An End in Sight
The final act of the war against Hitler in the West.
Jul 29, 2013, Vol. 18, No. 43 • By NELSON D. LANKFORD
Ike had planned to bypass Paris in order to press the Germans, now fleeing in disarray toward the Fatherland. But the leader of the Free French insisted that Paris be liberated—and by French forces. “Deux Mètres,” as Charles de Gaulle was known at Allied headquarters for his imperious height, forced Eisenhower to relent. And so liberation for the City of Light came in late August. Delirious crowds cheered, and diehard Vichy militia and scattered German units dueled with Allied tanks in the side streets as the German commander surrendered at the luxurious Hôtel Meurice on the Rue de Rivoli.
The importance of logistics, the necessary but unglamorous domain of quartermasters and accountants, is never long absent from Atkinson’s narrative. The author is fond of lists of equipment detailing the arcane and mundane materiel of war. He leaves the reader in no doubt regarding the vital role that supply played in the invasion and the prosecution of the war to its end. Keeping combat forces at the sharp end adequately furnished called forth a host of ingenious expedients. In command of this vast empire of supply, called the Communications Zone (or COMZ), was Lt. General John C. H. Lee, sometimes known as “Court House” Lee or “Christ Himself” Lee. Overbearing and tactless, Lee presided over a force of half-a-million behind the front who scrambled to improvise as the Allied presence on the continent swelled.
It did not help that, after stagnation in Normandy, Eisenhower’s armies now suddenly rolled east far ahead of timetable. Combat commanders groused about Lee, but few crossed the man who controlled some 800,000 separate items of supply, “eightfold more than even Sears, Roebuck stocked.”
Lack of adequate harbors bedeviled Allied logisticians from D-Day forward. Shortages and the inevitable shrinkage from pilfering made all the more mischievous the failure to secure the largest port in Europe, Antwerp. The city fell, intact, to British troops on September 4, but the Allies inexplicably neglected to clear German forces from the Scheldt Estuary downstream, rendering Antwerp’s vast wharves and dockyards useless. It was a blunder of immense import.
After the race across northern France, the tempo of war downshifted in the autumn. As he recounts the dogged heroism of infantrymen, paratroopers, and tankers, Atkinson faults the Allied high command for wasted opportunities and reverses in Operation Market Garden; in futile, bloody conflict over the Hurtgen Forest and Aachen; and in the frozen shock of the Bulge.
Readers looking for a high-octane combat narrative (à la Stephen Ambrose or John McManus), as well as those seeking the view from the heights of Allied leadership (see Andrew Roberts’s Masters and Commanders: How Four Titans Won the War in the West, 1941-1945), will not be disappointed. There are good thumbnail sketches of the major Allied and German generals and of numerous less-well-known figures. Atkinson delineates, without stooping to caricature, the personalities of such larger-than-life figures as Generals Montgomery, de Gaulle, and George Patton. Occasional criticism of Eisenhower does not diminish an overall positive portrayal of the supreme commander, the one man, in Atkinson’s writing, who had the instinct and temperament to keep the Western Alliance pulling in harness to accomplish its monumental task. Ike frustrated both Montgomery and Patton with his broad-front strategy for crossing the Rhine, and, despite the exhilaration of American convoys racing down the autobahns in spring 1945 meeting scant opposition, he resisted pleas for a dash to Berlin. He had changed his mind about this since the previous fall, and, given postwar political realities, his was a prudent decision.
In his epilogue, Atkinson sums up the staggering toll of casualties on all sides. He ponders the mystery, for survivors, of trying to reconcile this titanic spate of bloodletting—the most destructive chapter in human history—which, nevertheless, for some of them, begat “the one great lyric passage in their lives,” to quote philosopher and Army officer J. Glenn Gray. The tone of the concluding sentences captures Atkinson’s unabashed homage to America’s role in the great catastrophe that was World War II:
Nelson D. Lankford, editor of the Virginia Magazine of History and Biography, the quarterly journal of the Virginia Historical Society, is the editor of OSS Against the Reich: The World War II Diaries of Colonel David K. E. Bruce.