By the summer of 1943, the Germans and Japanese had been forced onto the defensive nearly everywhere. Leahy, never particularly graceful with the English language, thought Winston Churchill summed up the situation best when he described the season as a being bathed in the “mellow light of victory.”1 In Europe, American ground troops faced battles of only limited importance; an invasion of Sicily was scheduled for July, but little effort was to be expended in the Mediterranean afterward—or so the admiral hoped. In the east, the Germans were preparing for their final great offensive against Russia, an immense yet ultimately doomed attack on the Kursk salient. Indeed, it looked as if the Soviets would do the heavy lifting in the war against Germany that summer, leaving the western Allies on the sidelines. In the Pacific, fighting had quieted since February, when the Japanese finally admitted defeat and pulled out of Guadalcanal. Now the main striking forces of the Japanese and American navies were keeping their distance, licking their wounds and preparing for the next clash.
In Leahy’s eyes, something profound, if less obvious, was developing. In May, the German U-boat threat in the Atlantic had been broken for good, allowing for the practically uninterrupted flow of supplies to Europe. On the other side of the globe, the Japanese were losing control of more and more of the vast Pacific, experiencing their first difficulties with shipping resources around their far-flung empire. At last, the Allies were gaining a stranglehold on the world’s oceans, and to Leahy this control of the sea was the vital first step toward victory. Moreover, coordinated, strategic airpower was about to be deployed in the skies over Germany for the first time, bringing the war home to the German population and productive machinery. Though Leahy was no expert in strategic bombing, and was opposed to the indiscriminate targeting of civilians, he believed that bombing could put the Germans under enormous strain. Finally, US war production, which in 1942 had come in far below expectations, was now ramping up. Everything from aircraft to tanks to Leahy’s beloved aircraft carriers was starting to appear in ominously large numbers for the Axis powers. This equipment could now be deployed in relative safety to most places across the globe, while the Germans and Japanese were losing the ability to deploy their war equipment without significant losses. Just as the admiral had long theorized, air- and sea power were steadily choking the life out of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan.
For Leahy, it was a summer of fighting fires and holding hands. Having secured everything he wanted at Trident, he was determined to see the British live up to their promises. This would not be simple. Despite their earlier agreement, Churchill and his commanders were not going to give up their fight against an invasion of France in 1944, and they would continue to delay an operation into Burma for as long as possible. The British were going to be a problem, but they were not the most irritating ally Leahy first had to confront; that honor went to a tall, oddly shaped, dogged, and disconcerting Frenchman.
William Leahy hated Charles de Gaulle. He had first soured on the general near the end of his ambassadorship in Vichy, when the Free French leader authorized the seizing of Saint-Pierre and Miquelon. This move, which occurred right after Pearl Harbor had been attacked, and which had not been approved in Washington or London, made Leahy’s job in Vichy more difficult while making no discernible difference in the course of the war. After Leahy’s return to Washington, matters only grew worse. During Torch, de Gaulle’s antics confirmed that he was more interested in personal vindication and restoring the glory of France than in achieving the quickest possible Allied victory with the fewest casualties. When news of the landings was announced, de Gaulle, instead of being elated at an Allied success, went off in a huff at what he believed was a personal insult at not being involved. Distrustful of the general, Leahy used his influence to keep de Gaulle from having any say in the newly occupied territories of North Africa.
Leahy’s personal antipathy toward de Gaulle also helps explain why Roosevelt was so rough on the French general in 1942 and 1943.2 The president regularly tried to marginalize or even humiliate the French leader, starting with completely excluding him from any knowledge of Torch.3 Yet Roosevelt’s extreme suspicion of de Gaulle has been poorly explained by historians. One of the main reasons for the strength of the president’s actions toward de Gaulle was that he and Leahy became a strongly self-reinforcing team.4
Indeed, the admiral’s distrust of the French general was soon to boil over into an obsessive, irrepressible loathing. When American soldiers landed in North Africa, Adm. François Darlan, Leahy’s old foil from Vichy, happened to be in Algiers. Faced with a large army on his doorstep, Darlan decided to save his skin and throw in with the United States, making a deal with Eisenhower to order French forces to stop fighting. Self-interest was a main motivation, yet Leahy was also convinced that Darlan’s actions saved American lives.5 He even thought it required real bravery by Darlan to break with Marshal Pétain, to whom most French military officers remained loyal. Leahy certainly did not trust Darlan any more than he did while in Vichy, but he did appreciate that Darlan had taken a step that would benefit Americans in contrast to the constantly prickly and grandstanding de Gaulle.
When Darlan was murdered on Christmas Eve 1942, shot by a young Gaullist sympathizer who had been trained by British intelligence, Leahy suspected that de Gaulle had played a role in authorizing the assassination. He went to see Roosevelt on Christmas Day, and they decided that Gen. Henri Giraud was to be put in charge of all civil and military affairs in US-controlled North Africa, while de Gaulle, who was about to visit America, was to be isolated from power as much as possible.6 Thereafter, hating and distrusting de Gaulle became almost a religion for Leahy.7 He was overheard to say that it would be better for the Allied war effort if de Gaulle were sent up in an airplane with one wing.8 It is not clear if he was joking.
The assassination of Darlan represented the beginning of a long struggle between Leahy and Roosevelt on the one hand, and the British, the State Department, and de Gaulle himself on the other, for control of French forces in North Africa. The problem Roosevelt and Leahy had was that in backing Giraud, they were supporting a weak reed. Tall and erect, this French general appeared every inch the powerful leader, but his dignified bearing masked his limited abilities. Giraud had been captured by the Germans in 1940 and was catapulted to celebrity in April 1942 when he escaped from his prison camp and made his way over the Swiss mountains before reaching Vichy France. When his escape became known, Heinrich Himmler ordered his assassination, and Giraud was smuggled to safety with Allied help. Once out of France, he became an enthusiastic supporter of Torch, even asking to be named its supreme commander.9 When it was made clear that this would not happen, he knuckled down and was an obedient soldier, promising to publicly support American forces and do his best to bring the French Army around. The pledge alone made him far preferable to de Gaulle. Leahy was rather unimpressed with Giraud at first but decided to back him anyway.10
Leahy did everything possible to help Giraud.11 De Gaulle, however, was determined to come out on top.12 Unfortunately for Leahy, de Gaulle was a far greater personality and politician than the hapless Giraud. Even though de Gaulle was forbidden from going to North Africa for much of the first half of 1943, he maneuvered brilliantly to sideline Giraud. In May, the two were named joint presidents of the newly formed Comité français de libération nationale (CFLN), which was supposed to unite all effective French factions in one political entity. It ended up being the most unequal of coalitions.
Leahy did not understand that at first. In June he schemed with Harry Hopkins to make sure that de Gaulle gained no command authority over any French forces fighting with the Allies in North Africa.13 In July, Leahy was Giraud’s chief sponsor when the French general visited Washington. Leahy, representing Roosevelt, met Giraud when he flew in on July 7 and spent much of the next three days escorting him around the capital, introducing him to powerful political figures and discussing strategic plans.14 He still thought Giraud had a reasonable chance of asserting his authority in North Africa, but he would soon be sadly disabused. As the summer went on, it became clear that no matter how much Leahy worked against it, de Gaulle would triumph over Giraud and take sole control of the CFLN. It would take far longer, however, for Leahy to reconcile himself to such a development.
While Leahy’s efforts to sideline de Gaulle were beginning to unravel in the summer of 1943, his attempts to keep the British government committed to the Trident agreements were also coming under strain. Operation Husky, the Allied invasion of Sicily, blew away the domestic supports propping up the regime of Benito Mussolini, Italy’s Fascist dictator. When US, British, and Canadian forces went ashore on July 9, it was obvious that the island would be conquered relatively quickly. Though the Germans and some Italian forces fought well, all they could hope to do was slow the Allied advance. After a few weeks of intense combat, the Axis troops had been pushed back into a small pocket in northeast Sicily, centered on the forbidding slopes of Mount Etna. Soon, they would be pulled back entirely to the Italian mainland, which would itself be invaded.
Seeing the powerlessness of Axis forces in the face of a full Anglo-American amphibious assault, the Fascist Party quickly tossed Mussolini aside, replacing him with a military government that immediately sent out peace feelers to the Allies, making it clear that they would like to switch sides. The prospect of Italy being offered up to the Allies was so enticing that it caused even some Americans to reconsider their attachment to an invasion of France as the quickest way to drive Germany out of the war. George Marshall, for a moment, changed his tune about the value of fighting in the Mediterranean. On July 26, the Joint Chiefs held a meeting to discuss strategy in light of what seemed to be the imminent Italian collapse. Marshall spoke about the need to get troops onto the Italian mainland as soon as possible.15 Leahy was more circumspect and refused to say whether he thought the potential collapse of Italy was a game-changer. He did admit that Roosevelt now believed that there was a real chance that Allied strategy would have to be significantly revised.16
The possible Italian collapse supercharged what was originally shaping up to be a low-key grand-strategy summit, code-named Quadrant, scheduled for August in Quebec. Roosevelt had first suggested to Churchill that they meet in Canada to find a way to coordinate action with Joseph Stalin.17 Yet with Italy teetering, the strategic debate between making a greater effort in the Mediterranean or sticking to the plan to invade France the following spring reappeared.
Before Roosevelt could tackle the issue at Quadrant, he needed a vacation. On July 30, he and a small party boarded the Ferdinand Magellan and headed north, the beginning of a month in which Leahy and Roosevelt would be together for all but five days. After a stopover in Hyde Park, FDR’s train continued north, crossing the Canadian border into Ontario, eventually reaching Georgian Bay on Lake Huron. There the train, now up to a total of ten cars, was turned into a lakeside hotel.18 The party happily camped, venturing out daily onto the lake to fish from whaleboats. Sunburns did little to dampen the happy mood. Reeling in smallmouth bass and walleyed pike, the revelers turned the excursions into daily competitions, with everyone throwing money into a pool for the person who caught the most fish. Either Roosevelt or Leahy won every day. Leahy seemed pleased when Harry Hopkins joined the party on August 4, as he was an atrocious fisherman whose presence only added to the pot. Evenings were spent around a campfire, with cookouts, cocktails, and lots of talk. Despite the late nights, Leahy still had a job to do, and each evening he would quietly slip away to attend to the president’s confidential correspondence, determining what Roosevelt needed to see and drafting replies for him to approve. It required a great deal of effort to be both friend and chief of staff to Franklin Roosevelt. Leahy inevitably grumbled about the late nights, though he never let the president know.19
Refreshed, Roosevelt and Leahy returned to Washington to prepare for Quadrant. A holiday in the sun had done little to quiet the admiral’s doubts about operations in Italy, and once back he again became perhaps the strongest American critic of a Mediterranean strategy. When the Joint Chiefs assembled on August 9, he called for the insertion of a statement in the American preparatory documents that the invasion of France would always have “overriding” priority over Mediterranean operations when it came to the allocation of vital equipment.20 He was not alone. The next day, in a meeting between the chiefs and the president, it was clear that American support for a greater effort in Italy had waned. This practical American unanimity on the Mediterranean was a relief, but the issue he was most forceful about was one that had been temporarily overlooked during the Italian kerfuffle: getting the British to follow through on their commitment to Anakim.21 Leahy was looking for more than words. He wanted a firm date by which the operation would be launched and a concrete list of the forces to be employed.22
His impatience on the question revealed that he continued to doubt that the British were committed to the Pacific war. As he had in 1942, Leahy started from the basis that America must plan to fight Japan without the British playing a meaningful role.23 Churchill had promised at Trident that the British would launch the attack from India into Burma at the end of the monsoon season, which typically occurred in October. That date was now approaching, and there was little sign that a major operation was in the offing. Whether the British were willing to follow through would have important consequences on the upcoming Quebec Conference and Leahy’s plans on how America should fight the global war.
On August 11 Roosevelt headed to Hyde Park to meet with Churchill—for once without Leahy, the one and only time during America’s war that the admiral did not travel with the president to a grand strategy conference. It was thought prudent to send the chiefs to Quebec first to see if they could work out some of their differences, so Churchill and Roosevelt decided to spend a few days in the president’s home. Two days later, Leahy flew from Washington with George Marshall in an army plane bound for Quebec City. When they arrived, a heavy, dark mist hung over the city; landing the plane was thought too dangerous, and the flight was diverted to Montreal. When Leahy and Marshall finally reached Quebec City by car, they found the British chiefs waiting in the Château Frontenac, a grand, castle-like hotel that dominated the city’s skyline from a bluff that reached out magnificently above the St. Lawrence River. There the chiefs would spend the next three days by themselves, fighting, predictably, about the value of an Italian campaign, an invasion of France, and the course of the Pacific war.
It was clear that the British still hoped to entice the Americans into forgetting about D-Day by having them commit to ever more expansive Mediterranean operations. Alanbrooke began the proceedings by arguing that the impending Italian collapse offered the Allies a unique chance to strike a great blow against the Germans, and that this should now be the focus of their efforts. Yet Leahy had no desire to take part in a rehash of old arguments, and on the discussion of Europe he was usually enigmatically quiet, willing to let Marshall do the talking. He spoke occasionally, for the most part only to draw a line under an issue—and in the process to emphasize that he was the senior member of the American chiefs.24 When a difficult problem arose he made clear to the British chiefs that he was more than happy to wait until Roosevelt arrived before deciding how to proceed.25
When talk turned to the Pacific, however, Leahy came alive, ready to duel. When Admiral King called for more resources to be diverted to the fight against Japan, Leahy jumped in, saying that he believed the British, as a good ally, should launch Anakim—but if they did not, the United States would have a plan in place to shift forces from Europe into the Pacific before the Germans were defeated. It was as clear a threat as he would ever make on the subject, and he gave it more force later when he asked the British to commit formally to a date for launching Anakim.26
Leahy’s harping on the British setting a firm date for Anakim (and Overlord) was aimed at undermining the main tactic that the British were using to delay or even avoid both operations. Alanbrooke liked to argue that such operations should not have hard dates, but should only be launched when the conditions were judged appropriate, such as when it was clear that the Allies could land in France without the risk of large casualties or could surge into Burma once they judged that they had enough force on hand to make the offensive a foregone conclusion. Leahy, who wanted an overwhelming victory as much as Alanbrooke, believed that they needed to set a date to start both operations so that they could focus on accumulating the forces needed to make them happen. Alanbrooke became so frustrated with Leahy, and the rest of the American delegation’s request for dates by when operations would be launched, that he accused them of trying to run the war through a series of “lawyer’s agreements, which, when once signed, can never be departed from.”27
The arrival of Roosevelt and Churchill in Quebec, early in the evening of August 17, brought issues to a head. Now agreements would have to be reached. For Leahy, the president’s arrival only served to add more responsibilities to his already full workload. In Quebec the president, along with Eleanor Roosevelt, were housed in a suite at the governor-general’s summer residence in the Old Citadel. Only one other person could be housed with the president, and Roosevelt selected Leahy. So the admiral checked out of the Château Frontenac and settled into a room next to the president’s.28 Alone with Roosevelt, Leahy took over the management of the president’s professional life. He was put in charge of a mobile version of the White House Map Room, which was set up near their accommodation and controlled the flow of all information to and from Roosevelt.29 Roosevelt also trusted Leahy to handle many responsibilities such as sensitive press relations, keeping his press secretary in the dark on most issues.30
Two days after their arrival, Roosevelt and Churchill met for a formal conference with the chiefs. When Italian mainland operations were discussed, the president made it clear that he did not want a full-scale effort made to take the whole peninsula. Instead, he called for an increase in the number of troops shipped to the United Kingdom to prepare for D-Day.31 As for the Pacific, Roosevelt, using a slightly bizarre analogy of the Japanese Empire being a large slice of pie, argued for an invasion of Burma to open a road into China. It was everything for which Leahy could have hoped.
The last few days of Quadrant were in some ways the most predictable of any of the grand strategic conferences of the war. The issues were well-known and the arguments unsurprising.32 In the end the agreements reached reflected the relative balance in raw power between the United States and the United Kingdom. No matter how much they argued against it, the British were forced to continue with the commitment that they had made at Trident that Operation Overlord would be launched around May 1, 1944.33 Nothing done in the Mediterranean in the meantime would be allowed to disrupt these plans for the invasion of France. When it came to the launching of Anakim, the British seemingly had one success, in that they delayed the launch date of the operation from October 1943 until February 1944. However, the price that they had to pay for that was considerable; they were basically separated out completely from having any influence over US actions in the Pacific, in the process undermining the whole notion of Germany-first. The final joint statement agreed to at Quadrant allowed the United States, for the first time, to determine for itself the amount of force it wanted to expend in the Pacific (from the east), while the British could determine for themselves the amount of force that they would use against Burma (from the west): “The principle has been accepted that the forces to carry out operations from the East, including the Southwest Pacific, shall be provided by the United States, and for operations from the West by Great Britain.”34 During Trident there had been specific mentions of how much force would be sent to the different theaters. Now they were being decoupled and the United States given carte blanche. This freeing of US power explains why Leahy was happy with the overall decisions reached, even if he felt stymied by the British reluctance to attack into Burma. If the British continued to drag their heels on Anakim, the United States could on its own send to the Pacific whatever it thought necessary to defeat Japan. It was a policy Leahy had been arguing for since September 1942.
It also helps explain Leahy’s jaunty mood at the end of Quadrant. He summed it up as a “very busy, pleasant ten-day trip.”35 Except for the local water, which he thought gave him indigestion, he seemed to enjoy every part of the summit, including the long dinner parties in the evenings. Both Alanbrooke and Churchill, on the other hand, found Quebec to be a nasty combination of exhausting and depressing. Alanbrooke complained in a series of bleak diary entries about the Americans, whom he blamed for being unable to recognize his own strategic genius. By the end of the conference he had reached the end of his tether: “The conference is finished and I am feeling the inevitable flatness and depression which swamps me after a spell of continuous work, and of battling against difficulties, differences of opinion, stubbornness, stupidity, pettiness, and pig-headedness.”36
And one does feel a little sorry for Alanbrooke. Eight months earlier, at Casablanca, the British had outmaneuvered the Americans into agreeing to make the Mediterranean the major theater of war for at least 1943 and perhaps longer, while making no clear commitment to invading France, and reaffirming Germany-first at the same time. Now, within six months, the British had been forced twice to agree to invade France in May 1944, to accept that the Mediterranean was, and would continue to be, a secondary theater, while at the same time progressively losing any influence over how much force America could send to the Pacific. The one clear British victory, the delaying of Anakim, had in many ways subverted their overall purposes in the war. Though the British would continue to fight for what they wanted, in the end the Quadrant decisions pointed the way to how the war would be brought to its conclusion. The whole process had also reconfirmed Leahy’s centrality to the making of grand strategy. Now he could go and have another break with his good friend Franklin Roosevelt and actually relax. He would need it. As both Roosevelt and Leahy knew, Joseph Stalin was lurking.