Supreme Commander (38 page)

Alexander, however, remained skeptical of the Americans’ ability, and was thus responsive when Montgomery proposed that Eighth Army make the move. Montgomery said he would launch one of his “left hooks” around Mount Etna. To do so, he needed the road leading north from Vizzini. It had already been assigned to Patton, but on July 15 Alexander gave it to Montgomery. Bradley protested, because it meant his columns had to turn back almost to the beaches before they could push on northward again. But Alexander did as Montgomery wished. He gave Montgomery the road and Seventh Army the passive mission of guarding Montgomery’s rear.
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The Germans held Montgomery on the west of Mount Etna just as easily as they had done on the east through their skillful use of mines and the way they took advantage of the good defensive terrain. Montgomery
took heavy casualties but could not break through. His left hook, meanwhile, had the effect of pushing Bradley westward, which in turn pushed the remainder of Seventh Army into central Sicily. Weeks later Patton complained to Montgomery about the injustice of losing the only road that led through central Sicily to Messina. “George,” Montgomery replied in an answer that foreshadowed a whole series of events in the 1944–45 campaign in northwest Europe, “let me give you some advice. If you get an order from Army Group that you don’t like, why just ignore it. That’s what I do.”
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In effect Patton had already taken the advice. When Alexander gave the Vizzini road to Montgomery, Patton sent Truscott, commanding the 3rd Infantry Division, on a “reconnaissance in force” to the northwest, toward Palermo. If Montgomery was to have the glory of taking Messina, Patton at least wanted the satisfaction of capturing Palermo. He was, therefore, “mad as a wet hen” when on July 17 Alexander issued a directive that limited Seventh Army to objectives in central Sicily. He decided to protest and prepared an alternative plan to present to Alexander, one that gave the Seventh Army the objective of Palermo. The best thing that could be said of it was that it in no way impinged on Montgomery’s operations, since it led the Americans westward, away from the Germans and the main action.

On July 17 Patton went to Tunisia and met with Alexander. He argued forcefully for his plan, and Alexander, who “appeared to be more of a conciliator than a firm leader,” reluctantly agreed.
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The real basis for the decision was American unhappiness. When Patton made his case, Alexander realized for the first time how indignant American officers were at being assigned a passive role.

Allowing Patton to dash off to the west satisfied the Americans and may have helped the Alliance, but it brought no military return. Alexander’s policy was essentially one of “Have a go, Joe,” for there was no co-ordination of effort. All Patton’s capture of Palermo did was to give him some headlines and the Germans more time to prepare their defense protecting Messina.

On July 18 Patton organized the Provisional Corps, put Major General Geoffrey Keyes in command, and sent it off to Palermo. The corps made the hundred-mile advance by foot in four days—a magnificent achievement. But, as mentioned above, there was no strategic gain. The Germans still held Messina, Montgomery had not advanced, and all the Allies could do now was drive the enemy off the island. There was no chance
to capture any significant numbers of prisoners or to take Sicily in a hurry.
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Confusion over aims and purposes, reflecting the absence of an overall plan, was probably inevitable in Sicily. One reason was that it was difficult for Eisenhower to get all the commanders together. Cunningham’s headquarters were on Malta, Tedder’s at La Marsa on the Tunisian coast, and in early August Alexander moved to Sicily. Eisenhower’s permanent base was in Algiers, where he was frequently needed to handle diplomatic and strategic problems. When he could, he visited the commanders, but it was never a very satisfactory way to co-ordinate operations.

Eisenhower made the best of it. As he explained to Mountbatten, the commander in chief had more independence of movement than his deputies. In an “academically perfect procedure” the commander in chief and his deputies “must always be in the same locality,” but perfect solutions were not always possible.

Eisenhower did not ordinarily give advice to senior British officers, but Mountbatten had just been appointed Supreme Allied Commander, Southeast Asia Theater, and had asked Eisenhower for help. He realized that he would not have to face the “appalling political problems” which took up so much of Eisenhower’s time, but he did feel there was much Eisenhower could tell him about being an Allied commander. He said he would appreciate it if Eisenhower would find time to dictate some notes “on the pitfalls to avoid and the line to take.”
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The result was the most thorough document on the theory and practice of Allied command that Eisenhower produced in the war.

The basis for an Allied command, Eisenhower began, was in the “earnest cooperation” of the senior officers in the theater, co-operation which depended upon “selflessness, devotion to a common cause, generosity in attitude, and mutual confidence.” Actual unity, therefore, depended “directly upon the individuals in the field,” especially since the commander in chief had no disciplinary powers over officers of a different nationality.

Turning to procedure, Eisenhower warned Mountbatten that his senior commanders would be named by the CCS. Eisenhower felt this was an error, for the commander in chief should pick his own deputies, but it could not be helped. He reminded Mountbatten that each of his three deputies would be accustomed to dealing directly with his own ministry or department at home, and that each would also have a senior subordinate
from the opposite nationality who would also deal directly with his own national authorities. Eisenhower thought that “these channels of communication should be interfered with as little as possible,” but warned Mountbatten to guard jealously his privileged communications with the CCS: “No one else must be allowed to send communications to that Body.” This meant, Eisenhower added, “that final recommendations as to operations to be undertaken and requests for the needed resources must likewise pass through you.”

Mountbatten would also have to co-ordinate the efforts of his staff, which would have sections dealing with public relations, censorship, operations, logistic problems, communications, and civil affairs. “To form your staff,” Eisenhower advised, “start from the bottom up. Make sure that in every section and in every sub-section are officers of both nationalities and
never permit any problem to be approached in your staff on the basis of national interest
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The personal bearing, manner, and decisions of the commander in chief were one key to a successful Allied command, Eisenhower felt. He told Mountbatten that he would have to strive for mutual respect and confidence among the seniors in his theater, and gave him some practical advice on how to achieve it. First, “all of us are human and we like to be favorably noticed by those above us and even by the public.” An Allied commander in chief, whose opportunities for personal publicity were unlimited, “must more sternly than any other individual repress such notions.” He had to be self-effacing, quick to give credit to others, ready to seek and take advice, and willing to decentralize. “On the other hand,” Eisenhower continued, “when the time comes that he himself feels he must make a decision, he must make it in clean-cut fashion and on his own responsibility and take full blame for anything that goes wrong; in fact he must be quick to take the blame for anything that goes wrong whether or not it results from his mistake or from an error on the part of a subordinate.”

Eisenhower realized that the picture of an Allied commander in chief that he had painted differed from the old-fashioned image of a soldier. An Allied commander in chief did not lead a charge up a hill, or direct planes to their targets, or command a battle fleet. But that did not mean that the Allied commander was a figurehead or a nonentity. “He is in a very definite sense the Chairman of a Board, a Chairman that has very definite executive responsibilities.… He must execute those duties firmly, wisely and without any question as to his own authority and his own responsibility.” In Eisenhower’s view, however, his battlefield duties
were minimal; the implication was that making the alliance work came first. Eisenhower’s definition of his role almost precluded active participation in battle—he felt that a Supreme Commander who did intervene might in fact jeopardize the alliance.

In conclusion, Eisenhower pointed out that it would never be possible to say that the problem of establishing unity in an Allied command had been solved. “This problem involves the human equation and must be met day by day. Patience, tolerance, frankness, absolute honesty in all dealings, particularly with all persons of the opposite nationality, and firmness, are absolutely essential.”
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Eisenhower’s advice to Mountbatten, dictated at odd moments by a man whose responsibilities were enormous and whose working day never had enough hours, remains today what it was in 1943—the best description in military literature of what an Allied commander should strive to be in his non-battlefield capacity. Its weakness, reflecting Eisenhower’s, was vagueness about how the Supreme Commander should take control of a battle. This was, perhaps, inevitable. Any firm battlefield decision Eisenhower made in a situation involving an American and a British army would inevitably anger one side. Given Eisenhower’s priorities, it is difficult to see how he could have acted differently, how he could have afforded or seen fit to intervene to direct the battle. Decisions could not be made solely on military grounds, as Alexander’s experience in Tunisia illustrated. Pulling the Americans, especially the 34th Division, out of the line in Tunisia was the best military policy, but Alexander could not do it because of the alliance. Eisenhower felt such pressures even more than Alexander did.

Comparisons between Eisenhower and other commanders cannot be made, because the role he played was unique. No one before or since has commanded such a thoroughly mixed force, had such wide responsibilities, or took orders from so many different superiors. Later in the war Montgomery, recognizing this, suggested that Eisenhower leave the land battle to someone else, concentrating his attention on diplomatic, logistical, and strategical matters. Montgomery believed that this would allow the general who ran the land battle to make his decisions on solely military grounds. But if Montgomery had studied Alexander’s actions in Tunisia, he would have known better. Whoever might be in charge would feel the same pressures Eisenhower did, for giving the real command to someone under Eisenhower would not change the nature of the role. The other difficulty with Montgomery’s proposal was that the land commander would not carry the prestige the Supreme Commander did. Once the decision
was made to put first the holding together of the alliance, a price had to be paid in a lack of over-all direction on the battlefield. The alternative was to put affairs in the hands of someone like Montgomery or MacArthur. Given the vehemence with which Brooke and Marshall defended the interests of their respective armies, even when commanded by Eisenhower, such a move would have been courting disaster. All of this indicates that Eisenhower’s passivity about battle may have been a reflection not so much of his personality as of his role.

On Sicily the battle continued. While Patton raced for Palermo, away from the enemy, Bradley, whose II Corps was operating almost independently, undertook the much less glamorous but far more meaningful task of pushing eastward through central Sicily. This campaign, which never received much publicity, was one of the toughest for American soldiers in the war. At Troina, for example, the ground was rocky and broken and the Germans augmented the rugged terrain with mine fields, road blocks, and demolitions. The Germans also launched twenty-four separate counterattacks during the battle. Several days after the capture of the position by the 1st Division, American soldiers were astonished to find in one small valley a field with several hundred German dead, victims of American artillery fire.
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By the time Bradley took Troina (August 5) he had significant help from Keyes’ Provisional Corps, which had moved out from Palermo and was racing eastward along the northern coast. It was too late, however. At the end of July Guzzoni had decided to evacuate what Italian troops there were left on the island and turned the battle over to German General Hans Hube. Hube had already selected five positions upon which he would base his delaying actions while the evacuation took place, and nothing Patton did was enough to upset his delaying schedule or evacuation.

Nearly all military historians condemn the campaign in Sicily. The landings should have been made, according to the critics, closer to Messina. Failing that, a plan to exploit the bridgehead and get into Messina quickly should have been available. It was inexcusable, in view of Allied air, sea, and land superiority, that it took so long to take the island and that the bulk of the German defenders escaped.

Postwar German comments were filled with references to Allied “caution.” The Germans were amazed that the Allies did not land near Messina or at least at Catania. Eisenhower himself came to agree with this; Butcher reported on August 14, “Ike now thinks we should have
made simultaneous landings on both sides of the Messina Strait, thus cutting off all Sicily and obtaining wholesale surrender and saving time and equipment, particularly landing craft, which would have permitted a rapid rush on the mainland itself.” Von Kesselring spoke of the “exceptionally systematic actions of the Allied forces” and “the slowness of the Allied advance.” The German field marshal was astonished that “strong forces had been dispersed to the western part of Sicily which … just marched and captured unimportant terrain, instead of fighting at the wing where a major decision had to be reached.”
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Sicily did pay some dividends, however; perhaps the most important being the lessons it taught. Aside from purely tactical considerations, it was a proving ground for the decisive invasion of Europe across the English Channel, especially in the selection of commanders. Eisenhower had known Patton and Bradley long enough to have a good idea of each man’s strengths and weaknesses. Sicily reinforced his impressions. Patton was seen as excellent in the pursuit, in driving his own troops to the limit, but his strategic sense was limited and his tendency to dash off after the spectacular instead of settling for the necessary was disturbing. He had reached his limit as an army commander. Bradley, on the other hand, was, in Eisenhower’s view, capable of almost anything.
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