Blumenson - The Patton Papers: 1940-1945

W HILE THE FIRST VOLUME of The Patton Papers showed the growth of the man and the soldier, this deals with the man as a general.

During the period covered here, Patton was at his peak. He put to use all the expertise he had accumulated during a lifetime of preoccupation with his profession not only the technical knowledge of warfare in his time; but also the psychological and emotional attributes of leadership. Prepared for World War II, he attained in these years all that he ever sought. He gained victories, recognition, and applause. Yet he was never quite aware of the place he had carved for himself in history, never quite sure of the affection he had won from people everywhere. At the end he was still trying, driving himself, striving to satisfy his insatiable lust for fame.

In this volume I have attempted to follow Vincent Sheeans precept: Very often what the general does is less important than what he is. To present what Patton was as well as what he did has been my purpose. The question that frames this book is: what was the source of his military genius and how did he make it work? My broad conclusion is that the personality and the action, the word and the deed, the style and the substance were inseparable. So were the man and the military officer.

My focus is on the living human being who became a historical figure, and I have endeavored to let him speak for himself through his papers, particularly his diary. As in Mexico and in France, Patton started a notebook when he went off to war. His journal forms the heart of this book.

The reasons why anyone makes a permanent record of his thoughts and activities are, of course, diverse. In the mind of the journal-keeper must surely be an element of self-importance, a belief that his life is significant and interesting, especially to others. There must also be a sense of history and a certainty that the individual has an effect on perhaps merely reflects, but truly so his time and place. He must have a feeling of personal mission and a conviction that future generations will want to know what he did and said.

In Pattons case, he wrote or dictated his words as a nod to his own destiny, that vague but almost palpable force, like a holy grail, that he was sure led and guided him toward some great historic goal.

He also maintained a journal to amuse himself, to impress his family and close friends, and, eventually, to help his biographer understand his view and version of what happened.

Perhaps most important, the diary was his means of ridding himself of his frequent anguish, of finding comfort in moments of bitterness and discontent. It was a substitute confidant, a surrogate companion, for he sorely missed the presence of his wife who understood, supported, and stabilized him. Although he wrote to her frequently, censorship constrained his remarks. The diary allowed him to say exactly what he wished, explicitly yet privately, without compromising the public loyalty to his superiors that was one of his highest virtues.