Supreme Commander

by Stephen E. Ambrose

  On the left, meanwhile, the British were speeding across the old battlegrounds of World War I, covering in hours distances that had taken months and cost tens of thousands of lives to cross in 1915–18. Hodges struck across the Seine on August 27. In less than a week he had taken 25,000 prisoners at Mons. Montgomery, determined to show the Americans that his British and Canadian troops were just as good as they were in the pursuit, drove the Twenty-first Army Group forward in one of the most extraordinary campaigns of the war. Dempsey began his offensive on August 29. He left one corps behind in order to motorize his 30 Corps fully. In two days it captured Amiens and in six days liberated Brussels. On September 4 Dempsey took the city of Antwerp, although the water approaches remained in German hands, which meant that the Allies could not use the port. While the Canadians invested the ports of Boulogne, Calais, and Dunkirk, and prepared to open Antwerp, Twenty-first Army Group made an advance of two hundred miles in less than a week.

  This was indeed great news. Montgomery’s advance opened seemingly unlimited possibilities. On September 2, Eisenhower went to Versailles to meet with Bradley, Hodges, and Patton to discuss their exploitation. According to the office diary that one of the Supreme Commander’s aides kept, “E. says that he is going to give Patton hell because he is stretching his line too far and therefore making supply difficulties.”12 But at the meeting Patton convinced Eisenhower that the opportunities on his front were too good to pass up, and the Supreme Commander agreed to allocate gasoline stocks to Third Army. He also gave Patton permission to attack toward Mannheim, Frankfurt, and Koblenz. Eisenhower changed Hodges’ orders, too, shifting the direction of First Army’s advance from northeast to straight east. This meant that Bradley had full control of his armies again, that the Americans (less elements of First Army that were to stay with Montgomery) were gathered together, and that they were advancing south of the Ardennes. It meant, in short, that the broad front advance had been resumed.13

  Eisenhower was aware of the risk involved in pursuing this strategy. As he told Marshall on September 4, “… the closer we get to the Siegfried Line [the German West Wall, a prepared defensive position consisting of pillboxes and concrete anti-tank obstacles that ran along the Rhine from Basel to Karlsruhe, then west to Saarbruecken, then north along the Saar through Aachen to the Dutch border] the more we will be stretched administratively and eventually a period of relative inaction will be imposed upon us.” The danger was that “while we are temporarily stalled the enemy will be able to pick up bits and pieces of forces everywhere and reorganize them swiftly for defending the Siegfried Line or the Rhine.” The way to keep the Germans from building a firm defensive line, Eisenhower felt, was to keep them “stretched everywhere,” and the way to do that, in his view, was to advance on a broad front.14

  In other words, Eisenhower felt that it was possible for the AEF to go beyond the West Wall before the Germans had a chance to man it. His greatest difficulty, he told Marshall, was maintenance. “We have advanced so rapidly that further movement in large parts of the front even against very weak opposition is almost impossible.” Still, in a directive of September 4 that gave Bradley the mission of seizing Frankfurt, Eisenhower said, “… enemy resistance on the entire front shows signs of collapse.” The only way the Germans could stop the advance would be to withdraw troops from other fronts, and in both Russia and Italy the Germans were hard pressed already.15

  The dash across France had been heady. Eisenhower had told Marshall on August 24 that the AEF could not do “everything that we should like to do simultaneously,” but by September 4 he was in fact trying to do it all. He had fallen victim to the same virus that had infected so many of his subordinates. The virus, in many ways more dangerous than the German armies, was the “victory disease,” a malady which caused the patient to believe anything was possible. The Japanese and Germans had suffered from it at various times in the 1940–42 period. It had hit Montgomery hard, causing him to believe that he could break right through the German defenses and march on into Berlin. SHAEF planners, and Eisenhower, suffered too, although their hallucination was different—they thought that all the armies could advance right up to and beyond the West Wall.

  It was inevitable however that Eisenhower and his commanders should feel optimistic. The three weeks from August 15 to September 5 were among the most dramatic of the war, with great successes following one another in rapid succession. Rumania surrendered unconditionally to the Soviets, then declared war on Germany. Finland signed a truce with the Russians. Bulgaria tried to surrender. The Germans pulled out of Greece. The Allies landed in the south of France and drove to Lyons and beyond, while Alexander attacked with early success in Italy. The Russian offensive carried the Red Army to Yugoslavia, destroying twelve German divisions, inflicting 700,000 casualties. Both in the east and the west the Germans seemed to have crumbled. Memories of November 1918 were in everyone’s mind.

  On his own front, Eisenhower had seen his armies advance from Falaise to Antwerp, Namur, and Verdun, destroying eight German divisions and freeing two European capitals in the process. The AEF had had only sporadic contact with the retreating Germans, who had been unable to mount a coherent defense. Panic infected rear areas. Supply installations had been destroyed, fuel depots demolished, ammunition dumps abandoned, ration and supply installations looted by troops and civilians. Model told Hitler he needed twenty-five fresh infantry and six Panzer divisions to restore the line; Hitler replaced Model with Von Rundstedt.16

  The optimism that Eisenhower felt because of these events extended back to Washington. On September 13 Marshall sent a message to all his commanders on the subject of redeployment of U. S. Army forces to the Pacific. The Chief began, “While cessation of hostilities in the war against Germany may occur at any time, it is assumed that in fact it will extend over a period commencing any time between September 1 and November 1, 1944.”17 Under these circumstances then, Eisenhower felt that by carefully allocating supplies among his advancing armies he could indeed go forward everywhere into Germany.

  Like Eisenhower, Montgomery believed that the Germans in the west were on the verge of total collapse, but he disagreed sharply on how to deliver the final blow. Since the only limiting factor of Allied power was logistics, and since the AEF would be able to deliver only one more blow before it would have to stop and wait for supplies from Antwerp to resume the offensive, he wanted the last effort to be a strong one, strong enough to finish the war. “I consider we have now reached a stage where one really powerful and full-blooded thrust toward Berlin is likely to get there and thus end the German war,” he told Eisenhower on September 4. Since there were not enough supplies for two offensives, the one selected “must have all the maintenance resources it needs without any qualifications.” Eisenhower could choose to advance against either the Ruhr or the Saar; Montgomery said the Ruhr was “likely to give the best and quickest results.” In any event, time was vital and a decision had to be made at once. “If we attempt a compromise solution and split our maintenance resources so that neither thrust is full-blooded we will prolong the war,” he warned.

  Eisenhower answered the next day, September 5. He said his policy was settled. “The bulk of the German Army that was in the west has now been destroyed,” he pointed out, and the AEF had to exploit its success by “promptly breaching the Siegfried Line, crossing the Rhine on a wide front and seizing the Saar and the Ruhr.” A broad advance would cut off forces currently retreating from southwest France and give the AEF freedom of action to strike in any direction while forcing the enemy to disperse. It would also allow the Allies to open Antwerp. Eisenhower felt that if the troops went all the way and took the Saar and the Ruhr, they would destroy Germany’s capacity to wage war. He told Montgomery he still gave priority to the drive to the Ruhr, and was allocating supplies on this basis.18

  On August 24 Montgomery had complained to Brooke that Eisenhower had decided against sending the two army groups north into Belgium and then eas
t into the Ruhr, and was going to send the Americans directly east from Paris into Germany via the Saar. “I do not (repeat not) myself agree what he proposes to do and have said so quite plainly,” Montgomery had said, but “I consider that directive which is being issued by Ike is the best that I can do myself in matter and I do not (repeat not) propose to continue argument with Ike.”19 Despite his declaration of intentions, Montgomery was by his nature incapable of remaining silent when he was sure a mistake was being made. It was in addition his responsibility to present his views, as he was the senior British officer on the Continent, the executive agent for His Majesty’s Government and the man to whom all Britain looked for a proper use of the forces the Empire had raised at such sacrifice.

  Some officers and politicians were awe-struck by Eisenhower’s grant of power from the CCS and at the title he carried. Montgomery was not. Montgomery felt somewhat the same way about Eisenhower as Haig had about Foch twenty-six years earlier. Certainly in his mind their relative positions had nothing to do with ability. Eisenhower was not the Supreme Commander because he was an abler general than anyone else in the AEF, but rather because in view of the relative contribution of the two nations to the alliance the Americans were entitled to have the top position. Montgomery was sure that on strictly military grounds he was a much better general than Eisenhower. Brooke felt the same way. Montgomery therefore felt it necessary to keep Eisenhower “on the rails,” to guide him to the proper course of action.

  Montgomery, however, could never get Eisenhower to accept his policy, partly because he had no competence in the fine art of persuasion. He was accustomed to working on a problem alone, then handing down a solution. While Eisenhower talked things over at length with Bradley and other commanders, as well as his own staff, before reaching a decision, Montgomery brooded in voluntary, solitary confinement. He met with Dempsey, De Guingand, and his other subordinates only to tell them what to do. He had made a great study of how to command and how to break down the command problems to their essentials, but he never understood human relationships. He did not get along well with people, nor did he try to, and he could not get his ideas across without appearing either patronizing or offensive, or both.20

  Another factor in Montgomery’s failure to get his own way was that Eisenhower controlled logistics. As the operations around Arnhem and Antwerp would illustrate, Montgomery could take an extremely broad view of Eisenhower’s orders and in essence follow his own inclinations. But he could not conjure up supplies out of thin air. He had to fight within a framework that was tightly constricted by the amount of material Eisenhower chose to give him. And this situation applied not only to logistics but to manpower as well. Montgomery’s army group was not strong enough by itself to carry out his proposed offensive across the north German plain to Berlin. He had to have help from U. S. First Army, and it was Eisenhower’s prerogative to decide whether First Army fought under Montgomery or Bradley.

  Most of all, however, Montgomery failed to win Eisenhower over because there never was the slightest chance that he would be able to persuade Eisenhower to stop the Third Army where it was and put First Army under a British commander. No matter how brilliant or logical Montgomery’s plan for an advance to the Ruhr was, (and a good case can be made that it was both), and no matter what Montgomery’s personality was, under no circumstances would Eisenhower agree to give all the glory to the British. The American people would not have stood for it, nor would Patton, Bradley, Marshall, or Roosevelt.

  Had the troops of the AEF been composed of one nationality only, Eisenhower might have adopted Montgomery’s plan. Eisenhower almost never admitted, even to himself, that the alliance created problems on the battle front, but once, in Italy, he confessed in a private memorandum, “I think we have made Allied command work here with reasonable efficiency, even though at times it lacks the drive that could be applied were the force entirely homogeneous with respect to nationality.”21 But as things stood Eisenhower could not make his decisions solely on military grounds. He could not halt Patton in his tracks, relegate Bradley to a minor administrative role, and in effect tell Marshall that the great army he had raised in the United States was not needed in Europe.

  Montgomery sensed these political truths, but he was still anxious to try to change Eisenhower’s mind. When he received Eisenhower’s directive of September 4, which gave Patton permission to continue his offensive toward Metz, Montgomery was unhappy. It was not yet apparent, but there were already signs that his warnings about the price that would have to be paid for a broad-front advance were about to be proven valid. Tanks and other vehicles had gone so long and so far without maintenance that in one armored division less than a third of the authorized number of medium tanks were actually fit for combat. Another armored division had left so many tanks by the wayside, either because of mechanical failure or for lack of fuel, that its vehicles were spread over the country for more than a hundred miles. Worn-out tank engines could not be replaced, nor could tracks that were falling apart. Jeeps and armored cars had been driven without pause for days and were literally falling apart. Ammunition was short. Com Z was getting further and further behind on deliveries every day.

  The German defense, meanwhile, fighting close to its homeland, was beginning to stiffen. German troops had formed a continuous, if not solid, defensive line from the North Sea to the Swiss border. In what they would later call the “Miracle of the West,” they were preparing to stop the Allied drive. When Von Rundstedt took over on September 5 his problems were enormous. A glance at the casualty lists showed him that his armies had lost 500,000 troops in France. The Allies, meanwhile, had landed 2,100,000 men on the Continent and sustained less than half the German losses. In their retreat the Germans had left most of their equipment in France. Von Rundstedt had forty-eight infantry and fifteen Panzer divisions, but he estimated their true worth at twenty-six infantry and six or seven Panzer divisions at the most, as opposed to Eisenhower’s total of forty-nine combat divisions. But although Von Rundstedt’s divisions were not up to full strength, German organization was intact. The staffs of all higher headquarters had stayed together, re-established their communications, and were functioning. Discipline remained or was being restored. By early September the German divisions that had been battered, outflanked, encircled, and apparently destroyed had miraculously reappeared and were making an honest effort to protect the German border.22

  Still, the officers and men of the AEF found it hard to believe that the pursuit was about to end. They were sure that the Germans would be unable to mount a defense of the West Wall or even the Rhine, and continued to believe that the only limiting factor on their own advance was logistics. Montgomery was no exception to this response, although to his mind time was already running out. He felt his supply situation was so stretched that only a dramatic reversal of policy on Eisenhower’s part, one that would give him all the resources available to SHAEF, would allow him to exploit the victory in France to bring about the end of the war.

  Accordingly, when on September 7 Montgomery learned that although Eisenhower was giving the northern thrust “priority” in supplies he still intended to support Bradley’s drive to the east, he protested. The field marshal pointed out that he had been forced to cut his intake to 6000 tons a day, which “is half what I consume and I cannot go for long like this.” He needed an air lift of 1000 tons a day and was getting only 750 tons. After reciting the facts and figures of more of his complaints, Montgomery added, “… it is very difficult to explain things in a message like this.” He wondered if it would be possible for Eisenhower to come and see him.23

  It was typical of Montgomery that he should make such a request. It evidently did not occur to him that he, not Eisenhower, was the supplicant, neither then nor at any other time during the war. Not once during the entire campaign did he visit Eisenhower at SHAEF, even though he was frequently invited to attend conferences; he always insisted that Eisenhower come to him. When they did meet he often
refused to allow anyone else to be present, even the chiefs of staff.

  Montgomery’s request of September 7 was particularly untactful, for Eisenhower had just suffered an accident and movement was painful for him.24 Montgomery knew about the injury, which occurred during a plane landing, but still he decided it would be better for Eisenhower to come to Brussels than for him to fly to Granville. Eisenhower asked Montgomery to come to SHAEF, but Montgomery said he had to meet with Dempsey and could not do it.

  Eisenhower therefore flew to Brussels on the afternoon of September 10. He could not get out of the airplane because of his wrenched knee, so Montgomery came aboard. Tedder and Lieutenant General Sir Humfrey Gale, Eisenhower’s chief administrative officer and the man primarily responsible for liaison between SHAEF and Twenty-first Army Group, were also on the plane. Montgomery asked that Gale leave, although his own administrative officer was with him. Eisenhower agreed. Immediately upon Gale’s departure, Montgomery pulled from his pocket Eisenhower’s directive of September 4 and in extreme language damned Eisenhower’s policy. As the tirade gathered in fury Eisenhower sat silent. At the first pause for breath, however, he leaned forward, put his hand on Montgomery’s knee, and said, “Steady, Monty! You can’t speak to me like that. I’m your boss.” Montgomery mumbled that he was sorry.25

  Montgomery then proposed that he make a single thrust through Arnhem to Berlin. Eisenhower, according to Tedder, thought “it was fantastic to talk of marching to Berlin with an army which was still drawing the great bulk of its supplies over beaches north of Bayeux.”26 Montgomery thought it could be done if he got all the supplies, but Eisenhower refused even to consider the possibility. As Eisenhower put it in the office diary later, “Monty’s suggestion is simple, give him everything, which is crazy.”27