The Man Who Might Have Been President: Dwight D. Eisenhower

UNLIKE some of his former comrades in arms, Dwight Eisenhower has heretofore shown relative unconcern over his ultimate place in history. As he sees it, the record has already been made, beyond his power to add or detract. Therefore he has refused to be drawn into controversies precipitated by ill-tempered, ill-informed, and even mischievous partisans of Patton, Montgomery, and others, who have sought to exalt their own heroes by undermining his prestige. Despite the outrageous unfairness of some of this criticism, Eisenhower has maintained a dignified silence — not because he cannot offer a defense, but because, as he said on V-E Day, he deprecates “profitless quarrels” as to which country, which service, and which individuals “won the war.” His public utterances during and since the war have deliberately turned the spotlight away from his own achievements, to focus it on the valor of his armies and upon the spirit of inter-Allied unity and teamplay which were, in his judgment, the true architects of victory.

Obviously, therefore, his book Crusade in Europe (Doubleday, $5.00) is no apologia. It is notable for its frank admissions that mistakes, some of them serious, were made in the conduct of the war in Africa and Europe. It is distinguished by the author’s readiness to assume full responsibility for errors of judgment or of strategy and grand tactics. Where his orders were disregarded or disobeyed and trouble ensued, he places the blame where it rightly belongs. Otherwise he says without equivocation that the faults were his and his alone.

During the stresses and strains of war, and in a highly explosive world like ours, dramatic and melodramatic personalities are certain to emerge. But Eisenhower regards egocentrieity and selfexaltation as mistakes or crimes, not harmless indulgences. He is convinced — see, for example, his eloquent and moving speech at the Guildhall in 1945 — that as Supreme Commander he was the agent and the symbol of the unity of purpose of the Allied peoples, who labored valiantly in a common cause for a common victory. Above all, he is the spokesman of the millions of soldiers in the Allied armies who, as he says, are the real authors of this book.

Crusade in Europe should be read as a report — an intimate and personal report — to the American people. It is not, strictly speaking, military history, although it includes much that will be of interest to the professional soldier and critic. It is not a “now it can be told,” behind-the-scenes volume of reminiscence and revelation; it is devoid of the trivia and chitchat of Butcher’s diary, which did SHAEF and Eisenhower a disservice. If it does not have the broad sweep and booming eloquence of Churchill’s The Gathering Storm, it has qualities of its own: clarity, sincerity, modesty, and straightforwardness. It also has engaging charm, an easy wit, depth of feeling, and considerable narrative power.

No book, however conv incing, could of itself add a cubit to Eisenhower’s stature as one of the great captains of history. But an ill-tempered, trivial, or disingenuous book might have tarnished the luster of a great reputation. Happily, Eisenhower emerges from these pages what he has always been — a great soldier and a warmhearted human being.

General Eisenhower was confronted with nice problems of judgment and integrity in the telling of this story. He faced, for example, the question of how he should deal with some of the more flamboyant and eccentric personalities with whom he had to work. To tell the truth about Montgomery might conceivably damage Anglo-American relations. To speak with frankness concerning Patton would inevitably dispel some of the Patton legend. On the other hand, to gloss the facts would be to call into question the author’s basic integrity. Eisenhower has not resolved these problems to the satisfaction of everyone — certainly not to the satisfaction of those whose dislike of Montgomery or whose hero-worship of Patton borders on the pathological.

Eisenhower would have preferred Alexander to Montgomery had he had freedom of choice in building his staff for the invasion of Normandy. From first to last he found Montgomery difficult to work with, if not insubordinate or disloyal. As Montgomery said of himself: “I like to go my own way. Montgomery pressed beyond the limits of propriety his case for complete command of all Allied ground forces, it was constantly charged that “Monty” was overcautious and unduly concerned with what he called “tidying up” the battlefield. Eisenhower is reluctant to give a definitive judgment on this point. As he says, Montgomery was magnificent as the commander of an army in training, and held the confidence and loyalty of his troops under the most exacting and critical conditions. But one may read a good deal between the lines in Eisenhower’s judgment that Montgomery was the master of the “set piece” or “prepared” battle, in which everything was made ready down to the last shoelace before a shot was fired.

Although it is true that Eisenhower was sometimes exasperated by Montgomery’s failure to move with sufficient daring, he is more judicious and hence more nearly just to Montgomery than most other critics. “Criticism is easy [he writes] — an unsuccessful attack brings cries of “butcher just as every pause brings wails of ' timidity.’ Such charges are unanswerable because proof or refutation is impossible. In war about the only criterion that can be applied to a commander is his accumulated record of victory and defeat. . . . Those critics of Montgomery who assert that he sometimes failed to attain the maximum must at least admit that he never once sustained a major defeat.”

Patton was a different type. Caution was no part of his make-up; in fact, his braggadocio sometimes (as in the Battle of the Bulge) led him to underestimate the magnitude of his task. But he was a superb tank officer, and he was cut to order as an army commander. He was offensive-minded and nothing could stop bis armored columns until he had outrun bis supply (and not always then, as he once operated on gasoline captured from the Luftwaffe). “For certain types of action,”says Eisenhower, he was “the outstanding soldier our country has produced.” His conduct of the battle of the Saar-Palatinate-triangle with the subsequent surprise crossing of t he Rhine was a classic. He was a brilliant, powerful, dangerous open-field runner, with a tremendously impressive record of touchdowns. But granted all this — and one could not ask for more as regards a field commander — he was a grave problem for Eisenhower. And for the same reasons as Montgomery — a purple personality.

Eisenhower had a warm affection for Patton and a high regard for his fighting heart. He had a reserved admiration for Montgomery’s professional ability. But being an ingenuous extrovert himself, he found it difficult to be patient with the extravagant egoism of these subordinates. He preferred the Bradley type — the superb professional soldier, with something of the mentality of the scholar, thoughtful, modest, devoid of histrionics. As Eisenhower says, Bradley was the greatest field commander in American history, a master of grand tactics, “a keen judge of men and their capabilities and absolutely fair and just in his dealing w ith them. Added to this, he was emotionally stable and possessed a grasp of larger issues that clearly marked him for high office.”

This praise of Bradley may be taken as indirect censure of Montgomery and Patton. But Eisenhower goes further by saying: —

Professional military ability and strength of character, always required in high military position, are often marred by unfortunate characteristics, the two most frequently encountered and hurtful ones being a too obvious avidity for public acclaim and the delusion that strength of purpose demands arrogant and even insufferable deportment.

IN QUITE different ways Winston Churchill also was a problem for Eisenhower. Eisenhower had deep and abiding respect for the courage and tenacity of the British people and the British armed forces. Churchill was John Bull himself, and Eisenhower subscribed fully to Roosevelt’s verdict that “no one could have a better or sturdier ally than that old Tory.”

But Churchill was a difficult ally, however loyal and trustworthy. He refused to stay put after the most fundamental and far-reaching decisions were made — even when made with seeming finality. “If he accepted a decision unwillingly he would return again and again to I he attack in an effort to have his own wav, up to the very moment of execution.” He was obsessed with the idea of the “soft underbelly” of Europe; time and again, directly and indirectly, he sought to divert the main effort from Western Europe to Italy and the Balkans. He was virtually a member of the British Chiefs ol Staff’; and as he seemed to dominate its uniformed personnel, he became the military as well as the civilian head of the nation. He had an exasperating habit of interfering with tactical, operational matters. He was the principal protagonist of the Anzio attack, to which Eisenhower consented with grave misgiving and reluctance.

There were fundamental differences between American and British strategical concepts for winning the war. In some instances Churchill was responsible for the differences, and in virtually all instances he was the heart, the brains, the will power, and the eloquence of the British case. He was a tough customer to handle in an argument; only General Marshall seems not to have been talked down at one time or another. As Eisenhower says, Churchill was a master of debate. “He could become intensely oratorical, even in a discussion with a single person,” but “his intensity of purpose made his delivery seem natural and appropriate. He used humor and pathos with equal facility, and drew on everything from the Greek classics to Donald Duck for quotation, cliche, and forceful slang to support his position. I admired and liked him. He knew this perfectly well and never hesitated to use that knowledge in his effort to swing me to his ow n line of thought in any argument.”

Although in a variety of ways Churchill made things difficult for him, Eisenhower is generous and wise enough to say: “Nevertheless, in countless ways he could have made my task a harder one had he been anything less than big, and I shall always owe him an immeasurable debt of gratitude for his unfailing courtesy and zealous support, regardless of his dislike of some important decisions. He was a great war leader and he is a great man.”

What Eisenhower says about Churchill makes fascinating reading and whets the appetite for what Churchill will have to say about Eisenhower.

There are, too, revealing thumbnail sketches of other Allied war leaders, from the magnificent Olympian figures of Marshall and Portal to the proud, touchy, intractable De Gaulle and the inept, almost opera bouffe Giraud. Eisenhower is a shrewd judge of character; and as he is highly articulate as well, his comments on the military and political headliners of our time hold more than casual interest.

There is not much, however, that is new about Roosevelt. Eisenhower was fascinated by the President’s courage, optimism, and buoyancy, “amounting almost to lightheartedness.” He was impressed by Roosevelt’s knowledge of geography and history, as well as by his phenomenal memory. Rut he was puzzled by the President’s persistent oversimplification of French and North African problems. In a somewhat cryptic passage Eisenhower says: “With some of Mr. Roosevelt’s political acts I could never possibly agree. But I knew him solely as leader of a nation at war — and in that capacity he seemed to fulfill all that could possibly be expected of him.” And in at least one important respect the Allied cause, represented by Marshall and Eisenhower, owes the President an eternal debt: he never really wavered in his determination that Anglo-American forces should land in France and come to grips there with the German Army.

The nearest to sensational disclosure in this book is Eisenhower’s account of a conversation with President Truman at Potsdam in 1945. He reports at length discussions he had with the President and Secretary of State Byrnes concerning military government (which he thought should be taken over by civilians), the continuance of Lend-Lease, the future of Germany (especially the Ruhr), and Soviet entry into the war against Japan. (Eisenhower believed that nothing could keep Russia out of the Pacific war and that we therefore should not solicit her aid but on the contrary should seek to forestall it.)

He then relates how the President, in a quite informal conversation in the presence of General Bradley, suddenly turned and said: “General, there is nothing that you may want that I won’t try to help you get. That definitely and specifically includes the presidency in 1948.” To this Eisenhower replied: “Mr. President, I don’t know who will be your opponent for the presidency, but it will not be I.” How far this colloquy constituted an exchange of pledges is a moot question. But that Eisenhower, had he so willed, might have been President almost for the asking is less moot. That he thrice refused the proffered crown is a measure of the man.

As one reads the record here set forth of the victorious march of Allied arms in North Africa, Italy, France, and Germany, one is amazed at (he magnitude and grandeur of the military effort and at the imagination and efficiency of the High Command. There is nothing like it in all recorded history. In fact, the record is even more impressive than Eisenhower makes it appear. For he writes pretty much from the point of view of a ground soldier (despite his generous tributes to the air forces and to the airmen on his staff). He pays, perhaps, less attention than he should to his historic role as director of what Churchill called “triphibious” operations on land, offshore, and in the skies. Integration of the power of the three services, and of the war eflorts of the Allied powers, is one of Eisenhower’s truly great claims to fame.

ALL was not milk and honey for Eisenhower. There were those grim days early in 1942, when we were on the run everywhere, when “we had nothing to distribute but deficits,” and when it seemed sheer fantasy to plan for a cross-Channel invasion of Europe. There were the almost equally grim days at the turn of the year in North Africa. Eisenhower had been under savage attack for his “deal”

—more correctly Mark Clark’s “deal” — with Darlan, as if he had been personally responsible for the crazy politics of the Third French Republic, the collapse of France, the Vichy policy of Hull and Roosevelt, the overdeveloped sense of loyalty to “the Marshal ” in the French armed forces, and the intricacies of French-Arab-Jewish relationships in Algeria and Morocco! There was the Kasserine Pass “disaster,” which, at the time, seemed of major proportions. There was the failure of the “race” for Algiers, with the consequent hogging down of our armies in the North African mud.

Eisenhower took full responsibility then and takes full responsibility now for the Darlan affair, despite the fact that he was not responsible for the political climate in which it was negotiated or for the appallingly bad political intelligence which preceded it and made it virtually a necessity. That is the Eisenhower way. And, politically speaking, it was the only way. Subsequently he was quoted as having said to the President at Casablanca: “I believe in a theatre commander doing these things without referring them back to his government and then waiting for approval. If a mere general makes a mistake, he can be repudiated and kicked out and disgraced. But a government cannot repudiate and kick out and disgrace itself — not, at any rate, in wartime.” This is statesmanship of a high order.

Aside from the Darlan “deal” there is other material for controversy in this book. Controversy over the alleged “starving” of Patton for the “fattening” of Montgomery in August, 1944. Controversy over the calculated risk of the Ardennes, with the surprise German offensive and the ensuing Battle of the Bulge. Eisenhower makes a good case for himself in these matters, even though as regards the Ardennes the risks proved to be too great and the calculations proved to be incautious or inexact. But there have been few major campaigns in major wars which have not produced discussion and controversy. This is as it should be, since the study of military history is one means of avoiding future military disaster.

If Eisenhower were to single out that of which he is ordinately proud, it would be his achievement of creating a unified Allied command. And this was, by general consent, a uniquely personal achievement. It was the faith and works of Dwight Eisenhower which above all else welded into a single team so many men of so many divergent temperaments, beliefs, prejudices, and loyalties. The cohesive force was confidence and trust in his integrity. Eisenhower believes that the principles which underlay SHAEF may “have equal applicability to peace.” And such may still prove to be the case. For one thing which SHAEF proved beyond doubt is that free peoples can, if they will, wage successfully the most difficult of all types of war — war by a coalition. This is a comforting truth in portentous, perilous times.

It was always a great disappointment to Eisenhower that the Soviets could not be included in a comprehensive, tightly knit Allied command. Distance, communications, language, and other technical factors made full Russian participation almost impossible; had it been otherwise, he says, “victory would have been achieved earlier and the peace would have rested on a more secure foundation.”

Despite the obvious obstacles, Marshall and Eisenhower attempted strategical and even tactical liaison with the Red Army only to be frustrated by the idiosyncrasies of Sov iet behavior with which we are now all too familiar. And in one of his efforts to reach tactical agreement with the Soviet High Command, Eisenhower ran head on into a collision with an adamant —and, in this instance at least, unreasonable — Churchill.

In his concluding chapter on Russia Eisenhower, reluctantly and sadly, comes to the same conclusions as the rest of us: that no foundations now exist for cooperation with the U.S.S.R. We must, therefore, accustom ourselves to living in a high-tension world. Hence we must maintain “real and respectable strength ” not merely in arms — which he says are “not enough” — but in the rectitude of our policies, the wisdom with which we employ our economic power, and the firmness of our faith in free institutions. We must “meet Communist-regimented unity with the voluntary unity of common purpose, even though this may mean a sacrifice of some measure of nationalistic pretensions; and, above all, annul Communist appeals to the hungry, the poor, the oppressed, with practical measures untiringly prosecuted for the elimination of social and economic ills that set men against men.” We must link our faith and our might with those of the other free nations of the world; “in many regions democracy is pitifully weak because the separatism of national sovereignty uselessly prevents the logical pooling of resources, which would produce greater material prosperity within and multiplied strength for defense.”

In the long run, disunity means loss of freedom. We can face the future with confidence, however, if we “retain the moral integrity, the clarity of comprehension, and the readiness to sacrifice that finally crushed the Axis.” Only thus can we live and prosper.

This is a magnificent record, of magnificent achievements, by a magnificent soldier. It is also the political testament of an elder statesman and, in a sense, a prophet who is honored both at home and abroad. No American — and, indeed, no Briton — could read this book without justifiable pride and gratitude. With pride for the thrilling story Eisenhower tells of the irresistible tide of Allied military power which rolled over the enemy in North Africa, Italy, Normandy, and the Low Countries; which broke the “impregnable” Siegfried Line; which vaulted the Rhine; which finally and irreparably destroyed Nazi military might in its own home base. With gratitude that free men in a free society could produce so impressive and so overwhelming a military power as an instrument of justice rather than oppression. With both gratitude and pride t hat out of our ranks — from the plains of Kansas, the heartland of our democracy •=— should spring so heroic a figure as Dwight Eisenhower.