“I have sixteen thousand men who have never seen an officer, and twelve hundred officers who have never seen a man—so I have quite a job on my hands.”
AS THE ARMORED FORCE EXPANDED in size, taking in more soldiers and creating new units, the need for experienced tankers increased, as did the opportunities for promotion. Patton thought of his friend Dwight D. Eisenhower, who was junior to him, having graduated from the Military Academy six years later, and who had been a tanker during World War I, though not overseas. When Patton brought the Tank Corps home from France in 1919, he met Eisenhower, who served under him for several months. They liked and admired each other at once, for each discovered in the other a profound interest in the military profession. They remained in contact through occasional correspondence during the inter-war years. When Patton learned that Eisenhower had recently returned to the United States after service with Douglas MacArthur in the Philippines and was with the infantry at Fort Lewis, Washington, as a lieutenant colonel, Patton wrote and suggested that Eisenhower request a transfer to the Armored Force, specifically to the 26. Armored Division.
Letter, Eisenhower to GSP, Jr., September ij, 1940
Dear George: Thanks a lot for your recent note; I am flattered by your suggestion that I come to your outfit. It would be great to be in the tanks once more, and even better to be associated with you again...
I suppose it’s too much to hope that I could have a regiment in your division, because I’m still almost three years away from my colonelcy. But I think I could do a damn good job of commanding a regiment. ..
Anyway, if there’s a chance of that kind of an assignment, I’d be for it 100%. Will you write me again about it, so that I may know what you had in mind?
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Eisenhower, October 1, 1940
It seems highly probable that I will get one of the next two armored divisions which we firmly believe will be created in January or February, depending on [tank] production. If I do, I shall ask for you either as Chief of Staff, which I should prefer, or as a regimental commander. You can tell me which you want, for no matter how we get together we will go PLACES.
If you get a better offer in the meantime, take it, as I can’t be sure, but I hope we can get together. At the moment there is nothing in the brigade good enough for you. However, if you want to take a chance, I will ask for you now . . .
Hoping we are together in a long and BLOODY war.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Eisenhower, November 1, 1940
If I were you, I would apply for a transfer to the Armored Corps NOW...
If you apply for a transfer . . . say that you are an old tanker.
If you have any pull . . . use it for there will be 10 new generals in this corps pretty damned soon.
Letter, Eisenhower to GSP, Jr., November 16, 1940
I have already sent in a letter similar to the one you suggested . . .
One of the new corps commanders, down south, had asked for me as his Chief of Staff, but . . . it was turned down because I was so junior in rank . . . I am probably to be allowed to stay with troops. So I ought to be available and eligible for transfer when the time comes.
Instead of going to work for Patton, Eisenhower was assigned elsewhere. His and Patton’s paths would cross briefly in 1941. Starting in 1942, they would be associated in the same endeavors, and their careers and achievements would forever be joined. Patton would be working for Eisenhower.
• • •
The battle of Britain, fought in the skies for the air supremacy that Adolf Hitler required to invade England, sputtered to an end in the fall of 1940, with Britain triumphant but near exhaustion. Frustrated in the west, Hitler looked again to the east. Meanwhile, Benito Mussolini assembled a large, though poorly equipped, army in Libya and attacked the British forces in Egypt. Repulsed, Mussolini called upon Hitler for help. Early in 1941, Hitler sent to Libya Erwin Rommel and his Afrika Korps, which would soon be upgraded to the Italo-German Panzerarmee.
In glaring contrast with these dramatic events on the world stage, Pat-ton was busy turning his troops into a disciplined and well-trained armored division. During the latter months of 1940, he was constantly on the go, appearing everywhere to inspect, supervise, and instruct men who were learning how to march, use their weapons, handle their equip ment, first as individual soldiers, then as members of close-knit crews and teams. He insisted on perfection, driving his troops as hard as he pushed himself. How else could he bring his division up to the effectiveness of the German panzers? His tank, splendidly ringed with red, white, and blue stripes – as well as a traditional yellow cavalry stripe – around the turret, was conspicuously in evidence throughout the division area. Visitors, including Secretary of War Stimson, who came for a few days, were impressed by the energy demonstrated at all echelons, the pervading sense of purpose, and the high morale of the troops.
Patton’s conception of an armored division centered on its ability to move. Addressing a lawyers’ club in Columbus, Georgia, he likened its functions to those fulfilled by the horse cavalry of Napoleon, Grant, and Jeb Stuart. Armor spearheaded the attack, outflanked the enemy defenses, and probed for holes in the enemy line. Once that line was pierced, tanks poured through the penetration, widened the gap, and sought to
give the enemy a spanking from behind. You can kill more soldiers by scaring them to death from behind with a lot of noise than you can by attacking them from the front.
To stimulate mobility, Patton decided to move the division from Columbus to Panama City, Florida, and back, a trip of about 400 miles. He wished to test and practice marching formations and procedures, discipline on the road, and other techniques. He wanted also to draw public attention to the Armored Force.
It would be the longest march made by an American armored division to that time and would involve more combat vehicles than ever before in the United States outside a military reservation – 1100 vehicles, including 101 light and 24 medium tanks, plus trucks, half-tracks (a cross between a tractor and a truck), scout cars, motorcycles, jeeps (which Patton nearly always called peeps), cannon, and other assorted pieces of equipment, even several airplanes flying over the columns.
Patton’s force departed Fort Benning after breakfast on December 12, and had rolled 90 miles in parallel columns by lunchtime. In the evening the troops settled down in bivouac areas at Blakely, Georgia, and Abbeville, Alabama. Only five tanks had stopped for repairs along the way, and four of these managed to resume the march. On the following day, the division breezed into Panama City. The men then turned around and roared back to Benning.
News of the event preceded the division, and schools declared holidays so that children could see the passing columns. Field hands stared in wonder at the parade. Everyone along the way, it seemed, watched with amazement and pride the display of American military power.
The exercise attracted surprisingly wide attention from the public, which was hungry for assurance of American military prowess. Newspapers throughout the country carried long and enthusiastic accounts ol the movement, exaggerating the size of the force, the tanks involved, and the miles covered. Everyone was pleased with the performance, particularly the “remarkable spirit” of the men. According to Patton, “Considering the [large] number of recruits we have in this unit, their interest and efficiency show remarkable ability for adaptation.” With Americans such as these in uniform, the United States had little to fear for its national security. As he put it, his division was modeled along the lines of the German panzer division – “with improvements.”
Article, “Gen. Patton of the Cavalry Sets Fast Pace for the Tank Corps—Army Knows His Name as Synonym for Daring Action” Washington Sunday Star, December 75, 1940
This always-colorful figure of the old and new Army . . . directed his force of modern American panzer troops . . .
This picturesque and dashing officer . . . can do a multitude of things and do them a bit better than most people . . .
There is something of the dash and color of Gen. J. E. B. Stuart about this many-sided officer who still has a great love for the old cavalry although he is now launched on a career in mechanization
. . . His men swear by him and . . . he would never order men to do anything in action that he wouldn’t do himself. A social lion, well known in Washington drawing rooms . . . he is, nevertheless, a hard-riding, hard-hitting “fightin’ man” of the old school, with a mind to absorb and improve on new military ideas.
All this was gratifying. More to the point, as Patton told a friend, “I am glad that we have gotten some successful publicity for the Army. It was what I was trying to accomplish” What he sought was a better image for the Armored Force, the tanks, and, incidentally, himself. Most important was the 2d Armored Division. “I think this outfit now has the popular imagination, and will go far.”
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Edward E. Wilcox, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, January 6, 1941
I fear we did not do so well as the papers imagine but I do feel that the sd Armored Division can be said to be ready and willing to fight whenever the country may need us.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Maj. Gen. Frank R. McCoy, Foreign Policy Association, New York, January 6, 1941
I am certainly very fortunate to have been promoted and even more fortunate to be in temporary command of a division. With any luck I hope to get this temporary command made permanent.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Pershing, January 8, 1941
As I have frequently told you, it is a great pleasure to command this division, and I hope before long to get the extra stars and have the command made permanent . . . However, as I am actually in command, there seems to be some possibility that I may get it.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Brig. Gen. Leonard T. Gerow, War Plans Division, War Department, January 8, 1941
If you are ever in a position to tell us who we may be expected to fight, I would appreciate it as I think we should put more emphasis in our training in trying to meet a specific enemy.
Many members of Patton’s World War I tank brigade were offering to join his division. Unfortunately, most of them were too old to return to active duty. Yet he wrote to Stimson in behalf of Captain Semmes and Lieutenant Winton, “both very gallant gentlemen who deserve well of their country,” as well as many others – “because I think that the spirit of that unit was one of the finest things I have ever encountered.”
Postcard, Sgt. Earl Pattison, Cheyenne, Wyo., to GSP, Jr., January 6, 1941
Hope you are my old Col. from the old 345 Bn. Tank Corps, Bourg, France. If so would be glad to hear from you. Sincerely
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Pattison, January 9, 1941
I am the man you suspect back at the old job but there is quite a difference between what you and I knew and this new armored division . . . I think that probably these armored divisions are the most powerful fighting units in the world.
“I am lucky enough to be in command of a division” he wrote Major General Kenyon A. Joyce. “I hope that should the necessity arise, I will have the opportunity of demonstrating how I feel it should be fought.” But he was still seeking the proper methods of employing it. “These new armored divisions are terribly powerful instruments of destruction and on account of size difficult to handle.” He gave much credit for whatever success he was having to his chief of staff, Geoffrey Keyes, who was “doing a wonderful job . . . in fact I must admit that but for his assistance I would probably be unable to run this job.”
While he spent most of his time in the field, he had sufficient energy to carry out all sorts of experiments. He pondered and acted on new ideas and innovations in procedures, techniques, and equipment, in the hope of advancing his profession and the well-being of his troops.
For example, how could wounded men be removed from tanks traveling at a high rate of speed? To a medical officer he wrote:
I believe that those who are seriously hurt will have to be dumped by the roadside and picked up by the ambulance following each column. Even the question of removing a casualty from a tank is not particularly simple. One of the young doctors here is working on a sort of harness which can be rigged over the top of the turret on shears and the man hauled out with a block and tackle. It will be hard on him, but there is no other way unless we use a can opener.
Several weeks later Patton concluded that “the appalling weight of armor” perhaps made the question of handling casualties academic. “In my opinion, the wounded . . . are not going ta be very numerous. Casualties will be corpses.”
Patton was also designing a uniform for the tankers – “to lend class to what would otherwise be a bothersome bore.” The tankers needed to be different, an elite force, and special clothing would distinguish them from other soldiers. There was no need for camouflage – “In armored combat we get so close [to the enemy] that the question of concealment through color or other device is of little moment.”
He finally modeled his new suit for photographers. Of dark green gabardine, selected because the color concealed grease spots, it was a light-weight double-breasted jacket with rows of white or brass buttons running down the sides, and trousers padded in strategic places to cushion the shock of tank travel, with pockets on the legs to hold first-aid equipment, maps, and ammunition clips. The headgear, of light plastic and internally padded, resembled a football helmet except that it was far better, he believed, “than the abortion the Ordnance invented.”
Newspapers everywhere carried pictures of Patton wearing his uniform, which looked ridiculous. It was never adopted.
Patton experimented with light planes that could use small and unprepared fields unsuitable for other military aircraft. Incorporating planes in all his exercises, he proved their value to transmit orders to subordinates, to locate and identify units, to transport commanders and staff officers. He liked the Piper Cub, and this light craft became a standard piece of equipment for divisions, artillery groupements, and other headquarters and units during the war.
In January 1941, the division had enough vehicles for a mounted review. As the men passed the stand, Patton’s quiet but obvious pride in his organization reached out and permeated the ranks, reinforcing the men’s identification with what they believed was a first-rate, unbeatable unit. “The amazing thing, from my standpoint,” he wrote, “was that thirteen hundred vehicles all passed the reviewing stand without any checks or stalls. We certainly could not have done that in 1918!”
He mailed Willis D. Crittenberger, Scott’s chief of staff, and Brett a picture of his division’s flag, “designed, constructed, and paid for by myself” – “eight dollars of my own money.” He added that he was holding his “first free maneuver we have tried” on the morrow, “and I don’t know just what will happen, but something is bound to occur.”
Caught up in his work with tanks, Patton nevertheless remained interested in the cavalry. “In spite of my gasoline affiliations,” he wrote a friend, “I am convinced that the day of the horse is far from over and that under many circumstances horse cavalry and horse drawn artillery are more important than ever.”
When the Cavalry Board solicited his comments on whether to retain the saber, he replied enthusiastically and at length. “A cold steel weapon,” he said, “is not only desirable but vitally necessary.” All infantry soldiers armed with the rifle had a bayonet. Yet a charge on foot was much more difficult than a cavalry charge with the saber.
If a man on foot is hit, he thanks God for an excuse to stop and usually stops. The horse, having no imagination, does not stop unless he gets a brain or heart wound or a broken leg. If the rider is hit, his ability to pull up his horse is reduced so they both go on.
The rapid approach of the horsemen has a disconcerting effect, due to the race memories of stampedes of mammoths or aurochs, who of yore trampled our hairy progenitors. The truth of this is evinced by the retention of mounted police in most large cities.
The herd instinct of the horse also impells him to stick along with his fellows. General Sherman once said that if the reins could only be cut, every cavalry charge would succeed.
The chief argument against the mounted charge springs from undigested memories of descriptions of battlefields in World War I; which to the mind of the fiction-fed fanatic, consisted wholly of trenches, shell holes, and barbed wire over which lunar landscape a blighting blizzard of machine gun bullets constantly eddied. Where such circumstances existed – if they ever did – no charge by tanks, infantry, cavalry or bull elephants could possibly succeed.
For any charge to be successful . . . there must be no insurmountable ground obstacle between the attacker and his prey . . . The enemy must be pinned to the ground by flanking fire. The enemy must have had his morale shaken by bombing, shelling, hunger, fatigue, or fifth column activities. The enemy must be totally surprised. The enemy must be already running.
Under a conjunction of the above circumstances, any charge will result in success PROVIDING THOSE EXECUTING IT HAVE THE WILL TO CLOSE [with the enemy]. Only the cold steel provides this will, for to use such a weapon, one must close.
In my opinion, the mounted pistol charge is a wholly chimerical operation . . . One has only to look at any photograph of such an attack. Less than ten percent of the troopers are in a position to fire without hitting their friends . . .
Around 1600, when the pistol was first made usable, cavalry abandoned the saber in favor of the pistol and at once went into eclipse. Conde revived the saber charge and rode over the Spanish Infantry as a result. Under Louis XIV, Marshal Saxe invented the Uhlan – at that time not a lancer but a cuirassier – because .. . the enemy [would have] to meet the charge with fire and he could then ride over him, which he did.
In domestic disturbance, the only weapons of any value are the bayonet, the rifle butt, and the saber because these are the only weapons possessing selectivity in the amount of injury to be inflicted; fire arms can only kill. Frequently, killing is not indicated.
I designed the present saber and freely admit that I did too good a job; that is, the weapon, due to lack of time to train, is better than the men who use it. To attain this superior technical ability, I made it unnecessarily heavy and long. In 1938, I made up a “cavalry bayonet.” I am sending this to the Board; it speaks for itself. It can cut wire, firewood, hay, or heads with equal facility . . .
I beg leave to remind the Board that very few people have ever been killed with the bayonet or the saber, but the fear of having their guts explored with cold steel in the hands of battle maddened men has won many a fight.
This hardly diverted him from his main preoccupation.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Pershing, February 24, 194%
The other day we staged a mounted review for the division which was quite impressive and to my mind a great tribute to the officers and men composing it, as without a rehearsal they did an excellent job.
We now have some three thousand draftees . . . They are a surprisingly good lot of men and will be a great credit to us.
I am apparently in permanent command, although newspapers to the contrary notwithstanding, I am not a major general, but that will probably come in time.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Maj. Gen. James G. Harbord, Rye, N.Y., February 24, 1941
Things are going very well with us here, and we are getting tanks faster than we could reasonably hope. We have just received 67 mediums . . . although not all of the latest type of vehicle. Still a tank is a tank, and it makes no difference so far as the enemy is concerned which type he gets killed by.
Public interest in tanks, as well as in Patton himself, developed as newspaper reporters in increasing numbers visited the 26. Armored Division. They noted the excellent relationship between Patton and his men
to all of them, The Old Man was as near and real as the bark on the outer walls of their makeshift mess hall. Like God (they said) he had the damndest way of showing up when things went wrong. Unlike God, he had been known to dash headlong into a creek, get a stalled tank and its wretched crew out of the water and back into the line of march, practically by the power of his curses.
Most important, when Patton was satisfied by their performance, his men were proud.
Patton and his wife Beatrice had a series of buffet suppers for all the officers and ladies of the division. About 120 persons attended each time, and it took them nine evenings to have everyone in.
Courtney Hodges left the command of the Infantry School at Fort Benning to become the Chief of Infantry in Washington, and Omar N. Bradley took his place. Patton came to know both well, and he had a high appreciation of them as men and as officers. They would be closely associated with him later.
Keeping Stimson informed of his activities, Patton said that he hoped to be ready to fight in April. “After that our only worry will be how to get at whoever you want us to destroy.”
Letter, GSP, Jr., to General Malin Craig, Washington, D.C., March 18, 1941
We really have a very fine division with an excellent spirit . . . The thing I try to impress on them is that all members of the Armored Force . . . must be imbued with a desprate determination to get forward and must not permit themselves to be stopped by any obstacle. If I can get this across, we will be very hard to beat. Scott submitted an efficiency report on Patton and characterized him as “Superior” in performance.
In the event of war, I would recommend this officer to command an armored corps . . . This officer renders willing and generous support to the plans of his superiors regardless of his personal views in the matter. Of 90 general officers of his grade that are personally known to me, I would give him number 3 on the list. Further remarks: An extremely energetic ambitious officer and a natural and highly capable leader.
“There is still uncertainty,” Patton wrote to a friend,
as to whether or not General Chafee will be able to resume command of the Armored Force. We all hope for the best but I honestly believe that our hopes are not well founded.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Chaffee, March igy 1941
Beatrice and myself plan to move out to the [new] Cantonment Area shortly. The house for the Commanding General (I am gambling that I will keep this division) was not large enough so we put in a little extra money and had a porch and dressing room added. I believe I will be much more efficient when I am living immediately among the troops.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Chaffee, March 22, 1941
My dear Adna: If the following inquiry is unduly inquisitive, please do not answer. What I would like to know is whether I will probably remain at Benning, because in the event that I do, I shall build a stable, but if I do not, I will keep my horses at the Infantry School, as the outlay will be over a hundred dollars. I am interested not to waste the money.
He informed Ghaffee of an interesting exercise he had just conducted. The troops made a combat march, went into bivouac, moved in the darkness to avoid an air bombardment, then attacked at 2 A.M.
The wet conditions were as bad as possible, as it rained hard all the time; however, the results obtained were, in my opinion, extremely satisfactory due to the good work of General Gillem [the brigade commander] and his staff and ably seconded by the regimental and unit commanders. I mention this to show that we are not resting.
Soon afterward Patton staged another maneuver that included a combat problem, an all-night bivouac, and a division review. About 11,000 men and nearly 2000 vehicles participated. It rained constantly, but the efficiency of the division was outstanding. After reviewing his troops in the downpour, he gathered them together and addressed them, expressing his pride in their reaching
the utmost expected . . . In slightly more than eight months we have changed from an idea to a powerful fighting force . . .
Should the efforts of our great president in trying to avoid war by timely preparations in peace meet with failure and the grave ordeal of battle be forced upon us, I confidently expect that you men and officers . . . will so equip yourselves that our enemies shall be utterly destroyed.
Under his tutelage, the 26. Armored Division was gaining the reputation of being perfectly able to conduct a small war all by itself. It was his message, of course, and he delivered it effectively and repeatedly to his troops and to the reporters: “The armored division can smash its way into the enemy with tremendous force.”
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Col. Charles Bridge, April 7, 1941
I am very fortunate to have fallen into command of our ad Armored Division. It is really quite a good show and extremely powerful. I do not know just when or how we are going to have a chance to use it in battle but trust that the future will take care of that question.
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Lt. Col. Erie F. Cress, April 8, 1941
At the close of this summer’s maneuvers, it may be possible to write a brief Standing Operating Procedure. Up until that time I believe it is better to emulate the English constitution and not write anything ...
The chief value of Armored forces is to develop initiative and imagination. If we tear such down with Standing Operating Procedure, we vitiate our purpose.
I am always interested in all the papers which you send me, so the fact that I do not agree, I hope, will not prevent you sending me others from time to time.
On April 10, the President nominated Patton for promotion to major general. The Senate approved, and the President so appointed him, with rank from April 4. On the same day the War Department assigned him to command, no longer temporarily, the sd Armored Division.
Patton immediately sent off a number of letters. To Marshall: “I deeply appreciate the honor you have done me. I shall continue in my efforts to justify your confidence.” To Pershing: “Whatever qualities of execution I possess are due to my service under your immediate command . . . I shall always try to live up to the ideals of military perfection of which you are the embodiment.” To Stimson: “When war comes I promise that you will not be ashamed of me.”
Stimson replied that he had supported Patton’s candidacy not so much because of his warm regard for Patton, but rather because he expected Patton to give his division a strong fighting spirit.
Many letters of congratulation arrived, and Patton acknowledged them all. To Major General Lesley J. McNair, head of the army’s training program: “There is no one in the Army whose good opinion I would rather have than yours.” To retired General Harbord, one of Pershing’s closest associates in World War I: “I feel sure that your personal interest in me is largely responsible for my selection.” To Colonel Frank S. Besson: “It all goes to prove that my luck still holds and I happen to be at the right place at the right time.”
To Beatrice’s half brother, Charles F. Ayer: “I am delighted to have the rank as well as the command.” To Joyce: “I shall always feel that whatever ability I may have as a General I acquired while serving under you.” To Major General J. K. Herr, Chief of Cavalry: “Thank you very much for your nice letter of condolence on my promotion. You know and I certainly know that but for you I would probably never have been discovered or promoted.” To General Malin Craig, retired Army Chief of Staff:
I feel that I owe most of my success to your generous effort on my behalf...
I am probably the most unpopular man, not only in the 2d Armored Division, but in the Army, as I got very tired of being the only person in this outfit who makes any corrections. So, today, I had the regimental commanders in and told them that from now on I would first write them a letter of admonition, and second relieve them from command if any units under them fail to carry out standing orders.
I hope I met your approval in doing this. I assure you that I did not use any profanity while making this statement.
To retired Major General Andre W. Brewster, a former member of Pershing’s staff: “I am perfectly honest when I assure you that your influence upon me has done me more good than that of any other officer with whom I have ever served.” To retired Major General George Van Horn Mosely: “Ever since I was a Lieutenant, I have known, admired, and been inspired by you. I trust that I shall succeed in particularly emulating your success”
To a closer contemporary, Major General F. M. Andrews: “I trust that your anticipation of bloody work [to be done] will come out. But I will be damned if I see how we are to get at our friends, the enemy. However, something may turn up.”
Letter, GSP, Jr., to Mrs. William L. Wills, San Marino, Cal, May 15, 1941
Dear Aunt Susie: You now see the wonderful good effect your careful assistance in my upbringing has produced. Knowing that you have a great drag with the Lord, I trust you will bring all your efforts to prayerful intercession that I may soon get another star and be a Lieutenant General.
When that time comes, you can keep right on working for four stars for me.
Patton sent congratulations to many friends who had also been promoted. To Innis P. Swift: “With you and I both made [promoted], I feel that the world is now safe for democracy.”
Despite his flippancy, Patton was touched. His accomplishments had been recognized and rewarded. Throughout the higher echelons of the army, his skill and professionalism, his dedication and energy, his success in forming the division had been noted and approved.
As a child, Patton had dreamed of being a major general at the age of twenty-seven. Now that he had attained that ambition nearly 30 years later than he had hoped, he was sure that further achievement awaited him. His fate had still to be fulfilled. Whatever it was, his destiny was appreciably closer to realization.