Impressive as the evidence was of a forthcoming attack, most observers found it hard to believe that one would occur. The idea of an invasion of Britain died hard. At the end of April the American assistant military attaché in Berlin doubted that Germany had the means to invade Britain and “deduced” that its objective was to destroy Russia so as to dominate Europe and open the way to an attack on the empire as a means of destroying Britain at home. Yet in flat contradiction to this logic he concluded that Germany’s likely course of action was to pursue these objectives in reverse order with an invasion of Britain first. At the same time, in Washington, General Miles was backing away from his Mediterranean emphasis and insisting that the British Isles was still the “decisive theater.”11
The Berlin attaché offered a clue to this curious reasoning in a report of late March. Ordinarily, he said, the large percentage of German forces in the east would lead to the conclusion that an attack would occur in that direction, but forces facing England were still as large as could be used effectively, and air units had not been transferred to the east. “The most dangerous capability,” he concluded, “is the … one against England, and no serious error could be made by taking this stand and having Germany prosecute the … capability against Russia.” Since transfer of air units only became noticeable in late May, it is likely that this reasoning persisted.12
An invasion of Britain seemed more likely too because foreign observers tended to exaggerate the size of the German army. Both the Russian and American attachés estimated that the Germans had between 250 and 270 divisions, where in fact they fielded only 208. While estimates of divisions in the east were close to the mark, those elsewhere, as in France and the Low Countries, tended to be high, and German intelligence undoubtedly encouraged such exaggeration.13 Invasion of Britain seemed the more plausible because of reports from London that reflected the British army’s insistence, at least through May, that invasion was coming. General Sir John Dill, for whom the Americans had a high regard, thought it would occur about July 1. Of course, without massive preparations at the Channel ports, chances dwindled as the spring progressed, but for the first part of May at least, the cross-Channel attack possibility further confused the American picture of German intentions.14
While the buildup in the east was proceeding at a moderate rate, stories that this was to protect Germany’s rear for the invasion of Britain or that these were troops training for that invasion or preparing for Balkan operations had some utility for German intelligence. By April, however, a new cover scheme was needed. Now the notion was encouraged that the military concentration was for the purpose of cowing Russia into making concessions.
Of course the idea of a German-Soviet settlement was not unfamiliar: the Ribbentrop-Molotov pact and subsequent trade agreements, the most recent just in January, provided historical perspective, as did the more distant Rapallo period of cooperation in the 1920s. Dictators and totalitarian regimes were expected to make unscrupulous bargains. Nothing had occurred in the Welles-Oumansky talks to provide American officials with a more favorable view, and the Soviet-Japanese Pact was hardly encouraging. Stalin, Ambassador Steinhardt reported May 5, had told one Soviet official that he expected, rather than war, satisfactory negotiations with Germany. Undoubtedly rumors that Germany intended to secure an enforced diplomatic outcome took root in the diplomatic corps of Moscow and Berlin like a weed in wet and fertile soil, an idea that German intelligence cultivated.15
Chargé Morris in Berlin took the bait, but he was by no means unique. He felt “impelled” to report on April 13 the revival of talk that Germany would soon attack Russia, however lacking in good authority and logic such reports were. But these rumors, he argued, were “a deliberate attempt … to arouse the apprehension of Russia and make it more amenable to Axis demands for supplies.…” These were planted stories to impress Russia or divert it from German designs in the Mediterranean. In May he noted a stream of reports that German preparations were the “spearhead” of diplomatic and military pressure designed to encourage Russian trade concessions. On May 13, Morris cabled that informants of the highest authority, including one with access to Goering, told him that preparations for invasion of Russia were complete, that an ultimatum would shortly be presented demanding control of the Ukraine and the Baku oilfields, and that Russian refusal would lead to invasion within a fortnight. He regarded this information with reserve, but for lack of contrary reports, the ultimatum thesis held sway.16
Uncertainty over German intentions is manifest in the cables from the American embassy in Moscow. On the one hand Ambassador Steinhardt made plans for evacuation of his staff in case of the German bombing of Moscow, while on the other he relayed reports indicating Germany would merely brandish the sword and demand concessions and that the Soviets would yield. The Soviets had their limits, but Steinhardt expected Count von der Schulenberg to keep German demands within reason.17 The comings and goings of Schulenberg and the Russian ambassador in Berlin were closely watched for signs of negotiations.
Reports from other American embassies in Europe had the same purport: that the situation in the Ukraine would be settled by June, by force if necessary; that the Germans were seeking joint exploitation of the Ukraine, Don basin, and Caucasus; that the concentrations were for intimidation and that the Soviets would succumb. An intercepted message from the Japanese ambassador in Berlin argued that Stalin’s assumption of the chairmanship of the Council of People’s Commissars arose from the need to make great concessions to Germany. “Stalin and Company” would have to be dealt with eventually, a German official release for press guidance stated, but “pressure is being exerted to feel out sentiment toward first settling with the Bolsheviks.”18 American diplomatic reports reflected just this sort of inspired confusion.
Meanwhile fears of a German drive to the southwest through the Iberian peninsula to northwest Africa and the Atlantic islands had by no means receded. Though Hitler had been keenly interested the previous September in German navy plans for seizure of the Canaries, Cape Verdes, and the Azores (he called the Azores the “turntable of the Atlantic”), his mind and Germany’s resources were now concentrated on the forthcoming Russian campaign. Even so, the Germans were happy to have the British and Americans preoccupied with grim expectations in wrong directions, so the sinister rumors of early spring continued to flow. More was heard about troop concentrations at the Pyrenees, German “tourists” entering Spain, Franco conceding German troop transit, and Spain and Portugal joining the Axis.19
These fears applied especially to the Atlantic islands. The Portugese garrison on Terceira in the Azores numbered a mere 5,400 with no artillery. Fayal was protected by four renovated six-inch cannon vintage 1898.20 Whichever was at the forefront of American concern—Tangier, Tetuan, Madrid, Lisbon, or the islands—resources on the spot seemed hopelessly weak and ineffectual. Another Norway seemed quite possible, Germany using already infiltrated agents, small forces in innocent-looking freighters, and airborne attack. Intimidation, fifth columns, and parachute troops would make short work of local defenses.
The Norway model of German infiltration and seizure applied as well to French North Africa. In April the Germans secured permission from Vichy to send an additional 130–140 officers and men, for a total of 200, to supervise the 1940 armistice in French North Africa. Washington immediately warned Vichy this was a violation of the Murphy-Weygand accord, the post-armistice Franco-American understanding about North Africa. Also at hand was a British report that German civilians suspected of being mechanics were infiltrating into French Morocco to take over French armored vehicles “when the zero hour comes.” Another British report, proven false, had U-boats already basing on Dakar and using French planes for spotting convoys.21 The British seemed to be vying with the Germans in arousing American security concerns regarding this region, and aroused the Americans became.
The most dramatic confirmation of apparent German designs on Africa was pressure on Vichy through May for
concessions in Africa and the Middle East, culminating in the Paris Protocols of May 27–28, 1941 — described by Time as the “second fall of France.” The final agreement was not precisely a capitulation. It did not provide Germany immediate rights to the use of Dakar, the point of greatest American concern. That concession would come into effect after July 15 and depended on German allowance of reinforcements and provision of supplies for the French army in North Africa. But the agreement fully reflected the collaborationist inclination of Admiral Jean François Darlan and the weakness of Pétain, for it stipulated that Vichy supply trucks to Rommel’s army and in Syria support German efforts to sustain the revolt in Iraq.22 If France had not yet arrived at the point where the worst American fears were realized, during May it was definitely headed in that direction.
The State Department and the president were increasingly concerned about these German pressures toward the southwest. On April 30, Hull instructed Ambassador Alexander W. Weddell in Madrid to see Franco alone and promise a broadening of trade, suggesting as a beginning the exchange of olive oil for peanut oil and perhaps 200,000 tons of wheat. Here was an inducement for Franco to resist demands for troop passage. The same day Hull directed Admiral Leahy to see Pétain alone, express American concern over German pressure for concessions in North Africa, troop transit across unoccupied France, and collaboration if not participation in the war, and offer two shiploads of food, provided of course France rejected collaboration. The Marshal gave satisfactory assurances, mentioning, however, that Darlan was then in Paris for consultation with the Germans. Roosevelt himself responded, specifically restating the French assurances, and the gloom lifted momentarily.23
Then on May 12 came most disturbing news. Pétain was said to be deeply depressed over decisions he would have to make in the next several days. The Germans apparently had made broad demands at Paris. The following day when Leahy saw the Marshal, though not alone this time, he met ominous words. Pétain assured Leahy only that he would not “give any voluntary active military aid to Germany,” with emphasis on the word “voluntary.” In response to Leahy’s assertion that the United States was sure to defeat Germany in the end, the aged leader expressed “great skepticism.” Clearly, said Leahy, the trend of French policy was toward collaboration. He foresaw no further serious French resistance to German demands. Admiral Darlan was making the all-too-familiar pilgrimage to Berchtesgaden. Afterwards, diplomatic circles expected a Hitler-Stalin meeting, the New York Times reported, to complete the economic reorganization of an Axis-dominated Europe.24
As of May 14 the American government was entirely confused about German intentions. Depending on whom one asked, Hitler might be sending his army in any one or two of four directions. It was confused partly because of German tactics of deception and partly because the German army, especially just then, seemed capable of almost anything. Intelligence assessments tend to reflect the course of action most feared: the British army, for example, still clung to its belief in a German cross-Channel attack.25 The American army felt most vulnerable from a German drive through Spain toward the Atlantic islands and the African coast of the Atlantic. These were on Hitler’s agenda, but only after the Russian campaign. Not knowing this, Roosevelt and his advisers concentrated on guarding the Atlantic.
A warming sun and blossoming cherry trees did not raise spirits in Washington that spring. In the case of President Roosevelt, the disheartening news and confusing intelligence from Europe arrived with a debilitating series of colds and bouts with flu, worsened by iron deficiency anemia from bleeding hemorrhoids. For days at a time in May and June he was in bed. Harry Hopkins or “Missy,” Marguerite LeHand, his secretary, kept him company for dinner; an occasional adviser was allowed to lunch. April 24 he saw former ambassador William Bullitt, who made allegations of homosexuality against Sumner Welles. Roosevelt acknowledged that there was some truth in the charges, according to Bullitt, but explained that Welles’ usefulness at State outweighed the security risk. Bullitt persisted, warning he could not accept further assignment so long as Welles remained, and the president abruptly terminated the meeting, saying to his military aide, General Watson, “Pa, I don’t feel well. Please cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day.” Mostly, according to LeHand, Roosevelt was suffering from exasperation.26 The heart of the problem was that, faced with large and uncertain threats, he had totally inadequate military forces and was unsure what to do.
The Atlantic Fleet began patrolling under Western Hemisphere Defense Plan Two in the last week of April, but much more thinly than originally planned since most of the reinforcement from the Pacific had been postponed. The heavy cruisers Wichita and Tuscaloosa departed from Newport, Rhode Island, on April 26 for a three-week patrol, and the battleship Texas sailed May 5, but with the New York and Arkansas under overhaul, the next patrol was not scheduled until May 23. The Stars and Stripes would rarely be seen near the convoy routes at this rate. The carrier Wasp departed April 26 on a two-week cruise toward the Azores. The Ranger followed on May 9, and the Wasp was due again on May 21. The first cruise of the Yorktown, the only large ship so far transferred from the Pacific, would not begin until May 31, when the Ranger went into dock for overhaul. The great wedge of ocean assigned the carriers, lying between Bermuda, the Azores, and a point midway between the Antilles and the Cape Verdes, was largely untended. The portion of it where German supply ships were most likely to be waiting approached a million square miles in size. Further south, the first cruise into the gap between Africa and Brazil was scheduled for the Milwaukee, departing May 20.27 The current ability of the fleet to spot raiders and their supply ships in the Atlantic was negligible, to say nothing of displaying force and covering landings.
These searches fell far short of what Churchill wanted. April 24 he asked for air reconnaissance south and east of Greenland, where U-boats were now hunting, and off Newfoundland, where raiders had found good pickings. He especially wanted planes from the American carriers to provide air search ahead of the convoys moving northward past the Azores and Cape Verdes. The British were prepared to send expeditions to hold these islands and prevent German capture but feared a surprise seizure before their own troops arrived. An American naval squadron roving the area might not only provide air search but also warn the Germans off and, as Churchill put it, “keep the place warm for us.”28 As it was, however, a carrier would be in the area only one or two days in every ten.
The army and its air force were even less ready. Only one army division, the 1st Infantry, was adequately trained and equipped for combat. War Department planners could list two divisions as due by May, four by July and seven by September but the actual state of training and equipping usually lagged far behind estimates. The 1st Marine Division was also a ready force, but its strength as late as November 30, 1941, was less than 10,000 men. The army air force possessed—overseas and at home, Atlantic and Pacific—53 heavy bombers, 91 medium bombers, 92 light bombers, and 327 fighters. The Germans by contrast were readying over 2,700 planes for the attack on Russia.29 The military weakness, if not nakedness, of the United States was temporary. Vast forces were in process of formation. But for Franklin D. Roosevelt in May 1941 the cupboard was almost bare.
At this time the president had a dream which vividly portrayed the frightening circumstances facing him: with German planes threatening New York City he took refuge at Hyde Park in a bombproof cave provided by the Secret Service 200 feet under the Hudson cliffs, where he stayed until a German squadron passed over and departed.30
The one military force available to ease American security concerns on the Atlantic was the Pacific Fleet, and intense debate persisted from April into June at the highest levels over moving a portion of that fleet to the Atlantic, whether the postponed ABC-1 reinforcement or more.
At times the Atlantic and Pacific fleets seemed like different navies. The latter had power and symmetry: twelve battleships, three carriers, three divisions (four each) of heavy cruisers, three divisions o
f light cruisers, and fifty destroyers. Though the fleet rarely anchored, steamed, or docked all together in one mighty spectacle, it operated from one base, Pearl Harbor, and the double row of battleships alongside Ford Island, the strings of destroyers in East Loch, and the looming carriers Lexington and Saratoga were familiar sights from the main highway skirting the harbor. To a visiting British naval observer, the sight was “magnificent.”31
The Atlantic Fleet on the other hand split into task forces in March and used several bases; its center of gravity was moving northward from Norfolk to Newport, but its missions were widely scattered and its presence no more palpable than an Atlantic fog. It was a “can-do,” catch-up fleet, always short of ships, men, and equipment, improvising, straining toward war readiness. The Pacific Fleet was undergoing intensive training but operated in a more traditional, peacetime, and theoretical mode, as if preparing for a Jutland. Pearl Harbor was a scene of gleaming brass, starched white, and gold braid, of perfumed air and sunny seas. The Atlantic more often was gray and cold and hostile.
Royal Navy critics believed that, impressive as the fleet at Pearl Harbor was, the Americans had “no real idea what to do with it.” Its principal function of course was to deter Japanese southward expansion, rather by its “mere existence” than by its actions. The fleet was not judged ready to display its strength in the direction of Japan or the islands in the central Pacific held by Japan under mandate from the League of Nations, and it was in any case on a short leash because of the greater strategic importance of European threats. The effect, so far as critics were concerned, was “strategic localization” if not paralysis of the fleet. If the navy had no wider scheme in mind than a “containing effect” on Japan, then it seemed reasonable to examine precisely how many ships, in particular battleships, still the standard measure of naval power, would be minimally necessary to produce that effect.32
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