I am very uneasy about the whole operation/' General Brooke wrote in his diary the evening before Overlord was launched. "At best it will fall so far short of the expectations of the bulk of the people, namely all those who know nothing about its difficulties. At worst, it may well be the most ghastly disaster of the whole war."
British concern was heightened by awareness that Rommel, Montgomery's former adversary, was waiting for the invaders across the English Channel. Despite his defeat in North Africa, the German field marshal retained a mythic reputation for brilliance, shrewdness, and resourcefulness. However, Montgomery, though knowing Rommel would "do his level best to 'Dunkirk' us," was pleased to have the opportunity to match wits with him again.
The previous November, Hitler had sent Rommel to inspect and improve German Atlantic-coast defenses. A dispute had quickly developed between him and Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt, the German commander-in-chief in the west, on how best to defend the Atlantic Wall against the invasion from England they knew would soon be coming. Both knew that this
Wall, as Rundstedt laler said, was not as formidable as was widely believed; that it was, in fact, largely "an illusion, conjured up by propaganda—to deceive the German people as well as the Allies."
Rundstedt believed that the Germans were unlikely to prevent the Allies from getting ashore in strength somewhere along the coast between Holland and the Bay of Biscay. He thought it was therefore essential to man it comparatively lightly, keeping strong forces back in mobile reserve, to rush in to drive the invaders back into the sea once their main point of assault was determined, before they could secure a beachhead.
Rommel considered such tactics an unaffordable luxury. His experience of Allied aerial supremacy in North Africa had led him to conclude that the invaders had to be immediately trounced on the beaches wherever they landed before their overwhelming air cover could guarantee that they would be able to stay and expand inland. That meant strong deployment on the coast. Rommel was officially subordinate to Rundstedt, but in the weeks leading up to the invasion the German command in the west was locked in controversy over which policy to follow and who was really making the decisions.
The two field marshals competed for control of the Atlantic defenses, with Hitler intervening sometimes to favor one, sometimes the other. Rundstedt and Rommel were mistakenly convinced the invasion would come at the point of France closest to the coast of southeastern England, around Calais, and deployed the strong German Fifteenth Army there. Hitler accurately believed instead that the landings would be made in Normandy but, uncharacteristically, he permitted his generals to have their way even after D-Day proved him right and them wrong. Persuaded by Allied deception operations to believe the Normandy assault was a large-scale diversion for the real thing to come, the Germans kept their Fifteenth Army poised in the Calais area to repel the invaders for more than two weeks after the invasion was launched 200 miles away down the coast. It spared the Allied forces, Eisenhower, and Montgomery much grief.
At the end of April 1944, Montgomery had moved his 21st Army Group headquarters to Portsmouth, on England's south coast, from where much of the invasion armada would be departing. He ventured forth from there to continue his busy round of visits to the troops and war-production workers. He found such activity sufficient reason not to attend a number of high-level staff conferences held by Eisenhower at SHAEF. Having devised the basic invasion plans, he was confident that his hand-picked planning staff could deal with whatever problems had to be resolved. Everything was under control.
When Churchill showed up at Portsmouth and wished to address members of his 21st Army Group headquarters staff on troop dispositions, Montgomery forbade him to do so. He told the prime minister he would "never allow you to harass my staff at this time and possibly shake their confidence in me." He had his way. The British leader had led the country during its darkest hours, but he had become more expendable than the man who commanded the troops who were about to blast their way into Hitler's European fortress. He had to defer to him. Montgomery boasted about the incident in his memoirs.
D-Day was to be in early June. Eisenhower had been forced by the persisting shortage of landing craft and minesweepers to delay launching the invasion until then rather than in May, as had originally been planned. Mockingly, May proved gloriously bright; the waters were calm and the skies clear. It was ideal invasion weather, while the approach of June was heralded by severely deteriorating conditions, making it necessary to consider a further delay. The alternative to an early-June launch was one in mid-June, when the tides and moonlight would again be favorable. But if weather conditions were still bad then, the invasion would have to be postponed for several weeks. With autumn weather closing in soon after to restrict operations, such a delay was out of the question. Overlord had to be launched in early June.
During the first days of the month, Eisenhower was faced with making his most difficult decision of the war. Overlord was geared to be set in motion. Elements of the forces involved
Had already been activated. A delay would be disastrous for morale and probably for security as well. He was also worried about '"the effect of delay upon the Russians." The invasion of southern France they had been promised had, to their anger, already been postponed. If they chose to withhold cooperation on coordinating operations after the invasion, it might seriously complicate matters for the Western Allies.
The decision when to invade could not be made at the last minute. Tens of thousands of troops had to be moved to the ports of southern England and loaded onto the vessels that would take them across the English Channel. Airborne troops had to be dispatched in advance.
On June 4, Montgomery told Eisenhower he was ready to proceed with the invasion the following day, as was tentatively planned, regardless of the weather forecast. But the Supreme Commander's chief naval and air force aides objected strongly because Group Captain J. M. Stagg, SHAEF's chief meteorologist, had only gloom to report about the weather. A storm was brewing. The waters of the English Channel were rough, high waves were crashing against the Normandy beaches where the landings were to take place, and the skies had closed in over the Channel and the French coastal region, ruling out essential aerial support. And Eisenhower was convinced that, "Success or failure might easily hinge upon the effectiveness... of airborne operations."
Failure on D-Day would be the greatest disaster the Western Allies had suffered in the war. That the U. S. high command considered it a possibility was underlined by a message that Marshall would be arriving in London in a few day's time. He wanted to be on hand in case hasty consultations had to be undertaken by the Combined Chiefs of Staff. He said such consultations might be necessary if "we have a very insecure hold on a beachhead" and a decision had to be made "as to whether to withdraw or to continue the operation."
On the afternoon of June 4, when the pressure on Eisenhower about whether to give Overlord the green light had intensified still further, reports reaching Stagg led the meteorologist to conclude that a break in the weather would develop late on
June 5, and carry on into the following day. That was it. Eisenhower saw no alternative but to seize the moment. At a meeting called for 4:30 on the morning of June 5, he gave the order for Overlord to be launched in the early hours of June 6.
As with North Africa, as with Sicily, as with Italy, on the eve of battle the Supreme Commander, having made his agonizing decision, was for the moment largely irrelevant. The wheels were in motion and they would turn inexorably toward victory or defeat, or perhaps something horribly inconclusive in between. Lacking Montgomery's certainties, Eisenhower feared that though the landings would succeed, the price to be paid for them would be horrendous. Denied Montgomery's doctrinal convictions, he was incapable of pretending to believe otherwise. His stomach tightened like a knot. But whatever he felt remained concealed within him. Outwardly he was calm, composed, his temper under close control at this critical moment. But he sat down at his desk and scribbled a few sentences on a sheet of notepaper in preparation for disaster.
Our landings in the Cherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based on the best information available. The troops, the air and the Navy did all that Bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.
He folded the note, stuck it in his wallet, and carried it around with him.
During the morning, he visited troops of the British 50th Infantry Division at a Portsmouth pier where they were being loaded onto a landing craft. At an afternoon press conference, despite lighting one cigarette after another, he impressed correspondents with his apparent calm and confidence. In the evening, he headed for Newbury to visit men of the 101st Airborne Division who, along with men of the 82nd Airborne, were to be dropped over the Cotentin peninsula hours before the coastal landings were to take place. Leigh-Mallory, commanding Overlord's air component, had vigorously advised against their dis-
Patch. He had predicted that four out of five of the paratroopers would be killed or wounded. Eisenhower had ruled against him, but his gamble that Leigh-Mallory's forecast was mistaken did not sit easily on his mind.
The paratroopers were lined up on the airfield with their rifles and their packs. Their faces had been charcoaled for camouflage. Some were already boarding the C-47s that would carry them into combat. No ceremony attended the Supreme Commander's visit. He had his car parked some distance from the troops and walked over to them. Lacking Montgomery's showmanship and dreading what might lie ahead for the men, he offered them no rousing Shakespearean call to battle. He had done that on paper in his Order of the Day for D-Day, a copy of which each of the troops received that night. It told them they were embarking on a "great crusade" to "bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world. ... I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty, and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory!"
But, mingling with the men being sent to achieve that victory, he shunned bombast and bluster. He sought to make contact with individual paratroopers, asking them where they were from and about their families and what they intended to do after the war. They cheered him and pressed forward to shake his hand.
Eisenhower then walked with their commander. General Maxwell Taylor, to the C-47 Taylor was to board to lead his men into the fray. At the foot of the plane's ramp he shook Taylor's hand, wished him well, and went back to his car. He then drove to the division's headquarters building, from the top of which he watched the troop transports lumber across the runway, rise into the sky, and roar off toward France. Kay Summersby later wrote that when the last had gone, "General Eisenhower turned, shoulders sagging, the loneliest man in the world."
By then the bombing of German coastal defenses was well in progress. Allied warships were moving into position for their
Pre-invasion bombardrnents, and troop transports were preparing to set out from ports along England's south coast. Back in Portsmouth, where his forward command post had been set up, Eisenhower examined incoming dispatches. General Clark had finally taken Rome. Eisenhower sent off telegrams to him and others at AFHQ congratulating them at this belated triumph and telling them that he looked forward to meeting them soon in the heart of Europe. But his thoughts were elsewhere.
It would be hours before first reports would come in from France and the ships offshore. He needed company. He and some of the people closest to him at the moment—Butcher, Kay Summersby, Bedell Smith, Tedder, SHAEF's Chief Administrative Officer General Sir Humphrey Gale and SHAEF Deputy Chief of Operations General Sir John Whitely—sat around drinking coffee. Few words were spoken. Everything now appeared trivial or irrelevant except the invasion, and it was either too late or too early to say anything about that. Butcher finally broke the ice. "To hell with it," he muttered, and went to bed. One by one, the others, including Eisenhower, did as well.
Montgomery felt no need to compose a secret communique of defeat to ward off a jinx. Whatever his private eleventh-hour concerns, he radiated assurance that the plans he had devised for the invasion would produce victory. Everything was in place. He had made certain all senior field officers perfectly understood their missions and how to go about successfully completing them. He had sorted out a last-minute hassle over pre-landing bomber support. Intelligence intercepts indicated that the enemy was still being fooled by deception schemes, including dummy landing craft in English ports closest to Pas de Calais, where the enemy's Fifteenth Army waited in vain. Nevertheless, he recognized that German defenses in Normandy were likely to be substantial, German resistance was likely to be fierce, and casualties might be heavy.
His message to the troops offered them his personal assurance of success. "On the eve of this great adventure," he told them, "I send my best wishes to every soldier in the Allied team. To
Us is given the honor of striking a blow for freedom which will live in history; and in the better days that lie ahead men will speak with pride of our doings. ... I want every soldier to know that I have complete confidence in the successful outcome of the operations that we are now to begin."
As with Eisenhower, there was nothing more he could do for the moment. Throughout his stay in England during the buildup to Overlord, he had made little effort to see his mother or other members of his family, once even spurning his sister, who had come to see him when he was on one of his tours. She had waited nearby to be allowed to see him but, though informed that she was there, Montgomery chose to ignore her presence. On D-Day eve, however, he did make one concession to the importance of the occasion. He traveled to Hindhead to see the people looking after his son and to make arrangements for David's care if he was unable to see to it in the future. He had made no attempt to see the boy for many weeks and chose not to do so now either, using as an excuse the possibility that his arrival at the boy's school might lead to speculation that D-Day was imminent.
He then returned to his headquarters at Portsmouth and went to bed at his usual early hour. The fact that he was about to face the greatest challenge of his life was not permitted to upset his ordered ways.
Eisenhower managed to get some sleep that night. But when Butcher went to see if he was awake shortly before seven, he was not only already dressed, but his full ashtray testified that he had been awake for some time. Butcher was bringing good news. He was able to report that the airborne troops had not suffered the disaster that Leigh-Mallory had foretold. Only twenty-one of the 850 C-47s carrying the American paratroops had been lost. Only eight of the 400 aircraft ferrying British airborne troops into action had been lost. Further reports coming in told of virtually no enemy air or naval activity. The seas off the landing beaches were choppy but the storm of the previous day had petered out. The skies were partly cloudy.
But not enough to interfere with aerial support for the invasion. The planes of the RAF and the U. S. Eighth and Ninth Air Forces had rained death and destruction on enemy coastal positions.
Reaction from the Germans, as confirmed by their communiques and intercepted messages, confirmed that the Normandy landings had caught them unawares. But few reports were coming through on how the invasion was proceeding. 'T have as yet," Eisenhower cabled Marshall in Washington at eight A. M., "no information concerning the actual landings nor of our progress through beach obstacles. Communique will not be issued until we have word that leading ground troops are actually ashore."
Fie left shortly after eight a. m. for Montgomery's headquarters to see if there was any news there. But the British commander knew little more than he did and made it plain by his attitude that he didn't particularly welcome visits at that moment, not even from the Supreme Commander. He had arranged the battle front with great calculation and conviction and he now had no wish to be disturbed as he waited for word on how the dispositions he had made were working out. His reputation as a combat commander, the meaning of his life, depended on what was happening across the English Channel.
He wrote a note to Brooke, whose unwavering support had made it possible for him to be a central figure in this historic event and the only one to whom he was prepared to reveal that there might be chinks in his confidence.
I would like to thank you for your kindly help and guidance during the past five years. It has not been an easy time—for anyone. My great desire throughout has been to justify your confidence in me and not to let you down and I hope I have been able to do this to your satisfoction. I cross over to France tomorrow night—if all goes well—and may not see you again. So good-bye and good luck.
As the hours passed, it appeared there was no reason yet to be gloomy. The Germans still appeared to have been caught off guard, which in fact was what had happened. The Wehrmacht's
Meteorologists had also been hard at work and had submitted a report the day before that only clouded skies and rough seas could be expected during the following two weeks. The enemy had therefore relaxed its guard. Despite the enormous, uncon-cealable Allied buildup in southern England, no German naval patrol had been deployed in the Channel that night. No special alert had been ordered on land.
Many senior German officers were not at their duty stations, having gone to Rennes to participate in war games. Rommel was away from his post too. Taking advantage of the inclement weather, he had driven back to Germany to celebrate his wife's birthday with her. As reports were fed back to Berlin that the invasion was taking place. Hitler was asleep at his aerie in the mountains of Bavaria and his aides chose not to wake him.
At fifteen minutes past midnight on June 6, the first invaders, British glider-borne troops, had landed to seize Pegasus Bridge over the Caen Canal. Less than an hour later, U. S. paratroops dropped over Sainte-Mere-Eglise forty-five miles away on the Contentin peninsula, others coming down in flooded areas nearby, where a number of them drowned. At 6:30 a. m. the first troops stormed ashore from landing craft. Little resistance was met by the British at Sword and Gold beaches. At Juno, the Canadians ran into stiff fire but overcame it and by nightfall were approaching Caen, which Montgomery had forecast would fall the first day. The U. S. 4th Infantry Division encountered little resistance at Utah Beach and soon was able to link up with the paratroopers who had dropped inland during the night.
But the story was different at Omaha Beach. There the U. S. 1st Infantry Division ran into the German 352nd Division, which had been on maneuvers in the area and primed for battle. The invaders at Omaha came ashore below cliffs from which the German defenders subjected them to barrages so severe that they were in danger of being pushed back into the sea before nightfall. If that happened, Montgomery's plans would be badly upset. The Americans on the right and the British and Canadians on the left would be exposed to a German thrust
Between them to limit, the effectiveness of the long-fronted beachhead Montgomery had counted on securing quickly. The seizure of Cherbourg and its precious port would be, at best, delayed, as would the breakout to the right on which so much was premised.
News of the situation at Omaha—"a nightmare," Bradley called it—alarmed Eisenhower. "I could see," Butcher noted, ". . . he wished he were running the 21st Army Group so he could do something about it himself, but from where he sits, he just can't step in." He could, however, lend help, and sent word for tactical bombers to carry out instrument-guided bombing of the area even if it risked hitting American positions. Together with the almost suicidal courage and determination of a comparative handful of U. S. soldiers and the skill of naval gunners offshore, this helped the invaders establish a firm hold on Omaha before nightfall, though it extended to only a little more than a mile inland. But the lay of the land so favored the defenders that it might well not have happened. Montgomery later told Brooke, "If you saw Omaha beach you would wonder how the Americans ever got ashore."
Though not yet fully informed of how the battle was progressing, the British commander arranged to cross over to France that night to assess the situation on the spot. He told General John Kennedy at the War Office, "If things were not going well... he would put them right; if they were going well, he would make them go better."
Montgomery later observed that the afternoon and evening of D-Day had been Overlord's critical moments, when "... parts of the lodgement area were not linked up, and we were liable to defeat in detail. The answer to invasion across the sea is a strong counter-attack on the afternoon of D-Day when the invading force has not proper communications and has lost certain cohesion. That was Rommel's chance. It was not taken, and we were given time to recover—thank goodness!"
News of the invasion was received with jubilation by the people of the United States and Britain. Newspapers carried front-page maps of the Normandy coast and announced that
It was the beginning of the end of the war. Churches held impromptu religious services. One was scheduled for Madison Square Garden in New York. At a morning press conference, Roosevelt warned against excessive rejoicing. "The war is by no means over. . . . [Y]ou don't just walk to Berlin. The sooner this country realizes that, the better."
On the evening of D-Day, Eisenhower met with Tedder, Leigh-Mallory, and Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay to assess the day's achievements to the extent that they were known. Things had gone far better than anyone except Montgomery had dared forecast. Despite the initial trouble at Omaha Beach, more than
150,000 Allied troops had been put ashore in Normandy and would not be driven off (though that was not yet accepted as fact). Though casualties figures were not yet in, reports indicated they were considerably lighter than expected. They would turn out to total 8,000 killed, wounded, and missing. Large gaps had been blasted in Hitler's Atantic Wall.
In retrospect, it was apparent that the landing phase of Overlord was a triumph. Nevertheless, Montgomery's ambitious program for D-Day had not been completely fulfilled. In addition to the trouble at Omaha, most disappointing had been the failure to take Caen. That communications center had instead been occupied by the 21st Panzer Division, which had moved quickly to preempt the British advance in the area. Things thus appeared to be both good and bad, and no one dared predict what would happen next.
The destroyer HMS Faulknor, carrying Montgomery, reached the French side of the Channel shortly after dawn on June 7. Bradley went aboard from his command ship to report on what was happening at Omaha. Troops of the U. S. V Corps had dug in there but had failed to make much progress or secure much space for the reinforcements and equipment that were to be brought ashore for the linkup with the British troops landed to the east at Gold Beach. If that linkup was not quickly achieved, Rommel, who was hurrying back from Germany, would certainly try to drive a destructive wedge between the separate beachheads.
Montgomery realized the linkup was more pressing than cut-
Ting off and taking the’ Cotentin peninsula and altered his plan accordingly. He wanted the U. S. VII Corps, which had landed against much less resistance at Utah Beach, to expand eastward while the British at Gold Beach were to expand westward. Both would relieve enemy pressure at Omaha so that a fifty-mile-long solid breach in the German coastal defenses could be secured.
Later on D - F-1, Eisenhower arrived offshore aboard the British minelayer HMS Apollo for a close look at developments. Bradley joined him on the Apollo off Omaha and reported that the situation had greatly improved after the first horrendous hours the previous day. But serious problems remained. German artillery fire was obstructing the unloading of supplies both at Omaha and Utah. Not enough artillery, trucks, or even ammunition had yet been brought ashore. Only a fraction of the supplies that were supposed to be off-loaded for the troops at Omaha had in fact been landed. Tanks were desperately needed. Twenty-seven of the thirty-two revolutionary new Duplex-Drive ''swimming" tanks had sunk after being debarked from landing craft the previous day. Similar off-loading difficulties were being experienced by the British and Canadians further east.
Pockets of resistance were still holding out at Omaha. Many beach obstacles had not yet been cleared and some beach exits had not been secured. Another problem concerned the paratroopers of the 82nd Airborne, who had dropped without great loss but had not yet been able to regroup and were scattered across the countryside.
Montgomery went aboard the Apollo to give Eisenhower a comprehensive report of how the battle was developing. Despite the difficulties that still had to be overcome, and particularly the failure to take Caen as yet, he said that things were generally under control. He was confident enough to order that tactical headquarters be established for him ashore. Members of Eisenhower's party were sorry that the Supreme Commander had not yet also set foot in France. There was little he could do there. But it would have been a headline-grabbing symbolic gesture. However, he wasn't interested in those, and, having
Conferred with his principal commanders aboard the Apollo, he returned to England where, that evening, he received a signal from Montgomery reporting, "General situation very good and am well satisfied with results of today's fighting."
In fact, Montgomery was not satisfied. But aside from his constitutional inability to admit that anything might not be happening the way he planned it, the last thing he wanted was SHAEF to be alarmed by the progress of the operation when the true picture had still to develop. He did not want Eisenhower to start breathing down his neck.
But the Supreme Commander had reason to be concerned. The remaining gap on the coast was still to be closed. Additional forces, particularly heavy equipment, were still coming ashore too slowly—an extremely serious matter in view of the expectation of more bouts of rough weather that would further interrupt the flow. Essential aerial support would also be obstructed by a bad turn in the weather.
Early on the morning of D + 2, Montgomery went ashore to be better placed to deal with the situation. His tactical headquarters had been set up on the grounds of a chateau at the village of Creully. Security was tightened when a frightened German soldier was found hiding under a bench on the chateau grounds. But Montgomery was heartened by the failure of German counterattacks to drive the Allied forces back into the sea at any point. Even in the Omaha area, the Americans were now expanding their beachhead.
By that evening Montgomery felt comfortable enough with the situation to conclude a letter to a friend about how things were turning out with pleasantries about how, "The country here is very nice; green fields; very good crops; plenty of vegetables; cows and cattle; chickens, ducks, etc."
Concerned though he was about getting more men and equipment ashore before the weather broke, the enemy had far greater worries about reinforcements and supplies. The concentrated bombing of French and Belgian railway lines that Eisenhower had insisted upon made nonsense of German contingencies for bolstering defenses in Normandy, as did the con-
Tinuing attention Allied/fighter-bombers paid to any military and goods movements on the roads of northwest France. It was as Rommel had feared and as Eisenhower had planned.
By D-1-6, the fifty-mile-long Allied bridgehead was consolidated and the Allied position ashore was beyond danger. That same day Churchill, who had been pestering his commanders to let him set foot in France, went across the Channel with Brooke to visit Montgomery at his chateau-grounds headquarters. As usual, the British commander exuded supreme confidence.
Eisenhower also visited Normandy that morning, going ashore at Omaha, escorting all three U. S. chiefs of staff, Marshall, Admiral King, and General Henry Arnold. Bradley briefed them on the situation. Marshall said he was impressed with how well things were going. Bradley's troops had by then captured the key town of Carentan and were preparing to drive up the Cotentin peninsula to take Cherbourg. Marshall said he thought the Germans would probably be defeated before Christmas. The German commanders, Rundstedt and Rommel, both appeared to share the belief that theirs was a lost cause. They urged Hitler to permit them to go over to the defensive. But the Fiihrer refused to tolerate such defeatist sentiments. He flew to France to instruct them personally to drive the Allied invaders out of France.
They had no hope of accomplishing that task. Though still in its early stages, the Normandy campaign was shaping up in a manageable fashion for the Allies. Montgomery was drawing the worst the enemy could deliver onto his left, where he would absorb it and wear it down, while the Americans not only took Cherbourg but would be able to sweep around for the great Normandy breakout.
Like a scientist who saw his ingenious theory being proved in practice, Montgomery was delighted with himself. He told De Guingand, "[I]t is great fun fighting battles again after five months in England." But Caen was still in German hands, while the Americans were beginning to make a painful discovery about how difficult it was to fight their way through the charming bocage terrain of the sector of Normandy they were assigned
To clear, where hedges, often six feet high or higher, sometimes interlaced in overhead canopies and rooted in high earthen embankments, flanked seemingly endless, winding country roads.
Eisenhower's son John, just graduated from West Point, had just arrived in London. His temporary presence was a gift from Marshall, who knew how close father and son were and who believed the Supreme Commander's burden would be at least marginally lightened by his presence. Eisenhower described it as "a Godsend. ... I love to be with him." He had John accompany him on a visit to the British and American sectors in Normandy, took him to meet Churchill, and spent as much time as he could spare with him before John's return to army duty in the United States later in the month.
John described his father as a "little fretful" at being denied the opportunity to command the Normandy campaign. He said he was "like a football player sitting on the bench, anxious to get in the game." At SHAEF, Montgomery's brief reports about how well things were going aroused some irritation because they were not overly detailed. But it was accepted that the commander on the spot, the man who had beaten Rommel, knew what he was doing and had things under control.
World History
