sycophants hold our future in hands that are fragile and soft, hands that have never held the steel. We are losing this war because of Russia. We have drained Germany of the strength and the power that could so easily have prevailed. The Russians are savages, led by subhuman Bolsheviks. But their numbers are too many and their land is too vast, and they have bled us dry. The British and the Americans know this with complete certainty, so what will they do? It is a question any schoolchild could understand. We are weakened now, and so they will come. They will come here, somewhere on this coastline, and if we do not meet them at the point of attack, if we do not destroy them on the beaches, they will keep coming.”
“Von Rundstedt disagrees with you.”
“They all disagree with me. I know what they believe. We should allow the enemy to land: Then our mighty Luftwaffe and our mighty panzers will strike them and destroy them. Yes, yes. I have heard that too many times. It is wrong. Damn them all, it is wrong. If we allow the enemy to plant his feet in the sand, we will never get him out. Last autumn, we held every advantage in Italy, the Bay of Salerno. Kesselring will destroy them on the beaches. Yes, I heard that. Now where is Kesselring? His back is pushed north and north again.”
“Kesselring has forced a stalemate, Erwin. Let us not forget that. He has held the enemy below Rome.”
“A stalemate ? Are we so desperate that we now believe that a stalemate is a victory ? There can be no stalemate here, Friedrich. I have seen what the Americans bring to this war. I have seen the tanks and guns and trucks. And one day soon, how many millions of those Americans will push their way into France? Von Rundstedt insists that the most brilliant strategy is simply to allow that to happen, then, once they are ashore, we can attack them and drive them into the sea. It is fantasy. No, worse, it is suicide. And men like Colonel Sasser deserve better.”
----
3. EISENHOWER
----
HAYES LODGE, MAYFAIR, LONDON
JANUARY 26, 1944
“ T he war could very well be over by April. In fact, should our plans continue unimpeded, I am quite certain of it.”
Eisenhower leaned back in his chair, already exhausted by Air Chief Marshal Harris’s bluster. He glanced at Smith, stroking his chin, could see that his chief of staff was itching to reply. It was Bedell Smith’s way to hold nothing back, a trait that had endeared him to no one but his boss. Eisenhower had always known that “Beetle” inspired a chorus of grumbling from the British, mostly deserved. He had a clumsiness to him; his attempts at diplomacy always fell short. But now, an indiscreet missile launched at the arrogance of this British air marshal would have been perfectly appropriate.
Harris, oblivious to the frowns, continued. “We have quite perfected the art of the massed bombing attack, you know. The Hun tried it against us, and, dare I say, it was only the stiff backbone of the British people that prevented it from working.” He paused, a professorial tilt to his head, speaking to inattentive students. “In 1940, you know. Our splendid resolve in the face of certain disaster. What we of course refer to as the Battle for Britain.” Eisenhower nodded, forced himself to hide a screaming need for sarcasm.
“Yes, I am familiar with the term. I have made it a point to study the history of the past four years.”
Harris seemed satisfied that his lesson had taken hold. “Well, yes, of course. Naturally, the Germans have no such pride, and thus, by widespread destruction of their cities, we shall achieve what Mr. Hitler could not. We shall utterly destroy the enemy’s will to fight. It is a grand spectacle, you know. One simply cannot imagine the power, the pure delight at seeing a thousand heavy bombers letting loose their loads to deliver what could only…well, I daresay the Almighty Himself would be impressed. Every one of these missions produces a rain of fire of
“Von Rundstedt disagrees with you.”
“They all disagree with me. I know what they believe. We should allow the enemy to land: Then our mighty Luftwaffe and our mighty panzers will strike them and destroy them. Yes, yes. I have heard that too many times. It is wrong. Damn them all, it is wrong. If we allow the enemy to plant his feet in the sand, we will never get him out. Last autumn, we held every advantage in Italy, the Bay of Salerno. Kesselring will destroy them on the beaches. Yes, I heard that. Now where is Kesselring? His back is pushed north and north again.”
“Kesselring has forced a stalemate, Erwin. Let us not forget that. He has held the enemy below Rome.”
“A stalemate ? Are we so desperate that we now believe that a stalemate is a victory ? There can be no stalemate here, Friedrich. I have seen what the Americans bring to this war. I have seen the tanks and guns and trucks. And one day soon, how many millions of those Americans will push their way into France? Von Rundstedt insists that the most brilliant strategy is simply to allow that to happen, then, once they are ashore, we can attack them and drive them into the sea. It is fantasy. No, worse, it is suicide. And men like Colonel Sasser deserve better.”
----
3. EISENHOWER
----
HAYES LODGE, MAYFAIR, LONDON
JANUARY 26, 1944
“ T he war could very well be over by April. In fact, should our plans continue unimpeded, I am quite certain of it.”
Eisenhower leaned back in his chair, already exhausted by Air Chief Marshal Harris’s bluster. He glanced at Smith, stroking his chin, could see that his chief of staff was itching to reply. It was Bedell Smith’s way to hold nothing back, a trait that had endeared him to no one but his boss. Eisenhower had always known that “Beetle” inspired a chorus of grumbling from the British, mostly deserved. He had a clumsiness to him; his attempts at diplomacy always fell short. But now, an indiscreet missile launched at the arrogance of this British air marshal would have been perfectly appropriate.
Harris, oblivious to the frowns, continued. “We have quite perfected the art of the massed bombing attack, you know. The Hun tried it against us, and, dare I say, it was only the stiff backbone of the British people that prevented it from working.” He paused, a professorial tilt to his head, speaking to inattentive students. “In 1940, you know. Our splendid resolve in the face of certain disaster. What we of course refer to as the Battle for Britain.” Eisenhower nodded, forced himself to hide a screaming need for sarcasm.
“Yes, I am familiar with the term. I have made it a point to study the history of the past four years.”
Harris seemed satisfied that his lesson had taken hold. “Well, yes, of course. Naturally, the Germans have no such pride, and thus, by widespread destruction of their cities, we shall achieve what Mr. Hitler could not. We shall utterly destroy the enemy’s will to fight. It is a grand spectacle, you know. One simply cannot imagine the power, the pure delight at seeing a thousand heavy bombers letting loose their loads to deliver what could only…well, I daresay the Almighty Himself would be impressed. Every one of these missions produces a rain of fire of
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