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The drama was not quite played out. Marshall, the initiator of the command crisis, refused to acquiesce in the recall in which his own policy as much as loyalty to Stilwell was involved. He drafted a “sharp rejoinder” to Chiang Kai-shek’s charges which this time Roosevelt declined to send.
As seen by Stilwell himself the issue was the combat effort of China. Insistently he repeated to Marshall that if Chiang Kai-shek had his way in this affair no further Chinese action in the war could be expected and future American effort in China would be wasted. If the Generalissimo succeeded both in dismissing Stilwell and keeping American aid and support he would be confirmed in intransigence. With options lost the United States would have tied itself to his chariot for good or ill. This was true but the difficulty was that the issue of Stilwell’s command, in so far as it conflicted with sovereignty, made a bad case that could not be sustained.
The option to end support of China was almost taken. More from general dissatisfaction than far-seeing policy, the Joint Chiefs considered the alternative of abandoning the line over the Hump and, as Stimson recorded, giving up for the present “aiding China at all.” They were forced to conclude, however, that this would have such a bad effect on China’s morale and give the Japanese so much to talk about that the United States could not afford to do it. The decision was bitter because of the feeling that the long effort over the Hump to supply Chennault had been wasted and, as Stimson wrote, was likely “to cost an extra winter in the main theater of the war.” All along the front from Cherbourg to Arnhem the thrust of Allied spearheads was slowed for lack of air transport. Stimson was particularly indignant. Although Chennault had been given “almost twice as much in the way of equipment over the Hump as he asked for,” he was unable to stop the Japanese while Stilwell who “has proved the only success on the whole horizon” in CBI was being made the victim.
Roosevelt’s long-awaited reply to Chiang Kai-shek, dated October 5, acceded to the recall only halfway. Marshall had succeeded in beating out a compromise according to which Stilwell would be relieved as Chief of Staff to Chiang Kai-shek and of responsibility for Lend-Lease but would remain in command of the Chinese forces in Burma and Yunnan. The message informed the Generalissimo that no American would be named to command the Chinese armed forces because the ground situation in China had so deteriorated since the original proposal that the U.S. Government “should not assume the responsibility.” That was of course no loss to Chiang. The message was again a harsh one but it did not contain the one thing he feared—discontinuance of supply. On the contrary he was assured that deliveries over the Hump would be maintained because it was “of such tremendous importance to the stability of your Government.” The United States too was concerned with face-saving.
The crucial point having been given away, Stimson as an old lawyer felt “pretty sure” Chiang would not accept the compromise—nor did he. Making sovereignty the issue, he addressed to the President a renewed demand for Stilwell’s removal from China. “So long as I am Head of State and Supreme Commander in China it seems to me that there can be no question as to my right to request the recall of an officer in whom I can no longer repose confidence.” This was accompanied by a massive statement of the case designed to absolve himself of responsibility for the military situation and establish Stilwell was culpable.
Through the Generalissimo’s eyes realities were reversed and everything seen upside down, as if his statement had been composed by the Red Queen in Through the Looking-Glass. Fresh from adopting Stilwell’s plan for the defense of Kweilin, he now declared with impressive tautology that “I not only have no confidence in General Stilwell but also lack confidence in his military judgment.” The Burma campaign was the root of the matter. Far from having accomplished anything for China, it was accused of having “drained off most of the properly trained and equipped reserves in China” (without mentioning who had trained and equipped them) and “greatly reduced incoming supply tonnage” (which was the opposite of the case) thus rendering China unable to resist the Japanese offensive. In consequence General Stilwell bore “grave responsibility” for the loss of east China. In a final twist after three years of incessant cries of China’s imminent collapse, Chiang now could not agree that “the deterioration is so serious as the President suggests” nor could he “foresee any disaster fundamentally incapacitating China”—though of course continued aid was essential.
The Generalissimo’s case for recall was forwarded by Hurley on October 11 and endorsed on the essential basis that Chiang and Stilwell were “fundamentally incompatible,” which was true and reason enough. Hurley went on to advise the President that “If you sustain Stilwell in this controversy you will lose Chiang Kai-shek and possibly you will close China with him.” That Chiang was losable by the United States was an unlikely proposition but it did not greatly matter for, though it appeared otherwise to the participants, Hurley’s contributions to the affair had no important effect on the outcome one way or another.
Picking out the fallacy at once, Stilwell radioed Marshall, “It is not a choice between throwing me out or losing CKS and possibly China” but of “losing China’s potential effort if CKS is allowed to make the rules now.” He suggested another last-minute compromise in the form of a Sino-American Council to save the Generalissimo’s face while leaving himself in position to ensure that orders were obeyed. Incredibly at this late stage he was still trying; he was a man who never gave up on anything. On October 14 he went down to Liuchow below Kweilin to confer with Chang Fa-kwei and Pai Ch’ung-hsi on plans for counterattack.
From October 6 to 15 Marshall was in France; on his return he went to the White House prepared to renew battle for Stilwell but it was no use. Convinced that the Generalissimo would not tolerate Stilwell, Roosevelt gave “direct and positive” orders to remove him from China without delay. Regardless of rights and wrongs, if America was going to continue to support Chiang Kai-shek’s regime, he could have come to no other decision.
The question arises, was there an alternative—or at the top level of Government a search for an alternative—to support for the Kuomintang? The consensus of advice had been for so long that only Chiang Kai-shek could hold China together that policy-making was conditioned by it and by the persistent fear of China falling back into the turmoil and disunity of the warlord years. New voices were now urging that though Chiang was dependent on us, the contrary was not necessarily true; that, as Davies said in one of his reports, “We must not indefinitely underwrite a politically bankrupt regime.” But a status quo power, as the United States, the once brave young republic, had now become, tends to stay with another incumbent even if bankrupt. Any other course is awkward and risky and in the case of China would lead to the Communists, the only group sufficiently dynamic and organized to represent a realistic challenge. It was not feasible for the United States to transfer support to Yenan. The available alternative was the endeavor, which American policy was already promoting, to bring the two parties together.
“THE AXE FALLS,” Stilwell learned on October 19, warned by an advance radio from Marshall. The President’s official reply followed, informing the Generalissimo that instructions had been issued “to recall General Stilwell from the theater immediately.” Coldest in all the train of messages, it reminded Chiang that the decision to conduct the Burma campaign was not Stilwell’s but the Combined Chiefs’ approved by the President and Prime Minister and dictated by the need to supply China. It pointedly drew to his attention the fact that the campaign had already resulted in the low-level flying route and the opening of the pipeline at Myitkyina on September 29. As a change necessitated by Stilwell’s recall, it announced the dissolution of the CBI theater and its separation into two theaters, Burma-India and China. General Sultan would succeed Stilwell in the former and General Wedemeyer would succeed him as Chief of Staff to the Generalissimo and commander of American forces in China.*4 The hope was expressed that the Ramgarh operations would contin
ue, “otherwise the fighting power of these units will inevitably and quickly dwindle away,” and that the Y-forces would continue action in Burma.
Thus ended the command crisis and with it Stilwell’s mission. Controversy over the Hopkins disclosure or Hurley’s role or Stilwell’s delivery of the message was largely irrelevant; these were not causes but only mechanisms. The recall was the inevitable outcome of the assumption, growing out of China’s dependence and passivity, that an American solution could be imposed on China. Responsibility lay with Marshall for initiating the attempt, with Roosevelt for authorizing it and with Stilwell himself for agreeing to and promoting it. At a deeper level was the incompatibility, superficially of two men, fundamentally of two purposes.
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Stilwell remained only 48 hours in Chungking after the notice of recall. The hurry and secrecy of his departure were at the orders of General Marshall who, with reason to fear Stilwell’s outspokenness, was anxious to bring him out of the theater and back to Washington before the recall was announced and the press fell upon him. An already slanderous Presidential campaign was reaching its climax and Marshall hoped to avoid any blasts by Stilwell that might make it difficult to give him another major assignment.
Stilwell’s anxiety to tell his side of the story was marked by agonized entries in his diary: “Will a statement be made about the relief?” “Will I be allowed to make a statement?” He called in White and Atkinson to tell them in confidence what had happened and urge that the facts be recorded for history. For the journalists it was a story that would blow the roof at last but it could not be written from Chungking. Atkinson, who was scheduled to leave within a month, determined to go home at once to force publication—an enterprise which shortly came to pass in a mighty explosion.
Also at this time Stilwell ordered the fateful return to Washington of John Service to make the case, so cogently argued in his reports from Yenan, for opening relations with the Communists. Colonel Barrett had recently written to Stilwell that “they want to fight the Japanese and their troops are capable of fighting…and they want to fight under you.” Though himself out of the picture Stilwell was thinking always of the 24 Japanese divisions still on the mainland, and believed that some military action by the Communists would have to be organized against them. Doubtless also he was animated by no spirit of friendliness to the Kuomintang. He cleared the assignment with Service’s superior, Ambassador Gauss, who had long resented the robbing of his best staff by Stilwell’s headquarters. Left in no doubt of the motives, Gauss explained to the Department that “some of our Army officers and perhaps Stilwell favor direct aid to Chinese Communist forces” and this was the reason for sending Service to Washington. His mission was to lead to the future tragic and destructive assault on the China foreign service officers.
In the last rushed hours Stilwell finished his farewell messages including a very decent letter to Chennault taking pride in his achievements and acknowledging the admiration in which he was held by the Chinese, and another to Chu Teh in Yenan expressing his “keen disappointment” that he was not to be associated “with you and the excellent troops you have developed” in operations against Japan. The only Englishman to receive other than a formal farewell was General Auchinleck to whom he wrote that he thought of him, he hoped reciprocally, “as a friend.” He paid a farewell call on Mme. Sun Yat-sen who cried and wished she could go to the United States and tell the President the facts. He took formal farewell of Ambassador Gauss and learned that he too had reached an end. Bypassed by all the special envoys of whom Hurley and Nelson were the last straw, ignored by Chiang Kai-shek because he was not influential, aware that he was not listened to by the White House and weary of a hopeless task, he had made up his mind to resign at the end of the Presidential term.
There remained one final farewell. A messenger arrived from the Generalissimo with offer of the Special Grand Cordon of the Blue Sky and White Sun, the highest Chinese decoration for which a foreigner could qualify. Stilwell’s refusal was predictable*5 but he had to steel himself to accept an invitation to tea. Chiang Kai-shek, with T. V. Soong at his elbow, was gracious. He regretted all this very much, it was only due to differences of personality, he hoped Stilwell would continue to be China’s friend. He asked for suggestions and criticisms, especially about the situation at Liuchow, and was astonished to find that Stilwell had actually gone down there in person. The guest was laconic. Asking that the Generalissimo remember only that his motives had been for China’s good, he gave the war slogan Tsui hou sheng li (For the final victory) and departed.
On October 21 under a cool, cloudy, dark gray sky he climbed into his plane accompanied by General Bergin who insisted that if the Boss went he would not remain, and by Hurley’s aide, Colonel McNally, who had served in the theater for two years and shared Bergin’s sentiments. Unhappy himself, Hurley acknowledged to Stilwell that he had “bitched it up” and Stilwell was inclined to agree. He considered that he had been “Hurleyed out of China” besides being “a fugitive from a Chiang gang.” Because of the secrecy only Hurley and T. V. Soong were at the airfield to say goodbye. Atkinson joined the departing party and at the last minute Ho Ying-chin drove up, emerged from his car and saluted. Stilwell returned the salute, looked around, asked, “What are we waiting for?” and took off. He had leeway of only three days for stops at Kunming, at Y-force headquarters at Paoshan, at Myitkyina and at Ramgarh to say goodbye privately to old companions. No formal leave-talking was allowed of the troops and road-builders and air crews who had accomplished the return through Burma under his command, and “that hurt.” He reached Delhi on October 24 and two days later, after 32 months of unslackened pursuit of the least attainable American goal of the war, he wrote the last entry of his mission: “Shoved off—last day in CBI.”
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To the Americans and many of the Chinese who had fought with him—if not to the Fourteenth Air Force which rejoiced at the news—the recall of General Stilwell was a kind of closing, the visible signal that a great endeavor was over. The effort had been made, and as some felt, wasted. If the man who had given it impetus and direction was gone, pulled out without ceremony or recognition, there seemed to many only futility in remaining. The feeling was summarized in a letter from Dorn to Bergin written from the Salween front. He explained that he could not leave because he felt it would be wrong to desert the Chinese and Americans serving under him in the unfinished campaign but, he wrote, “The more I think of it the more hopeless the future looks. Everything has always been ‘in the future’ and now there isn’t any….I have always believed, even in the usual mess, that we could accomplish things here. Now I do not….”
In Washington, with the campaign in its final week, Stilwell’s return was awaited with extreme nervousness. “I foresee an infinite amount of trouble,” Stimson wrote; “Stilwell’s success has made him very popular with the American people.” The election campaign had been in Roosevelt’s opinion “the dirtiest in history” and it was likely enough that a popular hero’s recall would provoke charges of skullduggery. Blowing with the advance winds of the cold war, the Republican candidate, Governor Dewey, was proclaiming in last-minute orations that Communists had seized control of the New Deal. While no real doubt was felt in the President’s circle that he would defeat Dewey, the press predicted a close result and Roosevelt wanted as strong a mandate as he could get. No public announcement of Stilwell’s recall had yet been made and extraordinary precautions were taken to keep him out of the hands of the press.
Brooks Atkinson, with his story already written, had left Delhi ahead of Stilwell. At Cairo an M.P. at the runway demanded the submission to censorship of all papers and contents of briefcases but Atkinson’s story was fortunately in his pocket. Held up at Tunis, he gave it to John Service, who had a higher travel priority, with instructions to take it straight to the Times while he himself would follow on the next available plane. Service delivered it safely but the wartime censorship stopped publication.
While the Times battled for its scoop for three days, Atkinson arrived in the country circumventing the question of origin. The issue was taken to the President who decided that since the facts were substantially as stated, the Times was entitled to publish them. The front-page story appeared on October 31 before Stilwell arrived in the country.
It declared that General Stilwell’s recall from China represented the “political triumph of a moribund anti-democratic regime” and had committed the United States to at least passive support of a government which had become “increasingly unpopular and distrusted in China.” It described Chiang Kai-shek as “bewildered and alarmed by the rapidity with which China is falling apart.” It scorned the decision to appoint another American Chief of Staff to the Generalissimo which “has the effect of making us acquiesce in an unenlightened cold-hearted autocratic political regime…unrepresentative of the Chinese people who are good allies.” It described Stilwell as the ablest field commander in China since “Chinese” Gordon who was “personally incapable of assuming a reverential mood toward the Generalissimo,” but even had he been otherwise, no diplomatic genius could have overcome the “basic unwillingness” of the Generalissimo to risk his armies in battle with the Japanese.
The floods burst through Atkinson’s breach. Gauss’ resignation, which was leaked to the press and appeared to be connected with Stilwell’s recall, added to the sensation. Every correspondent or former correspondent in CBI wrote all the things he had not been permitted to publish for years. News stories, editorials, columnists and radio commentators contributed to what Joseph C. Harsch of CBS called “the bursting of a great illusion…the long-delayed washday for China’s dirty linen.” Asking the inevitable question, why the American public had not been informed, Thoburn Wiant of AP, who had been in Chungking and Burma, said it was because Washington had kept on hoping it could clear up the mess but Stilwell’s recall was testimony that it could not. Dr. Walter Judd, the Generalissimo’s ardent partisan, made the point that no self-respecting head of state could have accepted what was demanded of him. “Stilwell did not make the mistake….We had to back down from an impossible position in which we should never have put ourselves.”
Stilwell and the American Experience in China Page 72