199: Building the Anglo-American Alliance: The US Enters the European Theater

It's a cool gray morning, January 26th, 1942. We're in the waters of Belfast, Northern Ireland, where the former luxury liner turned British troop ship HMS Strathaird is just gliding into Dufferin Key. On board are some 4,000 American soldiers, Midwestern boys hailing from Iowa, the Dakotas, and Minnesota, all part of the National Guard unit now federalized as the U.S. Army's 34th Infantry Division, elements of which are traveling here in several ships. Their presence could not be more welcomed on shore, but reporters and excited crowds are watching with anticipation. Since the U.S. Congress declared war last month, these are the very first American ground troops sent to Europe to fight. I guess the question now is, just who will be the very first of these soldiers to disembark and make their arrival official. Aboard the Strathard, a colonel instructs a lieutenant to get someone from B Company. The young officer doesn't waste time to sight him. He simply goes with the guy who happens to be in closest proximity, Milburn Hankey. A handsome, square-jawed, cleft-chinned, 23-year-old private, Milburn dutifully gets up, expecting he's been tapped for manual labor, or some other dirty detail, to use his later recollection, likely unloading cargo. But that changes fast when he suddenly finds himself face-to-face with his division commander, Major General Russell Hartle. The 52-year-old commander asks Milburn, Can you talk to reporters? Put on the spot, the young soldier answers, Well, if I have to, I think I can. That's all the general needed to hear. He instructs Milburn to follow, and in that same moment, the still-surprised soldier finds himself walking behind his commander down the gangplank. It's 11 steps. 11 historic steps that take Milburn from the transport down to the key, where he officially becomes the first enlisted soldier of the U.S. Army to step ashore in Europe during the Second World War. As Milburn takes that historic step, the Royal Ulster Rifles Band greets him by striking up the Star-Spangled Banner. The young private's right hand snaps to the edge of his steel helmet in a sharp salute. He stands at attention as the band plays, right through the last note. And that's when the reporter's stabbing. With the microphone in hand, one asks Milburn if he'd like to say something to America. Sure, the shocked soldier says excitedly as he leans in. Hello, America. Mom and Pop, I just want to say I hope I'll be back sometime. Tell everybody back in Hutch hello. We'll get those Germans yet. Hutch. Ah, Milburn's referring to his hometown of Hutchinson, Minnesota. As he does, the top brass's faces betray their surprise. It's in this moment, as Milburn will later recall, that he realizes they likely intended the quote-unquote first soldier to step ashore to be one of the Iowa boys. Whoops, too late now. Or perhaps we should say, it seems that ship has sailed. As the reporters continue to interrogate the young American on his background, it soon becomes clear that, like many Americans, and especially Midwestern Americans, he's of German descent. His family name alone makes this obvious, but as evidenced by his first words off the ship, that doesn't give him any consternation about fighting Nazi Germany. Even his pop, who was born in Germany, has no question of where their allegiance lies. In fact, Milburn shares with the reporters that the last words he got from his father were, Give him hell. And as the commander of U.S. Army forces in the British Isles, Major General James Chaney joins the conversation. The young German-descent private is quick to ask, When do we get a whack at those Germans? The questions continue. A reporter asks the young soldier, Does he know where he is? I just don't know where we are. I know I'm not in America, but I got the idea I'm in Ireland. Rumors travel fast, even at sea. But finally, they come to the most important question. Does the young, enthusiastic volunteer soldier nonetheless have any regrets about enlisting? Well, he admits to one. And her name is Iola Christensen. With Twitter patient and longing in his very words, Milburn answers, I don't know if she'll wait for me. She may have stepped out on me now, but I hope not. Well, Northern Ireland has known air raids. The people are going without and are hungry. But even in war, or perhaps especially amid such horrors, everyone appreciates a good love story. And so, that very same first night in Northern Ireland, Milburn finds himself given the rare opportunity to speak to the woman who, though 4,000 miles away and out of sight since last summer, holds his heart in her hands. There's only one catch. Their conversation is getting broadcast across the United States. Hello, Squirt. Hiya, Dinky. Yes, the nicknames come out immediately. And while Mr. and Mrs. Hinky are on the call too, they don't say much. They tell their son how proud they are, how much they miss him. And then, with lumps in their throats, let him talk to his Iola. His Squirt. Milburn has nothing to worry about. Iola misses him dearly. In fact, she's already planning the wedding. No, his real worry is beyond the Irish Sea and the English Channel. He'll have to hope that German bullets miss him on the battlefield every bit as much as Iola misses him in her heart. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. It's hard not to like Private Milburn Hankey. Though turned into a celebrity by mere happenstance, He doesn't let the subsequent outpouring of letters from fans across the U.S., nor his meetings with First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt or the Queen Mother and Princess Elizabeth go to his head. He understands that the fame isn't really about him, but about what his first step on Northern Ireland's soil symbolized. That he's become a stand-in of sorts for the U.S. Army, a personifying symbol of the transatlantic alliance himself. Milburn does pull through. As the 34th Division, soon nicknamed the Red Bull Division, sees hard fighting in North Africa and Italy, he earns a silver star. He then heads home after a car accident leaves him with a serious back injury about two years after his famous arrival. As for Miss Iola Christensen, she does in fact wait for him. Wedding bells ring in 1944. They raise three children and have 53 years together that only end when Milburn passes away in 1998. But now that we know the lovebirds more than work out, let's return our focus to the reason we met Milburn in the first place. America's entry into the European theater. Yes, after following the United States path from Pearl Harbor into the Pacific theater through the Battle of Midway in June 1942 in recent episodes, it's time to use that natural breaking point to pause, backtrack to America's entry into the war and follow its developments in Europe. By the way, grouping several episodes in one theater before bouncing to the other is how we'll navigate the multi-theater and complex story of the Second World War. That said, today's story won't start in December 1941. We'll start much further back with the background of a leader whom we met in past episodes, but who's about to play a much bigger role. the brilliant, talented, and adventure-seeking Kansan, Dwight D. Eisenhower. After bonding with this young officer, so frustrated that his brains and capable leadership keep him stuck stateside and off to behind a desk right into middle age, we'll get a taste of the years-long Battle of the Atlantic, where German submarines or U-boats are seeing immense initial success, then follow the frustration and discussion among the Allies between late 1941 and mid-1942 as leaders debate the best way to engage in Europe. As we'll see, it's becoming increasingly clear that the United States, already thrust into war in the Pacific, is coming to terms with a two-front war, with a second theater in Europe. That doesn't mean, however, that the Allies agree on how or where to fight first. Amid talk of spheres of influence, both individual and shared, questions hang in the air. Should they push for a cross-channel invasion, as U.S. Army Chief of Staff George C. Marshall wants? Or work their way in, using what British Prime Minister Winston Churchill likes to call the soft underbelly of the Mediterranean? And what does that odd ally to these democratic nations, the Soviet Union's dictator, Joseph Stalin, think of all this? Well, we'll get those answers when we wrap this episode at the Moscow Conference of August 1942. Oof, a big lift as ever. And with no time to waste, let's make our way back to the U.S. and back a few decades so we can properly welcome little Ike to the story. Rewind. On October 14, 1890, in a modest one-and-a-half-story whitewashed house alongside some railroad tracks in Denison, Texas, David and Ida Eisenhower welcomed the third of what will ultimately be seven sons into their lives. They named him David Dwight Eisenhower, but used his middle name to avoid confusion with his pops. As you may already realize, that practice eventually flips those names. That's why you and I know him as Dwight David Eisenhower. The Eisenhowers don't stay long in Texas. David and Ida move their young family to Abilene, Kansas, while their thirdborn is still just a toddler. This is where the future U.S. president will grow up, leading Dwight to forever think of the Sunflower State as home. Though we may as well swap out the name Dwight for the nickname he picks up going to school here. In contrast to his older brother Edgar, who's known as Big Ike, Dwight is soon dubbed Little Ike. Little Ike has fairly standard childhood interests. He hunts, fishes, plays football, and inhales military history. Hmm, I wonder what his mother Ida thinks about this interest, given her Mennonite pacifist values. Anyhow, in 1911, Little Ike heads to West Point, which happens in no small part thanks to his gift on the football field. But when a career-ending knee injury crushes whatever professional athletic dreams he harbors in these pre-NFL days, he's quick to move on. Little Ike graduates in 1915, very solidly in the middle of his class, 61 out of 164. The newly minted second lieutenant has a series of mediocre placements over the next few years. The most important development, however, happens in 1916 at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas, where he meets and marries Mary Jenna the Dow. But no need for such formalities. We'll stick with her well-known nickname, Mammy. As World War I rages in Europe, the young, three years out of West Point, Captain Eisenhower gets a less than thrilling assignment. He's being sent to serve under Lieutenant Colonel Iris C. Welborn in the 65th Engineers, now part of the Army's newly forming tank corps, stationed at Camp Mead, Maryland. Ike, that's right, now that he's an adult, the little is dropped, is supremely disappointed. He wants to be sent over there, into the action. Ike is informed the position is only temporary, but still, stateside training, even if with this cutting-edge new tank technology, is not what he's been dreaming about. To quote his later recollection of his current crestfallen disposition, some of my class were already in France. Others were ready to depart. I seemed embedded in the monotony and unsought safety of the zone of the interior. Ike's unit, the 301st Tank Battalion, goes through a lot of training, and he plays an important part in establishing this new tank corps. Then, finally, in March 1918, Ike gets the news that he's been longing for. His battalion is shipping out via New York for France. More than that, he's going in command. But alas, after hastening preparations, the young tank officer stops back at Camp Mead for final instructions, only to be told that, since his organizational ability is so incredibly impressive. The army needs him to stay stateside and keep training those troops not heading over there. This means, of course, that he's not going over there either. Devastated and left in a mood he describes as black, Ike follows orders and heads to, as he puts it, an old abandoned campsite in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, of all places. Yep, Camp Colt is located right where the Battle of Gettysburg was fought just over 50 years earlier. In fact, Ike's tents are pitched atop the land where Pickett's Charge took place. Good thing he's not afraid of ghosts. Ike and Colonel Ira Wellborn form a close relationship, helped along by their bi-weekly meetings. But aside from that instruction, Ike tells us, I was very much on my own at Camp Colt. The tank corps was new. There were no precedents except in basic training, and I was the only regular officer in the command. Now, I really began to learn about responsibility. Even though most of the work is improvisation, Ike manages to get Camp Colt running efficiently. He realizes that the men will soon grow bored after basic training, so he and his civilian officers add more specialized training to the mix. Telegraph and motor schools are the most popular options. But the men aren't just training and relaxing atop Gettysburg's storied lands. No, it seems like the Battle of Gettysburg is about to have a 20th century resurgence. It an unspecified day likely late April or May 1918 We in Gettysburg Pennsylvania where US Army men likely dressed in khaki or a drab olive are trudging across the same ground once trod by men in blue and gray But thankfully these uniformly uniformed soldiers won be fighting one another today They're here for a little target practice. Their commander, Captain Dwight Eisenhower, has secured a few machine guns for training. But just as they're about to start, one of the men realizes they can mount a machine gun on a truck flatbed to make it a mobile platform. Ah, that's a bit more realistic. Now they can practice both moving and stationary positions. But where should they aim? Scanning the ridge and hill terrain, a topographical high point stands out to the south. The rocky, plant-covered, nearly 800-foot mound known as Big Round Top. That's right, this Union-held position at the bloodiest multi-day battle in American history that we learned about back in Episode 60. These very hills are where the U.S. Army decides to do some target practice. According to Ike, Big Round Top's base is a perfect backstop. And so, to quote the captain once more, soldiers were shooting for moving trucks at all kinds of targets there, and the firing might have been heavier than during the Great Battle 55 years earlier. Ha! Agreed, Ike. Your military historian chops are shining through. After all, while Little Round Top was the site of terrible carnage, its big brother, though strategically important, saw little action. Way to even things out half a century later. Those Civil War archaeologists might like to have a word with you about today's and other training practices on the old battlefield. Though their town once again echoes with the sound of gunfire, the 3,000 or so residents of Gettysburg welcome Ike and his soldiers. By the end of the summer, he's responsible for the training of nearly 10,000 men. But only a few months after they start training with real tanks, minus their weapons, which are still needed in Europe, the armistice arrives. And just like that, this chapter of Ike's life comes to an end. As he so succinctly puts it, no human enterprise goes flat so instantly as an army training camp when war ends. Everything that sustains morale, peril to the country, imminent combat, zeal for victory, a sense of importance, disappears. The only thing that counts for a citizen soldier is his date of discharge. Norman Randolph, a fellow West Point classmate also at Camp Colt, will later recall for Ike seeing the disappointment on his face as they sat in his office on November 11th, 1918. As we sat there, stunned and disappointed by the fact that we had not gotten into the show, I recall you saying, I suppose we'll spend the rest of our lives explaining why we didn't get into this. And by God, from now on, I am cutting myself a swath and will make up for this. Close quote. Well, temporary Lieutenant Colonel Eisenhower, I promise, your time will come. The interwar period, as we call the two decades between the World Wars, have their ups and downs for Dwight Eisenhower. In 1919, he moves back to Camp Meade, Maryland, without his wife and son, mind you. This army camp isn't a suitable place for families. Dwight also travels cross-country in the first transcontinental motor convoy of 1919. While being careful not to downplay the impression that Germany's highways, or Autobahn, will make on him, this experience on America's early, bumpy, hazardous roads will contribute to the future president, later pushing Congress for a highway bill. But that story is a ways down the road, so to speak. Back at Camp Mead in the fall, the still bedraggled captain meets another up-and-coming tank aficionado, Colonel George Patton. Together, the two experiment with the new technology, spending quite a bit of time together, and sometimes even barely escaping tank-based accidents. Wanting to publish their discoveries, the men are told their ideas are, quote, not only wrong but dangerous, close quote, and if they are published, they could be looking at a court-martial. This bureaucratic sanctioning only brings Ike and George closer. The two men know they're on to something. If only the rest of the army would realize that. But alas, the National Defense Act of 1920 formally abolishes the tank corps, grouping it with the infantry. George heads back to the cavalry, while Ike pushes on, hoping the army will soon appreciate his new ideas. In early 1921, Ike and Mammy's son, Dowd Eisenhower, or Ikey as the little three-year-old is affectionately known, contracts scarlet fever. He dies. Only a year later, in 1922, the still-grieving captain is shipped off to Panama. It's while stationed here that the couple's second son, John, is born. The small family is moved back stateside in 1924, but Ike doesn't stay put long. General Black Jack Pershing requests the seasoned scholar revise the guidebook to the American battlefield in Europe. Yet, before Ike can make a good start of that, he's admitted to the Army War College for more training in 1927. He graduates first in his class, a big academic step up from his West Point years. The blue-eyed major then returns to the Army guidebook, traveling to France to complete the project before returning to D.C. in 1929, where he slowly forges a relationship with General Douglas MacArthur. On January 1st, 1933, Ike begins working directly for the general, but he doesn't have an official title. As Ike later recalls, I wasn't really an aide. The job didn't really have a name. I called myself his good man Friday. My office was right next to his, and he could just call me at any time. He gave me chores. For example, I'd prepare the annual report, for the chief of staff. He gave me a few ideas, and I'd work them up. As we heard about in episode 197, Douglas MacArthur is selected to advise the newly established U.S. Commonwealth of the Philippines. His right-hand man, Dwight Eisenhower, goes along. In October 1935, the Eisenhower and MacArthur families arrive in Manila as military advisors to the new government. Ike serves for four long, tense, often challenging years finally being promoted to lieutenant colonel in 1936. By 1939, Ike wants to go home. His boss, however, desperately wants the skilled military diplomat to stay. But Ike pushes back. General, in my opinion, the United States cannot remain out of this war for long. I want to go home as soon as possible. I want to participate in the preparatory work that I'm sure is going to be intense. As you can imagine, Doug is far from pleased. Philippine President Manuel Quezon takes the news better. Finally, at the end of 1939, the Eisenhower family heads back to the States. For the next few years, Dwight bounces around. Over the summer of 1940, at Fort Lewis, the lieutenant colonel is appalled at the lack of urgency he sees among the troops. Burton S. Barr, a future politician but current platoon leader and second lieutenant will later recall. One of the first things he did was call all the battalion officers together. And he said, if any of you think we are not going to war, I don't want you in my battalion. We're going to war. This country is going to war. And I want people who are prepared to fight that war. I tell you, nobody, nobody was talking like that at the time. Ike also participates in the Louisiana maneuvers in the summer of 1941 that we heard about in episode 189. I can only imagine how he felt during these maneuvers, especially after the tank set up at Camp Colt in 1918 and subsequent testing at Meade in 1920. Is he proud that his and George Patton's thinking is finally being taken seriously? Speculation aside, the U.S. Army is delighted by their brilliant strategist, and Ike is temporarily promoted to Brigadier General in September 1941. Then, as we know, on December 7th, 1941, Japan bombs Pearl Harbor, thrusting the U.S. into the war. Five days later, December 12th, Ike gets the call from D.C. Secretary of the General Staff, Walter Bedell Smith, places the call. As the receiver is picked up, he asks, Is that you, Ike? The Brigadier General answers, Yes. The Chief says for you to hop a plane and get up here right away. Tell your boss that formal orders will come through later. Mammy remembers her husband being, quote, hurried and unhappy. I knew he was hoping the Washington duty would be temporary. Close quote. But then again, when have Ike's stateside assignments ever been temporary? And this one holds that pattern, too. On December 19th, he's permanently assigned to D.C. as Deputy Chief for the Pacific and Far East, answering directly to the Chief of Staff of the United States Army, George C. Marshall. And as Ike settles in, Washington, D.C. prepares to go to war. I trust you recall from our holiday special in episode 197 that shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill makes a Christmas visit to the White House. Of course you do. How could we forget the British bulldog standing in the buff as he hides nothing from the President of the United States? But I digress. That's not the key takeaway we need to remember from the visit. What matters is that it enables Winston and President Franklin D. Roosevelt to hold the Arcadia Conference, which formalizes an alliance of the United Nations, often called the Allies, and solidifies the Anglo-American war effort while formalizing the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff. As General Dwight Eisenhower later notes, the Arcadia Conference serves two key purposes. To quote him, it creates, a workable system by which the American and British chiefs of staff could operate effectively as a team, and confirms early agreements upon the region in which should be the object of our attacks. Another major outcome is the creation of an unprecedented dual leadership body, the Anglo-American Combined Chiefs of Staff, CCS, the highest allied strategic planning organization. As we mentioned in Episode 197, their first meeting takes place on January 23, 1942. Under U.S. Army Chief of Staff George C. Marshall and British Field Marshal Sir John Greer Dill, the group convenes weekly in the conference room of the Public Health Building in D.C., first on Tuesdays at 3, then Thursdays, and then finally Fridays. But that'll do for reminders. Now we turn our attention to this joint U.S.-U.K. effort to protect their shared sphere, the Atlantic, an immense battlefield growing more violent by the week since America's entry into the war. While German submarines, or U-boats, have long been attacking British-bound ships in the Atlantic, it's on December 9th, 1941, just after Japan's infamous attack and amid the flurry of declarations of war by and against the United States, that Adolf Hitler informs Vice Admiral Karl Dunitz that all remaining restrictions on U-boat attacks against the U.S. are lifted. Delighted that his operations are no longer clandestine, Befelshaber der Unterseboete, that is, commander-in-chief of U-boats, writes in his diary, The attempt must be made to exploit these advantages, which will disappear in the foreseeable future, and to strike a blow at the American coast with a drumbeat. Up against the ferocious Nazi naval leader, is Commander-in-Chief of the U.S. Navy, a.k.a. the Comanche, Admiral Ernest Joseph Keane. The 64-year-old Ohio native, due to retire in 1942, is a well-respected lifetime Navy man, often credited with recognizing the power and potential of aircraft carriers at sea. But for logistical and doctrinal reasons, that gift of foresight in the skies doesn't seem to carry into the depths. Despite Vice Admiral Adolphus Andrews, Commander of the Eastern Seafront, that is, the U.S. East Coastline, warning that, quote, should the enemy submarines operate off this coast, this command has no force available to take action against them, either offensively or defensively, close quote. Admiral Ernest King remains unconvinced that immediate large-scale changes are necessary. This lack of American readiness is exactly what Vice Admiral Karl Dunitz has been counting on. Though U-boats are scattered across the globe, German forces are well positioned to strike American shipping in the Atlantic. Crewed by experienced sailors, German U-boats find American merchant ships still sailing independently, poorly guarded, and silhouetted by a brightly lit coastline. Easy prey. And so, on January 13th, Germany's Operation Drumbeat begins. By the end of the month, more than 20 U.S. ships are sunk in American waters. A staggering success for the Germans. As Carl later recalls, the U-boats found that conditions there were almost exactly those of normal peacetime. The coast was not blacked out, and the towns were a blaze of bright lights. There were anti-submarine patrols, but they were wholly lacking in experience. A few attacks with depth charges were delivered by American patrol vessels, but the attackers did not display the requisite perseverance and the attacks were abandoned too quickly, although quite often, thanks to the shallow water, they stood a good chance of succeeding. The aircraft crews employed on anti-submarine work were also untrained. The merchantmen used their radios without any restrictions. They frequently signaled their positions, with the result that the U-boats were able to form a very useful overall picture of the shipping in their vicinity. By late January, the Americans know they're in trouble. Yet, our commage, Admiral Ernest King, remains reluctant to act. He rejects a British admiralty proposal for a joint convoy control system and refuses to impose coastal blackouts Historians including Dwight Eisenhower will later call this a grave mistake And as February unfolds the situation only worsens It's February 28th, 1942. We're off the coast of Cape May, New Jersey, aboard the Wicks-class destroyer USS Jacob Jones, which has just finished patrolling for survivors of the torpedoed tanker R.P. Rezer. In the galley, 22-year-old fireman, second class Joseph Paul Tidwell, was grabbing sugar for his recently brewed coffee. But then, all of a sudden, the ship shudders. Pots and pans fly, and 15 seconds after the initial jolt, another explosion rocks the hull. Two torpedoes have struck the Jacob Jones. And worse, they've hit the munitions magazine. Racing to the deck to help, Joseph finds a dire situation. He gets to work, assisting survivors to lifeboats and rafts. As he does, he's certain that he sees the German U-boat that had struck them, later identified as U-578, roughly 150 yards off the port side. It seems the German crew is happily watching their handiwork, simply taking in the sight of the rapidly sinking destroyer. Thirty or so survivors on four rafts manage to escape the wreckage in the frigid February waters of the Atlantic. Looking on, they see that most of the destroyer is beneath the waves, leaving only the fantail above water. There, a ship's depth charges. Barrel-shaped canisters of about 200 pounds of torquets, set to detonate at depth, remain in their racks. Oh, this could get bad. And it does. As the fantail sinks and the charges reach their preset depth, they explode with a devastating effect. The blast tears through the cold water, throwing survivors into the sea. Many are killed or badly wounded, while the frigid temperatures add another deadly threat. 131 officers and crew members are dead, including three sets of brothers. Only 11 survive. While Pearl Harbor might have still felt like a distant wound and threat to some mainland Americans, a destroyer sunk by Nazi Germany right off the coast of New Jersey doesn't. The sinking of USS Jacob Jones creates a sense of vulnerability and fear that's quite unfamiliar to a people long used to thinking of the Pacific and Atlantic as natural barriers to distant wars fought over there. As the sinking of the Jacob Jones becomes national news, the public inserts itself into the conversation about the Atlantic. Yet, even still, Admiral King holds back. He postpones the formation of coastal convoys until, quote-unquote, enough escorts are available. And oh, does this draw criticism. Come March, the Brits are incredibly frustrated. After all, it's not like America is the only one suffering. Uncle Sam's island ally is feeling the sting of these German U-boats too. British naval officers, including the First Lord of the Admiralty, head to D.C. to try to talk some sense into earnest. Roger Wynn, the head of the submarine tracking room in the Admiralty's Operational Intelligence Center, or OIC, finally gets through Washington, D.C.'s red tape. He speaks with Admiral Ernest King's Deputy Chief of Staff, Admiral Richard E. Edwards. But Richard isn't having it. He tells Roger that Americans want to learn their own lessons, and they've got plenty of ships to do so. This likely sarcastic remark pushes the Brit over the edge. His temper flares as he answers. The trouble is, Admiral, it's not your bloody ships you're losing. A lot of them are ours. Finally, finally, Something snaps. Richard concedes, and Roger is in to see Ernest. The U.S. naval commander likely knew that changes could not be delayed much longer and quickly acquiesces. An American version of the OIC is founded, with Commander Kenneth A. Knowles in charge. But even as Kenneth works with the British, improving tracking, and trying to crack the Nazi U-boat's new cipher, nicknamed Triton, losses continue. In fact, in mid-March, American signals get crossed. Literally. The U.S. destroyer, Dickerson, is hit by the American merchantman, SS Liberator. The sheer numbers are looking grim. In April, President Franklin Roosevelt's longtime right-hand man, Harry Hopkins, sends word that the U.S. has lost 1.2 million tons of shipping, more than half of the tankers, in these early months of 1942 alone. If something isn't done, they might as well start calling America's arsenal of democracy, to use FDR's phrase for the nation's buildup of arms that we learned about in episodes 188 and 189, the arsenal of Atlantis. More is done. That same April, Admiral Ernest King agrees to protective coastal convoys. Finally, implemented along the U.S. coastline in mid-May, this diminishes U-boat attacks, along the U.S. east coast, at least. Karl Dunitz is hardly finished. The German vice-admiral answers by shifting his U-boats focus south, striking Allied shipping in the not-so-well-protected Caribbean. U.S. Army Chief of Staff George Marshall is fed up with the lack of progress his country is making by summer 1942. So he makes a few changes and sends some strongly worded letters. First, George sends Dwight Eisenhower to London to command U.S. forces in the European theater. Yes, at last, Ike is leaving behind his DC desk job and does so at the rank of Major General. The promotion alone shocked Ike. It came last March, just days after George had told him that he was going to stay at his DC desk. But after decades of being told he was too smart and too capable to send to the field, Ike stormed out of the room shouting, I don't give a damn. Quite a thing to say to the US Army Chief of Staff. and Ike died a little inside the moment the words came out of his mouth. Then again, just before the door slammed shut, he caught a glimpse of a smile creeping across George's face. Personally, I can't help but wonder, in this moment, did George, who, as a young officer in France, thought he had killed his own career with a blunt outburst of his own on General Blackjack Pershing, if you remember that tale from episode 133, maybe see a bit of himself in Ike? Well, either way, Ike found himself a temporary major general only three days later. And on June 24th, 1942, he arrives in the United Kingdom to take command of the European Theater of Operations, United States Army. Oh, and weeks later, he's bumped up again to temporary lieutenant general. Let's pause and just take in Ike's rank advancement for just a moment. In a matter of two years, Dwight Eisenhower has gone from lieutenant colonel to a three star general. Now, you can say he's well-liked. He is. But he's also just exceptional at what he does. Ike's studied and tested the boundaries of modern warfare for years, arguably since West Point. To me, it's pretty clear that Ike's promotions thus far and everything still to come aren't luck, it's merit. But to continue with George Marshall's changes and strongly worded letters, He's also fed up with Admiral Ernest King's performance. On June 19th, the Army Chief of Staff writes to the Naval Commander, The losses by submarines off our Atlantic seaboard and in the Caribbean now have been brought to my attention. Has every conceivable improvised means been brought to bear on this situation? I'm fearful that another month or two of this will so cripple our means of transport that we will be unable to bring sufficient men and planes to bear against the enemy in critical theaters to exercise a determining influence on the war. Three days later, June 21st, Ernest replies, I have long been aware, of course, of the implications of the submarine situation as pointed out in your memorandum. I have employed and will continue to employ not only regular forces but also such improvised means as gives any promise of usefulness. Judging from this letter, it seems that the Admiral wasn't ignorant about the need for convoys. He just didn't realize that any escort was better than no escort, and kept waiting to build up their numbers. Regrettably, that delay has been deadly. Between January and August 1942, German U-boats sink so many Allied vessels that they call this phase of the Battle of the Atlantic the quote-unquote second happy time, or more mockingly, the American turkey shoot. To quantify that, by the end of August, Nazi U-boats have sunk 485 ships and 2.6 tons off the coast of North and Central America. Although, if you trust Carl Dunitz's numbers, it's more like 585 ships and over 3 million gross tons. Regardless of who you believe, it's a massive number. And this isn't only frustrating to American leaders and the British Bulldog and his government. It's also frustrating to Uncle Sam's ally, or rather his comrade, farther to the east, Joseph Stalin. Yes, as Germany's second happy time in the Battle of the Atlantic draws to a close, it's time for us to hit pause on this naval conflict and check in on the Soviet Union. But we can hardly just pick up in the summer of 1942. There's simply too much to the story. You know what that means. Rewind. We covered the rise of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, or the USSR, in episode 186, and its path into the Second World War between episodes 187 and 189. Nonetheless, let's refresh our memory on its entry. The war in Europe begins September 1st, 1939, when Germany invades Poland, confident that the USSR won't intervene, thanks to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, their non-aggression pact, which also divides Poland. The USSR claims its slice on September 17th. With a non-aggression pact in place with Japan as well, as of April 1941, the USSR is, on paper, at peace with the Axis powers. now Stalin isn't foolish enough to expect that peace will hold nonetheless he also believes that Adolf won't dream of attacking his nation before finishing with the British but the Soviet General Secretary is wrong Adolf Hitler launches his attack on the USSR Operation Barbarossa on June 22nd 1941 yes familiar stuff and again you can revisit episodes 186 through 189 if you need more details But now, let's continue the Soviet's tale. Adolf sends a massive force against the USSR, around 3 million men. With just under 3,000 aircraft and just over 3,000 tanks, his panzer divisions blitzkrieg into Soviet territory hard and fast. The Nazis also systematically target and murder local Jews, communists, and others they deem lesser than. But those are stories for another day. Soon, the Soviets are going scorched earth. burning their owned crops and infrastructure to slow the Nazi advance. And on July 13th, Adolf's relentless attacks on both the USSR and the UK draw the two vastly different nations together to sign a mutual assistance pact. It's a classic, the enemy of my enemy is my friend situation. President Franklin Roosevelt sees that too. On September 29th, 1941, FDR writes to Stalin with a promise, The Moscow Protocol is signed on October 1st, and though the Americans aren't yet physically involved in conflict, they agree to lend a lease, clothes, food, aircraft, tanks, vehicles, and, most importantly, funds to the USSR. are. But of course, America is soon physically involved, as 1941 ends in a sad state of affairs for all those opposed to the Axis powers. The British are on the ropes. The Soviets can feel Adolf's breath, with German troops only 90 miles outside of Moscow. And, as we know from episode 194, a Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor devastates the Americans. Thus, we get the Arcadia Conference, which, on January 1st, 1942, creates the alliance that FDR dubs the United Nations. Yes, we touched on that earlier, and again, they'll typically be called simply the Allies. In total, 26 nations sign on, but we'll keep our focus on the big three. That's the term used to describe the US, the UK, and the USSR, or alternatively, their leaders, FDR, Winston Churchill, and Joseph Stalin. By the end of February, U.S. shipments to the USSR are trickling in. On February 20th, Stalin writes to Franklin to welcome the new American ambassador, 69-year-old Admiral William Stanley, and to urge speeding up aid to his war-tattered nation. Meanwhile, Winston Churchill remains wary of Joseph Stalin. He worries that, if push comes to shove, the Soviet communist dictator might yet ally with the German fascist dictator. Franklin doesn't share that fear, but understands why Russo-British relations could be strained. As he remarks to the Secretary of the Treasury, Henry Morgenthau, Every promise the English have made to the Russians, they have fallen down on. The only reason we stand so well with the Russians is that, up to date, we have kept our promises. In March 1942, FDR prioritizes Joseph Stalin over Winston Churchill, essentially removing all strings attached to the Lend-Lease program for the USSR. are. Most of what's sent is raw materials, but the American public isn't too pleased with their president, helping out on a front of the war that seems pretty far from home, one where Uncle Sam's boys aren't doing any of the fighting. Nonetheless, supplies are sent via polar convoys through the Arctic Circle. And yes, even in these frigid waters, Nazi U-boats are lying in wait up by Iceland and Scandinavia. In addition to providing essential materials, the convoys prove to the anti-Soviet leader that the Allies are in fact helping his war effort, even if they can't comply with demands for an invasion of Western Europe quite yet, which Stalin wants in order to take the pressure off his own beleaguered defending forces. But the General Secretary remains antsy. He wants to talk with his fellow national leaders about post borders Franklin and Winston aren quite ready for that yet even if their August 1941 Atlantic conference included conversations about a post world It one thing to talk about such things between two friends committed to democracy It's another to do so with a dictator, even if you happen to be militarily aligned. Still, FDR has an idea. What if he invites Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov, you know, the man behind the 1939 Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, to talk about opening that potential second front. Oh, that works. Joseph Stalin jumps. Or, according to the Soviet foreign minister, it was always his boss's plan to get the US and the UK to agree to support an invasion of Western Europe. But then again, Franklin sent a delegation to London with a memorandum on operations in Western Europe back in April. So, it really does seem like everyone's been parallel planning. Regardless of who you believe, After a short, unsuccessful stop in London, the Soviet foreign minister arrives on American soil on May 29th, ready for a conversation. It's May 30th, 1942. We're at the White House, where the stout, mustachioed, and bespectacled Soviet foreign minister, Vyacheslav Molotov, is ever so pleased to be sitting down, finally, with President Franklin Roosevelt. He's joined by Russia's ambassador to the United States, Maxim Nidfinov, and several key American leaders. Harry Hopkins, Secretary of State Cordell Hull, U.S. Army Chief of Staff George C. Marshall, and the Navy's commage, Admiral Ernest King. Likely still jet lag, Vyacheslav Molotov is nonetheless sharp as ever. Or at least, he feels sharp. From what the Soviet sees, he quickly convinces the Americans that a second front must be opened this summer. Following Joseph Stalin's instructions, the emissary waxes eloquent on this bringing victory. If the Allied forces in 1942 pulled back at least 40 enemy divisions from our front, the balance of forces would radically shift in our favor and Hitler's fate would be sealed. To the Russians' astonishment, FDR replies that this is a legitimate, reasonable demand. Emboldened, the bespectacled diplomat continues, you will eventually have to bear the brunt of the war, and if Hitler becomes the undisputed master of the continent, next year will unquestionably be tougher than this one. Franklin appears to agree. He consults his army chief of staff. Are we advanced enough with our preparations to be able to report to Mr. Stalin that we are ready to open the Second Front. George Marshall nods, giving FDR the go-ahead. The president turns back to his Soviet guest. Please report to your government that it may expect the opening of the Second Front this year. And so, the coordinated assault on France to take place during the summer of 1942, codenamed Sledgehammer, appears to be a go. Franklin is greatly pleased by the Soviet visit. He writes to Joseph Stalin on June 6th, Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov is also content. He has American assurances of preparations for an invasion and second front in Europe later this year. He makes his way back via England, hoping to get the Brits on board. He gets a likely yes, as Winston is careful to add, We can therefore give no promise on the matter. To the aid memoir about a 1942 invasion. For the time being, the big three, that is, FDR, Winston Churchill, and Joseph Stalin, are happy. Well, as happy as you can be when your country is being invaded and or are at war. Cooperation appears to be working. That June, U.S. Secretary of State Cordell Hull and Soviet Ambassador Maxim Litvinov sign the Master Lend-Lease Agreement between the U.S. and the USSR. But the Nazis are relentless. At the end of the month, on June 28th, they proceed with Case Blue against Caucasus' oil fields and grain, roughly between the Black and Caspian Seas. Once again, the Red Army needs supplies, urgently. Meanwhile, Joseph Stalin is urging his allies, the Americans and the Brits, to make good on their promise for Operation Sledgehammer, that is, the invasion of Western Europe. He sends Winston Churchill what the British Bulldog calls a rough and surly note. To quote the Soviet leader's July 23rd letter, I am afraid the question of creating a second front in Europe is not being treated with the seriousness it deserves. Taking fully into account the present position of the Soviet-German front, I must state in the most emphatic manner that the Soviet government cannot acquiesce in the postponement of a second front in Europe until 1943. The British PM checks in with his friend and American counterpart, Franklin. The two are worried about poking the bear, so to speak. They decide that things would be better settled in person. After all, they've got to get on the same page before responding to Stalin. And so, in May, Winston Churchill once again makes the trip across the Atlantic. His main goal? Convince FDR that, at this point in the war, an invasion of Western Europe would be suicidal. In the PM's direct words, it would turn the English Channel into a river of blood. His side goal is to discuss, quote-unquote, heavy water. But we'll get to the significance of those conversations in a much later episode. Later that summer, in July, American military leaders arrive in London for yet another discussion about where to engage the German army in the fall. They meet up with our good friend Dwight Eisenhower before heading into conversations with their British allies. Just because the British are anti-sledgehammer, that is the planned invasion of Western Europe, that doesn't mean they come empty-handed without alternate ideas. What if they lean into Operation Gymnast, which is a planned invasion of Axis-held North Africa. Franklin seems to be on board, but his Joint Chiefs hesitate. After all, George Marshall has personally promised the Vyacheslav Molotov that the Americans are a go for Sledgehammer. Hmm. Nonetheless, after quite a bit of back and forth, the American military leaders come to agree that it's time to scrap sledgehammer in favor of going into North Africa. This plan will ultimately take a new code name, Operation Torch. FDR is delighted. To him, it's of the highest importance that U.S. ground troops be brought into action against the enemy in 1942. But now, someone must tell Stalin. Though accompanied by a joint British-American entourage to demonstrate agreement, the task falls to Winston Churchill. It's just about 7 p.m., August 12, 1942. British Prime Minister Winston Churchill only arrived in Moscow a few hours ago, and now he's at the seat of Soviet power, the ancient, austere, red-walled, and tower-guarded Kremlin, ready to meet with none other than the head of the Soviet Union, Joseph Stalin. Sitting down with a mustachioed Soviet, the British bulldog begins by explaining that... I wish to speak frankly, and I would like to invite complete frankness. Okay, good start. Then Winston drops the bad news. He tells Stalin that the American and British governments aren't yet prepared to launch an attack in September, which is the last month it would be possible given the changes in weather. As the PM later recalls, I told Stalin that I was well aware that this plan offered no help to Russia in 1942. At this point, Stalin's face crumpled up into a frown. But he did not interrupt. Okay, that's as good an outcome as Winston could expect. The husky Brit then goes on to explain precisely why the proposed and seemingly agreed-upon attack won't go forward. Then, to quote the Brit again, Stalin, whose glumness had by now much increased, said that, as he understood it, we were unable to create a second front with any large force and unwilling even to land six divisions. I said this was so. War was war, but not folly. And it would be folly to invite a disaster which would help nobody. I said I feared the news I brought was not good news. If by throwing in 150,000 to 200,000 men we could render him aid by drawing away from the Russian front appreciable German forces, we would not shrink from this course on the grounds of loss. But if it drew no men away and spoiled the prospects for 1943, it would be a great error. Stalin, who had become restless, said that his view about war was different. A man who was not prepared to take risks could not win a war. Why were we so afraid of the Germans? He could not understand. His experience showed that troops must be bloodied in battle. If you did not blood your troops, you had no idea what their value was. Clearly in disagreement, the two men go back and forth a bit more until, finally, Winston unfurls a map of North Africa to lay out the new plan, Operation Torch. Stalin is intrigued. He asks about the timing of the operation. Winston suggests October. A little overly optimistic, but nonetheless, the British Bulldog will later recall that, This seemed a great relief to the Russians. Moreover, he's absolutely impressed with Stalin's mind. As opposed to other military leaders who took months to grasp the brilliance of this approach, Stalin takes only a matter of minutes to connect the dots on how this will help in four ways as it 1. Hurts the Nazis in North Africa 2. Quote-unquote over Oz, Spain 3. Pits the Germans against the French who, though under the Nazi thumb, ostensibly rule much of North Africa and four thrusts Italy into the fight. Winston adds a fifth and final point. The military advantages of freeing the Mediterranean when still another front could be opened. In September, we must win in Egypt and in October in North Africa. All the time holding the enemy in northern France. If we could end the year in possession of North Africa, we could threaten the belly of Hitler's Europe. Seemingly on board, Stalin relays the plan back to Winston in order to ensure he's got it properly, as he remarks, My God prosper this undertaking. Four hours after they first sat down, at 11 p.m., the two men part ways in what Winston calls an atmosphere of goodwill. This Moscow conference lasts until August 16th. It includes a formal state dinner, more personal meetings between Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin, and a large conversation with military generals. That last one doesn't go so well, but no matter. The stage has been set. While America's Marines, sailors, and soldiers have long been at it in the Pacific, where they've suffered so much loss in the Philippines and elsewhere, only recently seeing the tide start to turn amid the Battle of the Coral Sea, and especially the Battle of Midway this very summer. It's now time for an entirely separate set of Uncle Sam's boys to enter the fight on the other side of the world as well. Joined by their British allies, the Yanks are carrying out the invasion of Axis-controlled North Africa. But as Operation Torch moves forward and America enters a second front, it's hard not to wonder. Will these quickly trained doughboys, soon to be called GIs, really be ready by the time their boots are on North African soil? Can they outwit or outfight Nazi Germany's famous desert fox, Field Marshal Ervin Rommel? We'll find out next time. of airship. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted and writing this episode, visit htdspodcast.com. HTVS is supported by fans at htdspodcast.com slash membership. My gratitude to you kind souls providing funding to help us keep going. Thank you. And a special thanks to our patrons whose monthly gifts puts them at producer status. Thank you. Thank you. Rock Day, Sam Holtzman, Sarah Prescott, Sarah Trayway, Shannon Hoagland, Sharon Thiesen, Sean Baines, Stacey Ritter, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Thomas Churchill, Thomas Matthew Edwards, Thomas Sabbath, Tim and Sarah Turner, Todd Curran, Tom Bestofta, Travis Cox, Wesley McKee, Zach Green, and Zach Jackson. Join me in two weeks, or I'd like to tell you a story.