Most of the people on this site know me. Most of you know that I have a strong, life long interest in military history. An interest like this is hard to explain (it's kinda like explaining a passion for climbing to a non-climber).
War is, after all, about horror, and destruction and hate. It is almost literally the very, very worst of human nature. But, conversely, war is also often about the best of human nature. Like themes of horror, themes of heroism, sacrifice and love of fellow humans run through the story of war too. Anyone who has read about Joshua Lawrence Chamberlin at Gettysburg in 1863, about Chief Josef of the Nez Perce; any student of the Duke of Wellington, Winston Churchill, the Duke of Marlborough, Saburo Sakai, George Patton and endless other named and nameless human beings can be astounded at what war has brought out in humans pushed to the absolute limit of humanity. The genius. The determination. Even the eloquence.
This thread has nothing to do with climbing. It is off topic. It proves that I am a hopeless and pathetic nerd. It will interest no one on this site.
And yet posting this is harmless; so I forge ahead.
I was recently reminded of an event such as those I describe above. It involved Dwight Eisenhower, when he was the Commander in Chief of all the Allied forces in Europe in World War Two. In reading (again) about these events from 1944 and 1945, I was struck utterly at how one man can say something that is short, to the point and perfect for the occasion. It goes like this:
Several months before the Allied invasion of France ("D-Day"), Eisenhower was appointed to his position as Supreme Commander of Allied forces in Europe. He knew that the invasion would be hard; that there was no certainty of success. He was given one short, direct and simple order by the Combined British/American Chiefs of Staff. He was ordered to:
"Enter the continent of Europe and, in conjunction with the other United Nations, undertake operations aimed at the heart of Germany and the destruction of her armed forces."
Such a simple sentence. But over 40 million people had already died in this European war, and before the Allied forces brought Germany to her knees, another 10 million would follow. Fifty million dead (with countless more wounded and taken prisoner).
Eleven months after the invasion of Normandy, Germany was on her knees. Most of the country was already conquered, her armies were scattered, disorganized, ill-equiped, and, mostly, dead. Tens and tens of thousands of American, British and other Allied soldiers had also died in those eleven months. Adolf Hitler committed suicide in late April, 1945. He was succeeded as leader of Germany by Admiral Karl Doenitz. Sensibly, Doenitz sought peace as quickly as he could after taking over leadership of what was left of the German nation. The initial German surrender took place at Eisenhower's headquarters on May 7, 1945.
The war was over. Now to get the word out. How to tell the Chiefs of Staff and then the press and the world?
Eisenhower's staff were almost beside themselves about what to say. Everything they'd worked for, all the death and destruction that had been inflicted, the resources wasted. It was all over. The staff (generals mostly) composed cables that were more and more verbose. Each draft was more grandiloquent, more congratulatory than the last.
Finally, Eisenhower had had enough. He politely thanked his lieutenants and then dictated the message himself. He said:
"The mission of this Allied force was fulfilled at 0241, local time, May 7, 1945. Eisenhower."
A few perfect words.