St. Louis Post-Dispatch du lieu suivant : St. Louis, Missouri • Page 37

THE M3 LV Tl A I I Jb Published Everq Du Weekday and Jundaqr in the ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH PART SIX ST. LOUIS, SUNDAY MORNING, DECEMBER -30, 1945 PAGES 1 8F PA77MMs Poaaght He PrBslkedl Snowed In Winter Scene at Possum Trot Farm By Leonard Hall SOMETIMES we have to fudge a bit to claim that we have been "snowed in" at Possum Trot Farm, but the recent snow which drifted deep along our road, plus the upgrade that runs nearly to the highway, made it fairly legitimate AT LEFT, ABOVE, GEN. PATTON AS A YOUNG CADET AT VIRGINIA MILITARY INSTITUTE, BEFORE HIS APPOINTMENT TO WEST POINT; CENTER CONFERRING WITH GEN. BRADLEY AND FIELD MARSHAL MONTGOMERY IN FRANCE; RIGHT, IN A SMILING MOOD AFTER ONE OF HIS DASHING VICTORIES.

This is the first of several articles on the life of the late Gen. George S. Patton whose victories in World War II will undoubtedly give him a place In history as one of America's most colorful and brilliant military leaders. They Called Brilliant eneral 'Old Blood and Guts.1 but History's Description of Him Will Be 'Brains and Says Writer Who Served on His Staff derful way to catch up on your work. Our last load of wood for the fireplace was made up of huge chunks, many of them split from the bottom cut of big oak trees.

They're well seasoned and three of them make a cheerful fire that will last the day and still leave coals for starting up again next morning. The only thing we need is an automatic conveyor to carry those logs down the hill from the woodpile! We've gotten softhearted these cold nights and have let the dogs sleep in the kitchen. The reason is that their houses are set on the hillside and let too The Author" ROBERT S. ALLEN, author of the Gen. Patton articles, is a veteran Washington" columnist.

He served in the Army in both World Wars. In World War II he was a colonel y. I i i rfh i A'-i My i tl a .5 a i I I I I -fef I -I i- i a i I'atton a Htarr, serving as head a i mill 9 SS tarv intelligence. April 7. he was 1945, 'wounded and captured by the Germans when 4iyl his jeep ran into st Ian enemy -held I roadblock south AnwJof Ohrdruf.

He U' much air in from underneath. This la fine for summer but too drafty for cold weather. So I get up at six to send them out for a run in the snow. At this time of morring, the sky to the east is just beginning io turn pink with the first promise of daylight. And over to the west, above the river, hangs a moon that is a deep yellow-orange, but turns paler and paler as the light grows brighter.

The song birds haven't come in to the feeders this early in the morning, but we throw a big log or two on the fire, boost up the furnace and put the coffee water on the stove to boil. By that time, the dogs come bounding In, covered with snow and hungry for breakfast, while Veronica jumps to a windowsill, meow-ing to come in where it's warm. Our day starts in the midst of a crowd of hungry animals, but finally they are fed and we move a table close to the fireplace for our own breakfast. We had a near-tragedy when the peanut butter ran out tliis week, and the birds all sat about on the feeders looking disgusted. Mama mixed suet and raising and for a while they scorned It.

But soon they decided It wasn't so had and started to clean It up. Then Gertl saved the day by bringing down a half jar of peanut butter and soon the activity at the feeders was normal again. Robert Allen was freed three days later when the United States Third Army took the town of Erfurt, where he was being held prisoner. His wounds necessitated the amputation of the lower part of his right arm. Before the war, he was coauthor with Drew Pearson of the syndicated column, "Washington Merry-Go Round." have on the post.

But the money was of no consequence to Patton. He had plenty of money, but his were the only thoroughbred polo ponies in the area. So, thereafter, as long as he was stationed at that post, Patton played polo mounted on crack ponies. The old Colonel couldn't deny him that, much as he didn't like it. But it took brains and guts to outwit him.

Patton laughingly recalled the incident one day at the height of the fierce struggle to hold embattled Bastogne against the on-rushing German panzer hordes. The situation was very tense and critical. The Third Army was rushing furiously to the north from its positions in the Moselle Valley, but its full strength had not yet arrived. Patton's staff was worried and gloomy. But he was cheerful and buoyant.

"All you've got to use," he said, "is brains and guts. Tbt wins polo games and it wins battles. We've got plenty of brains and we've got plenty of guts. There's nothing to it. We'll lick those damn Germans hands down." And that is exactly what he did.

Gen. Patton, strangely, assumed and lost command of his beloved Third United States Army under very similar circumstances. Kate dealt him many strange hands in his 60 active and history-making years, but none more so than on these two occasions separated by 18 months time and many epochal triumphs. Both events occurred when he was under a cloud of official re-proval. When he took over command of the Third Army, in e' secret little ceremony in the heart of the British Midlands in March, 1944, he was still nominally in the dog-house over the so-called "slapping" incident.

And when he was removed from command of his conquering army in Bad Toelz, Germany, in October, 1945, he was again in the shadows because of his "Republicans-Democrats" witticism anent Nazi officeholders. However, while peculiarly similar in this respect, the two events different widely in another. Patton departed as commanding general of the Third Army in a storm of worldwide controversy. He took over command of the army in the most closely guarded secrecy. In fact, his assignment was so secret that the Third Army staff (HQ.

Third U. S. Army) was the last to learn about it officially- It is one of the strange untold was flanked by Brig. Gen. "Hap" Guy, his chief of staff, and on the right by Willie, his pugnacious looking bull-terrier.

Patton was dressed in a handsome tight-fitting, brass-buttoned battle jacket, the first the staff had seen, pink whipcord riding breeches, and gleaming high-topped riding boots with spurs. In his hand he carried a long hand-tooled riding crop. Patton's talk to the staff was short, aftd very characteristic. "I have been given command of the Third Army for reasons which will become clearer later," he said. (This remark referred to the Overlord invasion plan, under which the Third Army was to act as a threat against the powerful German forces concentrated in Belgium and Holland, and thus keep them from being employed as reinforcements against the Normandy Beachhead.

This plan worked very successfully.) "You made an outstanding reputation as an able and hard working staff under my predecessor. I have no doubt that you will perform the same way for me," he went on. "You are now in an active theater of war. Ahead of you lies battle. That means just one thing.

You can't afford to be a damned fool, because in battle damned fools mean dead men. It is inevitable for men to be killed and wounded in battle, and there is no reason why such losses should beetnereased by incompetence or carelessness. I never permit either on my staff. "There are three reasons why we are fighting in this war. The first is because we are determined to preserve our traditional liberties.

The second is to defeat and crush the Nazis, who would destroy our liberties. The third is because men like to fight and always will fight. "Some sophists and other crackpots deny that. They are damned fools, or cowards, or both. Men like to fight, they always have and they always will.

If you don't like to fight then I don't want you around here. You better get out now before I kick you out later on. That's all, gentlemen, and good luck." SEPTEMBER 25, 1944, was the blackest day in the life of Gen. Patton. Ever a stormy petrel, he had quite a few dark days in his 36-year military career.

But September 25, 1944, was the blackest of them all. On that day he sustained his only defeat as a battle commander. It was not a defeat at the hands of the enemy. (Patton was never "defeated in combat in the field). It was not a defeat that can be found In the annals of the war in the ETO.

But to Patton, personally, it was a defeat as real and bitter as if he had been smashed by the enemy. On this day Patton's conquering Third Army, which under his flaming leadership had slashed across the entire length of France in seven weeks and, with ever-mounting fury and momentum, was on the verge of repeating this fabulous kepic through the heart of Germany, was abruptly halted and sat down. Patton was check-reined by orders from higher authority. The official explanation for this action was, and has remained, lack of gasoline and ammunition. A passionate soldier who believed in explicit obedience to or- THE LATE GEN.

GEORGE S. PATTON. JR. HE BELIEVED THAT MEN LIKE TO FIGHT AND THAT THEY ALWAYS WILL. IT IS INTERESTING HOW QUICKLY the birds acquire new habits.

When we started feeding activities four winters ago at Possum Trot, we began by putting out scratch feed in a single feeder. A lot of birds came in and ate it. But when we added peanut butter, raisins, suet and sunflower seed, our visitors increased greatly in both numbers and variety. Moreover, they learned new tricks. At fir.st many wouldn't try the new foods but now, after four seasons, there's no doubt that every bird we have likes peanut butter better than anything we offer them.

Of course, the woodpeckers, titmice, chickadees and nuthatches have always been at home, perching on the logs which we fill with food. But now I notice that the junco, cardinal and even the mocking bird have learned to perch on the, logs much as the woodpeckers do, using their tails to brace and balance themselves. stories of the war. When the main body of HQ, Third Army, entrained at San Antonio, in February, 1944, for shipment to the United Kingdom, the commanding general was Lt. Gen.

Courtney Hodges. He had taken over command exactly one year previously, after Lt. Gen. Walter Krueger, its original commanding general, had been sent to the Pacific to command the Sixth United States Army under MacArthur. Hodges did not entrain with his staff, but this was not unusual.

The staff was to cross the Atlantio by transport, and it was taken for granted that Hodges would be flown over to join an advance echelon which had departed a month before. This belief was further confirmed by the presence with the main party of Hodges' chief of staff. Headquarters, Third United States Army traveled to its post, Camp Shanks, N. by a meandering and circuitous route over a large part of the United States as a counter-intelligence measure to mask its movements. At the post, the staff found Hodges' baggage stacked with its own.

That further lulled any suspicions that may have arisen. But one small give-away slip in the elaborate se By Robert S. Alien (Copyright, 1945.) HISTORY will stamp Gen. George S. Patton Jr.

with a different label from the eyecatching "Old Blood and Guts" hung on him by headline-conscious reporters. History's description will be "Brains and Guts." Less colorful, but a great deal more accurate. "Old Blood and Guts' was hot copy. Particularly in the spring of 1942, when the newsmen originated it while covering his tank training maneuvers in the vast and torrid desert around Needles, Ariz. The war was only a few months old.

Training maneuvers are tough on trainees, but they don't make front-page copy. A colorful military figure was urgently needed. Patton had color to spare. Also, he was an astute psychologist and a consummate actor. The situation called for dramatics, so he dished them out, sizzling and snappy- Patton, personally, threw a deeper and more comprehensive light on his true self in a little incident that occurred in a naval warehouse at Norfolk, just before he embarked for the momentous North African campaign, where he first made world history as a great combat commander.

He had summoned his staff, veteran cavalrymen whom he had personally hand picked, for a few words of admonition before they boarded the packed transports. Patton didn't say much. He never id. But what he said was to the point, not only about the great adventure they were about to undertake, but about himself. "The newspapers," he said, "call me 'Old Blood and That's all right; it serves its purpose.

It makes good reading. But it takes more than blood and guts to win battles. It takes brains and guts. "Remember that, brains and guts. No military leader or force ever won a battle through brains alone, or through guts alone.

Each is essential for successful military operations, but not just alone. Alone they are not enough. Both qualities must be present. I expect you to use both to your utmost capacity at all times. That's all, gentlemen." FROM Fedala, Morocco, to Bad Toelz, in southwest Germany, his record of great and historic victories proves that in combat Patton always displayed brains and guts to the utmost.

He fought as he preached to the great fortune and glory of his country. Patton learned early in his military career that it pays to use brains and guts. His first lesson occurred several days aftur he reported for duty as a youthful "shavetail" of cavalry at a small Mexican border post in the fall of 1909. In those days a second lieutenant received the munificent salary of $75 a month, and that was all. No clothing, rental, rations and various other allowances paid officers now.

A wealthy man, Patton appeared at the post, fresh out of West Point, in made-to-order British boots and the finest of tailored uniforms. Also, a string of 16 blooded polo ponies. Two days after his arrival, Patton was summoned before the post commander, a hard-bitten old cavalry colonel who had fought Indians on the Western plains before Patton was born. "Mr. Patton," barked the Colonel, "did you bring those 16 polo ponies with you?" "Yes, sir." "Those horses belong to you, personally." "Yes, sir." "Then get them the hell off of this post by tomorrow noon." "Yes, Sir," replied Patton, saluting smartly, about facing briskly and walking out.

Patton's lavish string of fancy polo ponies was off the post, as ordered, by noon the following day. He obeyed the order to the letter, as he obeyed orders throughout his military career and required others to obey them. But his horses were handily within reach. If it had been the old Colonel's intention to frighten Patton out of playing his beloved polo on trained blooded ponies, the Colonel had another thought coming. Patton didn't scare and he didn't ship his horses home.

Instead, he used brains and guts. He rode out to a ranch, a few miles from the post, and arranged for the stabling and care of his horses there. It cost him a great deal more than It would occurred at the post. for the staff turned crecy screei jf" In the mal jr M-s over by th 4 "1 ftr crecy screen mall headquarters postmaster to the VA ders, Patton, of course, grounded his astounded army when told to do so. But neither he nor it ever got over the crushing experience.

Historians doubtless will argue heatedly over what would have happened if Patton had not been unhitched and had been allowed to rage "up the enemy's rear end," as he once so graphically expressed it. He and the Third Army had not the slightest doubt about the matter. They were absolutely convinced they would have defeated the Nazis and won the war by December, 1944. These were the reasons for their belief: From August 1, when the Third Army officially became operational, to September 25, lt overran all of Brittany, all of central France and its advanced armored spearhends were hot in pursuit of the remnants of routed German armies fleeing chaotically across the German border. In these meteoric seven weeks, the Third Army captured over 120,000 prisoners, killed an estimated 30,000, wounded an estimated 90,000, destroyed hundreds of tanks and thousands of motor vehicles, and captured stupendous stores of food, guns, munitions, clothing and other equipment, This unparalleled record was accomplished at a cost of 4455 killed, 22,157 wounded and 4599 missing in action.

On September 17, the Third Army's Twentieth Corps, consisting of the Seventh Armored and Fifth and Ninetieth Infantry Divisions, launched a coordinated at- commandant, the IK TIIK HAY KVKIt COMES WHEN I CAN SPEND more time at home, we are going to take out a bird-banding license, because one of the most intriguing things is to know which birds come back each year. Our mocking bird we are fairly eure is a repeater which has turned up for the third season. And he's a valuable bird, for he won't let a single starling light anywhere near the feeders. There's one poor starling been hanging about all through this cold weather, but he certainly lends a miserable life with the mocking bird after him every minute. I've already mentioned the junco with the white throat and yesterday Mama reported a short visit from Dorothy, our game little downy woodpecker with only one leg, who spent last winter with us.

The Carolina wren is almost certainly a repeater and this year has his wife with him. I believe that a pair of these wrens wintering this far north in Missouri is unusual. We're also -sure that we've identified the Carolina chickadee which is considerably smaller than his more common cousin, the black-capped variety. tack to enpture Metz, the last organized Nazi stronghold west of the German border. By September 19, strategic Thionville was being contained; on the Twentieth Coin-sur-Seille, another key point was taken and the main German forces in Metz had begun to withdraw.

Metz's capture in a few days, at the most, was certain. PATTON had his plans prepared In detail for the sweep through Germany. With Metz as its base, the Third Army was to assault the Siegfried Line on th heels of the disorganized Germans rushing into it. That is, the Third Army was to go through the line right on top of the Germans and before they could man Its massive defensive positions. That would have meant only one thing a speedy breach in the line.

For this breakthrough Patton had in reserve his two crack armored sledgehammers, the Fourth and Sixth Armored Divisions of imperishable fame. These two Nazi terrors were to roar through the breach, whose shoulders would be widened and secured by veteran infantry. Other armor was to pour Into the Palatinate and race for the Rhine less than a hundred miles distant. It would be the epochal sweep through France all over again. Another history-making wide end run by Patton.

And as in France it couldn't fall. Victory was certain. Patton knew, as he did when he overran Brittany in a week, that there were no German forces of any consequence in the Palatinate, also that the Germans had no defenses and no forces in position on the east bank of Rhine that could have stopped him. He would have smashed across the river as he did the Seine in France, and with the same victorious results. As he vividly and jubilantly expressed it to his staff, in a war council on the plan, "We'll tear up their rear ends so damned hot and fast that we'll rip 'em wide open.

They'll never be able to recover again. We'll be in Berlin before they know what's happened to them." Patton did rip the Germans wide pen exactly that way, but not in 1944. He did it six months later in March, 1945, by a long and gruelling route that was not of his making but which added new luster to his name. He had to win the Battle of the Bulge before he could play his momentous role in winning the Battle of Germany. Because In September, 1944, when he had that goal in his grasp, he was sat down.

CONTINUED TOMORROW It isn't easy to keep track of them all, for there must often be as many as fifty birds of at least fifteen varieties within night of the big "river window" at one time. Kight now at the feeder just outside are a pair each of titmice and chickadees, a junco and a downy woodpecker. At the hanging feeder, ten feet away, are the female cardinal, a Carolina wren, a hairy woodpecker and a junco. The old mocking bird Is feeding alone at a hanging log in the next tree, but awaiting their turns are the little Carolina chickadee, two brilliant male cardinals, two titmice and assorted juncos. latter found a letter addressed, "Lt.

General George S. Patton CG Third U.S. Army APO 430 Postmaster, N.Y." This was the Third Army's official overseas address. It also was eye-popping news. The letter bore the return address of Mrs.

George S. Patton, Jr. The Headquarters Commandant excitedly took the letter to Hodges' Chief of Staff. Whatever he may have felt and thought, he kept to himself, being an old soldier. But it was obvious that Patton was the new C.G.

Hodges was ut. And if Hodges was out, so was his Chief of Staff. For Patton had the reputation of picking his own carefully chosen Chief of Staff and Senior Staff Chiefs. HODGES' Chief of Staff enjoined the strictest secrecy regarding the letter on the Headquarters Commandant. The secret was meticulously kept and the personnel of HK Third United States Army arrived in the U.K.

still unaware that it had a new Commanding General. It continued unaware of that fact for weeks, until it arrived at the Third Army's Command post in Knutsford, a pleasant little town in the English Midlands. There the staff found the advance echelon already busy at work on invasion planning under Patton and a small group of African and Sicilian veterans that he had brought with him from Palermo. Patton lost no time in informing the new arrivals that he was their new commander and what he expected of them. The day after they were billeted, every officer and enlisted man was assembled in front of the great old manor house, that was his personal headquarters.

It was a raw, gloomy, early spring day. Patton stood on the wide manor steps facing the staff. On his left he AND SO IT GOES ALL. DAY LONG. Every now and then although she's quite well trained Chipper goes dashing to the window, which extends down to the floor, and sends all the birds scampering in alarm.

But we don't scold her too severely, since all of them are back again in less than a minute. I think that one of the most interesting bird stories we've heard this winter came from a friend who entertained a great Pileated Woodpecker for an afternoon in a yard in Kirkwood. This is unusual, since the pileated has little tolerance for human beings and generally prefers the solitude of the big timbers. With this, I think I'd better make my way up to the mail box and also take the dois out for a round. Chipper's back is barely visible as she dashes along like a miniature snowplow.

And after I get home there arc chores to do, especially if I want to get back to the fireside and, perhaps, a noggin of hot buttered rum before sundown. PATTON AS A MAJOR GENERAL IN THE SPRING OF 1942, WHEN HE WAS TRAINING TROOPS IN TANK WARFARE IN THE ARIZONA DESERT. ON TO BERLIN. GEN. PATTON'S LAST CHRISTMAS CARD, PRINTED IN FRANCE JUST BEFORE THE GERMAN COUNTER-OFFENSIVE IN THE ARDENNES IN THE WINTER OF 1944..