WHILE THE FIRST VOLUME of The Patton Papers showed the growth of the man and the soldier, this deals with the man as a general.
During the period covered here, Patton was at his peak. He put to use all the expertise he had accumulated during a lifetime of preoccupation with his profession – not only the technical knowledge of warfare in his time; but also the psychological and emotional attributes of leadership. Prepared for World War II, he attained in these years all that he ever sought. He gained victories, recognition, and applause. Yet he was never quite aware of the place he had carved for himself in history, never quite sure of the affection he had won from people everywhere. At the end he was still trying, driving himself, striving to satisfy his insatiable lust for fame.
In this volume I have attempted to follow Vincent Sheean’s precept: “Very often what the general does is less important than what he is.” To present what Patton was as well as what he did has been my purpose. The question that frames this book is: what was the source of his military genius and how did he make it work? My broad conclusion is that the personality and the action, the word and the deed, the style and the substance were inseparable. So were the man and the military officer.
My focus is on the living human being who became a historical figure, and I have endeavored to let him speak for himself through his papers, particularly his diary. As in Mexico and in France, Patton started a notebook when he went off to war. His journal forms the heart of this book.
The reasons why anyone makes a permanent record of his thoughts and activities are, of course, diverse. In the mind of the journal-keeper must surely be an element of self-importance, a belief that his life is significant and interesting, especially to others. There must also be a sense of history and a certainty that the individual has an effect on – perhaps merely reflects, but truly so – his time and place. He must have a feeling of personal mission and a conviction that future generations will want to know what he did and said.
In Patton’s case, he wrote or dictated his words as a nod to his own destiny, that vague but almost palpable force, like a holy grail, that he was sure led and guided him toward some great historic goal.
He also maintained a journal to amuse himself, to impress his family and close friends, and, eventually, to help his biographer understand his view and version of what happened.
Perhaps most important, the diary was his means of ridding himself of his frequent anguish, of finding comfort in moments of bitterness and discontent. It was a substitute confidant, a surrogate companion, for he sorely missed the presence of his wife who understood, supported, and stabilized him. Although he wrote to her frequently, censorship constrained his remarks. The diary allowed him to say exactly what he wished, explicitly yet privately, without compromising the public loyalty to his superiors that was one of his highest virtues.
The caustic and unflattering comments about his contemporaries were the product of impulse. He was an impetuous man, and his diary was a luxury that allowed him to unburden himself without self-restraint. It served to give him balance. The entries make clear the ambivalence he had toward his associates as well as his uncertainty toward himself. How much of what he wrote he really meant or actually believed is continually open to question.
The diary entries are occasionally self-serving, sometimes inaccurate, always perceptive and fresh. They mirror faithfully his moods, the state of his spirit at any given moment, his joys and disappointments. They often reveal the flavor rather than the fact.
I have omitted most of the tactical details or operational aspects of his battles that appear in the journal, for many excellent works of military history describe and analyze his campaigns. My interest is to show what Patton did as a general rather than what his forces accomplished and how they did so. My aim is to uncover his personal contribution to the war, how he discharged the responsibilities of a leader in combat and what influence he exerted.
From time to time I have supplemented Patton’s observations with the more or less official headquarters journal maintained by Major General Hobart Gay, probably his closest friend and associate.
Hardly less valuable than Patton’s diary are his letters to his wife. Some were written in a hardly decipherable longhand. A few were dictated. Most were composed on his portable typewriter. The relationship implicit in the correspondence – I have included several of Mrs. Patton’s letters – presents another dimension of Patton’s complex character.
In the following pages, all passages taken directly from the sources are set off in the text by quotation marks or are otherwise indicated. Brackets in quotations enclose words I have added to complete or summarize a sentence or thought, or to explain what might otherwise be obscure. A series of three periods in a quotation signals the omission of words I judged to be irrelevant. In some instances I have changed the punctuation to help the reader.
All errors of omission and commission, as well as of interpretation and judgment, are mine alone.
— MARTIN BLUMENSON