On 22 October Monty did something he had never done before during active operations, relocating to Main HQ. The reason was that Brussels was far closer than Eindhoven to the First Canadian Army, whose activities had temporarily assumed the greatest importance. He took up residence with his personal staff in a handsome mansion in the suburbs of the city, whither the LOs still reported to him daily, although all the other Tac officers remained in Eindhoven.
Brussels was subject to attack from V-1 flying bombs, and a soldier was stationed on the roof of the mansion to provide a warning if any of them looked like landing nearby. In the case of such an event, he was ordered to press a button, which rang a bell in Monty’s office. On the one occasion when a V-1 actually appeared he forgot, in his excitement, to do so, and the bomb exploded in the back garden, shattering all the windows on that side, including Monty’s. Henderson rushed to see if Monty was all right, only to find him draped in a net curtain, which had prevented the shards of glass from injuring him. As usual, he was totally unperturbed.
Main HQ had by then settled down into a well-ordered existence. This even allowed Freddie to take a day off to mount a small private expedition of his own. He had become concerned over the fate of the French resort of Le Touquet, to which he had become much attached before the war for its golfing facilities and, perhaps more enticingly, for its Casino. He had taken care, during the bombing campaign of the Pas-de-Calais as part of Operation FORTITUDE, to try to select targets away from the residential area, although this became progressively more difficult. Now, with Boulogne and the surrounding country liberated and in response to enquiries he had received from a number of friends, he resolved to see for himself what had happened.
A reconnaissance party, led by Llewellyn and including some sappers, was sent off in jeeps to locate a suitable landing strip and clear any mines on it before notifying Freddie of the map reference. This was duly done and a small party of Le Touquet enthusiasts, including Graham, Belchem and Freddie’s MA Bill Bovill and ADC Bill Culver, took off in a C-47, enjoying alcoholic refreshments en route. The landing site was less than ideal, but the plane made it down safely and the party transferred to the jeeps. The town appeared to be deserted and the villas were largely badly damaged and deserted. However, an old lady emerged who welcomed them into what remained of her café, where she insisted on cooking an omelette for them, washed down with a bottle of Scotch which she had hidden away for well over four years. It was a sad reminder of what civilians had suffered, not just in the occupation, but also during the liberation.
As usual, Llewellyn’s main job other than running the ‘Freddie Boys’ was to seek alternative sites for Main HQ and, with the front still advancing, it was felt that it might be necessary to move further forward than Brussels. Over three days at the end of September, therefore, he looked at a number of alternative sites. With communication by secure landlines being the most important criterion, only two of them were seriously considered. Nijmegen was rejected as it remained far too close to the front. Turnhout, about 30 miles north-east of Antwerp, was the other possibility on the grounds that it lay at the end of an underground cable, after which lines were carried overhead. The circuit capacity, however, proved inadequate to support the signals requirements of both Main and the Second TAF HQ, so it was rejected by White. To the relief of all, Main stayed in Brussels.
Tac did move, however, on 12 November to the small town of Zonhoven, lying back in Belgium about five miles north of Hasselt. The park in Eindhoven had become increasingly cold and damp and Monty now accepted that Tac should go into buildings for the winter. Zonhoven was that much nearer to what was then believed to be the likely focus of activity during the winter months, the push into the Rhineland by both 12th US and 21st Army Groups.
For once the move did not go entirely to plan, the column becoming hopelessly lost. This was largely because it took place at night as part of a deception scheme, which also involved the site in Eindhoven remaining apparently occupied, whilst the No. 10 set there continued to be operated remotely from Zonhoven. The relocation into a number of schools and houses in the town proved to be not entirely welcome to the local population and Zonhoven turned out be a rather unhappy place, which was unfortunate as Tac was to be there for nearly three months, its longest ever stay. The buildings were drab and lacked much comfort, fuel was severely rationed during what turned out to be a very harsh winter, there was little to do by way of entertainment and the surrounding countryside was exceptionally dreary. Worst of all, a four-year-old boy was run over and killed by one of the Tac vehicles, as was Monty’s beloved spaniel Rommel some weeks later.
Monty returned to Tac from Brussels soon after its arrival in Zonhoven. He had taken the opportunity of a slight lull in operations to go back to England from 6 to 10 November, his first visit since leaving for Normandy in June. Apart from seeing his son David in Winchester, his stay was not entirely satisfactory. There was a very brief interview with Churchill, whose mind was on other things. Brooke, whom Monty met twice, was sympathetic on the command issue and subsequently took it up with Eisenhower, but he was much more realistic than Monty about the prospect for change, given the fast growing number of Americans in the theatre, at a time when the British and Canadians could look for little further in the way of reinforcements. Indeed, only a month later, another of Monty’s formations, the veteran 50 Division, had to be broken up to strengthen the remainder.
There were some changes in personnel at Tac during the autumn. Sanderson had been suffering from recurrent bouts of malaria, which on three occasions had resulted in a week’s hospitalization. After the third, Monty decided that he should be examined by Bob Hunter, who concluded that he was not fit enough to carry out a Liaison Officer’s job. Reluctant to lose Sanderson, Monty then referred him to the Chief Physician at Main HQ, who confirmed Hunter’s advice, and Sanderson was invalided back to the UK. Considerate as always for the well-being of those close to him, Monty wrote to Charles Bullen-Smith, now DDMT at the War Office, to recommend Sanderson for a senior training job once he had recuperated: he was in due course appointed Commandant of an OCTU, with promotion to lieutenant colonel. He was replaced, just as in early 1940, by Charles Sweeny, who was serving in the theatre and had visited Tac whilst it was at Everberg. Another of Monty’s former ADCs, Ken Spooner, who had been working with Odgers in Operations since the formation of Tac, was also invalided home.
During the autumn fighting continued all along the front as 21st Army Group renewed its efforts to close up to the Maas in the east. In mid-November, both VIII and XII Corps launched attacks, respectively from north-west and southwest of the German pocket, and, after very heavy fighting, succeeded in clearing the west bank of the river. At the same time an attack was mounted on the German town of Geilenkirchen by 43 Division and 84 US Division, both under the command of XXX Corps. The town was taken, but German reinforcements were rushed to the area and Monty decided to move on to the defensive. Little progress was also being made by the Americans to the south, where First US Army suffered a serious setback in the Hürtgen Forest during its efforts to take the Roer dams, which controlled the water downstream into the country between the Maas and the Rhine. Much further south, Patton had ground to a halt in front of Metz, which he was unable to take until mid-November. His progress thereafter remained slow.
On 8 December Eisenhower convened a conference at the command post at Maastricht of Lieutenant General Bill Simpson’s newly arrived Ninth US Army. It was attended by both Monty and Bradley, who arrived with widely differing proposals. Monty reverted to a variant of the Northern Thrust, with substantially the whole of 12th and 21st Army Groups, including Patton’s Third US Army, combining in an offensive north of the Ardennes towards the Ruhr, under unified command. Bradley on the other hand, favoured a two-pronged attack, in which he gave equal weight to the southern push through the Saar and the Palatinate to Frankfurt and then on to Kassel. He had already sold his plan to SHAEF. Believing that Monty was advancing his own proposal with the intention of taking overall command of the ground forces, he told Eisenhower that in such circumstances he would resign, as he would have been deemed to have failed as an army group commander. Monty, always concerned with balance, believed Bradley’s strategy to be the antithesis of good military practice, but he was overruled by Eisenhower, who could not afford to lose his top American field commander.
Bradley’s plan required his forces to be concentrated to the north and the south of his front. In the hilly and forested Ardennes sector in between an 80-mile line was held by five divisions, mostly newly arrived or recovering from operations elsewhere. Bradley had evidently forgotten or disregarded the lessons of the invasion of France in 1940, when the Germans had followed precisely that route, likewise thinly held by the French, with devastating effect. Now they were to use exactly the same tactics, stripping their other fronts to create three strong armies with a substantial armoured element. Codenamed WACHT AM RHEIN (Watch on the Rhine),1 the operation was designed to break through the thin crust immediately opposite, cross the Meuse between Namur and Liège and then drive hard for Antwerp, splitting the Allied armies in two and destroying their main line of communications.
For once ULTRA and other forms of Intelligence were not as forthcoming as usual. The Germans had placed a blanket ban on all wireless communication, assisted by their ability to use the excellent fixed line telephone system within their own country. All troop movements were made at night and no one with knowledge of the plan was allowed to fly west of the Rhine, lest they be forced down in Allied territory. Although Ewart at Tac believed that he had identified another panzer army being formed in the Reich, its location was unknown and it was thought to be a strong reserve. He did, however, receive from Bletchley one signal to the Luftwaffe instructing it not to destroy certain bridges on the Meuse. Williams and Monty were informed, and the latter put on hold an imminent move north by XXX Corps, which was resting from operations east of Brussels. In the meantime, Llewellyn at Main HQ went to Belchem on 15 December to point out that little information had been forthcoming from the Ardennes area. He wrote later that ‘our experience had often shown that “no news was bad news”’.2 With Belchem’s agreement he sent one of his US LOs, Major Tommy Bullitt, to Bastogne to find out what, if anything, was happening.
On the following day the Germans launched their attack. By way of confirmation Bullitt telephoned from Marche on the morning of 17 December to say that he had been confronted by a Tiger tank, which had destroyed his jeep, and that he had only escaped by walking seventeen miles. Freddie was due back from a conference and two days’ leave in England, but was temporarily fog-bound. In his absence Belchem and Llewellyn reacted fast. Every available Main HQ LO was diverted from his other duties, allotted a bridge over the Meuse and sent off with a SAS jeep patrol to report on the position. By the following morning all had confirmed that the bridges were intact. With Monty’s agreement 29 Armoured Brigade, resting from operations, was instantly mobilized. Brigadier Roscoe Harvey, who was on a woodcock shoot, was hastily recalled and told to grab back the tanks he had just handed over for servicing and repair and proceed with all despatch to Dinant. The remainder of XXX Corps was put on immediate notice to move south.
One other unit, responsible directly to Main, was also available. R Force, which by then numbered about 2,000 men, was carrying out its usual deception role when the attack began. Most of its establishment had been so engaged since D-Day, although No. 5 Wireless Group remained in South-East England in its Operation FORTITUDE role until the end of August. Now No. 3 Light Scout Car Company was deployed along the Meuse between Dinant and Namur, whilst Strangeways despatched officers to make contact with the nearest US commanders. Unfortunately, in the febrile mood which had developed in First US Army, many of them were arrested as German spies, although they were quickly released. In the meantime, R Force’s RE field companies prepared the bridges for demolition.
On the morning of 18 December Bigland set out from Bradley’s Eagle Tac to visit Tac at Zonhoven, accompanied by an American LO. On the way he dropped in at First US Army’s command post at Spa, where everything seemed to be under control. At Tac Bigland found Monty deeply concerned by the situation and was ordered to return to Spa, taking with him Mather and Harden, who could bring information back to Monty and elsewhere if appropriate, whilst he returned to Bradley in Luxembourg.
Early on the following morning the three LOs set off for Spa. In Mather’s words:
We arrive at First Army HQ, located in a hotel, and find it abandoned. A hurried evacuation has evidently taken place. We walk in. The tables in the dining room are laid for Christmas festivities. The offices are deserted. Papers are lying about. Telephones are still in place. It is as though we had come across the Marie Celeste floating abandoned upon an open sea. The truth begins to dawn. The German attack is more serious than we had thought, for the evacuation of the headquarters shows every sign of a panic move.3
The LOs then drove to the First US Army Rear HQ at Chaudfontaine, near Liège, where they found Hodges and his chief of staff. The former was seriously shaken and unable to provide a coherent explanation of what was happening. Communications with 12th Army Group had been broken. Whilst Bigland made his way to Eagle Tac to report to Bradley, Mather and Harden returned to Zonhoven. Mather was instructed by Monty to go back to Chaudfontaine immediately to tell Hodges that he must block the Meuse bridges, using all means at his disposal, and to inform him of the steps already taken by 21st Army Group, including the deployment of XXX Corps to stand between the Germans and Antwerp. He left at midnight and made slow progress through the numerous checkpoints which had just been erected. Hodges was asleep when he arrived, but was woken by his staff. The situation was described as extremely fluid, but more worryingly, neither Hodges nor his chief of staff seemed to be fully aware of the urgency of the situation.
Having arranged a meeting between Monty, Hodges and Simpson for later in the day, Mather was back at Tac by 06.00 on the morning of 20 December to find the C-in-C awake. Monty now diverted all his own LOs, regardless of nationality, to the American corps and divisions of First US Army, ordering them to report to him at Chaudfontaine in order to let him know exactly what was happening before his meeting with the two American army commanders.
Meanwhile, there had been significant developments at SHAEF. On 19 December Eisenhower held a conference at Verdun for his senior commanders, attended by his own staff and by Bradley, Patton and General Devers of 6th US Army Group. Monty was invited, but declined due to what he believed was more pressing business and was represented by Freddie. It was agreed that Patton should break off his operations in the Saar, turn to attack the German salient from the south and relieve Bastogne, where 101 US Airborne Division was surrounded. The north, which had attracted the brunt of the German offensive, was more problematical: neither Hodges nor Simpson was present for obvious reasons and intelligence from that front was poor. The only option for them was to hold and attack when ready.
Back in Versailles that night, Major Generals Kenneth Strong, SHAEF’s British Head of Intelligence, and Jock Whiteley, acting Head of Operations, became increasingly concerned by news of German advances. In the early hours of 20 December they woke Bedell Smith to tell him that, in their view, the forces north of the Bulge, as the salient began to be called, needed a unified command and that Bradley, separated from his two armies there, was in no position to assume it. The only alternative was Monty. Smith phoned Bradley, who doubted that such a change was necessary and queried its effect on American public opinion. Smith then told the two British officers that their suggestion was partisan and that, in the light of this, they would no longer be acceptable as staff officers at SHAEF. They nevertheless appeared at the staff conference on the next morning, to be told by Smith that he had changed his mind and would put their proposal to Eisenhower as his own, as it could only succeed if it was seen to come from an American. Eisenhower informed a dismayed Bradley that he concurred with the proposal and, at 10.30 on the morning of 20 December, rang Monty to inform him of his new role.
This was in time for the conference with Hodges and Simpson. Having briefed Dempsey and Crerar at Zonhoven, Monty set off for Chaudfontaine in his Rolls Royce with eight motorcycle outriders, accompanied by Belchem, Williams and BonDurant and flying the largest Union Jack available. His first task there, however, was to debrief his LOs, using a map spread out on the bonnet of one of their jeeps. By the time he had finished with them he had a much better idea of what was happening than either of the American commanders and was able to issue confident orders accordingly. Those present recalled later that both the Americans seemed to be greatly relieved that someone had taken firm control of the situation. In the coming weeks, Monty was to meet them almost daily to confirm their orders and boost their morale and was also to make a number of visits at divisional level and below, seeing as many of the American troops as possible.
As was his custom, Monty began by tidying up what he saw as muddle. Simpson was given command north of Monschau, with Hodges responsible for holding the front along the north of the Bulge against the Germans and, when Monty was ready, mounting a vigorous response. Freddie was now back from England after a difficult journey and found ‘Master’ enjoying himself hugely. They agreed the necessary dispositions, which primarily involved VII US Corps, under the command of one of few American generals Monty admired, ‘Lightning Joe’ Collins, being held in reserve for the counter-attack. XXX Corps, apart from 29 Armoured Brigade and a few additional armoured units, was kept behind the Meuse, so that this should be seen to be an entirely American affair. Freddie, however, in order to be able to exercise some degree of control from Main, ordered Llewellyn to install resident LOs at both First and Ninth US Armies, whilst the two armies sent reciprocal officers to Brussels.
With Patton having executed a remarkable change of direction and already attacking from the south towards Bastogne, Monty now began to attract criticism for his caution, including from Collins, who was desperate to begin the counter-attack. Monty’s information on his new command, however, was much more accurate than anyone else’s by virtue of the constant reports from his LOs and he was determined not to go on to the offensive until he was certain of success. He was helped by a change in the weather, which had been foggy, snowing or at best overcast with low clouds since beginning of the German offensive. On Christmas Eve the skies cleared and the Allied air forces, hitherto grounded, began to attack the Germans with devastating results. The Germans also took to the air, sending the strongest concentration of aircraft ever seen on the western front to hit Allied airfields in Belgium, France and the Netherlands on New Year’s Day 1945, causing considerable damage to planes on the ground, including those of the Second TAF Communications Squadron at Brussels. The Allied losses were easily replaced, however, whereas the Germans, their factories subjected to constant bombing attacks, were much less able to produce new aircraft. In the Ardennes they were becoming short of fuel, having relied on overrunning American dumps, which they failed to do. Moreover, ULTRA was now producing results and Ewart, in particular, was able to determine the line of their advances from Luftwaffe signals agreeing ground support.
The German offensive had run out of steam, but the Bulge still needed to be eliminated. It was 3 January 1945 before Monty felt sufficiently confident to launch his counter-attack from the northern edge, which proved highly successful in spite of a fresh snowfall. VII US Corps led the advance as planned, whilst XVIII US Airborne Corps, under another of Monty’s favourites, Matthew Ridgway, also made considerable progress on its left. In the meantime, the tip of the salient, which had reached a point only four miles from the Meuse, was pinched out by XXX Corps. It was not until 16 January that First and Third US Armies fully restored the front, but by then the outcome had been in no doubt for some time. The Germans had wagered and lost, and the result was to prejudice their defence of the Rhine in due course.
Monty, in the meantime, had been in serious trouble with Eisenhower, due to his renewed attempts to obtain the Supreme Commander’s agreement on the single thrust to the Ruhr and the overall command. On 28 December, he met Eisenhower at Hasselt. The Supreme Commander, concerned about the possibility of assassination,4 arrived on a heavily protected train in which the meeting was held. He was not accompanied on this occasion by Bedell Smith, and Monty refused to allow Freddie or Williams, both of whom were there, to attend. Thus there were no witnesses to the discussion, but as had happened on earlier occasions, Monty may have taken silence as acceptance. In any event, that evening he reported to Brooke that he believed that Eisenhower had conceded on two conditions, without which Monty had told him that he would fail:
FIRST. All available power must be allotted to the northern front.
SECOND. One man must have powers of operation and coordination of the whole northern thrust which would be from about PRUM northwards.5
On the following day he wrote a letter to Eisenhower, which was delivered by Freddie, who flew to Versailles on 30 December primarily to explain why the First US Army counter-attack would take place on 3 January and not two days earlier, as had been previously agreed. In the letter Monty reiterated his two conditions and proposed that the Supreme Commander should now issue a directive to enact them.
Eisenhower was not prepared to do any such thing. Not only were the senior members of his own staff unanimously against Monty’s proposals, but at just that time he received a signal from Marshall telling him to make no concessions on the ground forces commander. Thoroughly exasperated, he drafted a signal to the Combined Chiefs of Staff, effectively inviting them to choose between him and Monty. Freddie, warned of what was happening by Bedell Smith and appalled by the potential implications, saw Eisenhower immediately and, having read the draft signal, begged him to delay sending it for 24 hours, to allow him time to deal with Monty.
Freddie flew back to Belgium on New Year’s Eve, landing at the strip closest to Zonhoven. Monty was having tea in his small house when he arrived, but sensed that something was wrong and asked Freddie to join him in his office. Freddie laid out the situation, giving his opinion that, in a choice between Eisenhower and Monty, the CCS would certainly back the former, and that Alexander was to be the likely replacement at 21st Army Group. He wrote later:
I felt terribly sorry for my Chief, for he now looked completely nonplussed – I don’t think I have ever seen him look so deflated. It was as if a cloak of loneliness had descended. His reply was, ‘What shall I do now, Freddie?’6
Freddie had already prepared a draft of a signal to send to Eisenhower which read:
Dear Ike
I have seen Freddie and understand you are greatly worried by many considerations in these very difficult days. I have given you my frank views because I have felt you like this. I am sure there are many factors which have a bearing beyond anything I can realise. Whatever your decision may be you can rely on me one hundred per cent to make it work, and I know Brad will do the same. Very distressed that my letter may have upset you and I would ask you to tear it up.
Your very devoted subordinate
Monty7
It was agreed by Monty and sent off immediately.
This was, by any standard, a monumental climb-down by Monty. It spelt the end of his demands for an overall ground forces commander and for concentrating the Allied strength north of the Ruhr. Further debate would take place over Monty’s continuing command of the two American armies, but it was now clear that he, Bradley and Devers would have equal status under Eisenhower for the rest of the campaign and that Bradley had won the argument for a double-pronged advance by 12th Army Group.
It was also the greatest service which Freddie could have provided, almost certainly saving Monty’s career. It is fruitless to speculate on what might have happened if Eisenhower’s appeal to the CCS had been sent, but the damage to the Western Alliance would probably have been considerable. With no part to play in the ultimate victory, it must also be doubtful whether Monty could have gone on to the illustrious post-war positions he was to hold.
In the event, much as he resented the rejection of what he saw as the only sensible way forward from a purely military perspective, his climb-down actually made him more secure in the position he occupied, enjoying the full support not only of Churchill and Brooke, but now also of Eisenhower, who was too great a man to crow over his triumph. This was in spite of a serious faux pas which Monty committed soon afterwards.
The battle won, he decided to hold a press conference. By way of preparation he signalled Churchill to explain what he hoped to achieve, which was to demonstrate Allied solidarity and teamwork and his own friendship with Eisenhower. Churchill, naturally, expressed his support.
Much of the ensuing trouble was not the result of the conference itself, but of an announcement by SHAEF on 6 January, the previous day, that control of First and Ninth US Armies had passed from Bradley to Monty, a fact which had hitherto not been disclosed. This was immediately played up by the British press, whilst even the American Forces newspaper, Stars and Stripes, referred to the Americans north of the Bulge as ‘Monty’s troops’. This caused great distress to Bradley, his staff and his supporters such as Patton.
What then happened at Monty’s own press conference served to pour oil on the fire. Unusually, he chose to speak from a script rather than extempore, as was his normal practice. He explained how he had initially reacted to the German attack and how he had come to be placed in command of all the Allied forces north of the Bulge. He then went on to talk about how he had approached the battle and the steps he had taken to ‘see off’ the enemy. He attached great emphasis to the ‘good fighting qualities of the American soldier’ and the teamwork of the Allies. He emphasized that the captain of the team was Eisenhower, to whom he was devoted, and said that it grieved him to read uncomplimentary articles about the Supreme Commander in the British press. On the face of it, all this was good for Allied harmony. It was not, however, what he said, but how he said it and what he did not say which caused the problem.
This time Freddie, the one man Monty might have listened to, was not available to provide sound advice. Once again he was ill and was about to go into hospital in Cambridge. Some on the staff, such as Warren, found it difficult to understand why the words should have caused offence. Others saw considerable problems with the text right from the start, notably Ewart, who tried hard to get Monty to alter it, and Williams, who sensed that the emphasis on him being asked to help out would not go down at all well with the Americans. Part of it – ‘The battle has been most interesting; I think possibly one of the most interesting and tricky battles I have ever handled, with great issues at stake’ – bordered on the condescending, whilst although the American soldier was lauded, there was no mention of his commanders. Odgers, who was also present, feared immediately that it would not do the job which Monty intended, indeed that it would do more harm than good, although he accepted that Monty was genuinely trying to do his best for the relationship with the Americans.
That relationship was, in the event, seriously damaged, particularly as it affected Bradley. The subsequent reports in the British press were laudatory of the field marshal to the exclusion of any other commanders. The fire was further stoked by ‘Mary of Arnhem’, the announcer at an English-speaking German radio station, which operated on a waveband very close to the BBC and broadcast news at the same times, to which were added subtle twists to drive a wedge between the Allies. Poor Bigland, who brought the text of Monty’s talk back to Eagle Tac, was advised by one of his American colleagues to make himself scarce, as even his friends would find it difficult to be polite. Having taken notes for Bradley and found Monty’s approach intolerably patronizing, he completely understood their viewpoint. Frantic attempts were made to put things right, including by Churchill in Parliament, but it was too late.
It was an unfortunate start to 1945.