29. Matthew F. Holland, Eisenhower between the Wars: The Making of a General and Statesman (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2001), 73–74; Bender, Watershed at Leavenworth, 20.
30. Perret, Eisenhower, 81; Eisenhower, At Ease, 173.
31. Korda, Ike, 163–70; Holland, Eisenhower between the Wars, 17.
32. Eisenhower, At Ease, 187.
33. Bender, Watershed at Leavenworth, 24; Holland, Eisenhower between the Wars, 100–104.
34. Perret, Eisenhower, 89.
35. Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 77.
36. Korda, Ike, 168–74; Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 78–82.
37. Holland, Eisenhower between the Wars, 53; Bender, Watershed at Leavenworth, 37.
38. Bender, Watershed at Leavenworth, 37; Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 79–82.
39. Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 79–82; Bender, Watershed at Leavenworth, 37.
40. Eisenhower, At Ease, 197–98; Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 78.
41. Eisenhower, At Ease, 198.
42. Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 78–79; Eisenhower, At Ease, 199.
43. Eisenhower, At Ease, 200.
44. Ibid., 201.
45. Although these officers taught at CGSC the year Eisenhower attended the course, it is difficult to discern if they instructed him specifically.
46. R. Manning Ancell and Christine M. Miller, The Biographic Dictionary of World War II Generals and Flag Officers, the U.S. Armed Forces (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1996), 375, 311, 96, 5, 307.
47. Bender, Watershed at Leavenworth, 54.
48. Ibid.
49. Eisenhower, At Ease, 204; Brendon, Ike, 55.
50. Eisenhower, At Ease, 205–7.
51. Ibid.; Perret, Eisenhower, 104.
52. Eisenhower, At Ease, 208.
53. Perret, Eisenhower, 10; Eisenhower, At Ease, 208–9.
54. Eisenhower, At Ease, 211; Korda, Ike, 188.
55. Eisenhower, At Ease, 210–12; Perret, Eisenhower, 107.
56. Holland, Eisenhower between the Wars, 117.
57. Korda, Ike, 207–27; Eisenhower, At Ease, 213.
58. Eisenhower, At Ease, 214.
59. Ibid., 216.
60. Ibid., 215–18.
61. Ibid., 237.
62. Ibid.
63. Ibid., 249.
64. Holland, Eisenhower between the Wars, 111–12; Brendon, Ike, 73–74.
65. Brendon, Ike, 73–74; Eisenhower, At Ease, 245.
66. Korda, Ike, 243–67.
67. Eisenhower, At Ease, 249.
68. Ibid.
69. Ibid., 251.
70. Korda, Ike, 297–307.
71. David Eisenhower, Eisenhower at War, 1943–1945 (New York: Random House, 1986), 101–12; Korda, Ike, 469–74; Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 180–237.
72. The pilot who flew Eisenhower in a B-17 to Gibraltar was Paul Tibbets, who would later be the pilot in command of the Enola Gay when it dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima in August 1945.
73. Perret, Eisenhower, 177.
74. Brendon, Ike, 93–98; Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 204–10; Perret, Eisenhower, 181.
75. Perret, Eisenhower, 225–26.
76. Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 281–312.
77. Ibid., 201–312; this number does not include the 36,000 U.S. Navy sailors who assisted in the transport operation.
78. Eisenhower, Eisenhower at War, 251.
79. “General Eisenhower’s Message Sent Just Prior to the Invasion,” www.army.mil/d-day/message.html (accessed November 19, 2011).
80. Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier, 433–57; Perret, Eisenhower, 360.
81. Perret, Eisenhower, 362; Brendon, Ike, 194–96.
82. Perret, Eisenhower, 363.
83. Korda, Ike, 611–16; Perret, Eisenhower, 375–76.
84. Eisenhower, At Ease, 338.
85. Ibid., 361.
86. Ibid., 377.
87. Tom Wicker, Dwight D. Eisenhower (New York: Times Books, 2002), 10–16; Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1984), 13–35.
88. “NSC 68: United States Objectives and Programs for National Security, April 14, 1950,” in American Cold War Strategy: Interpreting NSC 68, ed. Ernest R. May (Boston: Bedford, 1993), 23–82.
89. Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President, 171–72.
90. Ingo Trauschweizer, The Cold War U.S. Army: Building Deterrence for Limited War (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2008), 28–47; Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President, 224–26.
91. For in-depth histories of the effect of Sputnik, see Robert A. Divine, The Sputnik Challenge: Eisenhower’s Response to the Soviet Satellite (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993); Rip Bulkeley, The Sputniks Crisis and Early United States Space Policy: A Critique of the Historiography of Space (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991).
92. Divine, The Sputnik Challenge, 113–27.
93. David N. Spires, “From Eisenhower to Kennedy: The National Space Program and the Air Force’s Quest for the Military Space Mission,” in Beyond Horizons: A Half Century of Air Force Space Leadership, ed. Spires et al. (Maxwell Air Force Base, Ala.: Air University Press, 1998), 50–95.
94. Chester J. Pach Jr. and Elmo Richardson, The Presidency of Dwight D. Eisenhower, rev. ed. (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1991), 150–55; Wicker, Eisenhower, 46–55; Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President, 414–26.
95. Scott D. Sagan, Moving Targets: Nuclear Strategy and National Security (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989), 18–30.
96. John Ranelagh, The Agency: The Rise and Decline of the CIA (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1986), 260–68.
97. Greenstein, The Hidden-Hand Presidency, 55–154.
References
Ambrose, Stephen E. Eisenhower: Soldier, General of the Army, President-Elect, 1890–1952. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983.
———. Eisenhower: The President. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1984.
Ancell, R. Manning, and Christine M. Miller. The Biographic Dictionary of World War II Generals and Flag Officers, the U.S. Armed Forces. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1996.
Bender, Mark C. Watershed at Leavenworth: Dwight D. Eisenhower and the Command and General Staff School. Fort Leavenworth, Kans.: Combat Studies Institute, 1990.
Brendon, Piers. Ike: His Life and Times. New York: HarperCollins, 1986.
Bulkeley, Rip. The Sputniks Crisis and Early United States Space Policy: A Critique of the Historiography of Space. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991.
Divine, Robert A. The Sputnik Challenge: Eisenhower’s Response to the Soviet Satellite. New York: Oxford University Press, 1993.
Eisenhower, David. Eisenhower at War, 1943–1945. New York: Wings Books, 1991.
Eisenhower, Dwight D. At Ease: Stories I Tell to Friends. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1967.
Greenstein, Fred I. The Hidden-Hand Presidency. New York: Basic Books, 1982.
Holland, Matthew F. Eisenhower between the Wars: The Making of a General and Statesman. Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2001.
Korda, Michael. Ike: An American Hero. New York: HarperCollins, 2007.
Pach, Chester J., Jr., and Elmo Richardson. The Presidency of Dwight D. Eisenhower. Revised edition. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1991.
Perret, Geoffrey. Eisenhower. New York: Random House, 1999.
Sagan, Scott D. Moving Targets: Nuclear Strategy and National Security. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989.
Trauschweizer, Ingo. The Cold War U.S. Army: Building Deterrence for Limited War. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2008.
Wicker, Tom. Dwight D. Eisenhower. New York: Times Books, 2002.
5
Henry H. “Hap” Arnold
John M. Curatola
Henry “Hap” Arnold holds a unique place in the pantheon of five-star generals. Not only does Arnold have the distinction of being named the only General of the Air Force, a title bestowed on him after the U.S. Air Force became its own separate se
rvice in 1947, but he also held the title General of the Army when he was appointed his fifth star on December 21, 1944, while the Army Air Forces were still part of the U.S. Army. Though he hardly ever wore the blue Air Force uniform, he is largely considered the father of the U.S. Air Force and a chief architect in the development of American airpower. His vision, drive, and perseverance were key elements in creating the largest and most potent air armada the world has ever seen.
Born in Gladwyne, Pennsylvania, on June 25, 1886, Henry Harley “Hap” Arnold was the second son and third of five children born to Dr. Herbert Arnold, a surgeon, and his wife, Louise. The family moved to Ardmore, Pennsylvania, in 1890. Henry’s father was a strict Mennonite and a veteran of the Spanish-American War; he was a stern man with a strong work ethic, a low tolerance for horseplay, and a penchant for military service.1 A longtime member of a Pennsylvania National Guard cavalry unit, Dr. Arnold served with distinction as a reserve officer until retiring in 1922.2 He wanted his oldest son, Thomas, to pursue a military education and attend the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. The doctor’s acquaintance with the local congressman gave him hope that his firstborn would win an appointment to the prestigious institution. Thomas, however, took the unusually courageous stance of refusing to abide by his father’s wishes and declined to take the West Point entrance examination. Instead, Thomas chose to study electrical engineering at Pennsylvania State University. With his oldest son steadfast in his decision not to pursue a military career, and having no other recourse, Dr. Arnold looked to Henry.3
In his early years Henry was not a great student and was more interested in hunting, athletics, and horses. During his teen years, at his parents’ behest, he envisioned a career in the ministry.4 But after Thomas refused to take the West Point entrance exam, Dr. Arnold looked to young Henry to fulfill his wish for military offspring and take the exam. Despite his lackluster academic performance as a high school student, Henry scored surprisingly well on the exam and placed second within the congressional district. Fortunately for the Arnolds, the applicant who placed first was married, which disqualified him from attending the Military Academy.5 As a result, in 1903 at the age of seventeen, Henry left Ardmore and started his plebe year at West Point as a member of the class of 1907.
As he had in his earlier academic experience, Arnold proved an unexceptional student. West Point’s academic program was one of the toughest in the country, and his highest overall class standing was only 61st of 111 in his junior year; he never rose to the rank of cadet corporal.6 He did find time, however, to play sports and indulge in his passion for horses. He earned a position as a halfback on the Army’s scrimmage football squad and played backup on the varsity squad. He also developed a passion for polo, which coincided with his larger goal of being assigned to the Cavalry branch after graduation. According to Arnold, being assigned to the Cavalry was his only reason for attending West Point, as he described the Cavalry as “the last romantic thing left on the earth.”7
“Pewt” or “Benny,” as he was called by his West Point classmates, was known for his excessive use of profanity. His most notable achievement at the Academy, however, was his leadership of a clandestine student organization known as the “Black Hand.” The Black Hand’s primary mission was staging and executing pranks and practical jokes on the Academy’s grounds. Arnold’s most prominent operation came when he lit off a series of fireworks at night that spelled out “1907—Never Again” (1907 was his class’s graduating year).8 Unfortunately for Arnold, he ignited the display just in time to be identified by passersby. For this event he spent many hours “walking the area” as punishment.
When it came time for branch assignment, and despite his overall mediocre performance, Arnold was sure his final class standing, 66th of 111, was good enough for him to be assigned to the Cavalry. Returning home after graduation in June 1907, however, he was dismayed to receive a letter assigning him to the Infantry.9 Despite his own and his father’s attempts to challenge this assignment, they were unable to change it, and Arnold finally accepted his fate. In the process of trying to change his branch assignment, he was afforded the opportunity to pick his first duty station. Eventually Arnold picked the Philippines.
Once in the Philippines, Second Lieutenant Arnold was assigned to the 29th Regiment at Fort McKinley, near Manila, and quickly found the schedule tedious and boring.10 The routine of an Infantry officer at the fort consisted largely of drill, target practice, administrative duties, and long siestas in the afternoon to avoid the tropical heat, followed by social obligations in the evening.11 Fortunately for Arnold, an opening became available on a mapping detail designed to survey areas around the islands of Luzon and Corregidor. He quickly jumped at the opportunity and spent months in the Philippine jungle, or bosque, as he called it (Spanish for woodland), riding horses and living outdoors.12 He found the work exciting and frequently came in contact with, as he put it, “monkeys, crocodiles, and the short wolley [sic] haired negritoes galore.”13 Furthermore, the group routinely found what he called “itinerant Japanese peddlers or botanists whose best specimens always happened to be growing just where we had set up our instruments.”14 This assignment not only offered relief from the mundane schedule of garrison duty, but also put him under the charge of Captain Arthur S. Cowan, who was so impressed by the young lieutenant that he remembered Arnold years later and offered him a unique opportunity.
In 1909, after two years in the Philippines, the 29th Infantry Regiment finished its tour and rotated back to the United States. Arnold, having saved some money, decided to take the circuitous way home and sailed to the United States via Hong Kong, Singapore, and Egypt, followed by a tour through Europe. Upon its return, the 29th Regiment was stationed at Fort Jay on Governors Island, New York.15 Again bored by the daily routine of garrison life, Arnold took the entrance exam for the Ordnance Corps in an effort to switch branches, with the hope of accelerated promotion in that part of the Army.
Other forces were at work, however, and in March 1911 Congress approved $25,000 for military aviation and procured three Wright and two Curtiss airframes.16 The purchase of the Wright aircraft also included the training of the pilots.17 Fortunately for Arnold, his mapping expedition commander, Arthur Cowan, now posted to Washington, D.C., had the task of assigning two officers to receive flight training. Remembering Lieutenant Arnold, Cowan sent him a letter offering him the opportunity to attend flight training at the Wright Company’s aircraft factory in Dayton, Ohio. Upon receiving the offer, Arnold jumped at the chance and reported to his commanding officer that he was ordered to attend the flight-training program. To this news his superior at Governors Island replied, “Young man, I know of no better way to commit suicide.”18 Undaunted, in April 1911 Arnold reported to the Wright factory.
Arriving at Dayton, he and a fellow student, Lieutenant Thomas Milling, met both Orville and Wilbur Wright. They received no flight instruction from either of the famous brothers, but both officers became welcome guests at the Wright home and were often invited to Sunday dinner. Though the Wrights did provide some ground instruction, Arnold’s flight instructor was Art “Owl” Welsh, who took the fledgling aviator on his first flight on May 3, 1911.19 Arnold soloed ten days later, and after some twenty-eight lessons and a mere three hours and forty-eight minutes of total flight time, his training was considered complete.20 He did not receive his official military aviator rating, however, until July 22, 1912.21
After completion of flight training, he and Milling headed to College Park, Maryland, along with two Wright Model B Flyers, to set up the Signal Corps’s flight school. Starting from scratch, the two aviators set about writing manuals and standardizing procedures and nomenclature for both flight and maintenance operations. The newly graduated aviators became flight instructors themselves and trained their new commanding officer, Captain Charles Chandler, and his adjutant, Lieutenant Roy Kirtland. During this tour, in June 1912, Arnold experienced his first brush with death as an aviator. He and
Kirtland, flying a heavily loaded Burgess-Wright “tractor” floatplane from Salem, Massachusetts, were forced to land at South Duxbury, Massachusetts, because of the weather. Early aircraft were notoriously underpowered, and every knot of airspeed and ounce of horsepower could make the difference between life and death. They stalled on takeoff and crashed near Plymouth. Taking off without the aid of a headwind for additional lift, the two pilots briefly became airborne, only to be hurtled into the water after stalling. The two hung on to the wreckage of their aircraft until the Coast Guard eventually rescued them. Arnold joked that this crash constituted the “second landing on Plymouth Rock.”22
Hap Arnold in a Wright Flyer in Dayton, Ohio, 1912. (Courtesy of the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force)
It was during this tour that in October 1912 Arnold won the very first Mackay Trophy, an award given annually for the most meritorious military flight of the year. In this endeavor, both Arnold and Milling were scheduled to fly in the vicinity of Washington, D.C., in an attempt to spot ground troops participating in military exercises. Experiencing technical difficulties and dealing with a stiff wind, Milling failed to complete his planned flight, leaving only Arnold to do the reconnaissance. Arnold spotted the ground forces and reported his observations to exercise officials. Of greater importance was that this flight provided some definition to the role that aviation might play in the military, that of aerial reconnaissance.23 Though many saw early aviation as a useless endeavor, airmen at the time struggled to prove airpower’s value as a military application. Arnold played a significant role in developing nascent aviation capabilities and missions.
The following month, on November 5, at Fort Riley, Kansas, Arnold experienced another brush with death that shook him to his core. Flying a Wright Model C aircraft, Arnold and a passenger were participating in field maneuver exercises when the aircraft went into a flat spin and plunged some three hundred feet in just ten seconds.24 The aircraft recovered just above the ground as Arnold was able to gain control of the plane. The experience was so frightening, however, that he landed in a nearby field and proceeded to walk back to the barracks instead of flying the plane to the airfield. Upon seeing Milling after the episode, Arnold quipped, “That’s it, a man doesn’t face death twice.”25 He requested a leave of absence from flying duties and wrote to his commanding officer, “At the present time my nervous system is in such condition that I will not get in any machine”; he further requested a month’s leave.26 Apparently, Arnold’s enthusiasm for aviation was quickly dashed in the wake of this near-death experience. But his avoidance of flying responsibilities would eventually abate, and he would go back to flying.
Generals of the Army Page 17