by Lewis Sorley
At the end of January 1946 Colonel Westmoreland was appointed, on paper, Commanding General of the 71st Infantry Division, with the sole mission of getting the remnants of that outfit back to the United States for inactivation. Westmoreland went on ahead, traveling home by air.
4. Airborne Duty
TWICE EARLIER WESTMORELAND had tried to transfer to airborne duty, but each time his request was turned down. Now he finally had that chance. After attending parachute and glider school at Fort Benning, in July 1946 he took command of the 504th Parachute Infantry Regiment, part of the 82nd Airborne Division. That put him right back at Fort Bragg, the place where he'd launched for World War II. The division commander now was the famous General James Gavin, who had earned a brilliant reputation during the war, participating in four combat jumps. The command climate in the division proved very much to Westmoreland's liking. "I found Gavin an excellent division commander to work for," he reflected. "He gave general guidance as to what he wanted and left his commanders alone to exercise their own initiative."
Westmoreland later recorded a puzzling comment: "I was given command of two infantry regiments but as a matter of principle did not transfer from the F.A. [field artillery]." He did not explain what principle he had in mind, but it may have had something to do with overcoming early resentment by infantry officers of his having been given the regiment, as Westmoreland later commented: "I don't say that an artilleryman is not necessarily a good division commander. But at a lower level, I believe, if you are not an infantryman but an artilleryman, you start with a certain disadvantage in dealing with echelons below."1 Westmoreland overcame any such disadvantage, becoming widely respected as an effective commander of an airborne infantry regiment. There he continued his emphasis on talking to his men frequently, at least once a month "in personal communication, eyeball-to-eyeball, with every man in that unit."
Melvin Zais, later to reach four-star level himself, remembered the "splendid job" Westmoreland did in commanding the regiment. "He was ambitious without clawing and scratching," said Zais. "He wanted to do well, but he didn't step on anybody to do it." Other traits that would perhaps become more pronounced in later years were also apparent, however. "He carried himself like a general. But Westy did not have a very good sense of humor, nor did he have a light touch. Westy took himself quite seriously. He knew he was going to the top and worked hard at it. He put every ounce of energy into it."
AFTER A YEAR of regimental command, Westmoreland was moved into the position of division chief of staff, still working for Gavin. While that was a repeat assignment, since Westmoreland had served as 9th Infantry Division chief of staff during much of the war in Europe, the different type of unit and fast pace of operations made it a worthwhile professional experience.
Westmoreland gained particular approval on the occasion of a parachuting accident. A planeload of jumpers en route to the drop zone were killed when their C-82 aircraft lost power in both engines and crashed. Westmoreland was then on the drop zone, having just completed a jump. Anticipating the possibility of mass panic and very low morale among the troopers who had not yet jumped, he went immediately to the loading area. He found that the troopers there were eager to jump, but had been held up because the tower had grounded all aircraft. "Colonel Westmoreland immediately took command of the situation and ordered the next lift to prepare to load," reported a regimental commander. Then, using his authority as division chief of staff, Westmoreland ordered the tower to clear the aircraft for takeoff. He then organized the next lift, boarded the aircraft with the troopers, and led one stick in his second jump of the day.2 Major General Byers, commanding the division, wrote to Westmoreland to commend and thank him for his actions, saying that they had "unquestionably served to minimize the harmful effects of the crash on morale of the personnel who were scheduled for jumping that day."
Private First Class Tom McKenna had an interesting encounter with Westmoreland soon after arriving in the division. He was just back from parachute and glider school at Fort Benning when the division chief of staff came down to inspect the new troops. Stopping in front of McKenna, Westmoreland asked him, "How many jumps do you have, son?" That surprised McKenna, since everyone made exactly five jumps in parachute school, but he answered, "Five, sir." Westmoreland said, "Great sport, isn't it?"
About two weeks later McKenna was detailed to spend Sunday morning riding in a C-82 to help the crew chief pull in the static lines after all the jumpers had exited the aircraft. The object was to get the maximum number through their required pay jump, so the rides were really short. On one of those flights Westmoreland sat across from McKenna and, remembered McKenna, "He was obviously sweating out the jump." McKenna had a small camera with him and took Westmoreland's picture. When the flash went off, Westmoreland looked over at him, and McKenna asked brightly, "Great sport, isn't it, sir?" Westmoreland only nodded.3
HAVING HELD THE post of division chief of staff for an unusually long tenure of three years, Westmoreland had also served three division commanders, all very impressive and successful officers. After Gavin came Major General Clovis E. Byers, who won a Distinguished Service Cross and two Silver Stars in World War II and wound up a lieutenant general,4 and then the famous curmudgeon Major General Williston B. Palmer, who followed command of the airborne division with command of an armored division, and then of a corps in Korea, eventually achieving four stars as the Army's Vice Chief of Staff.5
Westmoreland adjusted to these very different personalities and operating styles smoothly and effectively, making himself indispensable to each in turn. An officer who served with Westmoreland in the division later sent him a glowing tribute: "While in the 82d you demonstrated superior staff ability and, without trying to kid anyone, I feel that you exerted more influence and were more instrumental in maintaining the high state of training, discipline and morale which existed than any commander who was there during my tour. In your tactful, diplomatic way you actually commanded the division. And I must say did a fair job."
WESTMORELAND DEVOTED A single paragraph of his 425-page memoir to his courtship of and marriage to Kitsy Van Deusen. She seems to deserve much more. It is widely recognized that she was essential to his career success, yet he could not or would not acknowledge it. "I attribute a lot of his Army success to Kitsy," said one close friend of both.6 Wrote David Halberstam: "She was, in any real sense, his ambassador to the rest of the world. Because he is so formal, it always had been her job to serve as the intermediary between him and others, to humanize him."7 Many others shared that view, perhaps even Kitsy. "No one in the family gave our marriage a chance of succeeding," she later told a reporter. "Not because of the age difference—my father was 12 years older than my mother—but because Wes was so serious and they knew I wasn't."8
Kitsy was attending college in North Carolina when she heard from her parents that Colonel Westmoreland was stationed at nearby Fort Bragg. As she later told the story many times, she called him, and Westmoreland asked if she was grown up yet. "Come see for yourself," she responded. He did, and she was.9 Six months later the colonel and the college girl were married in St. John's Church, Fayetteville, North Carolina. He was then thirty-three, she twenty.10 Almost two years later, while they were still at Fort Bragg, a daughter was born. They named her Katherine Stevens and called her "Steven," later softened to "Stevie."
An officer at Fort Bragg remembered a visit to the post by members of the West Point Class of 1948. They went through a receiving line that included General Byers, the division commander, Westmoreland, the division chief of staff, and their wives. The receiving line dialogue went like this: "Good evening, General Byers. [Pause.] Good evening, Colonel Westmoreland. [Pause.] Kitsy!!" She had been at Cornell and had arranged dates for the West Pointers passing through there, and they all remembered her with great fondness.
AFTER HIS FOUR YEARS with the 82nd Airborne Division, Westmoreland was assigned to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, first, briefly, as an instructor at the Army
's Command & General Staff College and then in the postwar Army War College, temporarily located there. This was noteworthy, since Westmoreland was not a graduate of either school, although he had been awarded constructive credit for the staff college course. He then moved with the War College when it relocated to a new permanent home at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania.
Said Westmoreland of his instructor duties, "I had cognizance over airborne operations, airmobile operations, and the use of helicopters. In addition I had cognizance over psychological warfare and irregular warfare. I was also involved in strategic planning."
Early on in the assignment he gave his father a status report: "You can see they have me on the hop and I am finding it difficult getting oriented in my new field of activity and adjusted to the point where I can start producing." While he did not say so, his new assignment as an instructor had to have felt like a major comedown after being chief of staff of an airborne division. His sponsor in the instructional assignment was Colonel Walter "Dutch" Kerwin, with whom he would have much to do in later years. "He was a good instructor," said Kerwin, "but mainly what he did was talk about World War II."
Westmoreland had been one of those successful young officers who received an early wartime promotion to colonel followed by a postwar reduction to lieutenant colonel. That came for him in July 1947. Once again promoted to colonel in 1951, he wrote to his mother about it: "After four years I'm back where I was before." His ambition was never far from the surface.
General Craig wrote to congratulate Westmoreland on getting his eagles back. "I am far more interested in the next step," he said. "I don't know anybody around your time who has a higher equity in the right to be promoted. Don't forget to keep your head." He added a bit of wisdom that would prove prescient: "An impeccable reputation can be a very dangerous quality in the possessor and, as rank increases, nothing is more disturbing to mental balance than a group of people [apparently referring to subordinates] who always say yes."11
IN JUNE 1950 the Korean War erupted. Two years into it, Westmoreland joined the fight as Commanding Officer of the 187th Airborne Regimental Combat Team. He wrote to the officer he was to succeed to express his delight at escaping from "such a stagnant assignment" as the War College and another "dull year ahead."
5. Japan and Korea
BY THE TIME Westmoreland became involved in it, the Korean War had already dragged on for more than two years and degenerated into a static exchange of shelling and patrols while fruitless armistice talks continued interminably.
Westmoreland's new command, the 187th Airborne Regimental Combat Team (nicknamed "Rakkasans"), was something of a fire brigade for the allied forces. Stationed in Japan as theater reserve, when Westmoreland joined it had already made two combat deployments to Korea, each time subsequently returning to camps in Japan to refit. They were in Korea for the third time when Westmoreland took command on 29 July 1952.1 His initial observation was that "the men had long been in reserve in Japan and needed refresher training."2
Ten days later Westmoreland wrote to Kitsy, "I have seen all elements of the combat command—some several times—and am favorably impressed with the outfit. Trap [his predecessor, Brigadier General Thomas Trapnell], as would be expected, did a wonderful job and surrounded himself with a group of good people that I am fortunate to inherit." To his classmate and close friend Colonel Robert Fergusson, Westmoreland wrote that he had "found since arrival that the unit is in first class shape."
Even so, Westmoreland soon relieved several officers for cause, including the regimental surgeon who, he said, "became worthless, apparently was taking dope, and upon relief shot himself in the leg." On the positive side he found his living conditions quite comfortable, writing to his parents that he had a van "containing a bed, desk, wardrob[e], wash basin, shower and—believe it or not—Frididare."
Within the first few weeks Westmoreland issued a revealing order. Stating that "a fundamental of effective command is inspection of the unit and troops... frequently, systematically and methodically," he noted that the chain of command was often overlooking this duty. He thus prescribed some minimums. Each battalion commander or his executive officer was to inspect daily a major element of his subordinate commands and attachments. Each company commander would inspect daily all organic and attached elements. And platoon leaders were to inspect three times daily their fighting positions, living quarters, and available individuals of the platoon, and do that within specified time periods: once before 0900, once after 1300 hours, and once between the hours of 2200 and 0400. That pretty well spelled it out.3
WHEN THE 187TH Airborne was introduced into the Seoul area, Westmoreland found it "fairly quiet and stabilized," with the action "basically trench warfare with a lot of scouting and patrolling." Scarcely two weeks into Westmoreland's command, Corporal Lester Hammond Jr., a radio operator in A Company of the 187th, earned the Medal of Honor for actions while part of a six-man reconnaissance patrol that penetrated nearly two miles behind enemy lines.
Westmoreland himself had a very close call, potentially even more serious than his various World War II near misses, although it was in training rather than a combat situation. He and some members of his staff were on a hilltop near Taegu, observing an exercise during which mortars were to deliver preplanned supporting fire. Through some miscalculation, the incoming rounds landed not in the designated target area but where Westmoreland and the other observers were located. A lieutenant standing right next to Westmoreland was severely wounded, and several others were hurt, but once again he came through unharmed. Investigating, he found that an administrative warrant officer, not qualified in the use of mortars, was commanding the support platoon. He was relieved posthaste.
Westmoreland had surprisingly limited combat experience during the Korean War. He commanded the 187th for a total of about fifteen months, of which only six were spent in Korea and the remaining nine in Japan.
At the beginning of September Westmoreland wrote his parents that "it is an unpleasant war. Everyday we have our losses and the attrition adds up as time goes by." On 9 September he told Kitsy, "we have been in combat one month today." By early October he was writing to her that they had been "in the line as a part of the 7th Division for almost two months. Our casualties were not heavy, however we had our portion. It would not surprise me if we had more men hospitalized from our training jumps ahead than we suffered in combat." Now they were "out of the line and at Taegu preparing to engage in some airborne training preliminary to returning to Japan."
Westmoreland was eager to build up the number of his parachute jumps, and now he had his chance. "He once made thirteen jumps in one day," in a training situation near the Han River, recalled Brigadier General Weldon Honeycutt, who as a lieutenant in Korea was Westmoreland's pathfinder platoon leader. "He'd go up with Sergeant Wolfe and Sergeant Bowser and Sergeant Card. As soon as they made a jump they'd get back to the airstrip and get on the next plane going up, then do that over and over again. We were competing to see who could get the most jumps in one day." One result of that marathon was that, only weeks after taking command of the unit, Westmoreland was awarded the Master Parachutist Badge, recognizing his completion of sixty-five jumps. He was now, as the airborne informally styled the accomplishment, a "Master Blaster."
In late October 1952 the 187th returned to its stations in Japan, known as Camp Chickamauga, outside Beppu, and Camp Wood, near Kumamoto, both on the island of Kyushu.
IN THE 187TH Westmoreland was promoted to brigadier general, but not before he had qualified (as a colonel, the highest rank entitled to the designation) for the Combat Infantryman's Badge. When the promotion came through, he of course received many congratulatory messages. Surely one of the most significant came from Lieutenant General Maxwell D. Taylor, then a Deputy Chief of Staff of the Army. "Sincere congratulations and best wishes on the newly acquired star," he wrote. "It is partial payment for that fine artillery support which you rendered the 82nd Airborne in Sicily."
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br /> The promotion allowed Westmoreland to bring his family to Japan. He wrote to Kitsy, advising that she could ship a washing machine, dryer, and freezer if she so desired, adding that "they may come in handy and could be sold over here for a profit." Another potential money-making scheme involved bringing a car. "Strangely enough the Japanese market is for 4 door black sedans. Such type brings the highest price," he advised. Since their car was not black, Westmoreland suggested this: "As I remember your Dad has a 4 door 1950 Chevrolet. If he would have it painted black, perhaps we could swap him even-steven and you would have what we want."
Kitsy made the move before Christmas, after which she wrote a warm letter to her mother-in-law, known as Mimi, to thank her for a special Christmas gift: "I did wear your lovely slip, and how I needed it. Childs gave me an ice-cream freezer. Could have cried when it wasn't a nylon slip. So when I opened your lovely present I could at least look the freezer in the eye. Many, many thanks."
Kitsy also asked for some help from her husband's father: "I wish Wawa would drop him [Westmoreland] a line, especially now he is buying stocks. He is going to some broker in town, but Childs still thinks he can make a killing on the market!"
Shortly before his promotion to brigadier, Westmoreland had received an important letter from Major General Louis Craig with some detailed advice. "You are probably hitting the real crisis of your career at this time," he observed. "If you pass through it with the same credits that you've earned heretofore, you are made—unbreakably so." And: "I'm sure, in your case, that you will never let ambition get ahead of character—which sometimes breaks a reputation on the rock of principle. These youngsters under your command need that sort of reassurance."