Killing Patton Part 17

To make matters worse, the new president dislikes Patton. Back in 1918 the two men fought in the great Battle of Meuse-Argonne, and Patton surely appreciated the precision artillery support provided by Truman's Battery D, even though he didn't know Truman personally. A colonel in those waning days of World War I, he outranked Captain Truman, but now the tables are turned.

"Don't see how a country can produce such men as Robert E. Lee, John J. Pers.h.i.+ng, Eisenhower, and Bradley," Truman will write in his journal, "and at the same time produce Custers, Pattons and MacArthurs."

Truman's scathing opinion of the general is based solely on a first impression. He has not taken the time to get to know Patton, and the two will never engage in a meaningful discussion of any kind.

Truman just doesn't like him.

The two men are polar opposites.

Patton has swagger; Truman is humble.

Patton is tall and athletic, a larger-than-life military hero. The diminutive, bespectacled Truman, on the other hand, looks like the bank clerk he once was.

Patton was born into wealth, and then married into even more money. Truman has been handed nothing in his life-nothing, that is, except the presidency.

In Patton, Truman sees a braggart who struts around like a peac.o.c.k in his showy uniform, with the polished helmet and bloused riding pants.

Truman dresses simply, and avoids putting on airs. He detests Patton's flashy style. Despite the many pressing international obligations on his mind as the flag is being raised over Berlin, Truman takes time to covertly count the number of stars adorning Patton's uniform-and is appalled to find them adding up to twenty-eight.

With the Second World War now at an end, the president has little need for a general who believes it his birthright to speak his mind, especially when it creates international discord.

The official American policy toward the Germans is that anyone previously connected with n.a.z.i Germany is ineligible to help the nation rebuild. The Russians agree; in fact, this is a cornerstone of the Potsdam discussions. But Patton dissents. He speaks fearlessly about the lunacy of "den.a.z.ification," telling the press that it is "no more possible for a man to be a civil servant in Germany and not have paid lip service to n.a.z.ism than it is for a man to be a postmaster in America and not have paid at least lip service to the Democratic Party or the Republican Party when it is in power."

Patton disagrees with official American policy. One disturbing element of which is that former German soldiers be used as forced labor in Russia, France, and the United Kingdom. These men, Patton feels, should be used to rebuild their own country. Germany's hospitals are no longer functional, its sewer systems don't work, the roads and bridges have been bombed, and there are millions of former POWs and displaced persons who will need shelter and food once winter comes.

So with words that put him directly at odds with the policies of his president, Patton tells a reporter that German labor is the solution to rebuilding Germany-whether or not someone was once a n.a.z.i. He says, "My soldiers are fighting men and if I dismiss the sewer cleaners and the clerks[,] my soldiers will have to take over those jobs. They'd have to run the telephone exchanges, the power facilities, the street cars, and that's not what soldiers are for."

In his own way, Patton is still fighting battles. Even as he quietly begins making plans to leave the military, he wages an ironic war in favor of the German people. "The Germans are the only decent people left in Europe. It's a choice between them and the Russians. I prefer the Germans."4 The Russians interpret this stance as an attempt to s.h.i.+eld former SS members, perhaps to use them against the Russians in a future war. They have lodged a formal complaint with Omar Bradley suggesting just that, noting that Waffen SS fighters who surrendered to the Third Army in Czechoslovakia during the month of May have not shown up on the lists of individuals turned over to the Russians for repatriation. Soviet spies now fill Bavaria, hunting these men down.

The Russians win again. On June 13, while Patton is on tour in America selling war bonds,5 his headquarters is informed by cable that the Third Army must immediately account for any German forces in its region. At the same time, army chief of staff George Marshall orders that Patton's phones be tapped, and even takes the extraordinary measure of requesting that a psychoa.n.a.lyst from the navy's Medical Corps observe one of the general's press conferences to see if Patton is suffering from a nervous breakdown.

Marshall, himself, likes Patton, but his top commander, Eisenhower, has written to him that Patton is a "mentally unbalanced officer." Ever since the Knutsford incident in 1944, when Patton inadvertently slighted the Russians while speaking to a group of British women, Ike has come to believe that Patton suffers from seizures and bouts of dementia. This serious charge, and Patton's habit of speaking out in favor of the Germans, has convinced Marshall to investigate Patton's mental health.

The powerful Wild Bill Donovan also loathes Patton. Donovan and the OSS have been working with the Russians ever since he visited Moscow in December 1943. The American and Russian spy agencies are now exchanging information and helping one another on espionage projects within Germany, including spying on George Patton.

In fact, OSS agent Duncan Lee, an Oxford graduate and descendant of Confederate general Robert E. Lee, is a.s.signed to deliver to Donovan "the monthly confidential report of the military governor in the U.S. occupation zone of Germany." This includes an OSS accounting of Patton's personal movements and wiretap recordings.

Wild Bill Donovan's future is uncertain now that Franklin Roosevelt has died. Harry Truman keeps his distance. With the war over, the OSS may be dissolved. Donovan will do whatever it takes to keep his spy agency intact, including undermining the Truman administration's increasingly hard-line stance against the Russians by sharing secrets about Patton.

But Donovan himself is being deceived.

The spy war in Germany between Russia and the United States is ratcheting up. It is, as American intelligence officer James H. Critchfield will later write, "the largest, most concentrated and intense intelligence warfare in history." However, Donovan does little to stop the Russian influence within the OSS. Since the summer of 1944, his security office has made it known to Donovan that forty-seven OSS agents are either Communists or Russian sympathizers. Wild Bill also knows that Joseph Stalin has been planting Russian spies within the OSS since 1942.

What Donovan does not know is that Duncan Lee, his executive secretary and the man who knows all his secrets, is a traitor. Lee is working for the Russian spy agency NKVD, as a double agent. Among invaluable nuggets of information Lee has provided the Soviets over the course of the war was advance warning of the D-day landing date and the exact location of the atomic bomb research in Tennessee. That the Russians would use such a prized a.s.set, Lee, to gather information about George Patton speaks volumes about their eagerness to see him silenced.

In May 1945, Donovan gains shocking information about Patton, of which the general himself is totally unaware. Stephen Skubik, a special agent in the U.S. Army Counterintelligence Corps, speaks fluent Ukrainian, and is tasked with developing undercover sources of Slavic ethnicity to report to American intelligence. On May 16 he met with Ukrainian nationalist leader Stepan Bandera, who will one day a.s.sist the Americans and British in spying on the Russians.6 Bandera specifically told Skubik that "Soviet High Command has been ordered by Marshal Stalin to kill U.S. Army General George Patton."

Stalin's reasons are simple: Patton defied Russian authority when he invaded Czechoslovakia back in May, during the waning days of the war.7 But rather than being shocked by Skubik's news, Donovan orders him to arrest Bandera so that he can be returned to the Russians, thereby silencing the man who is warning about an attempt on Patton's life.

"I was disappointed with my first visit to OSS," Skubik will later write with a great deal of understatement.

But the investigation is not over for Stephen Skubik. A few weeks later he meets with Professor Roman Smal-Stocki, an academic and former Ukrainian diplomat, who is on the verge of being expelled from Germany and sent back into Russian hands. Smal-Stocki informs Skubik that "the NKVD will soon attempt to kill General George Patton. Stalin wants him dead."

Finally, in the middle of the summer, Special Agent Skubik interviews yet another Ukrainian, Gen. Pavlo Shandruk, who fought with the n.a.z.is in the waning days of the war and is now desperately trying to avoid being sent back to Russia. He offers the United States some vital intelligence that he hopes will allow him to remain in the American Zone. "Please tell General Patton to be on guard," Shandruk tells Agent Skubik. "He is at the top of the NKVD list to be killed."

Wild Bill Donovan and Special Agent Skubik soon meet again. And once more, Skubik tells him of the threats. But Donovan dismisses them, saying they are "just a provocation."

Back in Berlin, Patton stands at attention on this crisp morning, watching the Stars and Stripes hoisted over the city he once longed to conquer. Today, Patton is harboring a dangerous secret. Although American undersecretary of war Robert Patterson proclaimed on May 31, 1945, that all Allied POWs had been returned, Patton knows that a top-secret policy inst.i.tuted by Gen. George Marshall, then tacitly approved by Franklin Roosevelt and Harry Truman, effectively abandons all American and British POWs who fell into Russian hands at the end of the war. The Russians are using them as leverage in negotiations with the Allies to ensure that all Soviets who have fled to the West will be returned.

Patton believes that the man to his left, President Truman, has allowed more than twenty thousand American POWs to remain in Russian hands. As a military man, Patton will do whatever it takes to see these men released-even wage war. But he is conflicted, because he understands that Truman's motivations for allowing these Americans to be held hostage is to ensure that the Russians join in the fight against the j.a.panese and then, once the war is over, join a new organization to be known as the United Nations, in order to ensure future world peace.8 Patton is becoming more and more certain that the only way he can speak freely about these issues is to leave the military.

Armed with top-secret knowledge and his usual defiant att.i.tude, George Patton has made himself a target-and he knows it.

A few weeks ago, before leaving his daughters in Was.h.i.+ngton, Patton said something that disturbed them greatly: "Well, I guess this is goodbye. I won't be seeing you again."

Patton's daughters were shocked. "It's crazy," they protested. "The war is over." To which Patton mysteriously responded, "My luck has run out."

24.

IG FARBEN BUILDING.

FRANKFURT AM MAIN, GERMANY.

SEPTEMBER 28, 1945.

4:30 P.M.

The man with eighty-five days to live is about to be fired.

George S. Patton has been summoned, with prejudice, to meet with his boss Dwight Eisenhower. The same foul autumn rains that stymied Patton one year ago in Metz now make flying impossible, so Patton has driven seven and a half hours to the ma.s.sive industrial office complex that now serves as Ike's headquarters. Patton spent the journey through the bombed-out ruins of Germany preparing a plan of attack, thinking of the words he must speak to save his career once again. "The ride reminded me of a similar one," he will write in his diary tonight, that "I took from Knutsford to London ... when I was strongly under the impression I was going to be relieved and sent home-if not tried."

The IG Farben Building rises palatial and scrubbed in the midst of a decimated Frankfurt am Main. Olive-drab American army bulldozers prowl the streets all day long, pus.h.i.+ng rubble to the side of roads. The local Germans eke out a living as best they can, collecting debris to make fires for cooking and warmth, sleeping each night in whatever shelter they can find. "Frankfurt resembles a city," one visitor will write of the destruction, "not so much as a pile of bones and smashed skulls resembles a prized steer."

But Ike's headquarters is an island of luxury in this decimation, a beige fortress where the curving stairwells are made of marble, elaborate fountains burble soothingly, and senior American officers can enjoy a meal of venison, ice cream, and red wine-all served by German servants. Visitors need a special pa.s.s just to get in the door. When they do, they find the hallways filled with clerks and junior officers who spend their days pus.h.i.+ng paper and counting down the hours until they can rotate stateside. The more quick-witted Germans label Eisenhower's headquarters "G.I. Farben Haus."

This same grand complex was also the site where the cyanide-based Zyklon B gas, which was used to exterminate millions in the n.a.z.i death camps, was developed. For that reason, the more cynical residents of this city call the structure Das Phariser Ghetto, the "Ghetto of the Pharisees."1 Fresh-cut roses are delivered each day to Capt. Kay Summersby and other women serving in U.S. military offices. Summersby's secretarial desk sits just outside Eisenhower's vast office. She wears red lipstick, and her auburn hair is pinned back to reveal her high forehead. Summersby's brown Women's Army Corps uniform is tailored to accentuate her figure. Despite the relaxed working environment, she keeps her jacket on at all times, and her tie firmly knotted. Eisenhower's headquarters is a "luxurious" s.p.a.ce, she will write, adding that "several tennis courts could have fitted into Ike's office."

Summersby hears the footfalls of George Patton's trademark riding boots coming down the hallway, and snaps to attention as General Patton enters the office for the long-delayed meeting. Soon she hears Eisenhower raising his voice loud enough to be heard through the thick wooden door. This is not typical behavior for Ike, and Summersby is shocked. The meeting between Patton and Eisenhower borders on the volcanic.

The relations.h.i.+p between Summersby and Eisenhower is far more congenial. They have been together for three years now and are closer than ever. Summersby could have returned to her home in England, but she does not want to leave Eisenhower. However, in just a month, Ike is slated to return to America, where he will replace George C. Marshall as army chief of staff.

Summersby wants to go with him.

She isn't demanding that Eisenhower leave Mamie, his wife of almost thirty years. She would be content to serve as a member of his staff at the Pentagon. After all this time as part of what Eisenhower calls his "immediate wartime family," she finds the thought of returning home alone to England devastating.

Their relations.h.i.+p is an open secret. It was quietly condoned during time of war, and even now, Summersby stays in a special house reserved for female officers, which Eisenhower visits most nights for supper and a few rubbers of bridge. Such an esteemed presence at the dinner table can hardly be kept under wraps. But now, unbeknownst to Summersby, great effort is being taken to make sure that the relations.h.i.+p comes to an end.

Army censors have already doctored the official photograph taken at the German surrender ceremony on May 7. The signing took place in a redbrick schoolhouse in Reims, France. In the original photograph, Summersby stands just behind a grinning Eisenhower, who holds up the two pens used to sign the surrender doc.u.ments. Ike is making a V, for "Victory," with the pens.

General Eisenhower at the German military surrender In the censored version of the photograph, Eisenhower is still all smiles, but Kay Summersby's image has vanished. No other person was edited out of the picture.

The doctored photograph is just the first sign that the affair is doomed. Ike already knows it. Gen. George Marshall has threatened to expose Eisenhower if he requests a divorce.2 Unbeknownst to Summersby, her name will not be on the list of those approved to travel home with Ike. No other member of his staff will be left behind.

George Patton thinks Eisenhower is "very nasty and showoffish" when Kay Summersby is around. But the shouts that Summersby hears coming from Eisenhower's office are hardly for her benefit. Patton tries to appear calm, but he squirms in his seat as the evidence against him is presented. He has made a mess of things with the media yet again, going on the record as stating that being a member of the n.a.z.i Party is no different from being a member of the Republican or Democratic Party. "To get things done in Bavaria, after the complete disorganization and disruption of four years of war, we had to compromise with the devil a little. We had no alternative but to turn to the people who knew what to do and how to do it," he told a small gathering of the press one recent morning in his office, defending his use of former n.a.z.i officials in the rebuilding of Germany.

With war at an end, the journalists who remain in Europe are hungry for any story they can find. Reporters from the New York Times, Chicago Daily News, and New York Herald Tribune were overheard plotting to "get" Patton by tripping him up with loaded questions that would lead him to make the same sort of ill-advised comments to the press that he made at Knutsford.3 The Philadelphia Bulletin saw nothing newsworthy in Patton's quote, and did not run the story. And the piece was originally buried on the back pages of the Chicago paper. Yet the New York Times, Stars and Stripes, and the New York Herald Tribune made much of Patton's remarks. Eisenhower was irate when he received word, erupting in what Kay Summersby will later describe as "the granddaddy of all tempers. General Patton had made his last and final mistake."

Now Patton must explain to Eisenhower how he could have been so careless with his words.

After past missteps, Patton appeared contrite in Eisenhower's presence. He humbled himself to save his career. But Patton does not do that now. He is dressed in a simple uniform without his pistols. He believes that supplication will be unnecessary. Some well-chosen flattery and reminders of their longtime friends.h.i.+p should be enough to get Patton out of this jam with Ike.

But the truth is Patton no longer has a career worth saving. He is restless and bored. His behavior borders on depressive some days, with the best remedy being a hunting expedition or time on horseback.

Patton desperately misses the war. He longs to arm the Germans and lead them against the Russians. It is a war that should have begun even before Berlin fell, Patton believes. He's not afraid to stand up to the Russians, as he proved at a September 7 parade in Berlin, to celebrate the end of the war against j.a.pan. More than five thousand American, Russian, French, and British soldiers stood in formation on the bright afternoon, on the broad Unter den Linden Boulevard, near the partially demolished columns of the landmark Brandenburg Gate. Patton stood on the review stand alongside the Russian general Georgy Zhukov, both men squinting in the strong sunlight as the troops marched past in review.

It is Zhukov who put the greatest pressure on Dwight Eisenhower to ensure that Patton hand over all German POWs to the Russians-particularly those elite SS units whom the Russians believe Patton is hiding from them. Eisenhower has already aligned himself with Zhukov, slighting Patton, Montgomery, and every other American and British general by stating in June that "The war in Europe has been won and to no man do the United Nations owe a greater debt than to Marshal Zhukov."

The Russian general is used to such supplicant behavior. During the war, he ordered his troops to shoot any of their comrades who ran from the Germans, and any Russian village that was thought to have collaborated with the n.a.z.is was burned to the ground. Zhukov is so feared that other Russian generals have been known to tremble in his presence.

Patton does not tremble.

"He was in full dress uniform much like comic opera and covered in medals," Patton later wrote to Beatrice of Zhukov. "He is short, rather fat and has a prehensile chin like an ape but good blue eyes."

As Russian tanks rolled past the reviewing stand, Patton noticed Zhukov gloating over the new Soviet IS-3 model tank.4 Looking up at his American counterpart, the Russian general delivered a taunt: "My dear General Patton," he crowed. "You see that tank? It carries a cannon which can throw a sh.e.l.l seven miles."

Marshal Georgy K. Zhukov with General Eisenhower Patton's face remained impa.s.sive, his tone calm and sure. "Indeed? Well, my dear Marshal Zhukov, let me tell you this: if any of my gunners started firing at your people before they had closed to less than seven hundred yards, I'd have them court-martialed for cowardice."

Patton's aide Maj. Van S. Merle-Smith will later state that he had never before seen "a Russian commander stunned into silence."

Yet in his publicly stated belief that the Russians are America's new enemy, and should be treated as such, Patton stands alone. Indeed, American troops are either going home or being sent to the Pacific to fight the j.a.panese, leaving fewer and fewer GIs to fight "the Mongols," as Patton calls the Russians-not that the Truman administration has any intention of doing such a thing.

Among those departing is Sgt. John Mims, Patton's driver for the last four years. The two have traveled thousands of miles together, and Mims's caution at the wheel has kept Patton from being injured, despite navigating battlefields and avoiding artillery sh.e.l.ls. "You have been the driver of my official car since 1940," Patton writes in a farewell commendation to Mims. "During that time, you have safely driven me in many parts of the world, under all conditions of dust and snow and ice and mud, of enemy fire and attack by enemy aircraft. At no time during these years of danger and difficulty have you so much as b.u.mped a fender."

Another driver will soon be a.s.signed to the general, but Mims can never truly be replaced, and Patton is so upset about his leaving that he originally fought to keep him in Europe. Only when he was reminded that Mims has a young wife at home did Patton relent and sign the travel orders.

But even more disturbing to Patton is that all his peers are going home to bigger and better jobs. While Patton spends his days reluctantly getting rid of the n.a.z.i presence in Bavaria, Ike will soon be army chief of staff, Gen. Omar Bradley is already in Was.h.i.+ngton heading up the new Veterans Administration, and, of course, Gen. Courtney Hodges is off to fight in the Pacific.

It seems there is no place for George Patton in a peacetime army. The one job he really wanted, that of commandant of the War College at the Carlisle Barracks in Pennsylvania, has been given away to Gen. Leonard T. Gerow, a close friend of Eisenhower's who helped plan and lead the D-day invasion.

As their turbulent meeting stretches on, Dwight Eisenhower finally calms down a bit and gets to the main point: shockingly, his plan is to take away the Third Army from George S. Patton.

With this decision, Eisenhower can effectively terminate the press furor over Patton's remarks and place someone in charge of the Third Army who will be less sympathetic to the n.a.z.is.

"Your greatest fault," Eisenhower tells Patton, "is your audacity."

The words are meant to sting, but both men know that Patton considers audacity his greatest a.s.set.

Then the meeting takes another turn. Instead of simply relieving Patton of active command, Eisenhower suggests instead that Patton a.s.sume control of the Fifteenth Army.

It is a face-saving solution, meant to ensure that Patton does not return to America in disgrace. Yet to a fighting man such as Patton, the notion is absurd. The Fifteenth is a paper army, tasked with the job of writing the war's history.

But Patton has no choice. As he walks out of Eisenhower's office, he finds the same reporters who published the stories leading to his downfall now waiting in the corridor for news of his fate.

Eisenhower tells them nothing. Patton also says nothing. He would normally have stayed and had dinner and drinks with Ike; instead, Patton rushes to the train station across from the IG Farben Building to catch a 7:00 p.m. train back to Bavaria.

The humiliation slowly sinks in: Patton's beloved Third Army has been wrenched from his grasp. One of the greatest fighting forces in the history of war will now be commanded by another man. Under Patton's leaders.h.i.+p, that spectacular a.s.semblage of men, tanks, and big guns led the liberation of France, rescued Bastogne, crossed the Rhine, and would have freed all of Eastern Europe if Eisenhower had not halted Patton's advance.

"I've obeyed orders," Patton tells an aide over dinner on the long nighttime train ride. "I think that I'd like to resign from the Army so that I could go home and say what I have to say."

But powerful people do not want this to happen. George Patton knows too much-and saying what he knows would be a disaster.

He must be silenced.

25.

JOSEPH STALIN'S PRIVATE VILLA SOCHI, RUSSIA.

OCTOBER 17, 1945.

AFTERNOON.

Joseph Stalin is down but not out.

The sixty-six-year-old Russian dictator is taking a rare vacation at his favorite hideaway. At his direction, the lavish mountain home has been painted forest green, so that it is completely camouflaged within a grove of cypress trees.1 Despite this cloak of invisibility, Stalin is on guard as he strolls alone in the palm-tree-lined courtyard. Trademark pipe clenched firmly between his teeth, he is obsessively contemplating his future-and that of the Soviet Union.

"The Boss," as Stalin is known, desperately needs time away from Moscow. The fresh air and quiet of this retreat one thousand miles due south of the Russian capital are more than a mere tonic to the overworked despot. Unbeknownst to the Americans and British, Stalin suffered two minor heart attacks at the Potsdam Conference, which he concealed from the public. Despite the ailments, Stalin was able to continue negotiating the future of Europe.

The stress of the war, combined with years of working sixteen hours a day while puffing on a pipe filled with strong tobacco, is taking a savage toll on Stalin's body. He is afraid that any sign of weakness might lead to an attempt to oust him from power. Only his personal physician, Vladimir Vinogradov, knows the full extent of his health problems. But even at leisure, Stalin is a workaholic and finds vacationing to be a nuisance. Now, as he takes two months away from the Kremlin, spending his days in gardening and long walks, he still receives dozens of reports from Moscow each day.

And these reports trouble him deeply.

Stalin's absence is causing a furor. Ta.s.s, the official Soviet news agency, has simply explained that "Comrade Stalin has departed for vacation to rest," but few in Moscow or around the world believe there is not more to the story. Foreign diplomats and the international press scurry to learn the truth about what's happening in Sochi, as rumors fly.2 There are rumors that Stalin will soon quit his job, to be replaced either by Marshal Georgy Zhukov or perhaps by foreign affairs commissar Vyacheslav Molotov. "Stalin may leave his post," the Chicago Tribune is reporting. "The ambitious aspirations of Marshal Zhukov to become a dictator have full backing of the army, while Molotov is backed by the Communist Party."