s performance at GOODWOOD, he was not as angered by that as by Montgomery’s refusal to allow him to visit his Forward Headquarters while he was engaged in fighting the battle. ‘Haig had allowed him in the last war … He would make it a matter of confidence, etc. etc.’, recorded Brooke, who warned Monty that he had better perform an about-turn. He did, and Churchill was mollified by his visit.

  On 10 October Montgomery put up a paper entitled Notes on Command in Western Europe. He argued, not for the first time, for a single thrust and a single ground commander (himself) and he did so in insubordinate terms that positively invited his dismissal. The paper concluded,

  15. I do not believe we have a good and sound organisation for command and control.

  16. It may be that political and national considerations prevent us having a sound organisation. If this is the case I would suggest we say so. Do not let us pretend we are all right, whereas actually we are very far from being all right in this respect.6

  Eisenhower responded by cutting Montgomery down to size: ‘This is no longer a Normandy beachhead!’ Montgomery’s reply was not taken at face value: ‘You will hear no more on the subject of command from me’. On 30 December 1944 Marshall told Eisenhower to make no concessions ‘of any kind whatsoever’. Ike had in fact made no concessions and had no intention of doing so now, but he had had enough. He drafted a reply to Marshall that would have meant the end of Montgomery’s career. Freddy de Guingand got wind of the fact that his chief was about to be axed, dashed to Eisenhower’s headquarters and secured a brief delay, then rushed back through the snow to Montgomery who, stunned, drafted a letter of apology. But he still did not really understand: he was as cocky and imperceptive as ever at the press conference on 7 January.

  It was not only Montgomery however who felt that thing
s could be better done than the Americans were doing them. The British Chiefs and Americans such as Bedell Smith were concerned about Eisenhower’s hands-off approach. A deputation of American generals including Bedell Smith and Whiteley made representations to the Supreme Commander. On 24 November 1944 the British Chiefs, under conditions of great secrecy, discussed bringing Marshall over to review the problem. When Marshall was present at a Combined Chiefs meeting on 1 February 1945 he declined to cramp Eisenhower’s style, but did criticise Monty. Brooke had no choice but to knuckle under, reflecting as usual that ‘Marshall clearly understood nothing of strategy’.7

  49

  ‘The Naughty Document’

  Churchill’s thoughts were increasingly turning to the shape of post-war Europe. As they did so, his mood became more and more one of foreboding. He sensed that as one war was coming to an end the seeds of a future conflict were being sown. He decided he must go to see Stalin. His visit caused worries in America, where there was increasing concern about European territorial arrangements that were not based on self-determination.

  The situation in Eastern Europe was becoming very fluid. By 1 October 1944 Finland and Bulgaria were no longer part of the Axis powers; both had been occupied by Russia. The Red Army had moved through Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Russia was in possession of large parts of Poland, Hungary and Yugoslavia. She was on the frontiers of Greece and Turkey. British forces were in Greece.

  Churchill pressed Roosevelt to be allowed to discuss ‘spheres of influence’ in the Balkan area – a form of words that caused alarm and panic in Washington. Roosevelt was less politically committed on the issue than some of his advisers and he drafted a cable in which he proposed to give Churchill an implied mandate to speak for the United States – he himself could not be present at the meeting with Stalin because of the upcoming Presidential election. Hopkins spotted the cable and recognised its political implications, and on his initiative the cable never left the White House. Churchill was told very distinctly, first, that Averell Harriman would be present as an observer on behalf of the President and, secondly, that Harriman had no power to speak on behalf of the President. Churchill could talk to Stalin as much as he wanted, but he could not make any arrangements of which the United States might disapprove.