by Lewis Sorley
Westmoreland himself received a highly commendatory letter from Brigadier General'S. Leroy "Red" Irwin, at that time commanding general of the 9th Division artillery. "Your handling your battalion during the march," he wrote, "and during the action at Thala, was a splendid example of leadership, and was characterized by personal initiative, courage and coolness under very adverse conditions. You are commended for a superior performance of duty."
WHEN THE FIGHTING moved to Sicily, Westmoreland made an opportunity for himself and his unit that was later to pay personal dividends. The 82nd Airborne Division was then assembling in southern Sicily, and Westmoreland (apparently entirely on his own initiative) went to the division command post to see what was going on. A meeting was under way at which Major General Matthew Ridgway, then the division commander, and Brigadier General Maxwell Taylor, the division artillery commander, were discussing future operations. As Westmoreland later explained: "Upon learning that the division was short of transportation, I spoke up, identified myself as an outsider, and stated that I had an excellent artillery battalion that could give medium artillery support to the division as it moved and at the same time provide a large number of trucks to assist the lightly equipped parachute division."
According to his account, a call was made to the corps commander, who approved a request that Westmoreland's battalion be attached to the 82nd Airborne Division. Nothing is said concerning how the losing division commander felt about this freelancing on Westmoreland's part, but it was the beginning of a long and close relationship between Westmoreland and Taylor, who rose to far greater prominence and became Westmoreland's principal mentor and patron.3
Westmoreland remembered the next few weeks as a fast-moving situation. The motto of the 34th Field Artillery was "We Support," and they were living up to it. The battalion's trucks were being used around the clock. Often at the front of the column, Westmoreland recalled, would be General Ridgway, General Taylor, and Lieutenant Colonel Westmoreland. When resistance was encountered, Westmoreland contacted his executive officer and had him move the guns forward as fast as possible. Westmoreland would station guides on the road to lead the guns into position, then go to the nearest high ground to establish an observation post, determine the location of the friendly infantry elements, and proceed to adjust the fire of the battalion as soon as the first gun could drop trails.
"On one occasion after I had done this," said Westmoreland, "General Taylor was surprised to find me on the top of a hill overlooking the enemy's position, and he asked me what I was doing there." Westmoreland responded that his battalion was in the process of moving into position, that he had just finished adjusting its fire, and that they were ready to attack any target. He proudly remembered Taylor's comment as he departed the position: "Westmoreland, that was a workman-like job."4
In Sicily Westmoreland's jeep hit a mine. The vehicle was destroyed, but only one of the four occupants was injured, and that man only slightly. Westmoreland said that sandbagging the vehicle had saved its occupants from more serious effects. He himself was blown free, "shaken up but not wounded." According to subsequent accounts by Westmoreland, that was but one of a number of near misses. Earlier, in Tunisia, "a shell hit my vehicle but without harm to me," he recalled. Later, "on the Roer River in Germany, just as I got out of my jeep and entered a company command post, a mortar shell struck my vehicle. In the Remagen bridgehead on the Rhine a shell demolished a latrine moments after I had departed."
As the fighting progressed on Sicily, with the 34th Field having rejoined its parent unit, the 9th Division was "pinched out" by the 3rd Division on the north and the British on the south. The 34th Field had by then fired 4,393 rounds, including 901 on a single day during forty-three fire missions at Cerami on 4 August. While there the unit was taking very heavy incoming fire from artillery and Nebelwerfers (mortars) firing high explosive shells. The only solution was to dig in, and keep digging in, for five days. Moving through his B Battery position one day, Westmoreland heard a chief of section say to one of his cannoneers: "Jones, if you dig that slit trench two inches deeper, I'll try you for desertion!"
Then came a well-deserved respite. Rhapsodized the division historian: "These were days of vino, marsala, and vermouth; of grapes and melons and almonds; of gaily-painted donkey carts and swims in the blue Tyrrhenian Sea; of visits to Palermo and Monreale and the dark catacombs."5
DURING MUCH OF his battalion command time Westmoreland's executive officer was a major named Otto Kerner. They got along well and stayed in touch in later years. Kerner remembered that in the battalion Westmoreland's officers and men referred to him as "Superman" and that it was deserved, "a title that he earned by his deeds and capacity for deeds." Kerner was from Illinois and would later become governor of that state and then a federal judge.
Westmoreland frequently exhibited a measure of disdain for book learning, an outlook he recalled in an oral history interview after his retirement. "I had never been to a school and I didn't know the doctrine except what I read in the field manual, and I wasn't too impressed with it," he maintained. "I figured I could do better and worked up some SOPs for maneuvering the battalion, controlling fire and some firing techniques." His interviewers, eager to learn more about those fundamental doctrinal differences, asked Westmoreland to describe them. "Well, I'd have to reflect back," he responded. "I think I might come forth with them, but it's pretty tough to do off the top of my head."6
Years later Westmoreland would say that, if he could cite one thing that had contributed "to any success that I may have had as a commander, it was that as a young officer I developed a keen appreciation of communications. As a battalion commander, I used to talk to my battalion as a group about once a month. I used to talk to the batteries and the gun squads individually, and brief them—even in combat—on the situation. I was constantly talking to my troops."
Westmoreland took away some enduring lessons from his command experience, including a conviction that the important determinants of troop morale were food, mail, and medical care. "These were the things that I derived from my World War II experience to which I gave consideration," he recalled. "Actually, I had them written on a slip of paper which I kept in my wallet."7
IN LATER YEARS Westmoreland heard from many of those who had served in his battalion, especially the citizen-soldiers who left the Army after the war. These letters were uniformly complimentary of the way Westmoreland had treated them and of how he had commanded the outfit. "You were kind to me and I appreciated it then and appreciate it even more now," said a 1962 letter from Dr. W. A. Wilkes, who had begun by saying "I have intended writing to you every year since leaving the Army in 1945." Wilkes gave a short summary of his postwar professional accomplishments, saying he did so "only to let you know that I put every ounce of energy that I have into my work. This I know you can appreciate and sanction wholeheartedly. I know that is the way you go about being a soldier."
Another former officer, in civilian life an editor and publisher, wrote to recall a division review at war's end and that there were tears in the eyes of some of the officers: "It was the end of something terrible and magnificent."
IN NOVEMBER 1943 elements of the 9th Division headed for England, there to refit and train to take part in the upcoming Normandy landings. Westmoreland gave frequent talks to the green troops just joining the division. He advocated periodic showdown inspections to get rid of the excess gear the troops accumulated, maintaining that in doing so he had found one man with a Beautyrest mattress and another with a four-poster bed. "As surprising as it may seem," he continued, "the American soldier will loot. They will molest native women. When they have not seen a steak for several months, they will kill cattle without authority. The hospitality of the alcoholically generous liberated people is difficult for soldiers to refuse."
Also while in England, Westmoreland rendered one of his earliest geostrategic judgments, expressed in a letter to his father dated 10 May 1944 and written while he was hospitali
zed with malaria contracted in Sicily: "I'm convinced that'S. A. [South America] is the continent in which our future lies. Certainly we should get out of this mess in Europe and Asia as soon as we have stabilized the situation on these two vast and unsettle[d] areas."
By this time Westmoreland had relinquished command of his battalion and become executive officer of the division artillery. That put him working for Brigadier General Reese "Hooks" Howell. From the first it looked like trouble, as Westmoreland told his father one of his most important duties was going to be "to prevent the general from leaping before he looks (which is a habit which he regrettably possesses) and to attempt to place his decisions on as sound a plane as possible. I pray I am worthy to the job."
Westmoreland said later that Howell was one of the most difficult personalities he had ever served under—rude, abrupt, and arrogant in dealing with his subordinates and very jealous of what he considered his prerogatives. Eventually Westmoreland found the relationship intolerable and asked to be transferred to another job. When a slot opened up for division chief of staff, he recalled, "General Howell happily released me."
It was while still executive officer of the division artillery, however, that Westmoreland landed in Normandy on D+4, four days after the initial landings. The division moved to cut off the Cotentin Peninsula, driving to Cherbourg, then taking part in the St. Lo breakout and closure of the Falaise Gap. By 28 August 1944 it was across the Marne and driving east. Westmoreland characterized the fighting as "very severe" on "a sustained basis," saying they "lived in foxholes for months and months and months at a time."
While in the executive officer's job, near the end of July 1944, Westmoreland was promoted to full colonel.8 It was an early—and, as it turned out, temporary—wartime promotion. "The eagles feel very heavy at this point," he told his father. "Hope I can carry the load."
In a prematurely optimistic forecast of early August 1944, Westmoreland wrote to his father that "this campaign is going very well.... All indications are that it shouldn't be long now—Jerry appears to be disorganized and demoralized." Six weeks later reality had set in. "Germany is a cold place at this writing," Westmoreland told his mother. "All had hoped it would be over before winter arrived, but we don't feel so hopeful at this time. It appears that the war is far from over and that the last fight will be the toughest."
In mid-October 1944 Westmoreland became the division's chief of staff, just in time for the really terrible fighting—and losses—in the Huertgen Forest battles. He was extremely critical of the generalship at higher levels that inflicted such an ordeal on allied troops based on their "questionable decision to clear the enemy from that vast forest instead of bypassing it."9 It was a "costly blunder" resulting in thousands of casualties, he stated, and "my division was chewed up twice." In his view, "The forest could have been bypassed, and should have been. Too few generals saw, at first hand, the situation."10
Beginning in mid-December 1944 the division held defensive positions until, at the end of January 1945, it jumped off again in a drive across the Roer and to the Rhine, where it crossed the unexpected windfall of a bridge seized intact at Remagen by the 9th Armored Division. Next it helped seal and clear the Ruhr Pocket before moving farther east to Nordhausen for an attack in the Harz Mountains. There, Westmoreland recalled, they entered the concentration camp only recently liberated by the 104th Infantry and 3rd Armored Divisions. By that point the end was near, and the division occupied positions along the Mulde River and held that line until V-E Day.
As chief of staff of an infantry division, Westmoreland was gaining valuable experience outside his own field artillery branch, and also observing a model leader in the person of Major General Louis A. Craig, the division commander. He and Westmoreland got along splendidly, and the two maintained contact for many years after the war. When General Craig moved up to command XX Corps, he sent Westmoreland a very warm handwritten note recalling "all the work, pressure, and anxiety that were nearly continuous" during their shared service and thanking him for his friendship. For his part, Westmoreland later stated that he had served no officer he admired more than General Craig, and under no officer had he learned more.11
The 9th Infantry Division, nicknamed the "Old Reliables," had a tough and very successful war. Major General J. Lawton Collins, Commanding General of VII Corps, documented some of it in a highly complimentary letter. "After crossing the Seine, the Marne, and the Aisne rivers in rapid succession," he observed, "the Ninth again came to grips with the retreating enemy in the edge of the Ardennes Forest east of Hirson and drove him across the Meuse. The division's successful crossing of the Meuse in the vicinity of Dinant, in the face of strong opposition, was one of the most difficult tasks of this war." And, continued Collins, "During these extensive operations, the Ninth Division advanced almost 600 miles against enemy opposition, captured over 28,000 prisoners and participated in three major campaigns with not more than five days out of action in a period of over four months. This outstanding record is one of the finest in the European Theater."12
The famed war correspondent Ernie Pyle was equally admiring, saying the 9th Infantry Division performed like "a beautiful machine." As he remembered it, the division moved so fast it got to be funny. He was based at the division command post, which at one point displaced forward six times in seven days, prompting a soldier whose job was taking down and putting up the tents to volunteer that he'd "rather be with Ringling Brothers."13
NEAR THE END of the war elements of the 9th Infantry Division met the Russians, as Westmoreland reported to his father: "Twice we were entertained by the Russians. Both parties were rip-snorters. Vodka flowed like water; it was difficult to imbibe moderately and walk out under your own power. I succeeded. At the last party we were served by female soldiers wearing boots and pistols. After the meal they became our dancing partners and were very graceful dancers."
V-E Day did not mean the end of European service for Westmoreland, as the 9th Infantry Division was kept overseas for occupation duty. Westmoreland told his father about this, adding, "I'm certainly going to try to get out of this deadly existence."
Fortunately for him, as it turned out, he stayed on, receiving another excellent opportunity for command, this time of an infantry unit. Even though his branch was field artillery, he became regimental commander of the division's 60th Infantry Regiment.14 Writing to his father, Westmoreland reported that the regiment, with a normal strength of 3,200 men, was now over 5,000 and that life was good. "I have a very nice house with all the conveniences. My executive officer, supply officer, and operations officer live with me. I have a Chinese orderly, my own mess with very good cooks, two horses and a good stable. Shortly I hope to acquire a sedan. At the moment I ride a jeep." General Patton had recently come to inspect the division, and Westmoreland and the other regimental commanders lunched with him. Concluded Westmoreland: "He is quite a bird."
A key mission of the occupation forces was caring for large numbers of refugees, including those housed in sixty displaced persons camps and a civilian detention facility. Some of these people were from Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, recalled Westmoreland, "all fine people." The regiment's area of responsibility covered about a thousand square miles. With headquarters in Ingolstadt, Germany, Westmoreland was able to do some very effective, imaginative, and compassionate things for these unfortunate victims during the next seven months. Reopening the schools, winterizing the primitive facilities in which they were housed, and improving sanitation were key missions, along with guarding captured stocks of arms and munitions, conducting security patrols, and training.
"Occupation duties are becoming complicated," Westmoreland wrote to his father in early October 1945, "and in many instances confused. The deployment of troops [back to the United States] is progressing rapidly due to pressure from home." That was making things quite difficult for the occupying force, "which in effect is no longer an effective army but merely a group of more or less random troops."
THE PRINCIPAL SOURCE of troop morale during the occupation period, according to one of the unit's officers, was the Red Cross Donut Girls. "Shortly after Westy's arrival," said Dick Vestecka, "the troops of the regiment were getting more donuts and coffee than any similar unit in the entire European theater." Instead of staying the customary one or two days with a unit, these girls were staying for a week and even two weeks with the 60th Infantry, and there were fifteen such teams taking turns. "The lure," concluded Vestecka, "was Colonel Westmoreland—single, tall, dark and handsome."
Westmoreland was very critical of the rapid demobilization of the American army in Europe, writing to his mother in January 1946 that "what was a wonderful army over here has been literally torn to pieces." And, he added, "it goes without saying that the U.S. has lost considerable prestige as a consequence of the stupid and selfish attitude on the part of the American people. It is difficult to blame the people, however, when one realizes that they have been fed a lot of distorted reasoning & propaganda by our newspapers and Congressmen."
WHEN IT WAS TIME for Westmoreland to rotate back to the United States his regiment gave him a raucous farewell party. The program provides the flavor of the event: "Sixtieth Infantry Dancing Officers Club in Honor of Colonel Wm. C. Westmoreland. Presenting the Famed 'Hungarian Orchestra' and a Floor Show 1930. Snacks at 2300. Drinks. Eggnog Served from 1930 to 2030. At 2030 Your Choice Coke Highball, Cognac Special, Boiler Maker, Red and White Wines. Farewell Westie."
Westmoreland's copy of the program was signed by many people, perhaps most notably "Arthur R. Woolley The Best God damned Bn Cmdr you ever had and damn it I can still lick you." It appears Woolley may have sampled the eggnog before signing.