At 0530 hours on 16 December 1944, the whole horizon erupted as thousands of German guns pounded the thinly stretched American lines in the Ardennes.1 The opening bombardment was one of the most ferocious ever experienced by American soldiers during the war. Major General Troy Middleton’s VII Corps took the brunt of the German assault, and Middleton, who had been noted as the finest infantry regimental commander in the AEF in 1918, knew that his defences were paper-thin.2 That morning, American troops fought desperate defensive battles only to find themselves overwhelmed and overrun by superior numbers.
It took time for the gravity of the situation to get through to Middleton’s headquarters and for the information to flow up the command chain to Hodges’ First US Army and thence on to SHAEF. It was not until a 2 p.m. briefing that Major General Kenneth Strong, the chief intelligence officer at SHAEF, received news that ‘the situation had become serious’.3 When Eisenhower heard the news, Bradley was fortuitously with him. Bradley initially dismissed it as a minor attempt by the Germans to distract attention from the American attack against the Roer dams, and suggested that it could be dealt with easily. However, Eisenhower understood the position immediately. He realised that there were no minor objectives along the Ardennes front; this had to be an unexpected major offensive by the Germans. He took rapid steps to counter the threat and ordered Bradley to send the 7th and 10th Armored Divisions from the Ninth and Third Armies as immediate reserves. He then ordered his only available reserve, the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, which had been resting and refitting after Operation Market Garden, to the Ardennes sector.4 There is no question that the weakness of the American forces there was a direct result of Eisenhower’s broad front strategy. The Ardennes, as a ‘quiet’ sector of the front, had been stripped of reserves in order to reinforce other, more active areas, which left it highly vulnerable to the German blow. However, Eisenhower’s immediate response to the news of the German assault at least began to repair the weakness caused by his own strategy. At this moment of crisis, his responses were calm, unhurried and correct – precisely what the British and American governments required of a Supreme Commander. Eisenhower had just received the news that he was to be promoted to the rank of five-star general, and that evening he celebrated with Bradley and a bottle of champagne. Chester Hansen, Bradley’s ADC, joined the celebrations briefly, but then went on to the Lido, ‘where we saw bare breasted girls do the hootchy kootchie until it was late and we hurried on home’.5 The contrast with the desperate battle for survival being fought by the GIs in the frozen forests of the Ardennes could hardly have been greater.
The situation at the Ardennes front rapidly grew worse. The inexperienced 106th Infantry Division had been holding an impossibly wide frontage of 22 miles when the Germans attacked. Although the men had fought back with real courage, their commander, Major General Alan Jones, had mistakenly kept his forces in position instead of pulling them back as quickly as possible. This doomed two of his three infantry regiments to encirclement and capture in what became the largest surrender of American troops in the European theatre.6 However, even as disaster engulfed some of the American units, Middleton recognised that the towns of St Vith and Bastogne, with their important roads, could act as choke points. If these places could be held, the German advance might be channelled, disrupted and eventually prevented from becoming an irresistible flood westwards. He used the only reserves available in the form of engineer battalions to form piecemeal blocking forces to delay the German advance while the defences of these towns could be organised and time bought for reinforcements to reach the area.
On 18 December, Eisenhower held an important conference in the gloomy surroundings of Verdun. This was a highly significant meeting in which all the key commanders, including Bradley, Devers, Tedder and Patton, were present bar one. Montgomery was represented by Freddie de Guingand, his Chief of Staff, since he had decided (once again) that he was unable to leave his own command.7 Kenneth Strong later remarked that:
The meeting was crowded and the atmosphere tense. The British were worried by events. As so often before, their confidence in the ability of the Americans to deal with the situation was not great. Reports had been reaching them of disorganization behind the American lines, of American headquarters abandoned without notice . . . Stories of great bravery on the part of individual American units and soldiers did not change their opinion.8
Yet Eisenhower opened the conference by emphasising that The present situation is to be regarded as one of opportunity for us and not of disaster. There will be only cheerful faces at this conference table.’9 He went on to state firmly that ‘the enemy must never be allowed to cross the Meuse’.10 He explained that since the Allies were holding firm on both ‘shoulders of the penetration’, steps must be taken to slow and hold the German attack while preparing counter-attacks from both the northern and southern shoulders. He recognised that Patton’s Third Army could be disengaged from its operations in the Saar relatively quickly and could hold the south, while the northern counter-attack would take longer. The policy there would have to be ‘to plug the holes and get things straightened out’.11 However, when he asked Patton how long it would be before he could wheel his army north and begin his counter-attack, the Third Army commander responded with ‘forty-eight hours’. This caused an outbreak of laughter, particularly from the British officers in the meeting, yet Patton had meant what he said. In fact, his headquarters had already begun planning such a move, and in just over two days, the bulk of the Third US Army had disengaged, swung through 90 degrees and begun its drive north. This was one of the most exceptional feats of command and staff work of the war. Yet while Patton’s exemplary generalship during the Battle of the Bulge, as it came to be known, was rightly lionised, it was Eisenhower who had revealed his real talent as a commander at the Verdun conference.
Eisenhower sent a report to the Combined Chiefs of Staff explaining his new policy:
The whole front south of Moselle passes to strict defence immediately giving up all penetrations across the Saar River. Devers takes over most of present Third Army front. Patton moves north with six divisions and taking over VIII Corps temporarily will organize major counter blow with target date of 23 or 24th. Our weakest spot is in direction of Namur. Enemy is expected to attack with armour near Monschau to broaden his penetration and may attack with lesser strength from Triers region. He also may try to attack on north of Ninth Army but Montgomery has reserves capable of dealing with him there. The general plan is to plug the holes in the north and launch coordinated attack from the south.12
Here was the proof of his capability as a commander. Within 48 hours of the German attack, he had not only taken the correct steps to hold the assault but had developed a clear plan for a counter-attack to finish off any chance the Germans had of success. While it might not be an example of ‘grip’ in the sense that Montgomery understood, this was a clear, coherent plan to deal with the crisis. If Eisenhower had been an over-promoted figurehead with no real knowledge of war and no understanding of how to command troops – as Montgomery constantly suggested – his response to the crisis would most likely have been indecision, command paralysis and, ultimately, disaster.
That same day, Brooke confided to his diary that he doubted whether the Americans had the skill required to deal with the German offensive. He continued: ‘It is a worrying situation, if I felt that the American Divisional, Corps, Army Commanders and Staff were more efficient than they are, there is no doubt that this might turn out to be a heaven sent opportunity. However, if mishandled it may well put the defeat of Germany back for another 6 months.’13 Brooke had yet again unfairly underestimated Eisenhower and his American commanders. Meanwhile, Montgomery continued to hold his critical view of Eisenhower because, unlike every other senior Allied general and airman, he had not been present at this vital meeting.
Yet not all American commanders had necessarily measured up to the crisis. Omar Bradley, although the most trusted of Eisenhower’s American subordinates, proved lacklustre in the first, critical days of the attack. He had not identified the seriousness of the German threat and had even cavilled when Eisenhower ordered him to move reserves. Worse, he did not visit the headquarters of the First and Ninth Armies during the early days of the battle but attempted to control them through telephone and radio contact. This was unusual behaviour for Bradley, who normally emphasised the importance of personal contact during periods of crisis. The fact was that he had been ill for a number of days and had not fully recovered before the German attack began. Bradley had relieved numerous subordinate commanders for lesser crimes than exhaustion, but when his doctor warned Eisenhower of Bradley’s tiredness, Eisenhower simply replied ‘Well, aren’t we all.’14
Meanwhile, Lieutenant General Courtney Hodges, commander of the US First Army, was rapidly overwhelmed by the scale of the crisis caused by the German attack against his badly strung-out forces. Although Montgomery had not attended the SHAEF conference, he had not been idle. He had given warning orders to 30 Corps, now in reserve, to be ready to move south, and had sent a liaison officer to make contact with US First Army. This officer, acting as Montgomery’s eyes and ears, found that the First Army headquarters at Spa had been abandoned very hurriedly, with ‘stores and office equipment lying about’.15 The rapid drive of Kampfgruppe Peiper, the leading unit of 1st SS Liebstandarte SS Adolf Hitler Division, had caused real concern. On 18 December, when it was realised that ‘only a small road block and half-tracks stood between them and our headquarters’, the majority of the personnel were sent to man the road leading into town.16 Eventually, the reports claiming that the German tanks were just a mile away proved false, but by then the decision had been taken to evacuate the headquarters back to its rear position at Chaudfontaine. Unfortunately, in the confusion, not to say panic, of the move, no one at First Army informed subordinate units of the move, which left them without any guidance or control at a critical moment. This was the situation Montgomery’s liaison officer had stumbled into. The worried Montgomery reported to Brooke that there was a ‘definite lack of grip’ and warned that the:
general situation is ugly as the American Forces have been cut clean in half and the Germans can reach the Meuse at Namur without any opposition. The command set up has always been very faulty and now is quite futile with Bradley at Luxembourg and the front cut into two. I have told Whiteley that Ike ought to place me in operational command of all troops on the northern half of the front. I consider he should be given a direct order by someone to do so.17
While Montgomery’s assessment was overly pessimistic, since the American forces had not been cut in two and there remained determined opposition between the Germans and the River Meuse, there was nonetheless a serious problem. The Germans had advanced deep into the American position, which made Bradley’s headquarters at Luxembourg badly placed to control the forces on the northern half of the German penetration. Further, Bradley’s refusal to relocate his headquarters due to issues of prestige meant that the difficulties of command and control would only get worse as the Germans advanced. Given the despondency at First Army headquarters, and Bradley’s refusal or inability to visit Hodges, Montgomery was right to suggest that the command arrangements needed to be changed.
Kenneth Strong’s memoirs give the impression that he arrived at the same conclusion, but there seems little doubt that the inspiration for what happened next came from the field marshal. Strong and Major General John ‘Jock’ Whiteley, deputy to the Assistant Chief of Staff, Operations, no doubt alarmed by the receipt of Montgomery’s message in the early hours of 20 December, went straight to Bedell Smith’s bedroom and woke him up. They explained the danger that if the Germans reached the Meuse, Bradley’s command would be split in two, making effective control of his three armies impossible. They suggested that there should be a ‘temporary change in command arrangements; all troops taking part in the eventual attack north of the penetration must be under the command of one man, and Montgomery seemed the obvious choice’.18 Whiteley added that, ‘to his sure knowledge’, Bradley and First Army had been out of contact for two days. In fact, this was untrue: Bradley had been in telephone contact but had not visited personally. Whiteley then added the devastating information gleaned from the British liaison officer that he had ‘found considerable confusion and disorganization’ behind the American lines.19
Bedell Smith immediately phoned Bradley, who, not surprisingly, argued against this change of command but admitted that, had Montgomery been an American commander, the proposal would possess sound military logic. Bedell Smith’s own reaction to Whiteley and Strong’s deputation revealed the tensions that still existed in the Anglo-American alliance. He argued that ‘whenever there was any real trouble the British did not appear to trust the Americans to handle it efficiently. Our proposal, he said, would be completely unacceptable to the Americans.’ Given Brooke and Montgomery’s ill-disguised – and ill-informed – disdain for the capabilities of the senior American commanders, Bedell Smith had placed his finger on the heart of the matter. Bedell Smith was understandably angry and declared that, given their view of the situation, Whiteley and Strong would no ‘longer be acceptable as staff officers to General Eisenhower’.20
However, the next morning, instead of being relieved, Whiteley and Strong were told by Bedell Smith that he now intended to put their proposals to Eisenhower as his own, ‘since such a proposal would come much better from an American’.21 The pair were present when Bedell Smith approached Eisenhower. After a brief word with Bedell Smith, and without speaking any further, the Supreme Commander phoned Bradley to inform him of his decision that the US First and Ninth Armies would now come under Montgomery’s command. Bedell Smith later apologised to Whiteley and Strong and explained that ‘What made me really mad was that I knew you were right. But my American feelings got the better of me because I also knew of the outcry there would be in the United States about your proposal, if it was put into effect.’22 The proposal would almost certainly have foundered if Bedell Smith had known that Montgomery had been its originator.
This move was tantamount to a vote of no confidence in Bradley’s leadership and was almost bound to revive the tedious and corrosive debate with Montgomery concerning overall land command. Yet Eisenhower acted immediately because he understood that Bradley could not effectively command three armies when two of them were physically separated from his headquarters. His decision was testament to his guiding vision of the vital importance of unity, and in making this difficult decision he once again placed the needs of the alliance before any other consideration.
That same morning, Eisenhower telephoned Montgomery to give him command of the northern shoulder. Montgomery later related to General Sir Frank ‘Simbo’ Simpson that Eisenhower:
was very excited and it was difficult to understand what he was talking about; he roared into the telephone, speaking very fast. The only point I really grasped was that ‘it seems to me we now have two fronts’ and that I was to assume command of the northern front. This was all I wanted to know. He then went on talking wildly about other things; I could not hear, and said so; at last the line cut out before he had finished.23
Montgomery had got what he wanted, but he also believed that this represented complete vindication of his views on Allied strategy and his proposed command structure. His letter to Simpson continued:
There is no point now in examining the past. If I produced all the correspondence and telegrams that have passed between me and Eisenhower since 1st September last, it could be proved in any court of law that Eisenhower persisted in pursuing the course he took in direct defiance of all British advice; it was pointed out to him on paper that if he neglected to concentrate his main strength on his left and instead attempted to develop two thrusts, and if he refused to have a sound and simple set up for command, he would get no good results and would prolong the war. He refused to listen to my advice; he was quite unable to make up his mind himself as to what he did want to do; and now the blow has fallen and the war has been put back for months.24
It is understandable that Montgomery would see no irony in his own ideas and arguments, but the events of the Battle of the Bulge actually proved the soundness of Eisenhower’s strategy and command. Montgomery and Brooke had always claimed that Eisenhower was a hopeless commander with no conception of how to command in war. If this had been true, the Allies might well have been faced with a real military disaster in December 1944. But the truth is that much of their irritation and contempt for Eisenhower stemmed from the fact that he had simply refused to agree to their views and advice. Eisenhower had defied British advice on at least another two significant occasions. Firstly, he had refused to cancel Operation Anvil/Dragoon: the landings in the south of France. If he had caved in to Brooke’s arguments and Churchill’s considerable pressure over this issue, then there would have been no 6th US Army Group in the line. There would thus have been many fewer Allied troops holding the broad Western Front and, without the port of Marseilles, far fewer resources. In the wake of the German offensive, and in the face of severe protests from Charles de Gaulle, Eisenhower ordered a limited withdrawal around Strasbourg. This enabled the US Third Army to mount its powerful counter-attack. Ultimately, Patton’s remarkable drive to Bastogne in the Battle of the Bulge was only possible because Eisenhower had not bent to British will over the landings in the south. These considerations alone proved that his insistence upon Operation Dragoon had been correct.
Eisenhower had also been forced to engage in a long-running and tiresome paper ‘battle’ with Montgomery solely because he refused to accept the British field marshal’s arguments over the conduct of the campaign and the appropriate command structure. If he had accepted Montgomery’s counsels, the combined forces of 21st and 12th Army Group would have mounted a drive into Germany north of the Ardennes. These forces might have progressed further into Holland and Germany during the autumn of 1944. With the bulk of the Allied armies in northern Belgium, Holland and perhaps Germany, only weak and ill-supplied forces would have been available to hold the front further south. In this situation, the powerful German forces that had been gathered secretly in the Ardennes might well have ruptured the thinly held Allied front entirely, crossed the Meuse before the Allied armies could redeploy, and then been able to encircle the northern Allied armies in an almost exact replay of 1940. Eisenhower’s plan for the campaign in France and Germany had resulted in compromise; there were some flaws in the command structure, and his broad front approach had indeed led directly to the weakness of the American position in the Ardennes. Yet without his determined defence of the Anvil/Dragoon landings earlier in the war, and his insistence on two major axes of advance into Germany, the German Ardennes counter-offensive might have resulted in a major Allied reverse. Eisenhower had made mistakes and the Allied campaign in the autumn of 1944 was far from perfect but he had been correct about the major issues of strategy on the Western Front. If he had been the weak-minded and poor commander of Montgomery’s accusations, he might well have listened to the repeated and strongly worded British advice and the results could have been catastrophic.
Montgomery certainly did not indulge in such introspective analysis: he believed that events had entirely vindicated his opinions. Nonetheless, when Eisenhower gave command of the First and Ninth Armies to Montgomery, the British field marshal visited their commanders as soon as he could. He arrived at the headquarters of First Army to meet with both Hodges and Simpson at 1.30 p.m. on 20 December. One of his staff later commented that Montgomery’s cavalcade, with a prominent Union Jack on his staff car, was ‘like Christ come to cleanse the Temple’.25 However, his visit certainly began to restore that grip to operations for which he was justly famous. He later reported to Brooke that ‘Neither Army Commander had seen Bradley or any of his staff since this battle began. Ninth Army had three divisions and First Army 15 divisions and there were no reserves anywhere behind front. Morale was very low. They seemed delighted to have someone to give them some firm orders.’26
Yet while Montgomery always claimed that both armies were in ‘a complete muddle’ before he arrived, this was particularly unfair to the commander of the Ninth Army.27 Simpson was in full control of his troops and had begun shifting units south to the threatened sector on the very first day of the German attack. Indeed, his calm and his unstinting generosity, which saw his own army denuded of troops while his divisions began to transfuse the battered First Army with strength, were the measure of the man. Simpson garnered little or no fame for his actions during the Battle of the Bulge, yet his action in sending assistance was as vital as Patton’s in stemming the German advance. While Bradley understandably reacted to Montgomery’s control of two of his armies with horror and a serious case of wounded pride, Simpson wrote to Eisenhower that ‘I and my Army are operating smoothly and cheerfully under the command of the Field Marshal. The most cordial relations and a very high spirit of cooperation have been established between him and myself personally and between our respective staffs.’28
The situation in First Army Headquarters was rather different. After four days of battle and crisis, Hodges was physically and mentally exhausted and Montgomery actually recommended his immediate relief. However, Montgomery’s assumption of command, the movement of British forces to cover the Meuse bridges and the continued tenacious defence by determined American units had already begun to make the difference in the northern sector. By the next day, when Montgomery again visited Hodges’ headquarters, the American Army commander, when asked ‘if things looked better’, could reply in the affirmative.29 By Christmas Day, the immediate crisis seemed to have passed in the northern sector, particularly as the Allied air forces had been able to operate for three days providing much-needed support to the hard-pressed ground troops.
There was no question that the US First Army had been badly battered by the German attack. One indication of this was the loan of 200 Sherman tanks from 21st Army Group to help replace the 250 Shermans that had been lost since the German attack began. These were to be returned to the British ‘only when convenient to do so’.30 Here was a clear example of the benefits of industrial co-operation, which had begun with the British Tank Mission in the very different conditions of 1940.
With the immediate crisis surmounted, attention at SHAEF turned to organising the counter-attack. While Patton reached Bastogne on 27 December, relieving the 101st Airborne Division after a legendary week-long siege, both Eisenhower and Bradley became highly frustrated at Montgomery’s slowness in organising the northern counter-attack. Montgomery was methodical in the movement of his reserves, and the difficulties of coordinating the movement and deployment of a British corps in the rear of an American army were not to be underestimated, but the fact was that the US First Army had taken the brunt of the German offensive. Many of its units required considerable reorganisation, resupply and re-equipment before any offensive could be launched. It was not until 3 January that Montgomery finally launched his counter-attack.
Ultimately, the results of the Allied counter-attacks were disappointing. They were not launched from the shoulders of the ‘bulge’ as Eisenhower had originally envisaged, and instead had the effect of slowly squeezing the bulge out. Instead of catching large numbers of German troops in a repeat of the Falaise pocket, the Germans were able to retreat in a well-organised phased withdrawal. However, in the final analysis, the German attack had been defeated at a heavy cost in men, equipment and fuel. Hitler’s last gamble had failed.
The closing stages of the Battle of the Bulge came to be remembered not for the deadly battles fought in the snow of a bitter winter but for the fierce Anglo-American controversy that swirled around Eisenhower and Montgomery. The two men met at Hasselt in Belgium on Eisenhower’s train on 28 December. The Supreme Commander wanted to discuss the details for dealing with the now vulnerable German salient and to urge Montgomery to mount a rapid counter-attack, but the British field marshal wanted to settle the master plan for the future conduct of the war.31 Eisenhower explained that he would place Simpson’s Ninth Army under Montgomery’s command for the northern thrust into Germany. This was to be the primary, but not sole, attack towards the Ruhr that Eisenhower hoped would precede the final campaign in Germany itself. Montgomery, however, reopened old wounds, arguing that all available power must be given to the northern thrust, and that this must be commanded by one man. After much badgering, Montgomery believed that Eisenhower:
finally agreed to comply with both conditions and to give me powers of operational control and coordination over Army Groups employed for northern thrust. We have reached agreement on these matters before and then he has run out. But I have a feeling that this time he will stick to the agreement. He was very pleasant and the meeting was most friendly but he was definitely in a somewhat humble frame of mind and clearly realised that present trouble would not have occurred if he had accepted British advice and not that of American generals.32
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Once again Montgomery had mistaken Eisenhower’s tact for agreement. It was at this point that Montgomery overplayed his hand. Clearly believing that he, and his views on command and strategy, had been entirely vindicated by the events of the Battle of Bulge, he now wrote an extraordinary letter to his Supreme Commander. Even though he had promised in both October and November 1944 that the command issue was closed and he would not raise it again, he now did just that. He argued that the time for coordination had passed and that it was essential that the ‘operational control of all forces engaged in the northern thrust’ – which meant both his own 21st Army Group and Bradley’s 12th Army Group – must now be placed under his command. He even went so far as to suggest the text that Eisenhower should use in a directive on the subject.33 This really was too much for Eisenhower. Montgomery’s tactless reopening of an old issue was made worse by the fact that a campaign to have him reinstated as land forces commander had begun in the British press, no doubt stimulated by correspondents at 21st Army Group. He had been as patient as humanly possible with his key British subordinate, but Eisenhower rightly felt that he had reached the end of the road.
While Montgomery seemed oblivious to the storm that he had created, Freddie de Guingand, his Chief of Staff, who always had his ear close to the ground, had become deeply worried. He realised that ‘an extremely dangerous situation had developed, and that unless something was done, and done quickly, a crisis would occur in the sphere of inter-allied relationships’.34 After a worrying telephone conversation with Bedell Smith, he decided to fly to SHAEF immediately. On his arrival, he met with Bedell Smith and found that SHAEF ‘was very much disturbed at the virulent anti-British campaign in the American press. Apparently the American press had got heated over certain articles in the British press which tended to criticise General Eisenhower’s handling of his forces and the American papers were in return opening an attack on FM Montgomery.’35 Bedell Smith then showed de Guingand in strict confidence a telegram from Marshall to Eisenhower referring to the press campaigns and telling Eisenhower that ‘it would be quite unacceptable to give a British general command of any substantial American forces. He informed General Eisenhower that the latter had the full confidence of the President himself and the whole of America in his handling of the land campaign.’36 De Guingand then saw Eisenhower, who mentioned the damage being done to Bradley’s position and indeed the alliance by the British press campaign and Montgomery’s indiscreet remarks. Eisenhower explained that he was tired of the whole business and that it was ‘now a matter for the Combined Chiefs of Staff to make a decision’.37 The threat was clear: either he or Montgomery would have to be removed, and given Marshall’s forthright support for the Supreme Commander, it was obvious that it was Montgomery who would have to go.
In a draft letter to Montgomery, Eisenhower explained that he ‘would deplore the development of such an unbridgeable gulf of convictions between us that we would have to present our differences to the CC/S. The confusion and debate that would follow would certainly damage the good will and devotion to a common cause that have made this Allied Force unique in history.’38 Despite this, Eisenhower had finally reached the point of no return with Montgomery. Many commentators and historians have expressed surprise that he had been so patient, and that it was not until late December 1944 that the crisis really came to a head. Paul Fussell considered it ‘amazing that the egotism and arrogance of one mere man could occasion so much trouble’.39 Although Montgomery’s removal would have been a personal disaster for him, and would have been regarded as an insult to the British people by the British press, it is almost certain that he would have been replaced by General Sir Harold Alexander, whom Eisenhower had wanted in the first place. On the other hand, Montgomery’s removal, and the subsequent heated exchanges across the Atlantic, would also have been a personal disaster for Eisenhower. Montgomery had, after all, just demonstrated his qualities as a commander in helping to reorganise the northern shoulder of the Bulge, but much more importantly, Eisenhower had built his entire philosophy of command on the central importance of Allied unity. As he had once explained to his driver, Kay Summersby, ‘If I can keep the team together, anything is worth it.’40
De Guingand considered the possible outcomes of Montgomery’s deposition ‘too frightful even to contemplate’ and asked Eisenhower for a stay of execution of 24 hours so that he could speak to Montgomery. When de Guingand returned to Montgomery’s headquarters and bluntly told his commander that he might have to go, he believed that Montgomery was ‘genuinely and completely taken by surprise and found it difficult to grasp what I was saying’.41 Montgomery’s bluff, after all his arguments and threats, had finally been called. ‘What shall I do, Freddie?’ he asked his Chief of Staff, and de Guingand drafted a placatory message, which Montgomery duly signed.42
Despite this conciliatory gesture, both SHAEF and 12th Army Group were now entirely exasperated by Montgomery’s behaviour, and any meaningful cooperation in the future was going to be difficult. Ultimately, as on so many occasions during the war, it was Eisenhower who made the relationship work. Air Marshal James Robb, the British Chief of the Air Staff at SHAEF, later related his astonishment at the fact that, throughout the final campaign, Montgomery ‘never visited Supreme Headquarters, not even to pay a courtesy call on his Supreme Commander’.43 Robb knew that Eisenhower’s response would have been explosive ‘if either of the two American generals commanding Army Groups failed to visit him occasionally, or if they communicated direct to the US Chiefs of Staff in Washington on questions of Command, strategy or policy without informing him’.44 Throughout the campaign, Montgomery was communicating directly with Brooke and even Churchill, yet it was Eisenhower who, ‘without a word to anyone of what must be on his mind, himself pays the visit to his Army Group Commander’. Robb believed that history would ‘reveal in due course, I hope, how much we owed to the tolerance and wisdom of a leader to whom personal considerations, even discourtesy of subordinates, meant nothing if they interfered in any way with the conduct of the war or the happy relations between staffs or forces of different nationalities’.45
Montgomery later related to Brooke that the command discussion was finished and that it would ‘be quite useless to open it again’, which was precisely the advice Brooke had given him back in November. However, his blithe assurance that ‘everything is very friendly’ could hardly have been further from the truth.46 The news that Montgomery had been placed in command of all Allied troops on the northern shoulder of the salient was not made public until 6 January 1945. While the crisis of the Battle of the Bulge had since passed, the SHAEF announcement provoked a renewal of the battle between the British and American press. Chester Hansen recorded the disgust in Bradley’s headquarters when the announcement reached the British press, and commented that ‘the real unfortunate part of this affair is the fact that it will have permanent effect on the relationships of our countries after the war’.47 Whether the front-line troops were actually concerned by the controversies of higher command and the press is difficult to determine. There is, however, no doubt that Bradley was deeply wounded by the command changes precipitated by the Battle of the Bulge, and further infuriated by the portrayal of events in the newspapers.
It was clear that something needed to be done to help calm these troubled waters and begin to rebuild some of the trust and understanding between the higher-level headquarters in Europe. Montgomery decided to hold a press conference, and informed Churchill that he intended to tell the story of the battle as he saw it but also relate how ‘the whole Allied team rallied to the call and how national considerations were thrown overboard’. He stressed that he would make a ‘strong plea for Allied solidarity’ and emphasise the ‘great friendship’ that existed between himself and Ike. Taking Montgomery’s intentions at face value, it was understandable that Churchill replied that what was proposed ‘would be invaluable’.48 In the event, it would have been far better if Montgomery had remained silent.
Montgomery held his press conference on 7 January 1945, and did indeed cover the ground mentioned to Churchill. His prepared speech was certainly not designed to cause offence, but even though it praised Allied unity, it still managed to hit the wrong note. He explained that when:
the situation began to deteriorate . . . the whole allied team rallied to meet the danger; national considerations were thrown overboard. General Eisenhower placed me in command of the whole northern front. I employed the whole available power of the British group of armies: this power was brought into play very gradually and in such a way that it would not interfere with the American lines of communication. Finally it was put into battle with a bang, and today British divisions are fighting hard on the right flank of the United States First Army.
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.49
It was Montgomery’s use of the personal pronoun ‘I’ that made all the difference to an otherwise unobjectionable statement. His comments thus implied that he, and he alone, had managed the battle, and that his actions, and his British forces, had saved the situation. He paid a handsome tribute to the American forces and saluted the ‘brave fighting men of America’ in general, but there was no mention of their commanders, suggesting they did not share the fine fighting qualities of the American soldier. He made a plea for teamwork and even stated that uncomplimentary articles about Eisenhower in the British press grieved him. Unfortunately, he continued beyond his prepared text, and his unscripted comments made it appear that everything was ‘untidy’ before he had sorted it out, that he had been placed in charge of the entire battle (which he had not), and that he had won the battle for the Allies.
Nonetheless, initial reaction from the press on both sides of the Atlantic was broadly favourable, concentrating on Montgomery’s tribute to the American soldier and his plea for support for Eisenhower. However, on the morning of 8 January, a German propaganda radio station commandeered a wavelength used by the BBC for broadcasts to the Allied forces in Europe, transmitting what purported to be an official BBC comment but which was designed to give maximum offence to any Americans who might be listening.
Field Marshal Montgomery came into the fight at a strategic moment . . . The American First Army had been completely out of contact with General Bradley. He quickly studied maps and started to ‘tidy up’ the front. He took over scattered American forces, planned his action and stopped the German drive. His staff, which has been with him since Alamein, deserves high praise and credit. The Battle of the Ardennes can now be written off, thanks to Field Marshal Montgomery.50
As was intended, large numbers of American soldiers, who relied on the BBC for much of their news, believed this was a genuine broadcast and were horrified at its implications. The New York Daily Mirror summed up the mood with the headline ‘Monty Gets Glory: Yanks Get Brush-off!’51 More seriously, American officers at both SHAEF and 12th Army Group believed the broadcast was genuine, which only increased their anger over the original text of the press conference. Brendan Bracken, the British Minister for Information, was able to repudiate the German broadcast on 10 January, but by then the damage had been done. Bradley, already furious with Montgomery after the initial press conference, felt compelled to issue his own account of the battle, which was carried by many papers. His moderate and factual report was pilloried in the British press, particularly by the Daily Mail, which claimed that it was a ‘slur on Monty’.52 Such an aggressive tone in a British newspaper was bound to create a reaction in the United States, particularly after the ire raised by the fake broadcast. Eisenhower later claimed that the ensuing press battle ‘caused me more distress and worry than did any similar one of the war’.53
Churchill understood the damage that had been done when he wrote to Ismay:
I fear great offence has been given to the American Generals . . . not so much by Montgomery’s speech as by the manner in which some of our papers seem to appropriate the whole credit for saving the battle to him. Personally I thought his speech most unfortunate. It had a patronizing tone and completely overlooked the fact that the United States have lost perhaps 80,000 men and we but 2,000 or 3,000. Through no fault of ours we have been very little engaged in this battle, which has been a great American struggle with glory as well as disaster. Eisenhower told me that the anger of his Generals was such that he would hardly dare to order any of them to serve under Montgomery. This of course may cool down, but also it may seriously complicate his being given the leadership of the northern thrust.54
Churchill subsequently made a statement to the House of Commons that helped to calm the situation. He made it clear that ‘the United States troops have done almost all the fighting and have suffered almost all the losses’, comparing those losses to those suffered by both sides at the Battle of Gettysburg in the American Civil War. He reminded his audience that ‘in telling our proud tale not to claim for the British Army an undue share of what is undoubtedly the greatest American battle of the war and will, I believe, be regarded as an ever famous American victory’.55
Churchill’s generous and clear statement helped to calm matters, but real damage had been done to relations between Montgomery and the American commanders in north-west Europe. The incident marked the end of any real rapport between Montgomery and Bradley, and fatally weakened Monty’s relationships with Eisenhower and SHAEF. The final tragedy of the entire incident was that what had been Eisenhower’s finest moment – in which the commanders and forces under his command, both American and British, had indeed worked together as an unshakeable Allied team – became remembered for the shadow boxing of a press battle. Even emphasising that the Ardennes battle was ‘an ever famous American victory’ took away some of the potency of the fact that it had been the greatest battlefield test of the Anglo-American alliance.
At no time during the battle had there been any hint of real crisis on the scale of 1914 or 1940. There had been no evidence of the Anglo-American alliance pulling apart under pressure as had occurred in the Anglo-French alliance in 1914, 1918 and 1940. One of the defining characteristics of the Anglo-American response to the crisis of the Battle of the Bulge had been sheer calm military professionalism. It would have been very easy under such pressure to make a fatal mistake, but none was made, and with Eisenhower continuing to hold his nerve, the German offensive was doomed to failure. It was for these reasons that the Battle of the Bulge was the greatest test and also the greatest triumph not only of Eisenhower’s command but of the Anglo-American alliance. Unfortunately, the misguided energies of the press resulted in anger, mistrust and suspicion between the main architects of success. The reservoir of trust and confidence that had existed between the senior commanders at the outset of the invasion of Europe in June 1944 had been entirely drained.
Yet many British troops serving in north-west Europe and beyond recognised the canard that Montgomery’s press conference represented. One soldier, serving in Italy, wrote home that:
If you hear anyone running the Yanks down over that withdrawal in France, even if our own troops had been in that position Jerry would have come through just the same, it was just a weak spot and Jerry found it. These Yanks are great in battle and that is first hand information for I have fought with and beside them . . . ever since we landed at Anzio.56
Another soldier, on another front, provided similar sentiments:
Do not be narrow minded and think the American soldier is no good, that is the nonsense that people who never fought with them say and think . . . They are as good a soldier as any. Because they had a push-back in France some people say they are no good, but how many push-backs did the British Army have and no one said anything about it. People who criticize are only causing bad blood and prolonging the war.57
While the greatest defensive success of the alliance caused a breakdown in relations between the higher commanders, it is clear that the same was not true of the fighting troops at the front. As had been observed from the battles in Tunisia onwards, British and American soldiers who worked, lived and fought together could develop a real bond of comradeship and trust that was stronger than the influence of newspaper headlines.
Clearly not everyone who read the British press over the incident believed what they were seeing. Nor was Montgomery universally despised amongst American senior commanders. General Hasbrouck, commander of the US 7th Armored Division, which had fought a fierce delaying action at St Vith, believed it was Montgomery’s controversial decision to pull his unit back that saved them from destruction.58 On 16 January 1945, Hodges’ First US Army returned to Bradley’s command. Montgomery visited them the same day, and Hodges told him ‘what a great honor it had been to serve under the Marshal’s command and what great assistance had been given by the cooperation of the British – in the way of tanks, in the way of movement of troops, and tactical decisions’.59 His words were later backed up by a 5 lb tin of coffee, which was deposited at Montgomery’s headquarters.
However, Montgomery’s visit to Bradley’s headquarters on 4 February 1945, which de Guingand had insisted upon, did not go so well. Chester Hansen admitted that ‘no one looked forward with much eagerness to Montgomery’s visit here today’ and that he had a ‘great numbers of enemies among the American commanders’.60 De Guingand later related that ‘the visit was not a roaring success. The atmosphere throughout was distinctly cool. We stayed to lunch but few words were spoken other than were necessary for the transaction of business.’61 There is no doubt that the events of the Battle of the Bulge marked the final nail in the coffin of Montgomery and Bradley’s relationship, and there was very little in the way of real cooperation between the 21st and the 12th Army Groups in the last months of the war.
While Hodges’ First Army returned to Bradley’s command, Simpson’s Ninth Army remained under the command of 21st Army Group for the next major push. In accordance with Eisenhower’s directive, 21st Army Group were to form the main thrust to the Rhine. In fact, Simpson himself proposed that the Ninth Army should put in a strong attack to the Rhine inxs cooperation with the First Canadian and Second British Armies.62 Simpson’s inspiration eventually led to a directive from 21st Army Group that envisaged a converging attack, with First Canadian Army attacking south-eastwards in Operation Veritable, while the Ninth Army would attack north-eastwards in Operation Grenade. This time the Ninth Army would make the main assault and the First Army would protect its flank.63
The First Canadian Army’s attack opened on 8 February 1945 with one of the greatest artillery bombardments of the war. However, the close forest of the Reichswald presented a real challenge to the advancing troops. The Germans, who realised the importance of holding this ground, had constructed very powerful defences. Three belts of mines, wire and pillboxes covered the front, and much of the open ground surrounding the forest had been inundated. German resistance was fierce, and progress through the gloomy Reichswald was slow. The history of the 11th Armoured Division summed up the fighting as a ‘slow, miserable and costly operation. . . confronted by impenetrable forests, impassable bogs, numerous craters, roadblocks, mines and every form of demolition’.64 As the fighting progressed, almost the whole of the First Canadian and Second British Armies were sucked into the fray. Indeed, the Germans were so determined to hold this ground that many of their few remaining reserve divisions were pulled into the fighting. This slowed the Canadians and British but ultimately made the Ninth Army’s subsequent advance easier. It took a month of some of the heaviest and bitterest fighting experienced by the British Army during the war to drive through to the Rhine, at the cost of 15,500 casualties.65
While the Canadians and British slugged it out, Operation Grenade had something of a false start. The Ninth Army began its assault on 10 February, but the main dilemma confronting its advance remained the Roer river dams. If these were blown by the Germans, there would be rapid and widespread flooding, which would cut any attacking forces off from their support. Although the US First Army attempted to secure the reservoirs that controlled the headwaters of the Roer, the Germans destroyed the control mechanisms of the dams to create a sustained flood on 9 February. The entire Roer river valley flooded and made any advance impossible, which forced a frustrating two-week delay on Ninth Army’s plans. However, when Simpson launched Operation Grenade at 3.30 a.m. on 23 February, the flood waters were beginning to recede and the attack could begin secure in the knowledge that bridges could be built to support the leading troops. The Ninth Army mounted a successful assault crossing over the Roer under a very heavy artillery and air bombardment, and with the securing of a bridgehead, the main defensive line that had held them up in this sector since late November 1944 had finally been breached.66 The advance towards the Rhine quickly gathered pace as German commanders scrambled to evacuate their units to the far bank. By 5 March, the Ninth Army had closed up to the river between Mors and Dusseldorf, and a few days later, its troops linked up with the Canadian drive from the north. Montgomery’s converging attack involving three Allied armies, British, Canadian and American, had been a great success and, indeed, a model of alliance cooperation. Only the Rhine now remained as the last major physical barrier between the Allies and the heart of Germany.
The 21st Army Group had been designated as the main thrust for the Rhine crossing by SHAEF, but both the First and Third US Armies had also made rapid advances to the river during February and March. It had been anticipated that the Germans would blow all of the bridges over the Rhine – and they did, sometimes literally as the leading American tanks arrived – but on 7 March, the troops of Hodges’ First Army were able, by a stroke of luck and decisive action, to capture a railway bridge over the river at Remagen. This was certainly not on the planned axis of advance, and SHAEF initially cavilled at the idea of exploiting the bridgehead. A frustrated Bradley could only ask: ‘What in hell do you want us to do, pull back and blow it up?’ Bradley met with a more supportive response from Eisenhower, who ordered him to secure the bridgehead.67 In fact, the rapid advance to the Rhine all along the front, as well as the large number of prisoners taken, proved the soundness of Eisenhower’s strategy of multiple thrusts. With the exception of 21st Army Group’s operations, the Germans had been unable to concentrate their forces, and once Allied forces had reached the Rhine, the river acted as a barrier to the withdrawal of the large German forces on the western bank.
It was now obvious that the crossing of the Rhine would be the first scene in the final act of the war against Germany. While the river was a formidable obstacle for much of its length, it was a particularly difficult challenge in the 21st Army Group sector, where it was 500 yards wide and in flood, with the German forces concentrated to oppose any crossing in the area.68 But the Allies had been engaged in extensive planning and vast preparations for over six months.69 These included detailed studies of likely crossing points, the construction of the necessary equipment and the training and preparation of the engineers to undertake the vital task of bridging the river.70 For the first time in its history, parties of the US Navy and their specialised vessels were used inland to support an army river crossing.71
It was as these comprehensive plans were close to fruition that the hitherto cordial relations between Montgomery and Simpson began to fray. It had been long understood that, while the Royal Engineers of the British Second Army would be able to construct bridges at a number of crossing sites, the operation would have to rely on the far greater resources of the US Army’s corps of engineers. Yet Montgomery’s original directive for the operation envisaged the Second Army, reinforced by an American corps of two divisions, mounting the crossing. There was no mention of the Ninth Army whatsoever, which ‘flabbergasted’ Simpson and his staff, since this ‘left General Simpson’s command with no part to play in the assault across the Rhine’.72 After heated protests, Montgomery’s final directive, issued on 21 February, took a different shape and ordered a coordinated assault by First Canadian army in the north, British Second Army in the centre, and a one-corps assault by Ninth Army at Reinberg.73 Yet this included an awkward compromise in which the most important and numerous crossings at Wesel would be built by American engineers but used by the British for a number of days after the assault.74
Even once the armies closed up to the Rhine, disagreements remained. Simpson and his staff were convinced that a surprise crossing north of Dusseldorf was possible, but Montgomery vetoed the plan. Given the race to reach the Rhine that occurred in the other American armies, and the dramatic and successful capture of the Remagen bridge, it is understandable that Simpson would chafe under such orders, but Montgomery wanted to make a coordinated crossing on a broad front that could be held and, more importantly, sustained. Given the width of the river and the relative strength of the German defence, his caution may well have been correct, but the Ninth Army remained convinced that ‘it could have been done, and done successfully’.75
The final preparations took some time, and it was not until the night of 23 March that the assault was launched under the supporting fire of 3,500 guns.76 After such a lengthy planning and preparation process, the assault itself was ‘accomplished so spectacularly as to appear simple’, although of course this was only as a result of the painstaking prior effort.77 The assault succeeded, although German forces fought back determinedly. The 51st Highland Division encountered some of the fiercest resistance and suffered heavy casualties, including the death of its divisional commander.78 The second phase of the operation, code-named Varsity, saw the British 6th Airborne and the US 17th Airborne dropped on landing zones to link up with the assaulting troops in order to disrupt German artillery positions and rear defences. However, intense anti-aircraft fire caused heavy casualties amongst the transport aircraft and their paratroops.79 Overall, the operation exceeded expectations: the Allies had crossed the last major German barrier seemingly effortlessly. With this success, it appeared that the German defence of their homeland could not long endure.
Winston Churchill, who, much to his annoyance, had been prevented from witnessing D-Day first-hand at Eisenhower’s insistence, had been adamant that he be present at the crossing of the Rhine. On 24 March, Brooke and Montgomery accompanied him to the river to watch the aircraft of the airborne divisions as they flew over on their missions. After lunch, they met with Eisenhower, Bradley and Simpson, and discussed Eisenhower’s plans for the immediate future.80 During the course of these discussions, as Eisenhower later related in his memoirs, Brooke, elated with the success of the Rhine crossing, said to him, ‘Thank God, Ike, you stuck by your plan. You were completely right and I am sorry if my fear of dispersed effort added to your burdens. The German is now licked. It is merely a question of when he chooses to quit. Thank God you stuck by your guns.’81 Perhaps predictably, Brooke took exception to this version of events and later responded that he had been misquoted. He accepted the broader statement that Eisenhower’s policy ‘was now the correct one, that with the German in his defeated condition no dangers now existed in a dispersal of effort’, but he was convinced that he never said ‘You were completely right’.82 It could be said that the differing memories of the conversation on the banks of the Rhine simply marked the start of the long-running post-war controversies concerning the entire north-west Europe campaign.
From 25 March, the expansion of the bridgehead quickened pace as German resistance weakened, and the key question for the Allies became how quickly they could pass their forces over the newly bridged Rhine to intensify their pursuit. It was in this situation of impending success that the bridges over the Rhine at Wesel, constructed by Ninth Army engineers, became a major bone of contention and finally soured the otherwise good relations between the Ninth and Second Armies. Boundaries between military formations, although seemingly just lines on a map, were of vital importance in managing the movements of the Allies’ immense mechanised military forces. They were often drawn to include particular roads and to make quite clear which formation could utilise which routes. The Allied armies absolutely depended on having sufficient roads along which their combat units could drive, and these were just as important for maintaining the constant flow of supplies necessary to sustain the fighting at the front. Any dispute over a road or a boundary could lead to enormous traffic jams, and frayed tempers at headquarters.
The nature of the engineering problem in bridging the Rhine meant that the British Second Army and the US Ninth Army were forced into a very awkward compromise: they had to share the use of the bridge at Wesel. The original agreement had been that Ninth Army would have it for the first five hours after its completion, in order to supply the 17th Airborne Division, but that it would then be turned over to the British for the next 10 days.83 However, without use of the bridge, the Ninth Army was effectively penned on the wrong side of the Rhine and unable to exploit the situation that was rapidly developing. On 27 March, Simpson met Montgomery and Dempsey to discuss the army boundaries for the final advance on Berlin, and use of the vital bridge. When Dempsey explained that he ‘didn’t see how he was going to let the Ninth Army have the bridge for an indefinite time’, Simpson lost his patience.84 Montgomery sided with Simpson and ordered that the bridge should return to Ninth Army control at 0700 hours on 31 March. This frustrating situation led to the Ninth Army staff giving full vent to their prejudices about the British Army. Simpson’s personal calendar, updated by his staff, noted that ‘Dempsey with his “time out for tea” army . . . stopping at night to sleep, for tea and moving slowly at best, were just wasting invaluable time with their ten-year war’.85 Even with the revised agreement in place, Ninth Army still had to watch and wait while the British used the precious bridge.
General James E. Moore, Chief of Staff of Ninth Army, felt that he had been taken in by Major General Harold ‘Pete’ Pyman, the Chief of Staff of Second Army, over the negotiations for the bridge. He believed he had agreed to the Second Army sending one armoured regiment across to support the paratroops and was furious when he realised that the bridge was being used by the entire Guards Armoured Division. When the time came for the bridge to be turned over to Ninth Army, Moore phoned Pyman and warned:
‘One thing more, Pete, I just want you to know that tomorrow morning I’m sending my provost Marshal with three tanks up there, and if they find one damn British vehicle anywhere near that bridge it’s getting knocked off in to the ditch.’ He said, ‘You wouldn’t do that!’ I said, The hell I wouldn’t!’86
At 0700 hours on 31 March, the bridge was finally turned over to Ninth Army use. With orders to throw any British vehicle off the road, the 5th Armored Division and the 84th Infantry Division crossed over the Rhine as quickly as possible. This final argument had come about because British needs had been prioritised over the equally legitimate demands of the Ninth Army. In this instance Montgomery, acting as adjudicator, had actually sided with Simpson and his American Army, yet there is also no doubt that Simpson had increasingly chafed under British command. It was doubly unfortunate that this final breakdown of trust occurred in the moment of victory.
Yet while the arguments over bridges, routes and crossings had undoubtedly soured the otherwise friendly and efficient relations between Simpson and the British Second Army, one of the armoured battalions the British had managed to squeeze over the Wesel bridge became involved in one of the last examples of tactical cooperation between American and British forces in north-west Europe. Even as the 3rd Tank Battalion, Scots Guards, was crossing the Rhine at Wesel, it found that the ‘whole plan was changed’. It became part of a brigade group, including American paratroops, hastily formed to mount a bold advance that it was hoped would lead to a big breakthrough in the German line.87
After crossing the Rhine on 24 March, the battalion picked up the American paratroops of the 2nd Battalion of 513th Parachute Regiment, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Allen C. Miller. By 3 p.m. ‘the Americans were on board and the great enterprise had begun’.88 With American paratroops on every tank as protection against German panzerfaust and panzerschreck teams, the British tanks drove through a succession of small German towns, including Dorsten, Haltern and Potthol, often against fierce but patchy opposition. By 3 April, after an advance of 50 miles, Munster had been reached. This German town, the largest to have fallen to the British at this point was ‘in an indescribable state from bombing’. The next day, the Scots Guards ‘said goodbye with real regret to Lt Col Miller and his splendid American battalion’.89 Even if their senior commanders were now hardly on speaking terms, this rapid drive into Germany with American infantry and British tanks was perhaps the final proof that British and American soldiers could indeed work and fight successfully together.
As the Allied advance into Germany gathered pace, Simpson’s army drove south-east while the First Army pushed north-east. These moves rapidly encircled the considerable German forces defending the Ruhr industrial area. On 1 April, the two thrusts of the American armies met at Lippstadt, trapping 430,000 German soldiers in a vast encirclement. Although pockets held out until late April, the main German resistance quickly crumbled. Field Marshal Walter Model, commander of army Group B of the German army, committed suicide rather than surrender.90 Eisenhower’s vision of a vast encirclement battle around the Ruhr had finally come to fruition. On 4 April, Simpson’s Ninth Army was finally returned to Bradley’s 12th Army Group, and this marked ‘the beginning of the breathless race all the way to the Elbe’.91 As one American sergeant put it when he wrote home in April, ‘Ever since wading the Rhine and coming out un-perforated of hide my morale has been climbing. Now all I’ve got to do is shake hands with a Russian. We’ve almost got Germany crammed down Hitler’s throat and I don’t imagine he likes the taste too much.’92
With the war in its final stages, the American people, and indeed much of the world, were stunned by the news of President Roosevelt’s death on 12 April. Roosevelt’s health had been deteriorating for a number of months, but this was not public knowledge. The great architect of America’s war effort, and the personal linchpin of the Anglo-American alliance, was no more. President Harry S. Truman would lead America into the post-war world.
While the final act of the war had long been envisaged as a triumphant assault by the united American and British armies on the German capital, Eisenhower had already decided that Berlin, while of great political value, was no longer important as a military objective. At the Quebec conference in September 1944, the Allied powers had raised the issue of the occupation of Germany. In decisions that were later ratified at the Yalta conference in February 1945, it had been agreed that the country would be divided into four occupation zones. Berlin was also to be divided between the four occupying powers of the United States, the Soviet Union, Britain and France, but it would lie deep within the Soviet sector. Given this political settlement, and the fact that massive Soviet armies were poised in April 1945 to lay siege to the city, there seemed little purpose to Eisenhower in driving American and British forces to Berlin, and on 15 April, Simpson was ordered to halt his army 65 miles away, on the line of the River Elbe. It has to be said that many people disagreed with the decision. Bradley, Patton and Simpson were truly dismayed by the orders to halt on the Elbe, and at that point, Simpson believed that the leading elements of his army could have reached the outskirts of the city in just 48 hours.93
Eisenhower’s decision also caused one of the most bitter strategic arguments with the British. He had already overstepped his authority by communicating directly with Stalin on 28 March about future Soviet intentions. This in itself infuriated Churchill and Brooke, but their main point of contention was that Berlin remained a vital strategic target. Eisenhower stuck to his position even as Churchill, Brooke and Montgomery railed against it. Added to their arguments was the fact that Montgomery’s army, shorn of Simpson’s support, was now accorded the secondary role of supporting Bradley’s advance. Ultimately, Eisenhower saw no reason to suffer thousands of Allied casualties for an objective that could no longer affect the outcome of the war or alter the agreed occupation zones. Notwithstanding the long and bitter controversy over the issue that rumbled on throughout the Cold War, he may well have been correct. Even Simpson, who had been highly disappointed and frustrated at the time, later wrote:
I believe that General Eisenhower acted correctly in stopping us when he did. Since the occupation zones of Germany already had been agreed upon by the governments of the United States, Great Britain and Russia, his action had no impact on future events in Germany – and it did prevent further American casualties and enabled us to have an orderly meeting up with the Russians.
While I am convinced we could have taken BERLIN, I do not see that we lost anything in not doing so.94
However, for Churchill and Brooke, the loss of the argument and their lack of traction with Eisenhower, who had the full support of the US Chiefs of Staff, also brought into sharp relief the loss of British power and influence over Allied decision-making. By this point, American strength was no longer latent or hidden. The 61 American divisions formed the bulk of the Allied armies, supported by 13 British, 11 French, 5 Canadian and 1 Polish.95 While Britain was now a significant ally amongst many, the United States’ emergence as a superpower was all but complete.
One of the immediate consequences of Eisenhower’s decision not to regard Berlin as a military objective was that direct cooperation between the British and American armies in Europe was virtually at an end. With the First Canadian army concentrated to break into Holland, it was left to the British Second Army to race into northern Germany while Patton’s Third Army drove south into Austria. German resistance had clearly been broken, as the soldiers of the Scots Guards realised on their ‘swan’ to Lubeck. They noted that ‘all the way there and back the eye could see practically nothing but streams of grey-clad German soldiers flooding back in countless thousands to the [prison] Cages’.96 While the British move was isolated, it was also rapid, and it ensured that Hamburg, Kiel and Denmark were swiftly liberated by the Western Allies. The British reached the Baltic Sea at Lubeck just hours before the advancing Soviet troops.
When Hitler committed suicide in his bunker on 30 April, the war was clearly drawing to an end, and yet the fighting dragged on into May. Chester Hansen noted in his diary: ‘Everyone now feels that the end is here but the feeling is a lifeless one. The war is petering out, not running out. We wish it would end sharply and decisively. The boredom of waiting for the German army to make up its mind is tiring.’97 The rump of the German authorities, now led by Admiral Karl Dönitz, were in fact playing for time. They wanted to make separate capitulations with each of the Allies, in order to delay their final surrender to the Russians and thus enable the escape of as many soldiers and civilians as possible from the advancing Red army.98
It was for this reason that on 3 May 1945, German envoys arrived at Montgomery’s headquarters on Liineburg Heath offering to surrender the three German armies in north Germany. When the German representatives were presented to him, Montgomery played the part of victorious commander perfectly, returning the German salute casually and shouting at the last representative, who had the misfortune to be a mere major. One of Montgomery’s aides whispered to his colleague that ‘the Chief was putting on a pretty good act’. His colleague replied ‘Shut up, you SOB, he has been rehearsing this act all his life.’99 After negotiation, the surrender included all German forces in Holland, north-west Germany and Denmark. The following day, the German envoys returned to sign the surrender document. Montgomery understood the essential theatre of the moment. It was vital that the defeated German commanders sign the instrument of surrender in his presence so that there could be no doubt in anyone’s mind about the scale and nature of the defeat. This also ensured that the famous photographs and newsreel footage of Field Marshal Montgomery signing the document on a trestle table covered in an army blanket became the image fixed in the minds of the British people.100
Yet this separate, regional surrender did not mean the end of the war. Dönitz sent Admiral Hans von Friedeburg to the SHAEF forward headquarters, housed in a French school in Rheims, in an attempt to negotiate the surrender of the German forces in the west. Eisenhower refused to accept any partial surrender and insisted that a general surrender take place on both Eastern and Western Fronts simultaneously.101 It took a number of exchanges and threats before Donitz and Field Marshal Alfred Jodl accepted that there would be no separate surrender. It was thus not until the early hours of the morning of 7 May that Jodl, along with von Friedeburg and a military aide, eventually signed the full and unconditional surrender of all German forces.102 Eisenhower, however, based on his deep antipathy towards the Germans, had decided not to take part in the ceremony. Instead, he paced back and forth in his office while Bedell Smith orchestrated the signing of the documents. While Jodl was brought in briefly to speak to him, Eisenhower’s personal conviction meant that the world was denied the image of the German armed forces making that final, unconditional surrender to the Supreme Commander himself. Eisenhower did, however, personally draft the message to the Combined Chiefs of Staff, which read simply: ‘The mission of this Allied force was fulfilled at 0241 local time, May 7, 1945.’103 This modest, unadorned signal was the measure of the man who had done most to ensure that the Anglo-American armies worked together and finally achieved their objective.