leadership and the finest relationship with associates, superior[s] and subordinates does not demand theatrics,” he wrote to John decades later, and one hears “MacArthur,” though his name is unmentioned. “On the contrary, honest straight-forward bearing of responsibility both for self and for subordinate, complete self-control in spite of any circumstances that put a strain on moral or physical stamina, and a human or even humorous relationship with men—are the qualities on which an enduring value and reputation are founded.”
MacArthur processed their time together somewhat differently. Asked years later what he thought of Ike, MacArthur replied: “Best clerk I ever had.”
It was December 1941. Ike and Mamie had just returned from a few days’ vacation in a cabin near Brownsville, Texas. They had enjoyed highballs, dancing, and Mexican food at a club in Matamoros, just across the border. They returned to the base in San Antonio relaxed and looking ahead to the holidays. They thus were home when, on a quiet Sunday that no American of that generation would ever forget, men and women, boys and girls, reeled at the news from Pearl Harbor.
General George Catlett Marshall, chief of staff of the U.S. Army, summoned to Washington officers who “will solve their own problems and not bring them all to me.” One of those to whom he turned was Mark Wayne Clark. Marshall asked Clark for the names of ten capable brigadier generals who might be able to serve as chief of war plans. Clark replied with the name of an old West Point schoolmate a few years older than himself: “I’ll give you one name and nine dittos: Dwight D. Eisenhower.”
Ike got the call on December 12, placed to him by Walter Bedell Smith, who, like Clark, was to become a central player in Eisenhower’s war and beyond. “The Chief,” Smith told Eisenhower, “said you get on a plane and get up here.” Ike alerted his troops and hustled around the base preparing to leave. He returned home that evening. To settle his nerves, he cooked. He made vegetable soup.
Eisenhower arrived in Washington two days later. His brother Milton met his train at Union Station and offered to take him home to freshen up. Ike asked instead for a ride to the War Department, then housed in Washington’s Munitions Building. He entered, was directed to Marshall’s office, and was quickly ushered inside. (Mamie followed a few weeks after that, stopping to visit John at West Point and then arriving in Washington to supervise the family’s hunt for a place to live.)
Ike and Marshall had met twice before. After graduating first in his class from the Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, Eisenhower was offered the chance to help compose a guide to World War I battle monuments, a post without much inherent appeal but for one thing: it was supervised by the revered general John J. “Black Jack” Pershing, America’s most worshipped military leader of his generation. Ike accepted the job, which also offered him and Mamie their first tour of Europe, a luxurious and romantic period in their marriage and in young John’s life. In those treasured months of 1928 and 1929, Ike and John would rise together, John bathing while his father shaved; Ike took his boy to school. Mamie studied French. They traveled to Italy, sunbathed at the beach, and played cards with friends while John napped in the afternoon. They were, Mamie wrote to her parents, “spoiled rotten.”
Late in his association with Pershing, Ike was asked to review a section of the old general’s war diaries in preparation for their publication as a memoir. Eisenhower immersed himself in the notes and reported back to Pershing that he believed sections dealing with the war’s crucial battles would be best written narratively, departing from the diary form, which he felt distracted from the story. Pershing seemed to appreciate the suggestion but said he wanted to confer with a trusted aide, Colonel
MacArthur processed their time together somewhat differently. Asked years later what he thought of Ike, MacArthur replied: “Best clerk I ever had.”
It was December 1941. Ike and Mamie had just returned from a few days’ vacation in a cabin near Brownsville, Texas. They had enjoyed highballs, dancing, and Mexican food at a club in Matamoros, just across the border. They returned to the base in San Antonio relaxed and looking ahead to the holidays. They thus were home when, on a quiet Sunday that no American of that generation would ever forget, men and women, boys and girls, reeled at the news from Pearl Harbor.
General George Catlett Marshall, chief of staff of the U.S. Army, summoned to Washington officers who “will solve their own problems and not bring them all to me.” One of those to whom he turned was Mark Wayne Clark. Marshall asked Clark for the names of ten capable brigadier generals who might be able to serve as chief of war plans. Clark replied with the name of an old West Point schoolmate a few years older than himself: “I’ll give you one name and nine dittos: Dwight D. Eisenhower.”
Ike got the call on December 12, placed to him by Walter Bedell Smith, who, like Clark, was to become a central player in Eisenhower’s war and beyond. “The Chief,” Smith told Eisenhower, “said you get on a plane and get up here.” Ike alerted his troops and hustled around the base preparing to leave. He returned home that evening. To settle his nerves, he cooked. He made vegetable soup.
Eisenhower arrived in Washington two days later. His brother Milton met his train at Union Station and offered to take him home to freshen up. Ike asked instead for a ride to the War Department, then housed in Washington’s Munitions Building. He entered, was directed to Marshall’s office, and was quickly ushered inside. (Mamie followed a few weeks after that, stopping to visit John at West Point and then arriving in Washington to supervise the family’s hunt for a place to live.)
Ike and Marshall had met twice before. After graduating first in his class from the Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, Eisenhower was offered the chance to help compose a guide to World War I battle monuments, a post without much inherent appeal but for one thing: it was supervised by the revered general John J. “Black Jack” Pershing, America’s most worshipped military leader of his generation. Ike accepted the job, which also offered him and Mamie their first tour of Europe, a luxurious and romantic period in their marriage and in young John’s life. In those treasured months of 1928 and 1929, Ike and John would rise together, John bathing while his father shaved; Ike took his boy to school. Mamie studied French. They traveled to Italy, sunbathed at the beach, and played cards with friends while John napped in the afternoon. They were, Mamie wrote to her parents, “spoiled rotten.”
Late in his association with Pershing, Ike was asked to review a section of the old general’s war diaries in preparation for their publication as a memoir. Eisenhower immersed himself in the notes and reported back to Pershing that he believed sections dealing with the war’s crucial battles would be best written narratively, departing from the diary form, which he felt distracted from the story. Pershing seemed to appreciate the suggestion but said he wanted to confer with a trusted aide, Colonel
Similar Books
