biblical proportions. And, as I said, it will end this war. All this nonsense about land forces, amphibious invasion…such a waste.”
Eisenhower could feel Smith twisting in his chair and glanced at him again, the silent order: No, keep quiet, not now. This jackass is, after all, our ally.
Air Marshal Arthur “Bomber” Harris was a thick-chested bull of a man whose credentials included combat hours in a fighter plane in World War I. Now, he commanded the Allies’ strategic bombing campaigns. Harris had worked hard to gain approval for his strategies and was in part responsible for the plans that had nearly obliterated the German city of Cologne in 1942, a devastating attack that had impressed even Winston Churchill. Harris’s was the loudest voice among many of the air commanders, including several Americans, whose faith in the heavy bombers had convinced them that Operation Overlord was not only a waste of time but would cost far more than it would gain. It was one more argument that Eisenhower didn’t need.
“Marshal Harris, I appreciate your input. I believe your statement is a bit optimistic.”
Harris seemed wounded. “But you must understand. Even your president has stated that absolute destruction of the enemy is our most desired alternative.”
Eisenhower closed his eyes for a brief moment. He knew exactly what Harris was referring to. “What President Roosevelt said was that we should accept only unconditional surrender from the enemy. I believe now, as I believed then, that the president’s choice of words was an unfortunate error. It is not my place to correct anything the president says, but now we must all live with the consequences of that…um…policy.”
“A good policy, I assure you. In fact, the only policy we should aspire to.”
“No, Marshal Harris, it is not. What we have done is unite the German people behind the fanatical ravings of their oppressive leaders. Their propaganda ministry has made great play of this, you know. The German people are being told that our only goal is to wipe their nation off the map. Instead of taking away their will to fight, we have given them a cause to fight us even harder. Destroying their cities will only convince the German people that what the president said is accurate. That plays directly into the ranting of Hitler and his goons.” He stopped. Griping about the president was a bad idea, especially to a senior British commander. Harris wore the smirk of a man who has failed to enlighten the uneducated, but Eisenhower had endured all he could. “I must ask you to excuse us, Marshal Harris. I have many appointments still to attend to. I’m sure a man in your position understands.”
Harris seemed to ponder the message. “Yes, of course. But be assured, despite all this enthusiasm for your land invasion, if allowed the opportunity, the Allied air forces can end this war. End it absolutely, with minimal casualties. Is that not our common goal?”
“Certainly. Thank you for your reminder.”
Harris was up now, a short bow toward Eisenhower. He seemed to ignore Smith, spun around, and was quickly out the door. Eisenhower felt the air flow out of the room, a great deflating balloon. Smith put both hands on his head, smoothed back his hair.
“Good God, Ike. That man’s insufferable.”
“Yep.” Eisenhower thought a moment. “You ever do a jigsaw puzzle?”
Smith seemed caught off guard by the question. “Uh, no.”
“Pain in the ass. Ten thousand pieces, all of them the same, supposed to fit neatly together. But then, you find out they’re not cut the same: little differences, no matching parts. You spend a damned hour finding two pieces that work, and you’re no better off than you were before. That’s what this is, a big damned jigsaw puzzle. Ten thousand generals, plus a few civilians thrown in just to make it interesting. No, check that. Just to make it impossible. FDR makes one damned statement without asking anybody if it’s a
Eisenhower could feel Smith twisting in his chair and glanced at him again, the silent order: No, keep quiet, not now. This jackass is, after all, our ally.
Air Marshal Arthur “Bomber” Harris was a thick-chested bull of a man whose credentials included combat hours in a fighter plane in World War I. Now, he commanded the Allies’ strategic bombing campaigns. Harris had worked hard to gain approval for his strategies and was in part responsible for the plans that had nearly obliterated the German city of Cologne in 1942, a devastating attack that had impressed even Winston Churchill. Harris’s was the loudest voice among many of the air commanders, including several Americans, whose faith in the heavy bombers had convinced them that Operation Overlord was not only a waste of time but would cost far more than it would gain. It was one more argument that Eisenhower didn’t need.
“Marshal Harris, I appreciate your input. I believe your statement is a bit optimistic.”
Harris seemed wounded. “But you must understand. Even your president has stated that absolute destruction of the enemy is our most desired alternative.”
Eisenhower closed his eyes for a brief moment. He knew exactly what Harris was referring to. “What President Roosevelt said was that we should accept only unconditional surrender from the enemy. I believe now, as I believed then, that the president’s choice of words was an unfortunate error. It is not my place to correct anything the president says, but now we must all live with the consequences of that…um…policy.”
“A good policy, I assure you. In fact, the only policy we should aspire to.”
“No, Marshal Harris, it is not. What we have done is unite the German people behind the fanatical ravings of their oppressive leaders. Their propaganda ministry has made great play of this, you know. The German people are being told that our only goal is to wipe their nation off the map. Instead of taking away their will to fight, we have given them a cause to fight us even harder. Destroying their cities will only convince the German people that what the president said is accurate. That plays directly into the ranting of Hitler and his goons.” He stopped. Griping about the president was a bad idea, especially to a senior British commander. Harris wore the smirk of a man who has failed to enlighten the uneducated, but Eisenhower had endured all he could. “I must ask you to excuse us, Marshal Harris. I have many appointments still to attend to. I’m sure a man in your position understands.”
Harris seemed to ponder the message. “Yes, of course. But be assured, despite all this enthusiasm for your land invasion, if allowed the opportunity, the Allied air forces can end this war. End it absolutely, with minimal casualties. Is that not our common goal?”
“Certainly. Thank you for your reminder.”
Harris was up now, a short bow toward Eisenhower. He seemed to ignore Smith, spun around, and was quickly out the door. Eisenhower felt the air flow out of the room, a great deflating balloon. Smith put both hands on his head, smoothed back his hair.
“Good God, Ike. That man’s insufferable.”
“Yep.” Eisenhower thought a moment. “You ever do a jigsaw puzzle?”
Smith seemed caught off guard by the question. “Uh, no.”
“Pain in the ass. Ten thousand pieces, all of them the same, supposed to fit neatly together. But then, you find out they’re not cut the same: little differences, no matching parts. You spend a damned hour finding two pieces that work, and you’re no better off than you were before. That’s what this is, a big damned jigsaw puzzle. Ten thousand generals, plus a few civilians thrown in just to make it interesting. No, check that. Just to make it impossible. FDR makes one damned statement without asking anybody if it’s a
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