Command failures

Ossad, Steven L

Lessons Learned from Lloyd R. Fredendall

In war, as in most human endeavors, historians are concerned mostly with winners, and so biographers usually catalog their deeds and analyze their performance. The lessons learned from defeat and failure on the battlefield, field, however, may be even more striking and important, especially when all the evidence suggests that the subject should have been a hero and his early record was a harbinger of success.

In such cases, where the judgment of history has placed a promising commander among the ranks of the losers and the forgotten, it behooves us to understand the reasons.

Lt. Gen. Lloyd R. Fredendall, one of America's first heroes of World War II-who ended up in obscurity-is just such an example. His story can serve as both a warning and a guide.

Lloyd Ralston Fredendall was born on December 28, 1883, in Cheyenne, Wyo. His father, Ira Livingston Fredendall, was a settler from New York who became sheriff of Laramie before receiving a commission in the Quartermaster Corps during the Spanish-American War. He remained in the service and through his political connections secured an appointment from Sen. Joseph Warren for his son to enter the class of 1905 at the U.S. Military Academy. As in the more famous case of Douglas MacArthur, Fredendall's mother, a domineering and strong-willed woman, accompanied the plebe to Highland Falls. Described by a classmate as "a very soldierly little fellow, but extremely goaty in mathematics," Lloyd performed so poorly in trigonometry and analytic geometry and behaved so badly that he was dismissed after just one semester.

His mother was furious and successfully pressed Sen. Warren to appoint him the next year, but he dropped out a second time. Although the senator was still willing to nominate him again, this time the senator's offer was declined by the Academy. Undaunted, however, and displaying determination and stubborn pride in the face of failure, Fredendall took the officer's qualifying exam in 1906 while attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, scoring first out of 70 applicants. On February 13, 1907, just one and a half years after his West Point classmates, he received a commission in the Regular Army as a second lieutenant of Infantry.

After service in the Philippines and other overseas and stateside assignments, he shipped out to France with the 28th Infantry Regiment in August of 1917, where he held a succession of assignments in the Army's overseas schools. He soon built a record as an excellent teacher, trainer and administrator of troops, ending the war as a temporary lieutenant colonel, although like other men who later gained prominence in World War II-Marshall, Eisenhower, Bradley and Collins, for example-he had never seen action.

The end of the Great War did not mark any significant change in the pattern of his assignments, and he continued to draw mostly staff and training duties. He was both instructor and student at the Infantry School (1922), was a 1923 "distinguished" graduate (placing 31 out of 151) of the Command and General Staff School (CGSS) and attended the Army War College (1925). His stints in Washington at the Statistics Branch, the Inspector General's Department and as Executive Officer, Office of the Chief of Infantry (1938-39), led to important contacts that would later greatly affect his career.

The most important of these were his relationships with George C. Marshall and Lesley J. McNair. The latter-who was severely wounded while visiting North Africa in April 1943 and killed during the St. Lo Breakout in July 1944became head of ground forces and probably the most respected training officer in the U.S. Army. He had a natural affinity and very high regard for Fredendall and included him on a list of three men he thought capable of commanding American forces in Britain.

In the years just before World War II, Fredendall filled the gaps in his line experience by successively commanding the 57th Infantry Regiment (Philippine Scouts), the 4th Infantry Division (the Army's first large fully motorized unit) and II Corps. In the fall of 1941, he took his corps to the general headquarters maneuvers in the Carolinas, which proved a crucial testing ground for the rapidly approaching war. While his performance during the exercise was not especially noteworthy, he acquitted himself satisfactorily overall. Most important, he remained on the list of potential candidates for one of the senior field commands that would soon open in the geometrically expanding ground forces. Second oldest of 34 men who led a corps in combat in World War II, he was the only one who participated in the Carolina maneuvers who held an equivalent level combat command.

By the time Army Chief of Staff Gen. George C. Marshall recommended the stocky, swaggering and youthful looking 59-year-old to Eisenhower for a major command in Operation Torch-the Anglo-American invasion of North Africa-Fredendall's reputation as a seasoned, mature and experienced officer was firmly established. Marshall was especially fond of Fredendall, describing him as "one of the best" and remarking in a staff meeting when his name was mentioned, "I like that man; you can see determination all over his face." Ike picked him to command the 39,000-man Central Task Force (the largest of three) that was scheduled to ship out from England and take the port city of Oran. His first contact with Fredendall, however, was indicative of problems to come and should have signaled an early warning.

Fredendall soon tired of garrison life and pressed Eisenhower for a new assignment. On January 1, 1943, he was ordered to take his headquarters to Tebessa, a major supply depot on the Tunisian border. There, the II Corps, built around the 1st Armored Division, would soon be joined by the 1st, 9th and 34th Infantry Divisions and become a part of the British First Army commanded by Lt. Gen. Kenneth A. Anderson, a reserved, quiet professional. Fredendall would be the senior American field commander with responsibility for the southern sector of the line running along the north-south mountain range known as the eastern dorsal. Eisenhower, who recommended him-as did George Patton-for a third star a month after the transfer, would have done better to think about what kind of man he was now personally sponsoring.

Fredendall was a gruff and plainspoken-some might say coarse-infantryman, described by some colleagues as belligerent and abrasive. A British general described him as "a prime specimen of the traditional overripe, overbearing and explosive senior officer in whom the caricaturists have always delighted." Historian Martin Blumenson noted that he was a man who "moved vigorously, spoke loudly and had a firm opinion on every subject." One might add that such opinions were often independent of any basis. He was not a man who worked easily with others, either senior or junior to him. After several visits, Maj. Gen. Lucian Truscott, Deputy Chief of Staff and Eisenhower's personal representative in Tunisia, painted an unflattering portrait:

Small in stature, loud and rough in speech, he was outspoken in his opinions and critical of superiors and subordinates alike. He was inclined to jump to conclusions which were not always well founded. He rarely left his command post for personal visits and reconnaissance, yet he was impatient with the recommendations of subordinates more familiar with the terrain and other conditions than he.

Once the fighting had ceased in Oran and political considerations became paramount, his behavior once again signaled problems that would be critical in a command built around a coalition of nations. Bored and disdainful of political issues, he was openly contemptuous of diplomats of any nationality and foreign officers alike, including both the French and English. He clashed often with his political advisor, former Vice-Consul Leland L. Rounds, over the la tier's efforts to rid Oran of Vichy and German sympathizers. Fredendall preferred to ignore the problem.

His outspoken antipathy for our allies, especially the British, was more than reciprocated. Anderson, his immediate superior, thought him incompetent. Gen. Sir Harold R. L. G. Alexander, who took command of 18th Army Group at the end of the Kasserine battle, quickly concluded that Fredendall was "dithering," and in an oft-quoted observation said to Ike, "I'm sure that you have better men than that." By late February, the two senior Allied field generals had stopped communicating altogether. In a coalition command where allied cooperation was viewed as crucial to victory, Fredendall's open antagonism to the British was a serious management problem for Eisenhower.

Complicating his command relationships was his habit of speaking in a kind of shorthand slang, giving rise to confusion about what he actually meant. This sloppiness of speech and use of obscure, barely decipherable phrases occasionally caused serious problems, especially when he was issuing orders during battle. His natural impatience often turned to contempt for those officers who did not respond quickly enough or asked for further qualification, as often as not because of confusion over his actual meaning.

His relationships with subordinates were scarcely better than those with his Allies. He had an openly hostile relationship with Maj. Gen. Orlando Ward, commanding general, 1st Armored Division, described by Truscott as "an antipathy most unusual." Ward was a quiet, intelligent, decorated combat veteran of World War I, respected throughout the Army.

In just six weeks he had become thoroughly frustrated with Fredendall's constant interference in his command, especially bypassing him to issue orders directly to his combat commands. This practice violated an important rule of American doctrine-when a commander assigns a mission, initiative and authority for execution rest with the subordinate. Later in the campaign the situation had deteriorated to the point that they communicated only when necessary on official business and then with scarcely concealed mutual contempt. The other division commanders, Maj. Gen. Terry Alien of the 1st Infantry, Maj. Gen. Charles (Doc) Ryder of the 34th, and Maj. Gen. Troy Middleton of the 9th, as well as many staff members, were also dissatisfied with Fredendall's leadership. Lt. Col. Hamilton Howze, Ward's operations officer (G-3) and later a four-star general, developed "such a detestation for Fredendall that it was hard to control, simply because of the way he treated Gen. Ward."

On February 13, 1943, Gen. Eisenhower visited the command post at Tebessa. He wanted to inspect the Allied defenses first hand, as well as check on the reported discord between Fredendall and his subordinates. Eisenhower was deeply troubled by the visit. For some time he had been concerned about the II Corps commander's competence. His attacks in late January had seemed frivolous and a waste of resources, and his disposition of forces appeared piecemeal and sloppy. There were mounting reports of a lack of control and a tendency toward rash decisions.

Ike was especially shocked by the dug-in, well-fortified and inaccessible command post (CP) so far from the front -more than 70 miles-and Fredendall's unwillingness to leave it for front-line visits. Located deep in a ravine that was accessible by a narrow road constructed by II Corps engineers, Speedy Valley as it was called, took three weeks to build and absorbed the efforts of a full company of men working day and night blasting elaborate shelters for the headquarters. It was, in Omar Bradley's words, "an embarrassment to every American soldier" and was contemptuouslytuously referred to as "Lloyd's very last resort" and "Shangri-la, a million miles from nowhere."

The "velvet-lined" CP suggested excessive concern for personal security, exactly the wrong impression of American leadership Ike wanted to convey. As he noted in his memoir, "It was the only time during the war that I ever saw a divisional or higher headquarters so concerned over its own safety that it dug itself underground shelters." He tried earlier to convey his displeasure, writing in early February to Fredendall that "one of the things that gives me the most concern is the habit of some of our generals in staying too close to their command posts. Please watch this very carefully among all your subordinates," but his indirect effort at signaling his feelings to Fredendall fell on deaf ears. The impact of the visit was still vivid nearly two months later when Eisenhower paid another call on II Corps, now under the command of Omar Bradley. Putting his arm on his shoulder, Eisenhower told him, "Brad, I'm sure glad to see you spread out like this in the open. Once when I visited Fredendall in his CP near Tebessa I found II Corps dug into the damnedest canyon you ever saw."

While at Tebessa, Eisenhower was visited by Gen. Anderson, who warned again in a staff conference of an impending German attack, which he expected in the northern sector. This analysis, which was based on ULTRA intercepts but nevertheless proved to be wrong and very nearly disastrous, was consistent with Eisenhower's own intelligence (G-2) assessment. Fredendall, relying on his competent and loyal G-2, Col. Benjamin A. (Monk) Dickson, derisively (and correctly) dismissed Andersen's warning, suggesting that the expected attack was likely to be in his sector. He cited reports of greater enemy resistance to reconnaissance patrols, increased noise from vehicles, larger enemy troop buildups, and, most ominous, the fact that Arab workers were quickly disappearing.

What struck Eisenhower, however, was not the intelligence dispute-as it turned out, he would relieve his own G-2, English Brig. Eric E. Mockler-Ferryman, for the error of judgment in relying solely on ULTRA-but rather the atmosphere during the conference. Anderson had earlier refused Fredendall's request for American troops still held in the north to be released to II Corps, and the mood was palpably hostile. This obvious lack of cooperation, even animosity, among his top battlefield generals was even more disturbing than the public embarrassment of the command post. The achievement of a true coalition, after all, was-and remained throughout the war-his main command preoccupation. There had already been reports that Fredendall had made anti-British comments and Ike personally warned him that "our allies have to be partners and not people that we view with suspicion and doubt." Eisenhower remarked to Patton-possibly as a warning to him to control his well-known and arguably even more extreme outspokenness-that if the complaint against Fredendall were true, "by God I'll bust him."

Accompanied by Truscott, aides and II Corps staff officers, Ike visited the frontline positions and 1st Armored headquarters later that day. It did nothing to quiet his concerns. The troop dispositions were disappointing, with infantry, tank and artillery units intermixed and based on widely separated hills unable to support each other. It was exactly the "penny packet" formations that had led to British defeats in the early phase of the Desert War. Eisenhower's original idea was to maintain the 1st Armored as a fully massed and mobile reaction force able to intervene decisively wherever needed. Now it was scattered all over the field. Even more troubling, Ike learned that Fredendall had never visited the front and that the deployments were based on maps hanging in his underground headquarters.

The troops in the field seemed complacent and sloppy and were obviously green. It was also clear that Orlando Ward, a friend from West Point, detested his commander and could hardly contain his hostility. Ike noted the complaints about the deployments and said he would address them. With an attack expected at any moment, Ike was very apprehensive. His men had not yet met the vaunted Wehrmacht in combat and yet two of his most important senior commanders were barely on speaking terms. Still, he did nothing; in fact, he wrote to Marshall right after the visit that he was impressed by Fredendall's "thorough knowledge of his battlefront. He seems keen and fit and I am placing a lot of confidence in him."

The next morning, February 14, 1943, just three hours after Eisenhower had completed his tour of the front lines, Generaloberst Jurgen von Arnim's 10th and 21st Panzer Divisions delivered a brutal St. Valentine's Day greeting to the Americans, striking hard at Sidi bou Zid. After two days of hard fighting, a large part of the 1st Armored Division had been destroyed and nearly 100 tanks, as well as dozens of guns, half-tracks and other vehicles lay burned or abandoned on the battlefield, next to the bodies of hundreds of dead and wounded Americans. The first engagements can only be described as a rout; men threw away their weapons and ran in panic towards the rear, with their backs to the enemy. It was like some terrible modern enactment of Stephen Crane's Civil War vision in The Red Badge of Courage. Omar Bradley described it as "the worst performance of U.S. Army troops in their whole proud history."

By the end of one week, Rommel's veterans had pushed the Americans back 50 miles and were moving through the Kasserine Pass toward Thala and the supply depot (and II Corps headquarters) at Tebessa. Fredendall abandoned his elaborate CP and was completely out of touch for a while. By February 23, however, it was over, although no one realized it at the time. A lack of supplies, American fire-power, bickering among the German command and concern about the British moving west towards their rear, halted the enemy thrust. Disaster was narrowly averted, and the Americans were granted a reprieve-no thanks to their leadership.

Eisenhower's response to the growing crisis in command was still indecisive, even at this late stage. Although troubled by Fredendall for some time, he didn't want to relieve him in the middle of the battle. He wrote:

The relief of a combat leader is something that is not to be lightly done in war. Its first effect is to indicate to troops dissatisfaction with their performance; otherwise, the commander would be commended, not relieved. ... On the other hand, really inept leadership must be quickly detected and instantly removed.

Nearly two weeks passed before he took any action. Many believe that Eisenhower was hesitant to act because of Fredendall's sponsors. Some cite Marshall; others, Lesley McNair. Perhaps Eisenhower was still unsure whether Ward was the one that should be relieved, as Fredendall had suggested on several occasions. Clearly, however, something had to be done.

As the battle was reaching its climax, on February 20, Ike summoned Maj. Gen. Ernest Harmon, CG, 2nd Armored Division, a tough, profane, no-nonsense cavalryman and armor expert, to his headquarters and explained the situation. Harmon was to relieve either Fredendall as CG, II Corps, or Ward as CG, 1st Armored Division. Harmon, true to his reputation and surprising even himself, blurted out to the commanding general, "Well, make up your mind, Ike, I can't do both." Eisenhower replied:

That's right, but right now I don't know what is to be done down there. I'm going to send you as deputy corps commander. Your first job is to do the best you can to help Fredendall to restore the situation. Then you will report directly to me whether you should relieve Ward or Fredendall.

After arriving at II Corps HQ, Harmon was handed a note from Fredendall-who then went to sleep-authorizing him to take charge of the battle. The tough tank commander went to the front where he met with Ward and other 1st Division officers, issued orders and, after the situation had stabilized with the Germans in retreat, returned on February 28 to Eisenhower's headquarters. He was completely disgusted with Fredendall and did not try to hide or temper his opinion. Suggesting that "the German had a few tricks left up his sleeve," and that Fredendall would be unable to cope, his message was simple:

This is Rommel, Ike, and tank warfare at its latest, way above poor Fredendall's head. ... Ward is all bushed, and besides he is hopping mad at Fredendall for letting Anderson disperse his division.

He went further, adding that if Fredendall remained in command, there was a danger that II Corps "might actually disintegrate." His more colorful assessments, published after the war, were more caustic. He described Fredendall as "no damn good," and had suggested that Ike "ought to get rid of him." He even intimated that Fredendall was drunk after celebrating the initial German withdrawal from Kasserine, although Fredendall claimed that he was simply "groggy" from lack of sleep. Harmon also described total confusion in the command post and, in a postwar interview with the historian of the 1st Armored Division, pulled no punches, calling Fredendall "a common low son of a bitch," who was unsuited to command. Patton's diary of March 2, 1943, describes a conversation in which Harmon labeled Fredendall, "a moral and physical coward."

Although in his postwar memoir Eisenhower did not even mention Harmon's mission, it may have finally convinced him to relieve Fredendall. Ike first offered the command to Harmon, who, in spite of his ambition to command a Corps, turned it down for ethical reasons; it would have been wrong to take the job of a man he had just excoriated and recommended for relief. Harmon suggested Patton. Before finally acting, Eisenhower offered command to his one time deputy, Lt. Gen. Mark Clark, then commanding Fifth Army, who declined as he viewed the offer as a demotion. Eisenhower was not happy with that response.

A few days after Harmon went back to command 2nd Armored, Maj. Gen. Walter Bedell Smith, Eisenhower's tough-minded Chief of Staff, also visited II Corps HQ. By that time, Fredendall's command was "a tangled skein of misunderstanding, duplication of effort, overlapping responsibility and consequential muddle." Smith was equally disgusted with what he observed, leading Bradley to observe that Ike's deputy believed Fredendall to be, "incompetent or crazy or both." At this point it is difficult to see why the Supreme Commander had hesitated at all. He knew full well what was required. In a letter to his CGSS classmate and study partner, Maj. Gen. Leonard Gerow, he laid out the commander's imperative for dealing with just such a situation:

Officers that fail ... must be ruthlessly weeded out. Considerations of friendship, family, kindliness and nice personality have nothing whatsoever to do with the problem...you must be tough [and get rid of the] lazy, the slothful, the indifferent or the complacent.

In addition to the potential negative reaction from fellow officers-especially Marshall and McNair-he had complicated the situation by his own public sponsorship. In addition to his earlier public praise, he had written two letters during the battle (one as recently as March 2) commending Fredendall for his "stout-hearted leadership" and stating, "you have proved your right to command a separate and fairly large American force on the battlefield." He undoubtedly intended to stiffen Fredendall's resolve in the middle of a fight, but reports of plummeting morale in II Corps and the parade of men he trusted-including Truscott, Harmon, Bedell Smith and Alexander-castigating Fredendall's leadership, finally left him no choice. The anti-British comments, the loss of confidence of his subordinates, Eisenhower's own experience (as well as that of other superior officers), the scandalous embarrassment of the command post and Fredendall's tactical failures in the field had finally moved Eisenhower to a decision.

On March 5, he visited Tebessa once more for a commander's conference. Bradley, whose presence as Ike's "eyes and ears" had already alienated Fredendall, was not informed of the visit and had to be summoned. During a break, the two classmates and friends went out to the porch. Ike went straight to the heart of the matter:

"What do you think of the command here?" "It's pretty bad. I've talked to all the division commanders. To a man they've lost confidence in Fredendall as the corps commander."

"Thanks Brad. You've confirmed what I thought was wrong. As a matter of fact I've already ordered Patton up from Rabat. He'll report in tomorrow to take command of II Corps."

The next day, Patton, took over. Ike offered some advice:

You must not retain for one instant any man in a responsible position where you have become doubtful of his ability to do the job ... This matter frequently calls for more courage than any other thing you will have to do, but I expect you to be perfectly cold-blooded about it.

It was a message he should have heeded much earlier. Patton, who had his own character problems, did not suffer from indecision or an aversion to relieving subordinates. He arrived at II Corps headquarters with great fanfare and met with Fredendall, whom he disliked since clashing with him in 1941 when both were division commanders at Ft. Benning. After a brief conference he formally relieved Fredendall of command, graciously observing that "it was primarily a tank show and I know more about tanks."

Even at that point, Eisenhower could not bring himself to be completely honest with Fredendall. He told him that he did not feel he was to blame for the setbacks at Kasserine and that he would not recommend a reduction in rank. In fact, he believed, "several others, including myself, shared responsibility for our week of reverses." Believing that Fredendall was still valuable for his training skills, he recommended him for command of an army. In a visit with President Roosevelt soon afterwards, Eisenhower's aide spoke of his boss's reluctance "in relieving Fredendall" and his hope that his "fine qualities, particularly for training, would not be lost to the Army." It was not Ike's finest moment.

Lloyd Fredendall's war was over but did not end in disgrace or humiliation. The public relations demands and the maintenance of troop morale, not to mention the reputations of those who had sponsored him-not least Eisenhower-were more important than a public examination of what is still regarded as among the worst defeats ever suffered by the U.S. Army. The press reports of Fredendall's return down-played the defeat at Kasserine, although one journalist remarked, "Rightly or wrongly, Fredendall became the goat of the U.S. defeat, although he later turned and with a vastly inferior force drove the enemy from the pass." That assessment certainly misread the end of the battle, and the American public never learned of Eisenhower's indecisiveness or the full story leading to Fredendall's relief. The institutional politics that kept him in a position for which he was totally unsuited-long after it was painfully obvious-were never openly subjected to examination or criticism.

In spite of his relief, Fredendall was promoted to lieutenant general in June 1943, assumed command of U.S. Second Army and was greeted back home as a hero. He ended his career with honor, free of the usual costs of failure. According to David Eisenhower, his grandfather later repented of his "weakness" in sending Fredendall back home without a reduction in grade-a clear signal that he was leaving in disgrace. If so, the regret never amounted to anything and Fredendall retired in 1946 as a three-star general.

He died on October 4, 1963, and was buried at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery in California. Except for a brief scene in the popular movie "Patton," his name disappeared from our military history.

The judgment of historians has not been kind. Charles MacDonald described him as a "man of bombast and bravado in speech and manner [who] failed to live up to the image he tried to create." Carlo D'Este is even more critical, calling him "one of the most inept senior officers to hold a high command during World War II." Personal assessment so long after the fact, however, is not as important as answering the question: what can we learn from his failures?

First, a commander must understand the mission. Fredendall failed to realize that his job was not only to wage war, but also to fight as part of a coalition of nations. His commander was obsessed with inter-allied cooperation and Fredendall's open disdain was a direct challenge. This was probably the most important factor in the decision to relieve him.

Second, he violated several basic principles of command embodied in American doctrine, the most important of which is that once the commander has assigned a mission, he does not interfere with his subordinates and allows them full authority-and responsibility-to complete it. On a number of occasions, Fredendall issued orders to subordinates of his division commanders and instructed them to report back directly to him.

Third, he ignored the profound benefit that comes from the leader's appearance of personal bravery. Since Caesar walked the battlefield in a red cloak so all could see him risking death with his men, every great leader has understood this moral imperative. The scandal of his command post fundamentally diminished Fredendall's stature in the eyes of every man who saw or heard about it.

Fourth, he forgot that self-control is an absolute prerequisite for command. Allowing personal feelings to dictate behavior in a situation where many diverse personalities are thrown together in a situation of intense stress is a prescription for disaster. This is especially crucial when dealing with subordinates. Fredendall's relationship with Orlando Ward, a man who continued to serve him loyally and honorably in spite of his awful treatment, should be examined carefully by every student of war.

Finally, a commander cannot make fundamental tactical mistakes in the field and expect to survive. The list of violations is long. Fredendall ordered the deployment of units unable to support each other; he dispersed his armored forces, leaving him without a mobile reserve which he had been ordered to maintain; he failed to control the high ground and exerted almost no control over his tactical air support; he rarely visited the front to see the ground and setting for himself. Any one of these could have led to a painful result; together they established the preconditions for an ignominious defeat.

There is an apocryphal story that German General Staff Chief von Moltke once said that it takes the loss of a full division to train a major general. As brutal and cynical as this sounds, if there is any truth at all in it-and without in any way diminishing respect for and gratitude to those who fell-then Kasserine Pass might be considered a "bargain." At a cost of just 6,000 casualties, one clearly incompetent general unworthy of further "training" was relieved, and the Supreme Allied Commander learned one of the most important lessons in war-the absolute requirement for ruthlessness in command. From that point on, Ike dealt severely with those who failed in leadership or on the battlefield.

STEPHEN L. OSSAD is a freelance writer and coauthor of Major General Maurice Rose: World War II's Greatest Forgotten Commander, a biography that is scheduled for publication in June.

Arriving in London a month before the invasion, Fredendall immediately called on his commander. The next day Eisenhower reciprocated and invited-tantamount to an order-the newly arrived officer to dinner. Rather than graciously accepting immediately, Fredendall responded that he had already made plans, which he would, of course, be happy to change. Eisenhower backed off but certainly took note of the modest insult. It was rude at the very least. It might have been a signal from the technically more senior officer that he was not intimidated by his junior, whatever his temporary grade. In fact, in the hierarchically conscious Regular Army, Fredendall's rank and dates of promotion made him senior to many of his soon to be famous colleagues-both subordinates and superiors.

Eisenhower, who, regardless of his outwardly pleasant and unflappable demeanor, never forgot a slight, was soon placated. Fredendall performed well, or at least so it appeared, taking his Torch objectives within three days, and his Distinguished Service Medal citation spoke of his "exceptionally meritorious service, brilliant leadership and resolute force" and his demonstration of "the highest qualities of leadership." Even in this victory, however, there were troubling indications of a questionable style of command. For one thing, Fredendall never left his command ship during the fighting, disembarking only for consultations on the armistice. In spite of that, he gained a reputation as a forceful leader and a winner. America, and the US. Army in particular, needed heroes; and exaggeration was the order of the day. Eisenhower was not about to allow personal resentments interfere with his goal of burnishing the reputation of his command, especially with the British. On November 12, 1942, right after the armistice, he cabled Marshall, "I bless the day you urged Fredendall upon me and cheerfully acknowledge that my earlier doubts of him were completely unfounded."

Copyright Association of the United States Army Mar 2003
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