Smith updated Eisenhower on developments in London before he left for the States. He expressed his general satisfaction with the COSSAC staff and assured Eisenhower that, with the “substitution of a few individuals,” it could be made “to conform to the setup you want.” Not wasting any time securing the key players he wanted, Smith met with Brooke’s deputy on his first morning in London to request the transfer of Gale, Whiteley, and Strong. He warned, “the organization is very top heavy,” especially in British generals. Smith expressed his strong opinion that the headquarters “should get out of London at the earliest possible moment.” He found the situation the same as when he had first arrived in London in September 1942, and he talked to Morgan about alternative sites. Aside from the threat of bombing—the Germans had unleashed the “baby blitz”—he felt the staff would never “get shaken down until we get away from Norfolk House.”
The air command structure bothered him. On 30 December Smith met with Wigglesworth, whose transfer to England Tedder had engineered. They agreed Tedder’s appointment as deputy supreme commander “without portfolio” threatened to throw the air command into disarray. The next day Eisenhower wired Smith: the “integration of Air Forces … will be essential to success of OVERLORD.”1 Under the proposed organization, Tedder possessed no “direct Air function.” Leigh-Mallory held the position of commander of Allied Expeditionary Air Force and principal air adviser to the supreme commander. The heavy bombers remained tied to Operation Pointblank, the combined strategic bomber offensive. Churchill had assured Smith before he left North Africa, “certainly Tedder was to command,” and he continued to think that “Tedder should be the real Air commander and your advisor on air matters,” but he warned, “if Tedder assumes command, there is no function for Leigh Mallory.” Smith also considered the formation of two tactical air forces “most unsound.” They were “now organized on a joint basis. Other than Mallory, who is Air Commander-in-Chief, there is no single commander of the tactical air forces as we had in the Mediterranean.” Smith considered these issues to be of the “utmost urgency” and appealed to Eisenhower to wire Marshall immediately and request that no action be taken “on a British proposal to the Combined Chiefs to sanction Air setup.” Smith reckoned the CCS would agree to a delay until Eisenhower and Tedder arrived in London and made their recommendations.2
Alarmed by Smith, Eisenhower cabled Marshall: “I most earnestly request that you throw your full weight into opposing the tendency to organize in advance the sub-echelons of the OVERLORD operation in such a way as to tie the hands of the command.” Eisenhower considered it foolish not to apply the lessons learned in the Mediterranean. “I think it a tragedy to give us such rigid directives as to preclude the application of those lessons.”3 Marshall agreed and shelved the air organization. In the same vein, Eisenhower instructed that Smith blunt higher authorities, particularly the British chiefs, from “dictating details of our organization.”4 Smith acted on that advice.
On New Year’s Eve, Smith met with Brooke concerning these issues. Brooke should have been in a good mood. The next day his promotion to field marshal took effect. According to Brooke, Smith and Eisenhower were “most anxious to take all the heads of Staff department out of the Mediterranean!!” As soon as he knew he would be going to London, Smith started petitioning the BCOS on Strong’s appointment.5 In Smith’s view, “it was absurd” not to employ Strong, who had served as military attaché in Berlin before the war and was clearly “the best trained man for that job in the armies.” Brooke testily replied that responsibility for distributing the staff on all fronts rested with him. “You can rely on me to take their various requirements into account. I will have no string-pulling.” At this point, Smith jumped up and made for the door, pausing only long enough to inform the startled CIGS he was “not being helpful.” This led to a heated exchange. “You’ll get nothing this way,” Brooke retorted. There the matter rested. Brooke thought Smith “decidedly bumptious” and wondered if he had “gone off a lot and was suffering from a swollen head.” He considered what Smith proposed outright larceny. “I had to put Bedell Smith in his place,” Brooke later remembered. “The war is getting on [Beetle’s] nerves,” Butcher surmised. “Or his stomach. Or both.”6 Never easily put off, the next afternoon Smith went to Ismay to enlist his support.
The next day Smith conferred with Spaatz and LTG Ira Eaker, the commander of Eighth Air Force. Smith thought separate tactical and strategic air forces unworkable and raised the issue. Even though the airmen remained unconvinced of the need for a unified command, Smith reported to Eisenhower that with a little tinkering they could merge the various air commands “into the type organization which was found essential in the Mediterranean,” and he requested that Eisenhower bring the matter up with the JCS. In the hope of pushing Eisenhower in the same direction, Smith pointed to Spaatz’s formation of a single logistics command. Spaatz had adopted the British system and had two deputy commanders—one for operations and intelligence, and the other for administration and supply.7
Smith then laid out his thinking on the new headquarters. He complained that COSSAC amounted to nothing but a theoretical planning staff and would “remain so until they get out of Norfolk House.” He compared the situation to the “same as it was at the beginning of TORCH.” Knowing Eisenhower’s preferences, he selected Bushy Park, the site of Eighth Air Force command, as the best spot for the main headquarters (code-named Widewing). It was located near Kingston, and Eisenhower could again take up residence at Telegraph Cottage. Spaatz would reduce his headquarters, making enough room. “I am sure the setup is just what we want,” Smith said. He then set his sights on organizing an advance headquarters (code-named Sharpener) near Portsmouth, adjacent to the headquarters of the naval commander in chief, Ramsay, and Montgomery’s eventual command post.8
Eisenhower gave up on the idea of Morgan tutoring Smith; he wanted Smith running the headquarters as soon as possible. Still, there was the matter of Smith returning to Algiers to help Wilson in his transition and to bring the newly appointed American theater commander, Devers, into the picture. Eisenhower happily reported that Marshall had “apparently abandoned the argument that you should stay [in Algiers] for any particular length of time.”9 Eisenhower planned to arrive in London in the middle of January and wanted Smith free to join him. Smith went to Morgan for a heart-to-heart. Morgan agreed to stay on as Smith’s deputy, which Smith heartily endorsed. He also informed Eisenhower that Morgan “has hurt himself with Brooke by his square dealing with our people.” Breaking protocol, Smith made some quiet inquiries about getting Morgan a corps command. Montgomery and Brooke vetoed the proposal, making no effort to disguise their lack of confidence in Morgan.10 Montgomery intended to bring in proven combat commanders and preferred officers with more command experience and troop time than Morgan.
Smith updated Eisenhower on his efforts to stock the new headquarters with known quantities, but he neglected to mention his dustup with Brooke. In fact, he talked in terms of the CIGS being “most helpful.” He felt reasonably sure “we will get Gale” as chief administrative officer and deputy chief of staff and, except for Strong, all the other key British personnel.11 The addition of Gale made for “a rather overpowering collection of lieutenant generals but it presents no difficulties.” He proposed keeping two Americans: Barker would move from deputy chief of staff to head G-1, and MG Harold Bull, who had “his G-3 Section well organized,” would stay in his present slot. On the British side, Smith considered MG N. C. D. Brownjohn, the chief logistician, a “fine character and very able.” MG Robert Crawford, an old acquaintance of Eisenhower’s, served as Brownjohn’s American opposite number. Given he could not have Strong, Smith took a jaundiced view of the incumbent head of intelligence. Whitefoord “will not do for us. Can best describe him as another Mockler Ferryman.” Other than Strong, the best candidate for the job was Whiteley. Smith had smoothed the way for Whiteley’s appointment with Montgomery before going back to Brooke.12
Smith, Montgomery, and de Guingand went over a whole range of topics, especially the prospective changes to the cross-Channel operation, in preparation for a full-blown conference with the air, naval, and staff heads the next day. Eisenhower gave Montgomery orders to fix the plan, and he fully intended to use his command authority to do just that. The fact that Montgomery lost sleep—he was fastidious about sticking to an “early to bed, early to rise” routine—indicates the importance he attached to altering the plan. They also discussed command and staff arrangements. Montgomery wanted a separate headquarters as ground commander in chief, distinct from his Twenty-first Army Group staff. Smith beat back Montgomery’s suggestion, remaining adamant that no establishment exist between Eisenhower and his commanders. He pointed out that Montgomery’s appointment as ground commander coincided only with the assault and lodgment phases, and although it invested him with operational control, it did not confer any specific command authority over Allied forces.13 As Smith reported, “Montgomery and I [are] equally concerned about faulty air command set-up.” They thought the best solution resided in Tedder commanding the air directly under Eisenhower, Leigh-Mallory commanding the tactical air forces, and Spaatz commanding the bombers. “Present arrangement is much more complicated,” Smith noted. Finally, he told Eisenhower that he and Devers expected to fly to Algiers in two days’ time, on 4 January. He finished by pleading with Eisenhower not to loiter in the States. “Here, you are badly needed.”14
Supreme headquarters for the Normandy invasion, January 1944. From left to right: Bradley, Ramsay, Tedder, Eisenhower, Montgomery, Leigh-Mallory, and Smith. In an effort to balance the sides, Bradley was included in the photograph despite having no combined role.
Smith joined Montgomery, Leigh-Mallory, and Ramsay and listened to the chief COSSAC planners—MG Charles West and MG K. G. McLean—present the outline Overlord plan. After an intermission, Montgomery launched into his exposition on all that ailed the COSSAC scheme. He left no doubt who held the ground command. Smith passed on his views to Eisenhower. “There had been much wishful thinking in connection with COSSAC,” he began. Recalling the first few days on the Salerno beachheads, Smith thought the “rates of advance after landing … [are] entirely too optimistic.” Aside from the certitude of heavy German counterattacks, the core problem rested in the rate of buildup. “There is a critical period on D+1 to D+2 during which the enemy can bring stronger forces to oppose us than we can put ashore.” He considered “the principal weakness” to be “the proposal to pass an enormous force of men, materiel and equipment in column over narrow and very restricted beaches, already encumbered with the debris of an assault and with limited exits.” Montgomery insisted on strengthening the assault to five divisions, with two more as follow-up, and broadening the frontage from twenty-six to forty miles, including landing a division at the southeastern neck of the Cotentin peninsula; otherwise, the invasion forces would lack the strength to secure the key to the operation: Cherbourg. He argued that the additional lift must come from assets allotted to Anvil. Montgomery knew from his discussions with Eisenhower and Smith in Algiers that his views already enjoyed their full support, but he never made that point at the meeting. To the British, including the BCOS, the revisions to the plan appeared to pop virgin from Montgomery’s mind. Smith gave his robust endorsement, but curiously, he never mentioned Eisenhower. Later both Eisenhower and Smith deeply resented the new design being tagged “the Montgomery Plan.” Whatever its origin, there remains no doubt that Montgomery claimed primary authorship of the evolving Overlord plan.15
The problem—as ever—remained the famine of landing craft, which vectored the conversation toward Anvil. Smith concluded, “additional lift [for the critical period D+1 and D+2] can only be obtained at the expense of ANVIL.” Montgomery proposed a return to the original concept of Anvil as a threat. Smith went further. He had deep misgivings about Churchill’s scheme for an amphibious assault south of Rome to break the stalemate in Italy. In a Christmas Day meeting with Eisenhower, the prime minister revived Alexander and Clark’s Operation Shingle plan. All evidence pointed to Churchill’s mounting obsession with Italy, Rome, and the Mediterranean in general. The proposed amphibious operation would expend landing craft. If it succeeded, the Germans would retreat and leave destruction in their wake, tying up landing craft as support auxiliaries; if it miscarried and the Germans contained the landings, landing craft would be committed to keeping the marooned forces reinforced and resupplied. In Smith’s mind, Shingle should be nipped in the bud. As for Anvil, Smith agreed with Montgomery.16
Smith passed all this on to Eisenhower. He assured his chief, “I have refused to [cancel Anvil] during your absence as I think the result of such a recommendation made without your entire knowledge and personal approval would have a very bad effect on our people at home.” As events transpired, any such decision would have had a very bad effect on his relationship with Eisenhower. Smith reiterated his complete agreement with Montgomery. “I also believe,” he continued, “as do most of the planners who are familiar with the project, that the original ANVIL plan which consisted actually of only a threat, would have just as much effect during the initial stages of OVERLORD as will the present proposed assault with three divisions. I am sure the British COS will support Montgomery’s views.” Sure in his knowledge that Eisenhower’s thinking accorded exactly with Montgomery’s, Smith refrained from making any formal recommendations for the changes, but he issued instructions that the COSSAC staff initiate detailed planning on the assumption that additional landing craft would be acquired. Time was of the essence. From long and bitter experience, he reasoned that if they referred the question to the CCS and, by extension, the political heads, weeks would pass before any concrete decision would emerge.17
Smith reported that they worked on the plan all night—so late that he had no time to wire the results to Eisenhower before he boarded an early-morning plane for North Africa. He and Devers flew first to Marrakesh, where the prime minister was convalescing, to brief Churchill. As Churchill reported to Roosevelt, “Bedell told me that he and Montgomery are convinced that it is better to put in a much heavier and broader OVERLORD than to expand ANVIL above our pre-Teheran conception and that he is putting this to Eisenhower and your Chiefs of Staff.”18 Smith extracted a promise from Churchill that Tedder would command the Allied air forces in Overlord.19 Churchill energetically expressed his displeasure that “Anzio [Shingle] would be crippled because of the withdrawal of LSTs for OVERLORD and ANVIL, plus the build-up in Corsica.” He asked that Smith organize a major conference with the ground, air, and naval commands for 8 January. “This matter will be thoroughly thrashed out,” Smith promised Eisenhower. Returning to the subject of Anvil, Smith urged that Eisenhower talk the matter over with Marshall and Handy. “I do NOT see how we can possibly do both ANVIL and OVERLORD on equal assault scale, and if OVERLORD is to be the main effort, ANVIL will have to be sacrificed.”20
Smith may have known Eisenhower’s mind on Overlord, but he badly overstepped his bounds on Anvil. Initially, Eisenhower thought little of Anvil. An invasion of southern France would subtract manpower, air and sea power, landing craft, and materiel from the Mediterranean command’s already dwindling assets. And the plan had changed: first envisioned as mostly a French operation, it had been expanded to two and then three divisions. Now, as he related to Smith, Eisenhower considered Anvil a sine qua non for a successful Overlord. Eisenhower wholeheartedly sanctioned broadening the Normandy landings but rejected the idea that Anvil would be effective as a threat. “Only in the event that OVERLORD cannot possibly be broadened without abandonment of ANVIL,” he cautioned, “would I consider making such a recommendation to the Combined Chiefs.”21
The Anvil debate was put on the back burner; first Smith needed to deflect Churchill from Shingle. The prime minister had felt recovered enough by 27 December to move to one of his favorite spots, Marrakesh. Shaking himself out of the doldrums, Churchill had come up with a “bright idea.” His doctor, Lord Moran, noted that Churchill was organizing “an operation all on his own. He has decided that it should be a landing behind the lines at Anzio.”22 On 22 December Clark had already ruled out Shingle. The plan called for a landing of one division—reinforced to 24,000 men—south of Rome. If the amphibious force quickly expanded the beachhead and advanced inland, Kesselring might feel compelled to withdraw forces from the Gustav Line in defense of his vulnerable lines of communication. Fifth and Eighth Armies might then pierce the German defenses and restore movement to the campaign. Eisenhower and Smith saw why Clark had canceled the Anzio landings during their brief tour of the front: there was little prospect of the Fifth Army breaking the German Winter Line defenses.
Eisenhower steered clear of this debate, warning only that Kesselring’s actions never conformed to Allied expectations. To Butcher, he complained that Churchill had “practically taken command in the Mediterranean.”23 Churchill, of course, was in his element. Living in a lush olive plantation called La Saadia, he set up his own miniature War Office and bombarded AFHQ via phone, pushing for Shingle. He fumed against conservative planners and wondered why he could not find any commanders willing to fight. He knew time worked against his schemes in the Mediterranean. It would be folly, Churchill proclaimed, to permit the Italian campaign to drag on, and without Rome, the campaign could only be judged a failure. “Winston, sitting in Marrakesh is now full of beans and trying to win the war from there!” Brooke wished “to God that he would come home and get under control.”24 The overbearing prime minister enlisted the support of Clark, who remained ambivalent. Like Churchill, he had a vested interest in preventing the campaign from “peter [ing] out ingloriously,” but he also understood the risks.
Churchill lined up his malleable placemen before the 8 January conference. Supreme commander–designate Wilson approved the operation, stating it was “a good idea to go around them rather than be bogged down in the mountains.”25 Alexander lent his support, asserting that the theater could pull off “something big if given the means.” Churchill then went about securing those means. Two-thirds of the LSTs were slated for rotation out of the theater by mid-January. Churchill petitioned Roosevelt for a delay, and the president wired his agreement. “I thank God,” Churchill replied, “for this fine decision. Full steam ahead.”26 Clark thought the proposed two-division landing too small, but feeling like “a pistol was being held at [his] head,” he endorsed Churchill’s scheme.27 Brooke saw serious trouble brewing and wondered if he should fly down for the conference. “The prospects are not very attractive to say the least,” he recorded. He worried Marshall would take umbrage at Churchill’s bullying Smith into signing off on Shingle in Eisenhower’s absence. Technically, Eisenhower was still commander in the Mediterranean.28
Smith flew in and brought Strong with him. Even though he possessed deep-seated views, as a lame duck, Smith decided to play a passive role. He let Strong do the work for him. Strong argued that Fifth Army planners had seriously underestimated German strength around Cassino, and AFHQ planners considered the landing force too small to achieve its dual objectives—secure the beachhead and attack toward the Alban Hills. The Germans enjoyed interior lines; they could pen in the beachhead and still have enough forces to blunt any breakthrough.29 Smith had received a communication from Badoglio that again indicated a German withdrawal to Spezia-Rimini. But given the old marshal’s track record, Smith did not buy it; the Germans would retreat only when they had to. Still, as he told Eisenhower, it offered “some comfort to fight the battle knowing that this is in the back of the enemy’s mind.”30 ADM John Cunningham, who had replaced the other Cunningham as naval commander in chief, spoke for everyone present when he pointed out the “serious risks.” Churchill would hear none of this. “Of course there is risk,” he snapped. “But without risk there is no honour, no glory, no adventure.”31 For Churchill, it was the Malakand Field Force and the charge at Omdurman all over again.
The prime minister withdrew after dinner, leaving the military men to decide. Discussions continued until 1:30 in the morning. Wilson could not handle the pace; he left early to go to bed. “After all,” Smith wryly commented, “he is getting old.”32 Finally, they talked themselves into approving Shingle. A delighted Churchill wired Roosevelt, informing him of the “unanimous agreement for action.”33 Anvil also featured in their calculations. Smith reported the emergence of a general agreement “that a reduction of ANVIL should be made to the pre-SEXTANT strength of one assault and one combat loader division in favor of OVERLORD.”34
Churchill wanted Wilson in command at the earliest possible date and wrote Roosevelt to that effect. Smith had already presided over the official turnover before going to Marrakesh. Returning to Algiers, he set about moving his headquarters files and a year’s worth of accumulated booty to London; it weighed two and a half tons—enough to fill two B-l7s. With Wilson ensconced as supreme commander, Eisenhower saw no particular reason to return to Algiers and asked Beetle what he thought. Smith urged him to go directly to London, adding that it was “not pleasant to be the guest where you have been the master.”35 Eisenhower took Smith’s advice and returned to London on 15 January.
Smith’s primary interest was leveraging key personnel away from Wilson and Devers. Wilson proved most accommodating, surrendering Whiteley and Gale. Smith pushed particularly hard for Gale’s appointment, telling Wilson that Eisenhower was “unwilling to undertake any large scale operation without Gale’s administrative assistance.” By way of reinforcement, Smith said, “I should feel greatly handicapped if Gale were NOT working beside me. He has that irreplaceable quality of being able to handle British-American supply problems with tact and judgment and he is also as familiar with the American system as with the British.”36
Devers proved a far tougher nut to crack. Bad blood existed between Eisenhower and Devers, even though Eisenhower took pains to deny it. He assured Marshall he had “no reason in the world to doubt [Devers’s] ability and I know that he has enjoyed your confidence for a long time.”37 A certain degree of jealousy had always existed between the two. Marshall had plucked Devers from obscurity and pushed him up the command ladder before Eisenhower. Eisenhower deeply resented Devers’s criticism of his management of North African affairs and Devers’s appointment to command ETO, which “Ike said flatly … was a mistake.”38 As theater commanders, they wrestled over officer appointments, shipping, manpower, materiel priorities, and the allotment of strategic bombers and landing craft. In the aftermath of the Quebec conference, Marshall insisted on picking up the pace of Bolero. Ground and air forces began their redeployment from the Mediterranean to the United Kingdom with growing momentum. Eisenhower bitterly resented having his theater downgraded; Devers took offense at Eisenhower’s claims of priority. The two officers and, by extension, their staffs became rivals.
Smith had once considered Devers “an old friend,” but that changed.39 He and Devers engaged in a series of acrimonious free-for-alls over personnel transfers to the United Kingdom. Smith presented Devers with what he considered a “modest list” of officers; Devers considered Smith’s “vicious raid on AFHQ’s best talent” unjustifiable. According to Butcher, “Devers was approaching his problems in what Beetle considered a narrow point of view” and launched into an “almost wholesale refusal to transfer personnel.” Devers wrote, “We have tried to meet your requests for personnel to the utmost possible limit. Sorry we could not do it 100 percent.” Eisenhower forwarded the letter to Smith, who returned it with this comment: “This is just swell. I love this ‘One idea to assist you’ stuff.”40 Devers gladly gave way on Patton, whom he considered finished, but he refused the appointment most desired by Eisenhower—Truscott’s reassignment. When Smith caught wind that Devers had assigned an officer to investigate his attempts to purloin AFHQ talent, he exploded. Smith marched into Devers’s office and demanded that they go over the list name by name. When defending Eisenhower’s prerogatives and his own preserves, rank meant nothing to Smith, as indicated by his scrum with Brooke. There was never any question that BG T. J. Davis, AFHQ adjutant, would go to London; he was a veteran of MacArthur’s staff in the Philippines and a close friend of Eisenhower’s. Smith wanted Rooks, Holmes, and either Larkin or Adcock, but Devers declined on all of them; Smith managed to pry loose only Nevins and Betts and a number of second-tier officers. An irate Smith described Devers as “a lightweight.” Eisenhower required no persuading; he thought Devers “particularly obstinate” and complained to Marshall upon hearing Smith’s grumbling that he was “still … waiting for the first evidence of real cooperation from the new commander of the African Theater.”41
On 15 January Hughes invited Smith and Ethel Westerman for dinner. “E. looked lovely in mufti,” Hughes thought. They celebrated with Coca-Cola and beer that Hughes had secured from special services. Two days later, AFHQ put on a good-bye luncheon for Smith. Hughes found it very amusing that Smith’s replacement, MG J. A. H. Gammel, arrived only to discover no place reserved for him. The next day, amidst pomp and ceremony, Hughes saw his old adversary off at the Algiers airport. Before Beetle boarded the aircraft, he told Hughes not to worry; he would soon follow. Hughes remained doubtful.42
“Beetle arrived from North Africa via Gibraltar,” Butcher recorded, “after one of his customary exciting air trips.” Smith brought along a navigational chart showing where the Flying Fortress, in heavy fog, had “wandered up and down the channel until it practically overran German occupied Guernsey Island.” The RAF sent fighters to locate and guide the aircraft to a field in Exeter. All ended well, but not without moments of high suspense.43
When Smith returned to London, he learned Eisenhower had already made a major decision on the headquarters structure. On 15 January Eisenhower inaugurated Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF). That day he combined the theater headquarters and SOS under Lee, simply reproducing the Mediterranean organization. The change fused administration and supply but continued the segregation of logistics from supreme headquarters. Before leaving Washington he had met in the Pentagon with Marshall, Handy, and Somervell, and Eisenhower had explained his plans for organizing his headquarters. During the buildup and mounting of Operation Neptune—the first phase of the invasion—he would place ETO and SOS under Lee; for the campaign in France, he intended to dispense with a deputy theater commander and relegate Lee to command of the Communications Zone (ComZ). For him, the logic appeared inescapable. Until the launching of D-day, the priority rested on readying for the operation—in large part logistical. In effect, except for the U.S. Army Air Force (USAAF) bombing campaign, the United Kingdom constituted a single Communications Zone. Once the invasion started, the priority would shift to operations. What organization would evolve and how ETO and the ComZ commands would relate to SHAEF and the field commands remained unfixed; presumably, Eisenhower intended to follow the North African model. This was precisely what bothered Somervell.
As he had after Casablanca, Somervell faithfully prepared a catalog of priorities and grilled Eisenhower on his plans for the logistics commands for the Continent, particularly after the conjunction of Overlord and Anvil. Somervell strenuously lectured Eisenhower on the need for a functional organization to avoid the problems that had plagued American manpower and supply in North Africa and Italy. Somervell calculated that he occupied a strong position. As they spoke, Lutes was touring the Mediterranean, assessing the leaking supply pipeline, and a four-man delegation from the War Department Manpower Board was evaluating deficiencies in the replacement system. Congress, reacting to adverse public opinion, had been threatening to intervene since September if the War Department did not solve the manpower problem. Many fingers were pointed Eisenhower’s way.
Eisenhower listened but did not hear what Somervell said. His mind remained closed on this question, and Somervell’s repeated attempts to dictate his administrative organization offended him. What Eisenhower heard was another exercise in Somervell’s playing for position. As he told Butcher the day after he arrived in London, Somervell’s pressing on the supply organization was “a preliminary to the real thing General Somervell had in mind, namely that officers commanding the supply line, particularly in the big theaters, should have higher rank.” Eisenhower “construed this to mean Major General J. C. H. Lee … should be a lieutenant general and if this were done, then he should be commanded by a four-star general in Washington.” Ascribing Somervell’s preoccupation with fixing command relationships as merely a pretext for advancing his own promotion—a view shared by Handy and McNarney—Eisenhower “made no comment.”44
Given the heat generated by the failures of the logistics commands in the Mediterranean, Marshall took Somervell’s concerns to heart. As Eisenhower flew to the United Kingdom, Marshall prepared and issued a directive on 15 January. While a British officer would act as CAO in SHAEF, Marshall instructed, “the number 2 man in administration should be a particularly strong American officer who could later take charge of the section, since it was contemplated that the bulk of supplies would eventually flow direct from the United States to the continent of Europe.” Acknowledging that national manpower and supplies would always be a feature of any combined headquarters, but insisting on an improved and balanced coordinating mechanism that had been lacking in AFHQ, Marshall wanted an American CAO in SHAEF from the outset—an officer who would eventually supersede Gale.45 In Sicily and Italy and during the initial phases of Overlord, British and American forces remained essentially balanced. Once the Allied forces broke out of the lodgment zone and began their advance through France, the preponderance of troops and supplies in northwest Europe would be American. Marshall desired SHAEF both to reflect American manpower and materiel ascendancy and to place the levers of logistical control under a senior American officer inside supreme headquarters.46
Confronted by Marshall’s directive, Eisenhower uncharacteristically placed the supply organization at the top of his agenda. “I have already instructed General Lee to consolidate all of the Services of Supply activities in this theater and to do it now and not to consider it as merely a plan,” Eisenhower informed Butcher. “I have also told him that I will delegate the primary responsibilities of Theater Commander on him.”47 He stopped short of naming Lee the American CAO.
Eisenhower entertained serious doubts about Lee. “Although Ike had made General JCH Lee deputy theater commander,” Butcher recorded, “he has some misgivings and does not feel entirely satisfied. His wariness of General Lee flows principally from the fact that Lee has the reputation of traipsing around England and Ireland in a special train consisting of some eleven or twelve coaches.”48 His concerns did not end there. As he repeated to Marshall, “I hope that General Lee is big enough for this job.” He did not worry about Lee’s technical skills but wondered whether Lee possessed the personal tact for coordinating and cooperating with the Allies.49 After conferring with Lee, his uncertainty mounted. Sensing that he was finally on the verge of moving Eisenhower toward a far-reaching reorganization, Smith applied his brand of gentle persuasion. On 19 January Eisenhower wired Devers, requesting Larkin’s release for a “job I had tentatively in mind … for which I consider him personally highly qualified by experience and temperament.”50 Devers first delayed; then he refused Larkin’s transfer. Devers’s rebuff gave Eisenhower pause, and he decided not to tinker with the overall structure. Contrary to Marshall’s wishes, he appointed no American CAO.
The other news Eisenhower had for Smith more than offset his disappointment over the headquarters setup. The day before Smith flew back, Marshall had cabled London asking about Smith’s promotion. The topic had never come up in talks in Washington. Eisenhower, after surveying the situation in London, responded that the promotion, though “highly desirable,” was not absolutely necessary.51 Eisenhower may have entertained some misgivings about Smith, and he asked to see Butcher’s diary covering November and December 1943, a period of strained relations when Smith had effectively run the theater. Butcher thought it strange. The day Eisenhower got into London, a still angry Brooke confronted him, annoyed by his treatment at the hands of Smith. Eisenhower smoothed the new field marshal’s feathers and expressed his shock because Brooke’s complaints represented the first criticism ever leveled against Smith by a British officer. According to Smith, Brooke was the only superior officer who ever complained about him. Eisenhower apologized, explaining that Smith “fights for what he wants” and intended no disrespect.52 In fact, Smith fought for what Eisenhower wanted. Eisenhower expected “a ruckus [over Smith’s nomination], certainly in the committee, when his name was presented, but so far have heard of none.” There was none. The nomination sailed through the Senate, and Eisenhower pinned on Smith’s third star on 28 January.53
Eisenhower still could not make up his mind on the roster of American army commanders. Since he saw Patton and Devers as “not compatible,” he renewed his request that Patton command Anvil. Hodges would command an army in Overlord. Devers blocked Eisenhower’s proposal; he wanted Clark in command of Anvil, with Lucas taking over Fifth Army. With Patton the odd man out, Eisenhower requested that he come to ETO. By the narrowest of margins, Patton assumed command of Third Army.54 Patton, now in England, dropped by to solicit Smith’s support for promotions for fifteen officers he wanted transferred from Seventh Army. “Went to see Bedell Smith,” Patton recorded in his diary, “who was in rare form—s.o.b.—had just been made a Lieutenant General and is looking better than I have ever seen him.” When Patton needed something, he poured on the charm. “The nurse who takes care of him … was present, and I had the opportunity of letting him advertise himself. I let him do all the talking and played him up. Washed mouth out later.”55
During the preparation phase of Neptune-Overlord, a clear division of labor evolved between the supreme commander and his chief of staff. Eisenhower remained preoccupied with two overriding concerns: finalizing a decision on Anvil, and defending his personalized command structures, chiefly over the air components. These Eisenhower dealt with himself, with Smith playing only a secondary and chiefly advisory role. Smith’s primary efforts remained centered on completing the transition from COSSAC to SHAEF, superintending post-Neptune planning, and creating structures for handling civil affairs on the Continent. The pre-Overlord period provides the best examples of Eisenhower’s passivenegative leadership style. He initiated nothing, but he absolutely dug in his heels on those matters on which he refused to yield: not to cancel Anvil, not to accept any diminution in his control of the strategic air forces, not to curtail the bombing of French cities, and not to alter the supply side of his headquarters. He and Smith did not always agree, but Eisenhower depended on Smith to buttress his positions.
COSSAC bequeathed two legacies to SHAEF: an intact planning staff and an existing plan. Brooke thought he was handing Morgan an impossible task when he assigned him the job of heading COSSAC. Aside from the paltry manpower and lift resource parameters that COSSAC planners labored under, Morgan’s biggest problem (as the name of the organization—Chief of Staff, Supreme Allied Command [Designate]—attested) was that the structure lacked any real decision-making capacity. Initially, Morgan worked on the assumption that the supreme commander would be British, probably Brooke. COSSAC’s formation followed a modified British staff model. Logisticians enjoyed parity with operational planners not only because the British staff structure demanded it but also, more importantly, because logistical constraints—manpower and supply calculations—dominated planning calculations. To a large extent, Overlord was a logistical plan. Normandy represented only the initial phase and was a springboard for later operations; the ultimate objective in the first three months of the campaign lay in securing the Brittany peninsula and expanding the lodgment area toward the Seine.56
Three Allied divisions would land in Normandy: the British on the left would consolidate the lodgment, fend off the inevitable German counterattacks, and expand the beachhead beyond Caen; American forces would do likewise, close the Cotentin peninsula, and secure the port of Cherbourg. Even with the aid of artificial harbors, the Allies would struggle to match the German buildup. Morgan’s staff identified the buildup stage as the most critical. The original COSSAC plan assumed a May landing, banking on a lengthy period of good weather prior to opening the ports. Airpower remained vital to all calculations; Allied airpower would lend direct tactical support and impede and inflict damage on enemy divisions and logistical support moving into the sector. A forward advance provided suitable terrain and space for airfields and supply dumps. With the expanded lodgment secure and the buildup gaining momentum, British and Canadian forces would continue to draw German combat power toward them—the bulk of the German forces would move from the reserve and the Paris district and logically work on containing and eliminating the eastern penetrations. It was hoped the elaborate deception plan (Operation Fortitude) and Allied air superiority would delay the movement of German forces from the Pas de Calais long enough for the Allies to complete the first stages of the buildup. Meanwhile, the Americans would assume responsibility for breaking through the German crust of defenses in the west, with the aim of sealing Brittany. Brittany and its ports represented the key to the next and subsequent phases of the campaign. COSSAC planners reckoned the British and Canadian forces would enjoy something like parity with the Americans in Normandy. Thereafter the balance would tilt dramatically to the Americans. Once Brittany fell, the peninsula would serve as a giant gateway for American divisions and materiel flooding into the theater. There was no Liverpool or Antwerp or Rotterdam in France, no single great port. Cherbourg possessed only limited capacity; it served as a holiday port—the equivalent of Southampton—as a debarkation point for transatlantic liners, and it possessed only a single-line rail connection with Paris. Brittany and the Loire contained Brest and Nantes and the secondary ports of L’Orient, St. Nazaire, and St. Malo, as well as the undeveloped anchorage of Quiberon Bay and major railway lines along the Loire and especially toward Paris. As it had in World War I, Brittany would act as a vast reception and training area for incoming divisions, the replacement system, and supply.57
Montgomery accepted the general outline for the first phase of Overlord, but before the Allies could contemplate gaining a lodgment, they must first secure and retain the beachheads. Montgomery’s revisions did far more than add two assault divisions on two additional beaches and augment the airborne component. The Montgomery Plan also required wholesale alterations in the air, naval, and logistical programs, dramatically increasing Overlord’s claims on landing craft, naval fire support, fighters and bombers over the beaches, transport aircraft (tripling the airborne effort), and resources for a much expanded buildup. Since these additional landing craft and air and naval assets could only come at the expense of the Mediterranean, the changes in the Overlord plan called for a realignment of grand strategic priorities, which necessarily must involve the political and uniformed chiefs. This could be expected to reignite the argument over the cross-Channel versus Mediterranean strategies—a crucial month-long delay in staging Overlord and a longer delay or downgrading of Anvil—and engender bitter disputes over naval and air assets, air strategy and command, and materiel.
Given the history of Allied collaboration, it proved little short of amazing that the broadening of Overlord—one of the great decisions of the war in Europe—gained approval almost by acclamation. At the first supreme commander’s conference on 21 January, Montgomery reiterated his argument for expanding the beachhead. A three-division assault lacked sufficient staying power; the Germans would easily rope off the narrow beachhead and bring greater forces to bear. He pointed to the benefits of attacking the neck of the Cotentin, taking advantage of the rivers and marshes as additional flank protection for the beaches and the eventual movement on Cherbourg. As the battle for the lodgment developed, the British would hold off German concentrations on the left, allowing the Americans to take Cherbourg and then the Brittany and Loire ports. Montgomery emphasized the crucial importance of the ports; with the ports secure, the Allied forces could then employ their armor and secure the key road centers. He again stated his contention that Anvil should be pursued only as a threat, freeing up the necessary lift and naval support for an expanded Neptune. Eisenhower acknowledged his full agreement on all but Anvil, restating his firm conviction that Overlord and the southern France operation represented a single whole. He did announce his willingness to postpone the cross-Channel attack for a month if sufficient landing craft could be found to mount both operations more or less simultaneously. The next day he offered his recommendations to Marshall, mirroring all of Montgomery’s arguments save for Anvil, and endorsed a delay of Overlord until late May or early June. Eisenhower warned Marshall that unless Washington and London resolved the strategic and operational impasse, the Allies confronted “a tremendous crisis with stakes incalculable.”58 SHAEF planners produced the revised outline plan, and on 1 February it received the sanction of the CCS. On 10 February the JCS took the extraordinary step of deferring the question of Anvil to Eisenhower, although no one seriously believed he would render the final verdict.59
The details of operational, including logistical, planning for Neptune devolved on Montgomery’s Twenty-first Army Group, assisted by Bradley’s First Army Group, the headquarters of Leigh-Mallory and Ramsay (Allied Naval Commander in Chief, Expeditionary Force [ANCXF]), and all the subordinate echelons of command. All the commanders made significant alterations in the revised plan—and continued doing so until early May—based on their assessments and reevaluations of changing conditions. On 12 February the CCS issued a mission statement charging SHAEF with overseeing operational and logistical planning for the post-Neptune period. At the next supreme commander’s conference, Eisenhower chartered the formation of a Joint Planning Staff under Smith, charged with developing plans for the period following the landings until D+190.60 The new planning staff received two tasks: select tentative lines of advance into the heart of Germany; and project phase lines on maps, predicting the speed of the advance as a guide in determining future logistical requirements. The danger loomed that the broad contours of SHAEF’s strategic forecasts would diverge from operational planning in subordinate headquarters.
Even before leaving the Mediterranean, Smith campaigned for SHAEF’s expansion. “I decided to start out with a big staff,” he told a postwar interviewer. Smith pointed to a number of factors favoring the centralization of authority in SHAEF. Morgan had reorganized COSSAC according to what he believed the Americans wanted: the so-called Foch headquarters, consisting of a small staff to deal with political matters, with ETO handling the American side and Twenty-first Army Group the British.61 In British practice, responsibilities gravitated downward to operational and tactical levels of command; the American system acted in precisely the opposite fashion. Divisions, corps, and armies possessed small staffs centered on operations, which pushed administrative and supply tasks up the chain. Bradley stood on unchartered territory as commander of the first American army group organized in the war, but being very much old school, his preference lay in trimming his headquarters to the minimum. Out of necessity, administration and supply and services gravitated toward the center. Nothing could alter the fact that Eisenhower acted as both supreme Allied and American theater commander. Eisenhower made it clear to Smith that he intended to act in his capacity as commanding general of ETO by placing the major theater commands at the disposal of supreme headquarters. Thereafter, he would command without using ETO channels; SHAEF would deal directly with Washington and the operational commands, including ComZ. SHAEF would render final decisions, coordinate actions, and enforce cooperation.62 Since the dividing line between SHAEF and ETO/SOS remained undefined in Eisenhower’s 16 January directive, coordination depended largely on personal agreements between the two agencies and on specific direction from Smith. Smith’s dual function as chief of staff of both organizations necessitated the enlargement of the American staff at SHAEF.63 The overriding concern centered on buttressing Eisenhower’s status as supreme commander.
On 19 January Smith forcefully made the case for Eisenhower’s assumption of direct command of ground forces, coincidental with the formation of the two army groups in Normandy. “Beetle was realistic in pointing out,” Butcher noted, “that Ike again will be the target for those critics who say the British have cleverly accepted an American as Supreme Commander but have infiltrated British commanders for land, sea, and air, even though a majority of the troops are American.”64 Smith and Butcher neglected to consider that the British provided the bulk of the naval support and landing craft and would enjoy rough parity in both ground forces and the buildup until early July. Annoyed with the concept that had evolved in the Mediterranean, with Eisenhower acting as a mere political commander “way up on the pedestal,” Smith agitated for him to assert authority from the beginning. If Eisenhower intended to exercise direct command on the Continent, Smith argued against creating intermediate headquarters under SHAEF—and for that, he required a large supreme headquarters. Although he conceded that, politically, Eisenhower could not immediately exercise direct command in Overlord, in hindsight Smith concluded, “We would have saved a lot of trouble if we had started off with Montgomery and Bradley as equals.” Smith believed that “with a small staff you couldn’t control strategic reserves and through that influence major actions.” Finally, Smith explained that he had centralized authority in SHAEF based on a simple premise: “we thought [functions] wouldn’t be done as well elsewhere.” Smith recollected, “I argued for the full staff, and got Eisenhower to see it my way.”65 On 20 January Eisenhower told Butcher he intended to assume direct ground command once army groups formed in France, “without the cumbersome intermediate command which marked our set-up throughout the 15th Army Group in Italy.”66
Smith’s first priority involved fine-tuning COSSAC and converting it into his staff. From his first briefing of the COSSAC staff, Smith brought two elements to the table. The American deputy chief of intelligence, BG Thomas Betts, remarked that Smith, coming from an active theater, “brought a refreshing air of realism.” Even though everyone expected Smith to reshape SHAEF in the image of AFHQ, Beetle reassured the senior COSSAC staff that although he intended to bring some of his people up from Algiers, generally speaking, he would settle for the extant staff. He did announce that Whiteley would take over the Intelligence Division and “was pretty abrupt about this.” Otherwise, the basic structure and most of the top COSSAC people would remain in place. Many of the holdovers observed Smith’s arrival with trepidation; they all knew his reputation. Many resented that the newcomers were boasting of having “sand in their boots.” Brownjohn and Smith possessed very different ideas on staff structures. Smith told him not to trouble himself unduly because he would “not be [around] to carry [the reorganization] out.”67 As C. D. Jackson of the OSS observed, “a considerable reshuffling of top personalities is taking place—people being kicked out of jobs, and all the organizational unrealities that kicking people upstairs always entails.”68 As Betts remembered, the changes Smith made produced “a lot of rancor but it was over very quickly.”69
Generally, Smith enjoyed excellent associations with his British subordinates. Tedder proved the exception. Just where Tedder fit into the headquarters scheme, especially in relation to the chief of staff, remained unclear. What irked Smith most was that Tedder held a key position inside the decision cycle but possessed no real authority. He exercised influence yet remained above the fray. With Coningham in charge of advance headquarters Allied Expeditionary Air Force (AEAF), Tedder had additional leverage. Tedder also enjoyed the trust and friendship of Eisenhower; the two men frequently spent time together outside the office. By 1944, except for official occasions, Eisenhower and Smith were socially estranged. While Smith “kept the Indian sign on nearly everybody,” remembered his SGS, he could “never get General Eisenhower’s aides straightened out.” Smith never knew what Butcher was up to, and “he and Gault were the only ones who weren’t afraid of Beetle.”70 Eisenhower’s British aide observed, “Bedell [had] no value outside military business. Not a man who could give Ike that sympathetic aid he needed at some critical moments.”71 Members of Tedder’s staff saw Smith as a malevolent agent who was resentful of Tedder’s ease around the supreme commander. They also believed Smith viewed Tedder as a threat and kept the deputy commander in the dark as much as possible. Smith never included Tedder in political negotiations, especially those concerning civil affairs. Eisenhower would ask Tedder’s advice on something, and he had to confess his ignorance because Smith had never shown him the dossier in question. Tedder never called for a showdown—as members of his staff hoped he would—because the deputy commander felt that as long as he retained Eisenhower’s confidence, his contentious relationship with Smith did not matter.72
Smith’s American subordinates saw things exactly the opposite way. They viewed him as overly solicitous to the British and too quick to accept their counsel—especially that offered by Morgan, Whiteley, Gale, and eventually Strong—over their own. At the same time, men such as Crawford appreciated how Smith complemented Eisenhower. Smith “tried to get everything in his hands, but that was to keep things from Ike.” Crawford noted, “Beetle Smith [proved] exceptionally valuable because he knew exactly how Ike would react on most questions and could act for him.” Although it was not a universally held view, Crawford concluded that Smith never assumed “power for its own sake.”73 A British officer agreed: “From the standpoint of a person who could take care of the things Ike wanted done, and who would protect Ike’s interests, [Smith] was unbeatable.”74
Smith retained many vestiges of COSSAC’s committee system. He named Morgan and Gale as deputy chiefs of staff. He even experimented with a dual secretariat. As in AFHQ, Smith initiated action and worked through his deputy chiefs of staff and the division heads. As CAO, Gale coordinated administration and supply and acted as chairman of a number of joint committees dealing with logistics. Considering the inevitable expansion of the staff, Smith knew the importance of retaining decision making in his hands while granting wide autonomy to his chief subordinates.75
Morgan’s presence raised a number of questions. For the sake of expediency, American forces entered the United Kingdom through ports in the west; in the COSSAC plan, they would land in Normandy on the western beaches. Morgan pointed to the mounting manpower crisis facing British forces and doubted they possessed sufficient combat power to spearhead the proposed push toward Caen that formed the vital hinge for the later breakout phase. For the same reason, the British and Canadians would occupy the inside track, advancing along the northern axis. Morgan entertained deep reservations about Twenty-first Army Group’s ability to sustain its advance in France without significant American support. COSSAC even examined the question of reshuffling British and Canadian divisions with the Americans before D-day. Logistics ruled out what would have been a massive undertaking.76 None of this sat well with Brooke and many other senior officers and War Office officials; among themselves, they began saying, “Freddie [Morgan] deserted to the Americans.” Although Smith charged Morgan with no specific duties—he would not play the same role Whiteley performed in AFHQ, coordinating intelligence and operations—Morgan received important assignments at the pleasure of Eisenhower and Smith.77 As time went on, Smith delegated more and more responsibility to Morgan.
Among Morgan’s greatest attributes was his talent for balancing Smith. Betts remembered Smith citing Marshall’s dictum: “Better to make a decision, even if incorrect, than no decision at all.” In Barker’s opinion, Smith proved too prone to making “Napoleonic decisions” without weighing all the options. Instead of openly dissenting, Morgan would say, “Yes, Beetle, quite right. I’m sure you’re right about that.” Then he would tactfully present alternative courses of action. Soon Smith would realize he had “gone off half-cocked” and reverse himself. Barker thought Morgan avoided several potential errors, many of which might have borne serious repercussions. “Nobody knows how much we owe Freddy Morgan,” reflected Barker, “for his level headed handling of Bedell Smith.”78 Smith came to the same conclusion. After the war he admitted that Morgan was a man he would not “willingly have dispensed with.”79
As was his custom, Smith’s first act focused on heightening the efficiency of SHAEF’s nerve center, the secretariat. He quickly dispensed with the joint secretariat and placed Gilmer in charge. Gilmer’s act as the bulldog’s bulldog grated on people. Finally Whiteley had enough and threatened to resign unless Gilmer went. Gilmer had served Smith faithfully throughout the Mediterranean campaign, but in the interest of keeping a happy family, Smith transferred the objectionable secretary. LTC Ford Trimble succeeded him in March. Smith regretted the move; the three officers who followed Gilmer all resigned, unable to abide the constant harassment.80
As Smith had indicated from the beginning, MG P. Y. Whitefoord got the ax. The two clashed over the organization and handling of intelligence, especially Whitefoord’s insistence on preserving close ties with the War Office. Smith thought the division top-heavy with academic types and insisted on Whiteley. After being deputy chief of staff in AFHQ, Whiteley’s reduction to intelligence head might have appeared to be a step down. Whiteley thought otherwise; he gladly moved in as G-2, even though he knew Smith had originally wanted that slot filled by Strong.81
Smith also brought an Ultra specialist, COL Edward Foord, from AFHQ. Betts had arrived from Algiers back in November, and as the only American officer on the staff with Ultra clearance, he sensed his appointment might create some friction. He approached Smith, asking if he should return to AFHQ. “Quick on the trigger,” Smith misinterpreted Betts’s intentions, and Betts braced for the expected purple streak of abuse. Instead of reacting in his customary fashion, Smith gently persuaded Betts to stay. This left Betts surmising that Smith had purged Whitefoord as a calculated example for the rest of the headquarters.82 Only Whiteley, Foord, and Betts knew of the existence of the special Ultra unit. SHAEF received and processed decryptions from the British intelligence complex at Bletchley Park. Charged with preserving supertight security, especially relating to the many elements connected to Fortitude, Smith insisted that he receive prompt updates on all Ultra traffic.83
“Pink” Bull presided over the heart of the SHAEF planning staff, the combined Operations Division. Since Montgomery superintended operational planning for Normandy, the G-3 Division developed estimates of the current military situation and drew up assessments and detailed plans for a dizzying number of proposed operations, most of which never went beyond the outline planning stage. SHAEF inherited and worked on a number of plans for the speedy occupations of France, Norway, and Germany in the event of a sudden, 1918-like German collapse (code-named Rankin A, B, and C).84 The Rankin planning put the Operations Division into direct contact with the associated governments and resistance movements. Borrowing from British procedures, the Intelligence Division prepared estimates and handed them to the operations planning staff. Even though Bull headed the division, Smith brought in Whiteley and assigned him the role of coordinating intelligence and operational planning, as he had in AFHQ. If Bull resented his diminished role, he kept it to himself. Bull and Whiteley developed a close friendship; one officer categorized them “as two peas in a pod.”
COSSAC initially possessed a combined Administrative and Supply Division; when Morgan reorganized the staff in November and December 1943, he created separate G-1 and G-4 Divisions in accordance with American practice. Barker took over the Administrative Division, staffed predominantly with Americans, and Crawford headed G-4. As CAO, Gale coordinated administrative and supply planning with the ground and naval commands, but he occupied a position far less influential than that in AFHQ.85 In Europe, the British and American administrative and supply structures acted independently of one another. From 13 March through the end of April, Gale conducted extensive inspection tours of American and British units, checking on administrative cooperation. Gale commanded the respect of everyone on the staff. An American member of SHAEF considered Gale “a first-class manager … practically a genius.”86 Complications arose with Twenty-first Army Group because Montgomery blamed Gale for the supply mess in Italy. Again, because COSSAC originally possessed a British structure, the planning and operational side of supply passed to subordinate commands. On the American side, Lee’s SOS command controlled mounting operations; First Army Group and First Army performed their own logistical planning in conjunction with the nucleus staffs of the advance section (ADSEC) and forward echelon (FECZ) of a future ComZ on the Continent. During the assault phase (D-day to D+14), the ADSEC would be attached to U.S. First Army and operate in the army rear; during the lodgment phase (D+15 to D+41), after the activation of First Army Group, ADSEC would operate immediately behind the combat zone, with FECZ acting as the army group rear; then, during the breakout phase (D+42 to D+90), the ComZ would become operational.87
Confusion and friction arose over the precise functions of Lee’s command and the SOS’s relationship to the various echelons of embedded ADSEC and FECZ planners in First Army and First Army Group. Similarly, Crawford’s role in his dual capacity in SHAEF and ETO remained unclear. Smith still hoped Eisenhower would come around to his thinking on restructuring the manpower and supply side of the headquarters, but that possibility virtually died when Devers blocked Larkin’s transfer. Confronted by all the other demands on his time and energy, Smith put aside his politicking for reorganization; instead, he merely went about absorbing ETO’s planning functions and pirating its staff. SOS already exercised ETO’s supply and administrative roles. On 8 February Smith approved a proposal that made Lee ex officio American CAO and sanctioned the plan for the phased formation of a Communications Zone on the Continent.88 Curiously, Lee never recognized that Smith’s reorganization schemes were directed at him. The same day, Lee asked Somervell if ASF would release Clay to command ComZ, on the assumption Lee would remain as deputy theater commander, parallel to the position Hughes held in the Mediterranean.89 Neither Eisenhower nor Smith countenanced any such development.
Smith conducted all the troubleshooting negotiations with the JCS. Much of his labor focused on leveraging more landing craft out of Washington. On 8 March he phoned Handy, outlining Ramsay’s request for American naval units in support of the landings. Washington argued that the Mediterranean could not spare major surface units and suggested the British employ their Home Fleet. Undeterred, the next day Smith forwarded a formal request to the CCS for American ships and summarized the logistical requirements for Overlord.90 After a good deal of acrimony, King relented and reinforced ANCXF with three battleships, two cruisers, and thirty-four destroyers. Also on 8 March, Gale completed a study of the number of landing craft obtainable for Overlord and their date of availability. Gale’s conclusions sent shock waves through all the planning agencies. On 10 March Eisenhower considered the problem so serious that he told Marshall, “although I badly need him at this juncture,” he intended to dispatch Smith on a hurried trip home.91 In the end, Eisenhower decided not to send him.
The general transition from COSSAC to SHAEF presented Smith with relatively few real headaches. As he told Strong on 7 February, although at times it seemed “like a long uphill pull … things are slowly beginning to take shape.”92 The same could not be said of the two nontraditional general staff divisions—civil affairs and publicity and psychological warfare. Morgan remembered civil affairs as “a completely unknown business” that produced the “most vexations” for Smith. “There are plenty of affairs,” one of Morgan’s assistants quipped, “but the difficulty was to keep them civil.”93
Immediately upon arriving in London in late December, Smith pushed for clarification on civil relations policy. Any hope of taking advantage of the rapprochement with de Gaulle ended when Hilldring notified Smith in early January that American policy remained unchanged—the president forbade all political dealings with the FCNL. Smith believed the FCNL represented the only viable “vehicle” for cooperating with the French, and with no political understanding, SHAEF could not proceed with civil affairs planning. If the French committee played no role in designing civil affairs policy, de Gaulle would not cooperate militarily.94 Prompted by Smith, Eisenhower appealed to the combined chiefs, saying it was “essential that immediate crystallization of plans relating to civil affairs in Metropolitan France be accomplished.” He assumed his headquarters would operate through accredited representatives of the FCNL. “We will desire to turnover to French control at the earliest possible date those areas that are not essential to military for operations.”95 Pleas from London were ignored. McCloy could not get any movement from Roosevelt. The absence of any sort of political agreement with the French hamstrung all efforts to formulate civil affairs pacts with the Norwegian, Belgian, and Dutch governments in exile until May; military missions to SHAEF and the operational commands were not created until well after the invasion.
Morgan had formed a Civil Affairs Division in COSSAC in October 1943—a small planning staff consisting of six advisory groups and four “country sections” that examined problems related to France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Norway.96 In November the War Department had assigned ninety-six officers to the division, but only a handful had appeared by the time Smith took charge. McSherry was already in place as opposite number to MG Roger Lumley. Assessing the COSSAC organization, Smith deemed the “double-headed” leadership team too “ponderous and unwieldy.” He wanted a single head and thought he should be a civilian and an American. Uneasy about leaving civil affairs and military government entirely in military hands, Smith again requested McCloy. As a civilian of subcabinet rank, McCloy would administer the organization, provide political advice, and generally act as a lightning rod.97
Hilldring told Smith the COSSAC directives were never intended to “prescribe an organization with any idea that it would endure until the end of time,” and he indicated the War Department and CCS stood prepared to give Smith carte blanche on organizing the civil affairs setup in London; however, he should forget about McCloy. Smith’s request for McCloy caused a “great furor,” and Stimson told Hilldring “never to raise the matter again.” Stating he would give his “right arm to break out of this jailhouse,” Hilldring declined the job, citing Marshall’s “forcible” opposition to the idea. He promised the new directives would be “short and non-specific to leave plenty of freedom of action” and assured Smith he could count on Holmes’s transfer to London.98
After all his tribulations organizing AMGOT, Smith had come to London convinced of the importance of civil affairs; as in the Mediterranean, he wanted military government and civil affairs fused into a single structure under his direct control. In the Mediterranean, Smith had fashioned a tidy organization subordinate to AFHQ but otherwise autonomous. He wanted to centralize and personalize civil affairs and military government as in the Mediterranean, where he had acted as foreign minister, advised and aided by Murphy, Macmillan, and Monnet and working through men such as Rennell and Joyce. Smith had made the decisions and, when required, conducted direct negotiations with the French and Italians. Supreme headquarters would retain policy-making power over civil affairs, surrendering little authority to the restored national governments or the operational commands.
Smith took an instant dislike to Lumley. A former Indian administrator, Lumley acted with too much independence and enjoyed too close a relationship to the War Office for Smith’s taste.99 Eisenhower did not want any fight with the British over the appointment of an American chief and directed Smith to leave Lumley where he was for now. Lumley proposed retaining the COSSAC structure as a separate general staff division charged with policy formulation, coordination of the two subsections for civil affairs in liberated areas, and planning for the occupation of Germany.100 He also advocated retention of the COSSAC handbook, which delegated discretionary authority to the operational commanders in implementing civil affairs on the ground. Initially, the division would consist of something like forty officers, later expanded to sixty.
On 6 February Smith convened a conference where he reminded everyone he had come from an active theater that had scored some rather notable successes in the field of civil affairs and military government. He laid out his reorganization scheme and announced that it enjoyed Eisenhower’s full approval. Smith told Lumley that he opposed the creation of a new staff division, considered Lumley’s proposed staff too big, and rejected the idea of delegating responsibility for executing policy to the operational commands. Only a small, high-powered section, “possibly to be designated G-5,” would remain under Lumley inside SHAEF, with responsibilities for policies and directives, long-range outline planning, and general coordination. A second and larger staff under McSherry would represent the operating side—training, organization, and detailed planning—at Shrivenham in Oxfordshire, the site of the civil affairs school. Smith also indicated that he intended to remove civil affairs from the tutelage of external agencies, especially the Combined Civil Affairs Committee in London. He though it “apparent we must stand on our own two feet,” and as he told Hilldring, “I am afraid I will have to be rather blunt on this subject.” He insisted on a clear demarcation between advice and control, and as insurance, he wanted “an American officer of very high quality” as Lumley’s deputy. He again asked Devers for Holmes.101
Smith was not as self-assured as he appeared. He relayed to Hilldring his apprehensions. “You realize better than anybody else,” he admitted, “the complexity of civil affairs problems which will confront us.” Although he claimed that “all here agree to this general scheme of organization and I am convinced that it is a sound one,” he admitted, “I am NOT quite certain myself and would be guided by your advice.” He also appealed for Hilldring’s help in his contest with Devers. Smith conceded he could not get along without Holmes.102
Not everyone agreed with Smith’s new plan. Lumley responded by pointedly rejecting the Mediterranean prototype again. He requested Smith abandon “with finality the concept applied elsewhere which undertakes to execute civil affairs operations through a separate channel either parallel or divergent from the channel of command.”103 After giving the matter some thought, Smith concluded that conditions in northwestern Europe bore few similarities to those in the Mediterranean; civil affairs represented a far more complex proposition in northwestern Europe than in North Africa and Italy. At another conference on 10 February, Smith reversed himself. He sanctioned the formation of a Civil Affairs Division, but not until the headquarters moved out of London. Initially, he was unaware that the political heads had agreed at Quebec that the countries of northwestern Europe would constitute “liberated,” not “occupied,” territories. The Quebec directives called for the reestablishment of national governments as quickly as possible. The AMGOT model simply did not apply. He wanted to confine liaison with the “country houses” of the governments in exile to another SHAEF agency, the Allied European Contact Section. Organizing the staff around the country branches would create too much duplication of effort and tie up scarce expert personnel. Instead, he decided to functionalize the structure under Lumley; the new Policy Section would deal with supply, public health, labor, economics, and law, without consideration of national frontiers. McSherry’s Operations Section still handled training and all planning related to the formation of SHAEF missions to liberated countries and for civil affairs procedures for presurrender and occupied Germany. Smith limited Lumley’s inner staff to thirty-five officers and confined it to policy-making and advisory roles. On 11 February Smith issued a memo outlining the need for his tight supervision of the Civil Affairs Section.104
Smith requested that the director of civil affairs in the War Office approve the formation of an Allied Control Commission for Germany to take post-hostilities planning off SHAEF’s hands. The War Office agreed, and thereafter Smith directed McSherry to coordinate SHAEF planning on Germany with the Control Commission. COSSAC had released a general handbook on civil affairs and military government for Germany in December 1943. Considering it substandard, Smith insisted on a revision and solicited policy guidance from the CCS,105 which responded by relaying word that the European Advisory Commission (EAC) was preparing a statement and program. The EAC, formed in January 1944 and consisting of representatives from the United States, United Kingdom, and USSR, dealt with problems connected with the termination of the war, including but not limited to drafting surrender terms and establishing zones of occupation. From experience, Smith knew not to expect a CCS directive anytime soon. The Civil Affairs Section continued work initiated by COSSAC, including writing another handbook, but other staff divisions, principally G-1 and G-3, also engaged in similar planning. By the end of March, no fewer than thirty-eight separate studies were under way. Smith attached great importance to this planning and wanted McSherry as his agent synchronizing it.106
On 14 March Smith finally authorized formation of the G-5 Division, defined its command and staff channels, and sanctioned its move, along with the rest of SHAEF, to Widewing.107 Four days later, still intent on dumping Lumley, Smith forwarded a request to the Combined Civil Affairs Committee through the CCS for a highly qualified officer familiar with civil affairs and supply to head G-5.108 The same day, he dispatched an officer from G-5 to confer with the State Department. For the next six weeks, Smith systematically put Lumley’s feet to the fire. Unhappy with Lumley and the entire G-5 structure, Smith bided his time before embarking on another round of reorganization. His jealous obstructionism did nothing to facilitate the division’s work.
If Smith experienced problems organizing a separate Civil Affairs Division, he really struggled with how best to handle psychological warfare and press relations. Morgan had formed a section in COSSAC after examining the AFHQ setup. Smith had sanctioned McClure’s reassignment in November to organize and head the new section. A related question involved where to place the control mechanism for the OSS. In early February, Donovan came to London to work out the details for employing the OSS on the Continent. McClure argued that OSS activities fell within the purview of psychological warfare and requested the OSS’s transfer to the Psychological Warfare Branch. Donovan and Smith talked over the matter and decided McClure’s office would serve as the policy-making and control mechanism but stay separate from actual intelligence operations.109 Because of the importance attached to special operations, Smith used the agreement with Donovan as a vehicle for tentatively accepting the creation of a Publicity and Psychological Warfare Division (G-6) later in February. Agreeing to the creation of the G-6 Division only to “dignify” its functions, Smith still thought it a mistake to pass these duties to subordinates. Like Civil Affairs, McClure’s organization would soon face demands for a wholesale reordering of functions.
Smith and Eisenhower had joked in the Mediterranean that the only group they hated more than fascists were journalists. Headquarters faced the dilemma of balancing the need to cultivate good press relations, the home front’s hunger for information about their fighting men and women, and the imperative to preserve the tightest security. When deprived of hard information, journalists employed their many contacts and uncovered stories. To SHAEF’s alarm, articles appeared that accurately estimated the timing and scope of the invasion. Moreover, in England, Smith could not control press accreditation as tightly as he had in Algiers. Smith made it clear to McClure that he retained final say on certifying journalists and censorship.110
American officers avidly followed their own press in the States. Afraid that uneven press coverage might fuel interservice jealousies, as it had in World War I, Marshall often insisted that Smith employ his influence with the press to secure stories for certain officers. Smith resented acting as a press agent and told Marshall he faced more compelling concerns. Not amused, Marshall ordered him to get the job done or he would dispatch a “Marine lieutenant.”111
Except for logistics planners and a portion of the secretariat, SHAEF completed its move to Bushy Park in the middle of March. A number of motives lay behind Eisenhower and Smith’s anxiety about getting the headquarters out of London. In many respects, AFHQ had had it easy in North Africa. In London, Parliament, the Foreign Office, Fleet Street, 10 Downing Street, and the War Office were just around the corner. Escaping to Widewing conferred a sense of getting out from under, but that came with a price. The move out of the capital hamstrung coordination with key British ministries and civil agencies. The government controlled virtually everything—roads, land, airspace, the rail system—which demanded that SHAEF work through these governmental bodies. Civil society and the economy did not disappear just because there was a war on; SHAEF’s plans and policies had to accommodate these factors. The move out of London necessarily complicated matters. Intelligence indicated that the Germans stood prepared to unleash their V-weapons on London. A lucky hit on Norfolk House would have disastrous consequences. Because of limited space at Norfolk House and adjacent buildings, SHAEF remained understaffed. After the move, and as planning for the invasion matured, staffs rapidly expanded, prompting a building boom. In early May, Smith authorized the construction of two more wings at Widewing, with the stipulation that this represented the last demand for additional accommodations.112 Eisenhower thought the intermingling of officers in messes and living quarters would expedite the “welding of all allied command.”113 Smith knew he could never shake the slackness out of his headquarters until they escaped the fleshpots of the capital. In perhaps an unwitting commentary on the different mores of American and British officers, he observed, “Our boys were in the nightclubs every night and the British were always at Claridge’s for tea.” Smith encountered a good deal of opposition to the move. Officers complained they had nothing to occupy their time at night. Smith typically responded by suggesting, “Why not work? That’s what I [do].”
Because Smith was still trying to convince Eisenhower to assume command in France at the earliest possible date, he expanded the Portsmouth command post into an advance headquarters. “We were going to move an echelon across as soon as possible,” Smith recounted, “so we needed to train them in living in the field.” The officers sent off to Portsmouth to live in tents “thought they would die, of course,” but everything stood in place by the time Eisenhower moved to his command post in the days immediately preceding D-day.114
A keen observer like Jackson recognized the sharp differences from the first tentative and contentious weeks in Norfolk House. “Now there is a new hustle and bustle,” he noted in early April, “and the dawning of a sense that what is put on paper really means something in terms of lives and logistics.”115 As in AFHQ, the forging of a unified headquarters grew from two essential elements: Eisenhower’s matchless ability for turning the rhetoric of Anglo-American partnership into something approaching reality, and if that failed, Smith’s willingness to bust out his “cat and nine tails and beat [the obstructionists] into line.”116 T. J. Davis remarked that SHAEF “is a honey” and noted, “I think it is even better than the one developed for Allied forces.” Although Beetle faced opposition at the outset, Davis reported that the “discontent was put down in ‘typical Smith fashion.’”117 Undoubtedly, creating a unified supreme headquarters constituted one of the most significant accomplishments of the pre-Overlord period, but in the bigger scheme of things, it mattered little if the wider political, operational, command, and landing craft issues went unresolved.