Of all the historical texts I’ve read, fiction and nonfiction, the WWII period is my favourite, and books from that period dominate my shelves—the time called for big men to become larger-than-life heroes and for ordinary men to do the extraordinary. The ‘Greatest Generation’ was made up of those whose names we still revere and remember, and the ones whose names we never learned.
General S. Patton was one of those who achieved greatness, and, like legendary President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, did so by turning the reluctant America into a true world power. FDR, through policy and moral responsibility, got the USA into the war; Patton, by his hard-charging and unshakeable conviction of destiny, left behind a legacy as America’s greatest ever warrior, and the US Army, a mechanized menace of warfare.
I recently returned from a trip to my hometown, where I visited family and took in the soft, white slopes of the local ski hill. The drive is 4–1/2 hours each way, so when I spied Patton, the audiobook with its 7–1/2 listening time, it was the perfect company. I did have a passenger, but that seat was occupied by a teenager, complete with wireless headphones and a hoodie — a clear indication that I couldn’t depend on the child for entertainment on the road trip.
Narrated by Brian Emerson, Axelrod’s biography of the great American general was captivating and educational. Until listening to this book, most of what I knew of Patton consisted of his pre-WWII years and the African campaigns in the big war. I knew of his battle with dyslexia, his father’s unrelenting support, a childhood swamped in joy and adventure and his hard-fought rise at West Point.
Axelrod succinctly explains how Patton was the pioneer of American mechanized warfare and how he carried his romantic military ideals from the classic cavalry to the new horses of tank warfare. From those early days at West Point to establishing the DTC (Desert Training Center), aka CAMA (California-Arizona Maneuver Area), Patton solidified his reputation as America’s greatest military trainer. His doctrines, introduced in 1942, are still used today as the foundation of American military preparations.
With so much happening in the European theatre following D-Day, my knowledge of Patton and his drive to Berlin was piecemeal. Axelrod’s professional research covered Patton’s European assignments with clarity and candour. Pulling no punches, the author revealed as much from Patton’s diary as he did by relaying reactions to Patton from his superiors.
It is easy to conclude that if Patton had not hindered his own success by repeated political incorrectness and impulsive emotional outbursts, his legacy would have been even greater.
Patton’s unbridled enthusiasm for personal glory, victory, and pride in the Army and its fighting men was the root cause for most of his famous faux pas, which, unless ordered to correct by his superiors, he made no apologies for. However, it would be a mistake to judge Patton’s character on instances of poor judgment, such as the “slap heard round the world.” The general cared profoundly for his men. He forced his way through field hospital tours even though seeing the consequences of his command took a severe emotional toll; where pride was a strength, his lack of empathy was a flaw.
Patton was as much a symbol as he was a man. His gruesome but necessary warrior mentality was a heralded and required attribute within the Army, supported by the conservative-minded populace and republican politicians; Patton was the rah-rah symbol of power and brute force. To liberals and democrats, Patton was reviled and seen as grotesque, embarrassing and barbaric, a beacon with too little separation from the Nazi fanatics and called for his hanging before applauding another medal hung on the steadily victorious general’s jacket.
To his men, readily identified throughout the army as “Patton’s Men” by their strict adherence to military protocol, fitness and training levels, overwhelmingly supported Patton. Those soldiers understood that the general was there to lead them, not to be loved by them — that desire Patton reserved for his colleagues and superiors — so his soldiers accepted his hard-driving, unforgiving demands as perhaps the best way to survive the war.
I found it a very interesting contradiction that Patton, while not strictly tethered to the church, was a pious man who prayed to God wholeheartedly, while at the same time believing with equal conviction in reincarnation. Patton would tell anyone who’d listen that war was in soul and blood, that he rode along as one of Napoleon’s generals and marched with the Roman Legions.
In WWII, from Africa through Italy and into Europe, Patton stayed true to his philosophy of ‘Attack, advance and attack again,’ and, had he not been politically halted, would likely have liberated even more cities and towns than he did. The general, however, was as good a soldier as he was a leader, following orders and carrying them out to the best of his ability.
Perhaps the great tragedy of Patton’s professional life was that the chance to further American military doctrine was cut short by an unfortunate but inescapable destiny, with his end, dying from injuries sustained in a military vehicular accident in Germany.
The staunch stickler for military protocol that he was, Patton would have approved of his wife keeping to his code. American soldiers who’d fallen on foreign soil were not shipped home but buried where they had bled. Thus, the legendary general lies in Luxembourg at the American Cemetery amongst the fallen men of the Third Army he commanded.
Patton, by Alan Axelrod, was thoroughly satisfying, candid and humorous, and, like Patton, at times blunt and colourful. I give the book a well-deserved 5 out of 5 stars for the 4-Star General.