Eisenhower Page 5

  An Army at War

  When America entered the war in April 1917, Ike was ready to go. As he saw it, he had every reason to believe that he would soon be traveling to Europe to lead a company or maybe even a battalion of infantry into battle. He was undeterred by the news about trench warfare and the bloody mass attacks that had already killed or wounded hundreds of thousands of Europe’s young men. The losses on both sides, which were horrific, had made the Great War the most destructive of human life in history. As yet, neither the Allies nor the Central Powers had been able to produce a breakthrough that would bring the war to an end. The American forces would, their leaders assumed, do that job, quickly shifting the war in France into a new phase and gaining victory for the Allies.

  Understandably, Eisenhower, now twenty-seven years old, looked forward to his first opportunity to lead American soldiers in battle. He was not the only American army officer who had dreams of heroism and glory. He was probably neither more nor less optimistic about that challenge than his superior officers, none of whom had yet to go to battle against a powerful, well-led army using modern weapons.

  What the army needed first, however, was training for raw recruits and militia of the sort Eisenhower had been working with at Fort Sam Houston. In 1917, the army was not prepared for war. It was not even prepared to train and arm new soldiers. The immediate needs of the service thus deepened and confirmed the army bureaucracy’s concept of Eisenhower’s capabilities and potential. His army evaluations all pointed toward Ike’s strengths in getting recruits and poorly trained militia detachments into shape for service. Now, suddenly, there were far more soldiers who needed training than there were experienced officers to train them. Ike and others with his talents were in great demand. Major Conklin had made it clear that Lieutenant Eisenhower had a “peculiar fitness for detail on militia duty,” commenting that “he has shown good judgment and tact on duty as Inspector-instructor with militia.” Conklin’s praise—“well qualified by temperament for this duty”—suggested that the combat duty Eisenhower now sought might not be what was dictated by his “temperament” and by the needs of the service.

  One can understand then, why the army first transferred Ike to the 57th Infantry Regiment, which needed men, supplies, and as much training as could be squeezed into a short schedule. While serving as supply officer for the regiment, Eisenhower experienced one of the nation’s great military transformations when suddenly promotions went into high gear. There was a caveat—all of the promotions were temporary. Still, it was encouraging to become Captain Eisenhower as of May 1917. That fall he was also encouraged by the birth of his son Doud Dwight Eisenhower, who of course had a nickname: “Ikky.” Soon the new father had another appointment and was back to the training grind at Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia. From there he went on to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and the Army Service School for more responsibilities in training. Throughout these duties, his superior officers judged him to be “capable and industrious,” “average” in most regards, but a “good instructor.”22

  As his repeated requests for active duty in combat were denied, he began to turn against his superiors. He pushed too hard and was admonished. His desire to serve his country on the gory battlefields of France was laudable, but he could not break the tight grip the army bureaucracy had on his official reputation. The consolation prize was another promotion in 1918 to lieutenant colonel, after he had been sent to Camp Meade, Maryland, for service with the tank corps. The tank was a new weapon that promised to be one means of ending the stalemate in France. General Pershing, commander of the US Expeditionary Force, was impressed with the potential of the tank, as was Captain (and then Lieutenant Colonel) George S. Patton. Eisenhower thought he would be able to join them in France when his 301st Tank Battalion was ordered overseas. At the last moment, however, he was pulled back and sent to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, for yet another training mission at Camp Colt.23

  To his credit, Ike controlled his explosive temper when this last assignment came down the army pipeline. Nor did he let his extreme frustration prevent him from doing another superb job of organization, supply, and training at Camp Colt. With thousands of newly enlisted men under his command and little equipment to work with, Eisenhower nevertheless built up a successful tank-training organization. We all have upper limits on our capabilities, and Ike probably pushed very close to his in this assignment. He had never been in charge of this many enlisted men, never been in command of this many officers, never been under this much pressure to train his troops for immediate service in combat.

  As a lieutenant colonel, he continued to exercise authority much as he had with smaller units in his previous posts.24 His men respected his style of leadership and his personality. His growing responsibilities and the frustrations they produced occasionally sparked flashes of temper from him. But during his progression of assignments, from a platoon to a company to a camp the size of a typical army division, Eisenhower’s ability as a leader had grown while his style of leadership had remained relatively consistent. He treated those in his command with respect and gave careful attention to their needs. He demanded discipline without being petty.25

  By the fall of 1918, his command had experienced a tremendous expansion and sent many officers and enlisted men to Europe. They were there to add the manpower and firepower that would enable the Allies to break the German defenses. They achieved their objective, forcing Germany to accept an armistice on November 11, 1918. The sudden end of the war was a bittersweet occasion for Lieutenant Colonel Eisenhower. He was pleased that the killing had stopped but still frustrated by his inability to convince the bureaucrats in Washington, DC, that he should join the American Expeditionary Force in France.

  The Backwash of War

  While the end of a brutal war was a joyous event for millions, Eisenhower and the other US Army officers who had not made it to France had every reason to be disappointed. They had been unable to contribute in combat to the military victory. For Ike, who had now commanded a force larger than a brigade, the immediate postwar years were a tremendous letdown, a low point in his life. Reduced in rank to captain and unable to escape the reputation that had kept him out of service overseas, he faced a bleak future.

  His disappointment is understandable. He had by 1918 become an accomplished leader at Camp Colt. He had created an effective organization, fine-tuned it, and kept it running until the war ended. He had provided the leadership that normally would have been left in the hands of a brigadier general. Then he handled the demobilization of Camp Colt without incident. He impressed his commanding officer, Colonel Ira C. Welborn, who said Ike was “one of the most efficient young officers I have known” and lauded his “capacity for command.”26 Welborn recommended Ike for a Distinguished Service Medal “for especially meritorious and conspicuous service in connection with the organization of the Tank Corps, in establishing a Tank Corps camp, organizing an officers’ training camp, and successfully administering same, and organizing and training units to meet the demands for Tank Corps units overseas.”27 Welborn wrote, “The services of … Eisenhower were invaluable to the Tank Corps, and indispensable so much so that he was not allowed to go overseas as he desired. As a captain he started with nothing and organized the Tank Corps camp and training center at Gettysburg; received untrained recruits, established schools, started an officers’ training camp for selected enlisted men, and organized and trained Tank Corps units.” But the army turned down the recommendation, explaining that “the services performed by this officer, while efficient, are not exceptionally meritorious.”28 There he was again, left in the “good but not great” category.

  He got some relief when he was able to take part in a cross-country motor convoy in 1919. Despite the problems the convoy had with poor equipment and terrible roads, it provided Ike with the kind of adventure he loved. The convoy crept sloth-like out of Washington, DC, through Maryland, and across the Midwest. The farther they moved from the coast, the worse the roads became an
d the more frequently they had to struggle with broken-down equipment. Eisenhower recalled much later that the venture “had been difficult, tiring, and fun.”29

  With no challenging commands forthcoming when he returned from the convoy, however, he again began to wonder whether he should stay in the army. His brothers all appeared to be doing better than he was. Arthur was succeeding in banking. Edgar was building a reputation as a corporate and tax attorney. Roy seemed happy and independent in his pharmacy. Earl was well situated as an electrical engineer. Even Milton, the baby of the family, seemed to be making more progress than Ike.

  He clearly had acquired new capabilities and a new identity to go with them. But he had not yet learned how to navigate the army’s Washington-centered bureaucracy. Doing an outstanding job was not enough, apparently, to get him ahead in the service. Unless he could develop the political skills and personal support needed to reorient his career, he seemed likely to top out before he got well into middle age. That was a bitter lesson to learn, and Ike began to sour on the army. There was no sign of closure in the gap between his demonstrated leadership capabilities and his potential for promotion. He had bought into the army, but the army had yet to buy into Ike.

  In that dismal context, Dwight and Mamie suffered what Ike later said was “the greatest disappointment and disaster in my life.”30 Their son, a happy, thriving child, suddenly became ill in 1920 with what turned out to be scarlet fever, a strep infection. Today we can knock out the infection with antibiotics in a day or two. In 1920, however, there were no quick cures, and Ikky died just after the New Year in 1921. He left behind a distraught mother and a father who had every reason to believe that the gods had turned against him in all aspects of his life.31 Twice threatened with courts-martial, he seemed to have little to look forward to in the army.32 Even when he was recommended for the general staff and his leadership praised, he continued to be sent to posts where he was charged with training—and from time to time, of course, coaching football.33 By 1922, Major Eisenhower’s military career seemed to be careening toward an unfortunate ending. It appeared that he would soon be headed back to Abilene and perhaps to a job in the creamery.

  Patton and Contingency

  But not everything in the postwar era had turned sour for Eisenhower. At Camp Meade he had developed a deep, lasting friendship with George Patton, an officer who had had even more trouble than Ike getting through West Point—Patton had to repeat his first year.34 Like Eisenhower, he had been injured in football, but unlike Ike, Patton had excelled in all activities associated with military discipline. He was intensely dedicated to the profession. When he graduated in 1909, he was already starred for command in a service that admired men who were enthusiastic about horses, swords, and the physical aspects of combat.35

  Patton had made it to France, where he served for the second time under General Pershing. It would be hard to imagine two officers less alike than Pershing and Patton. “Blackjack” Pershing, who headed the Allied Expeditionary Force, was austere, introverted, and precise almost to a fault. Patton was outgoing, inclined toward exaggeration, and ready—even eager—to take risks in unusual acts of heroism. He had previously served under Pershing in Mexico, where they unsuccessfully pursued Pancho Villa. In France, Patton was a leader in the army’s new tank forces and was seriously wounded in battle. For his leadership at the front, he was honored with a Distinguished Service Medal and a Distinguished Service Cross.36

  Patton had been encouraged to seek out the tank service by Pershing’s chief of staff, General Fox Conner. Conner was an unusual army officer, something of an intellectual in a profession that valued action and accountability far more than original ideas, however good they were.37 Conner had a unique talent for recognizing the potential of those around him long before it was evident to others. He saw in Patton a man who could be of great service to his nation and the US Army, and he guided him toward an activity that would make best use of his unusual capabilities in war. Conner was also convinced that innovations such as the tank would have an important impact on the ability of the United States to defend its national security in the future. Following the armistice in Europe and the Versailles peace settlement, Conner was certain that there would be another world war and that America would need officers such as Patton to fight that war.

  Patton had quickly confirmed Conner’s faith in his potential by his performance on the battlefield, and he continued to pursue the promise of the tank following 1918. That service brought him to Camp Meade, where he assumed a new position in command of the tanks of the 304th Brigade. It was here that he and Ike became close personal friends and professional colleagues. They agreed about the need for innovation in infantry tactics and about the central role improved versions of the tanks used in the Great War could play in future conflicts. They also had a solid basis of agreement in their opposition to the stodgy leadership in the peacetime US Army, an organization in which seniority constrained careers and encouraged passive behavior on the part of young officers.

  Determined to chip away from below at the infantry authority structure, Eisenhower and Patton wrote the articles on tanks and tactics that earned both of them sharp reprimands from their superiors. Since Patton was heading back to the cavalry shortly, he would be able to continue his army career without a serious setback. Ike, however, had no way out—unless, of course, he wanted to resign his commission and start a new career in his early thirties. But he had no fixed idea about what his goals would be if he made that leap or what kind of civilian work he might want to do. He was stymied, disconsolate, and uncertain whether his path would now take him to new opportunities in the US Army or back to Abilene—maybe even to the creamery.

  Then by chance he met Fox Conner, who was visiting the Pattons.

  Four

  General Fox Conner was Eisenhower’s mentor and sponsor in the 1920s and 1930s.

  Epiphany

  Eisenhower did not know it, but his time of troubles started to ease the afternoon he met Brigadier General Fox Conner. The occasion was provided by one of the Patton family’s formal lunches. Conner spent the afternoon touring Camp Meade and discussing the interesting ideas Patton and Eisenhower had about the potential for new patterns of tank warfare.1 Unlike many of his fellow officers, Conner was open to new ideas—to changes in military organizations, weapons, and tactics. Instead of threatening young officers such as Patton and Eisenhower with a court-martial for considering innovations, Conner encouraged them to continue thinking about ways to improve the US Army.

  One way for Conner to achieve that goal and to get the army ready for the next, inevitable war was to mentor young officers such as Eisenhower and Patton. Conner and Patton had first met when they were both on their way to Fort Riley, Kansas, in 1913, and they had quickly become friends.2 They had met again in 1916, later in Washington, DC, and then at greater length in France during the world war. At that time, Conner was becoming a vital player—the operational wizard—on General Pershing’s staff, and he strongly advised Patton to make his future with one of the army’s newest weapons, the tank. Patton’s aggressive personality meshed very well with the tank’s potential for aggressive, mobile tactics.

  Conner believed in getting out of headquarters and into the field, and he and Patton shared these experiences. He was pleased when Patton took his advice and moved into a position running the new American tank school in France.3 The army actually had a school before the United States could manufacture tanks, so the American Expeditionary Force had to borrow them from France. In combat, Patton made good use of the primitive tanks he had, and following the Armistice of 1918, he continued to be a vigorous tank advocate.4

  Brigadier General Conner and Major Eisenhower had some common experiences. Both men had small-town backgrounds: Conner was from Mississippi, and like Ike, he had not distinguished himself at West Point. In 1898 he graduated seventeenth in a class of fifty-nine. Both men had accumulated an impressive number of demerits, many of them for smoking.5
Both were now looking for ways to change an army that was firmly and dangerously locked down—dangerously because, as Conner recognized, the Treaty of Versailles had planted the seeds of another great war, a war that would inevitably involve the United States. Conner convinced Patton and Ike that American national security would again be threatened, probably in the course of their careers. At this autumn meeting, their discussion was more intense and more focused than one might expect of casual conversation at a weekend luncheon. All three officers were left contemplating a dangerous global context in which the United States would, willingly or not, play a major role.

  Conner also had an impressive understanding of the army and military careers. Unlike Ike, Conner had developed capabilities that the army understood and appreciated, capabilities that accelerated his advancement. He had, in short, created an important reputation for himself: through self-study and experience he made himself a leading authority on artillery and artillery doctrine. While senior infantry officers could be (and normally were) skeptical about new weapons such as the tank, they were enthusiastic and positive about artillery. Conner had served as the first American exchange officer to a French artillery unit at a time when the French were acknowledged leaders in this area of military science.6 He had been able to apply his knowledge during the Great War, adding combat authenticity and a combat wound to his academic knowledge of warfare.

  Conner had become an organizational innovator at a time when the army was vulnerable to change. As chief of staff for General Pershing, who headed the American Expeditionary Force, Conner had in effect created the position of Chief of Operations. This slot became the model for army staff organization, an innovation that stuck after the war and was written into law in the Defense Reorganization Act of 1920.7 In his new position in France, Conner had reached down and promoted Patton and another young officer whose potential he recognized.8 As a result, George C. Marshall acquired the wartime experience he needed to keep his army career advancing.9