The Steel Wave (8 page)

On January 22, Lucas’s thirty-six thousand men and a massive supply of trucks and armor landed with virtually no opposition; the Germans seemed caught completely by surprise. But then the plan broke down. Though the beachhead was secured, Lucas delayed his push inland, choosing instead to reinforce his already formidable strength, resupplying and consolidating his position along the coast. The delay gave Kesselring’s Germans all the time they needed to mount a brutal counterattack, and now the Americans were pinned against the Anzio beachhead in what had become a desperate fight for survival. Within two weeks of the landings, Allied optimism for a quick burst into Rome had dissolved, and Anzio was now a raw nerve for the prime minister. Eisenhower understood that the operation now bogging down so badly was too reminiscent of the British disaster at Gallipoli, the amphibious operation in the First World War that had nearly cost Churchill his career. Whether or not Churchill was overreacting to the American failure, Eisenhower knew, as did Marshall, that if the Germans crushed the Allied effort in Italy, it would seriously dampen the tentative enthusiasm the British were showing for Operation Overlord. Instead of shortening the war, it could lengthen it considerably. Thus far, the only thing shortened was General Lucas’s career.

Eisenhower scanned the long table. Sir Alan Brooke, the British chief of staff, was staring sourly into his cup of tea.

“There is responsibility here,” Brooke said. “Jumbo Wilson knows this. Despite our best efforts, we have underestimated the enemy’s will to resist. It was perhaps premature to remove some of our best people from the Mediterranean before conditions there were more secure.”

It was a familiar refrain, the British seeming always to dwell solely on the difficulties of any operation, an annoying tendency Eisenhower had to deal with carefully. He knew the reasons, an ingrained dread that had come from the disasters at Dunkirk and Tobruk. There were successes, of course, but the British could not escape their memories of the Great War, the awful carnage born of stalemate, the years of unending death that had cost England, and Europe, a generation of young men. It had infected the British throughout the planning for Overlord, fears that even a successful invasion of Normandy would result in that same kind of stalemate, in the same part of France that had once been the awful no-man’s-land of the Western Front, places like the Somme and Ypres. Across England, the mood of the people had begun to affect the mood of Parliament, a growling discontent that perhaps enough was enough. The mood had spread throughout the British high command, Churchill himself knowing that the war could not go on for years to come, that the British could not absorb the loss of another generation of young men. Eisenhower knew that, without the fresh energy of the Americans, the fear of another catastrophe would overwhelm the British spirit.

There was silence for a few moments. Eisenhower knew he had to say something to break the gloom. Bradley was looking at him from across the table, a hopeful expression with just a hint of anxiety. Eisenhower nodded toward him—
Yes, I know
—and said, “Sir, I believe matters in Italy will resolve themselves. General Marshall has already suggested that General Lucas be replaced in the field by Lucian Truscott. As you know, General Truscott served as my deputy in North Africa, and he has already been promoted as Lucas’s number-two man.” He looked at Brooke now. “I do not agree, sir, that removing some of our key people from Italy was premature. I know that General Wilson would agree, as would General Alexander. They have the resources and the skill. Despite the difficulties, they will get the job done. I would add that General Marshall has absolute faith in our people in that theater.”

Churchill jabbed the air with his cigar. “Yes, dammit, we do as well. Jumbo Wilson was not given command of the Mediterranean because he was pretty. He’ll kick the proper backsides. Let the matter rest, for now. If General Marshall believes Truscott is the man, so be it.”

At the far end of the table, Montgomery slowly rose, claiming the floor. Churchill looked that way, the others as well, and Eisenhower knew it was Montgomery’s design, a curtain rising on some dramatic show. Montgomery smoothed his sweater, the strange turtleneck he almost always wore.

“I concur. Jumbo Wilson will not be denied, and with our allies put on the right track, the enemy will not resist for long. My concerns are those facing us right here. I am wondering what sort of progress has been made regarding the transport of the gasoline booster xylidine. I have heard no reports yet of any shipments reaching our air boys.”

It was pure theater. Glancing at Air Marshal Tedder, Eisenhower saw the man clench his jaw. “I have received assurances from General Marshall that supplies of the gasoline booster are being produced as we speak. Shipments will be forthcoming beginning in early March.”

He paused. Montgomery was eyeing him, as though seeking more formal assurance. Eisenhower heard the words in his own mind: No, don’t swallow the hook. Keep it simple.

“Since we have made it a point at this meeting to express our combined faith in those people who are on the job in Italy, perhaps we should do the same for the men right here. I am assured by my supply and ordnance people that when supplies of all kinds reach these shores, they will be efficiently distributed. No one needs to be reminded of his job.”

Montgomery seemed satisfied and sat down; Bradley was looking at Eisenhower again, a slight smile. Yes, Brad, get used to this. Monty is going to let us know how well every one of us is doing
our
jobs. I just hope he does
his.

SHAEF, BUSHEY PARK, OUTSIDE LONDON
FEBRUARY 16, 1944

“Right now, our best estimate for the target date is early June, the fifth, sixth, or seventh. Good moon, the tide is low at dawn. The original plan suggested May, but with the operation now so much larger, we need another month for preparation. The air boys are happier too, thinking the extra warm weather will give them a few more days of bombing. We’ll take all that we can get. As for the date and hour of the assault—well, the chiefs have left that in my hands, thank God. All they sent me was this.”

Eisenhower handed the order to Bradley, who read for a moment. “Brief and to the point. Nice, for a change.” Bradley read aloud: “
You will enter the continent of Europe and, in conjunction with the other Allied Nations, undertake operations aimed at the heart of Germany and the destruction of her armed forces.
Not much to argue about there.”

Bradley returned the paper to Eisenhower.

“Wrong, Brad. Plenty to argue about. I never saw so many mother hens trying to keep their own eggs in the basket. Hell, I don’t have to explain that to you. At least we’re all in agreement about the infantry. Morgan’s original plan didn’t call for enough people, enough power. Not his fault. Nobody could have done as good a job putting this thing together. But he underestimated what we’d need to get ashore and hold the beachheads. No one would commit to giving him any landing craft, so he had to assume we couldn’t get more than three divisions ashore. It was Monty who pushed the idea that we need five beachheads and a hell of a lot more people. He’s right on that one, for sure.”

Eisenhower paused.

“I have no problems with the navy, not yet anyway. Admiral Ramsay has committed the British to as much support as we could ask for. I like the man, Brad. I worried that when Cunningham was moved up to First Sea Lord, we lost the best friend we had. I expected it would cause us some problems working with the navy that we never had before. But Ramsay is top notch. Tedder too, of course. Always liked him. The Joint Chiefs have agreed with me that he’ll be my number two here, and not just command the air forces.”

He paused again.

“I’m getting some bitching from our side about this, that this is just North Africa all over again. All my principal subordinates are British, and there are still some people who choke on that. The smart ones know to keep their choking quiet, but I know it’s there. Annoys the hell out of me, Brad. There has to be some political reality here. We’re trying to build a team, and I’ve got to have the full support of our people
and
theirs. Churchill understands that. He knows the value of what I’ve tried to do.”

“No objection from me, Ike. I’ll do what Monty needs me to do, until you tell me otherwise.”

Eisenhower had no doubts about Bradley’s ability to follow orders. “I don’t need to hear that, but thanks. I wish…hell, it’s not like I’m happy with everybody. This isn’t some pleasant little social club, and I can’t tell everybody how I want them to act. Too much out of my control. All those British air commanders—so damned ritualistic. Every damn operation falls under some kind of textbook rules. I can’t get them to understand that Overlord isn’t just another normal tactical operation, but I don’t have the authority to tell them what to do. I keep yelling at them that we’re going to need bombers on the beaches, and they keep saying, no, we’ll just keep bombing Germany, and we won’t need the beaches at all. The fighter people, Leigh-Mallory and his bunch, keep reassuring me that their fighter planes can get the job done and we don’t need the bombers at all. He’s been chosen to head the combined air assault. The man has never worked with ground commanders before. Never. It surprised hell out of me that Brooke would push him for the job. All I know about Leigh-Mallory is that he’s a man who makes enemies, and in the British air force he has quite a few. The bomber people despise him. Doesn’t bode well for cooperation. They’re in some kind of damned contest with each other over who gets the glory, while the infantry is supposed to wade ashore hoping somebody’s paying attention—somebody besides the damned Germans.”

Bradley said nothing. Eisenhower appreciated the silence. Enough damned ranting, he thought. He looked through Bradley’s ever-present eyeglasses, no change of expression on the man’s face. “You talked to Monty today?”

The expression changed, a slight frown.

“This morning. He called to tell me he had been out to the Twenty-ninth Division. Checking on the progress of the training.”

Eisenhower sagged in the chair. “He’s touring
our
divisions? Without you?”

Bradley shrugged. “Sure. I have no problem with that. The men seem to like the attention. I know Monty does.”

Eisenhower felt cautious. Don’t say too much about Monty. Things like that have a way of biting you in the ass. But dammit, he should have stayed in the Mediterranean. His troops are down there, and he’s up here making headlines.

Bradley shifted in his chair. “I have no problem with Monty, Ike. I really don’t.”

“Dammit, Brad, you’re not supposed to read my mind. You know I wanted Alexander, definitely thought he’d be the best man for the job. Churchill thought so too. But Brooke pushed hard for Monty. I understand that, I suppose. Morale is crucial to this operation, and the Brits need a hero, someone who looks good in the newspapers. Right now Monty’s the best one they have. After all, he’s the man who whipped Rommel. It doesn’t matter much who else was in that fight, or that Rommel might have whipped himself. Like you say, Monty likes the attention, and he’s done a hell of a job promoting his own legend. Even our people cheer for him. That can’t hurt a damned thing.”

He paused, the caution slipping away.

“If Churchill hadn’t been so sick, we’d probably have gotten Alexander anyway. It was pretty scary for a while, that damned pneumonia he caught in Africa or wherever the hell it was. If Churchill keeled over, it would cost us a hell of a lot more than a little chaos in the British government. It would be a disaster of morale for everyone involved. But I have to hand it to Brooke. I have no idea why he’s such a fan of Monty, but he picked a good time to push him down Churchill’s throat.”

“Monty will be fine, Ike. He’s a leader. We get along.”

Eisenhower couldn’t stifle a laugh. “You’ll be the first. Patton would just as soon shoot him.”

Bradley didn’t smile. “Patton might want to shoot
me
before this is over,” he said. “Don’t worry about George.”

Eisenhower was still smiling. “You amaze me, Brad. You’re the calmest man in this army.”

Bradley shrugged again. “I’m nervous as all hell, Ike. Can’t think about that. Got a job to do.”

“I hope it’s that simple. Just…do the job. I thought Clark would do the job in Italy, and listen to the bitching. That damn AP reporter, Wes Gallagher, is making himself a real pain in the ass about Anzio. Gallagher’s a good guy, always liked him, been around the HQ since North Africa, but now he’s raising hell: I should still be down there; I should have taken command instead of Wilson; Alexander and Clark aren’t up to the job. Makes good press, I suppose. But it’s too easy to bellyache about things you don’t understand, especially when you have an audience who eats up anything you tell them from the front lines. The Germans aren’t just pushovers, and I told Gallagher that. Reminded him we got our butts kicked in Tunisia before things turned around. We have nothing to apologize for in Italy.” He squinted at Bradley, stared again through the man’s glasses, saw he had Bradley’s full attention. “We’re all scared as hell, Brad. But I need you to keep it locked up. Deal with Monty, handle Patton. Do the damned job.”

“Count on it, Ike. June fifth, you think?”

“That’s the plan right now, but it could change. Weather makes all the difference. The maps are still being drawn, and those will change too. The air boys might be right. Who the hell knows what’s going to happen?”

Bradley felt his jacket pocket. “Oh, I forgot. Something to show you.” He pulled out a small glass vial, uncorked it, and poured the contents on Eisenhower’s desk.

“What the hell is that, sand?”

“Not just sand. The engineers have a fancier name for it, silicate something-or-other. Came from Omaha Beach.”

“So? There’s fancy sand on Omaha Beach?”

“There’s
good
sand on Omaha Beach. The engineers say it means we can land tanks there, heavy equipment, no bogging down. I was sweating this one, Ike. Could have caused us some serious problems.”