Each evening, all three liaison officers got together in our quarters at Darmstadt to compare notes. An air force team from SHAEF headquarters who lived in the house next door was also surveying the bombings; however, their focus was on the physical extent of the bomb damage as compared to the after-action reports from the flight crews.
From these surveys and earlier observations, I began to develop reservations about how and why the air force chose targets. There is no question that their efforts were a primary factor in the defeat of Germany. Strategic bombing had completely devastated all the major German cities and many of the industries. Severe damage to the infrastructure had made it extremely difficult for the Germans to move troops and matériel during the last stages of the war.
In spite of this, there were questions. For at least two years prior to the war’s end, both American and British bombers had made deep raids into central Germany. These flights passed right over the plants that contributed about 70 percent of all the electric power for the Ruhr and for German industry. The flights also bypassed the chemical by-product plants that manufactured lubricants for the army and briquettes to heat German homes.
During the deep raids, the air force suffered terrible losses, because they had to go without fighter protection.
Yet many of the more accessible large power plants went untouched. The large Fortuna plant at Oberaussem and many others around it were still operational two months before the war ended. The destruction of the ball-bearing plant at Schweinfurt, which was extremely costly to the air force, may not have been necessary if the power plants in the Rhineland had been destroyed and the Opel plant in Rüsselsheim had been shut down. The FW 190 engines manufactured at the Opel plant used ball bearings made at Schweinfurt.
Why these power plants remained operational until ground forces captured them was debated at length at the higher levels of command. There was, no doubt, a great deal of political maneuvering involved. Although the air force planners tried to do what they thought best, it appears that they made some serious errors in judgment.
Reflections on the Aftermath
The pain, suffering, and losses of our tankers, infantrymen, artillerymen, engineers, and other combat arms affected me deeply and profoundly. I came on active duty in June 1941 at Camp Polk in a cadre group of about four hundred officers. During the next three years of training in the States and in England, I got to know many of them and became close friends with some of them. Of all those assigned to the infantry, tanks, or engineers, or as artillery forward observers, I did not know of a single one who survived w ithout being seriously wounded.
As a young ordnance ROTC cadet in August 1939, I was shocked to find that our total tank research and development budget for that year was only $85,000. How could the greatest industrial nation on earth devote such a pittance to the development of a major weapons system, particularly when World War II was to start in two weeks?
Development of the M4 Sherman was further hindered by bickering and rivalry between the infantry, artillery, and armored officers about the characteristics of this tank. The infantry wanted a heavy tank that they could use for breakthroughs. Armored officers wanted a fast, mobile tank with adequate armor and a high-velocity gun. These requirements conflicted with those of the artillery, who felt that the tank was essentially a mobile artillery piece and therefore they should dictate the characteristics of the gun. It should be capable of firing at least five thousand rounds before being replaced. To do this, it was necessary to use a low-velocity gun. Artillery won on this point; the tank carried the short-barreled 75mm M2 gun.
Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to anyone that there was only a remote possibility that a tank would last long enough in combat to fire five thousand rounds. Ordnance intelligence had indicated that the Germans were rapidly replacing their short-barreled 75mm howitzers in the PzKw IV tank with long-barreled, high-velocity KwK41s for greater penetration against enemy tanks. There was also information that the Russians and Germans both were using tank against tank in massive battles. This information, which should have been the handwriting on the wall for future trends in high-velocity tank-gun design, was either misunderstood or completely ignored. It appeared inexcusable to me that our troops were furnished with such a deficient main battle tank. The M4 appeared to have been designed by a committee, and many young Americans bled and died as a result.
As the middle of July 1945 neared, the tension became more acute. Although the war in Europe was over, everyone knew that the war with Japan still had to be won. Future plans had to be put on hold.
Although we were never formally briefed, there were many bull sessions going on similar to those held before D day. Speculation ran somewhat along these lines: Two American armies, the Eighth and the Tenth, were already in the Pacific and were being reinforced with additional units. The First Army would be added to this new army group. The final assault would be on the main island of Honshu. The Eighth Army would land on the north and the Tenth Army on the south. The First Army would then land both north and south of Tokyo Bay and attempt to cut off the city before the Japanese command could escape.
Whereas the Germains, when they were cut off and completely isolated, had eventually surrendered to save further loss of life, I was not sure that the Japanese would do this; in many instances in the South Pacific, they had fought to the last man. In Japan itself, the casualties could be horrendous. Some estimates put American casualties at a million and Japanese casualties at perhaps 10 to 20 million. This, of course, was speculation, but the rumors became wilder as time went on.
14 – The Survivors
The French Riviera
The division was tentatively scheduled to go to Marseilles in late August and early September, preparatory to shipment to the Pacific. About this time, Major Arlington told us we could all take two weeks’ leave, either in Paris or on the French Riviera. Although I wanted to see Paris, I’d had enough of the ice and snow of the Ardennes and the frigid weather of northern Germany. I was looking forward to warm sunshine.
We were still in winter uniforms: wool shirts, wool trousers, long underwear, lightweight combat jackets, and combat boots. At least we had done away with the steel helmet and wore only the helmet liner. The loss in weight made us feel about ten feet tall. Our footlockers had caught up with us by this time, and I could hardly wait to get out a summer uniform. I packed my GI knapsack for the trip with two sets of khaki shirts and trousers and GI underwear. After wearing long underwear for more than a year, putting on lightweight cotton boxer shorts made me feel buck naked.
We took the truck convoy from Darmstadt to Luxembourg to catch the train to Marseilles. Four company-grade officers were assigned to a compartment. Even though the roadbed was rough in places, because the tracks had just been repaired, our accommodations were comfortable, and I enjoyed the trip down the Rhône Valley to Marseilles. From Marseilles we went by truck convoy to Cannes. We were assigned quarters at the Gallien Hotel, a medium-sized, luxurious French hotel in the foothills above Cannes and about half a mile from the beach. My traveling buddies were Capt. Cecil Martin, a medical officer in the 45th Medical Battalion, and Joe Lykes, a first lieutenant in the 33d Armored Regiment.