Stilwell and the American Experience in China, 1911-45

  When ultimate aims diverged they necessarily affected strategy. For the Americans China was the focus; for the British the focus was Singapore and in the background India. Lying between India and China, Burma was seen strategically from two different angles of view and the split focus was never to be resolved.

  The American General Staff was as persuaded as the President of the need to support China and for that reason of the vital importance of holding Burma. To the British, support for China was a waste and a strange American aberration, but the need to arrive at a joint strategy was imperative. Churchill agreed that Roosevelt should assume primary responsibility for “dealing with the Chinese in all cases.” At American insistence, in order to emphasize the strategic relation to China, Burma was separated from the India command and put under Wavell’s Southeast Asia command, a disruption of regular logistic channels regarded with extreme distaste by the British Staff. “The whole scheme wild and half-baked,” fumed General Sir Alan Brooke, Marshall’s opposite number, the Chief of Imperial General Staff, in London.

  Explaining the arrangement to Wavell, Churchill wrote, “I must enlighten you about the American view. China bulks as large in the minds of many of them as Great Britain.” The American Chiefs of Staff had put Burma under his command for the sole reason that they considered the linking up with China and the opening of the Burma Road “indispensable to world victory. And never forget that behind all looms the shadow of Asiatic solidarity.” He concluded, “If I can epitomise in one word the lesson I learned in the United States, it was ‘China.’ ”

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  On January 1, 1942, Stilwell recorded in his diary, “George sent for me—with him for over an hour. All about troubles in the Orient.” Marshall described the circumstances of the Anglo-Chinese quarrel and said he was looking for a high-ranking American officer to send to Chungking to keep the peace. The name of Lieutenant General Hugh A. Drum, the Army’s senior ranking officer and currently commander of the First Army, was discussed, possibly at Stilwell’s suggestion. At some point previously Marshall may have asked him to come armed with a name, for Stilwell had talked the matter over with Dorn who proposed Drum. “The G–mo’s a stuffed shirt; let’s send him the biggest stuffed shirt we have,” was the way he put it.

  Drum was a pompous man of large pretensions and self-importance who had been Chief of Staff of the First Army in the AEF and subsequently Pershing’s Chief of Staff. He expected to command the next American expeditionary force when war came. Marshall, whom Drum had angered during the past summer’s maneuvers by lordly behavior and some scathing remarks, had his own candidates for active command and welcomed a way of disposing of Drum’s senior claims. His rank would be a compliment to the Chinese though he had no experience of China. General Magruder, already in China as chief of AMMISCA, would not carry enough cachet; besides he was tired and disillusioned about the Chinese. The only alternative was all too obvious to Stilwell: “Me? No, thank you. They remember me as a small-fry colonel that they kicked around. They saw me on foot in the mud, consorting with coolies, riding soldier trains. Drum will be ponderous and take time through interpreters; he will decide slowly and insist on his dignity. Drum by all means.”

  GYMNAST at this time was running into deepening confusion of plans and concern about resources. There were doubts about Spain, air cover, submarines, shipping and the general advisability of getting into “a rathole that is under the guns, sure of punishment and hard to supply.” Stilwell learned that he had been picked for “initiative, quick thinking and determination” and that the first American attack must succeed. “That’s O.K. But who wants to be the token?” After long conferences with Marshall and others, he wrote, “All against…all agree that means are meager, transport uncertain, the complications numerous, the main facts unknown, the consequences serious.” Nevertheless planning continued because, as Stilwell saw it, “the Limeys want us committed” and had “completely hypnotized” Roosevelt who “has acquired this same itch to do something….‘Why, rubbish, we can do that.’ Our Boy thinks it very queer that ships cannot be unloaded more promptly. ‘Two weeks seems a long time to a man in a hurry,’ says he.” Stilwell put Roosevelt down as a “rank amateur in all military matters” subject to “whims, fancy and sudden childish notions” and “sucked in by the British.” In addition, “The Navy is the apple of his eye and the Army is the stepchild.”

  By January 10 GYMNAST was “getting hot…everybody sure it’s a crazy gamble….The whole god-damned thing is cockeyed. We should clean the Pacific FIRST and then face east.” On January 14, after three weeks wasted in “making a plan that we can prove won’t work,” the final presentation was made at the last full meeting of ARCADIA. By this time the British had cooled in view of a possible setback in Libya and it was agreed that GYMNAST should be put off.

  On the evening of the same day Stilwell was invited to the home of the Secretary of War where he learned, in Stimson’s words, that “the finger of destiny is pointing at you,” and that its direction was China. While he had been engrossed in GYMNAST, General Drum had been summoned to Washington, and thinking this was the call to greatness, had arrived with an entourage of 40 to 50 staff officers. Instead of appointment as Pershing’s successor, he found himself scheduled to go to China with no troops to command and an even greater confusion of objectives and directives than afflicted GYMNAST.

  America’s wartime policy toward China began to emerge in the discussions with Drum. According to what Stimson told him, the purpose of the mission was to secure China as a base for early operations and eventually for “development of an effective ultimate counter-offensive by or from China proper against Japan.” Secondly, the objective was to keep China, which he said was in bad shape and might make a separate peace, in the war. Stimson specified three main duties: “entire disposition” of Lend-Lease, overall command of American air operations in China and probably command of Chinese troops at the suggestion of Chiang Kai-shek who had offered to “turn over one or two of his armies.”

  Marshall’s version had a different emphasis. Besides conserving China as an air base and building up the AVG, the primary objective was to “arm, equip and train the Chinese forces in China” in order that they might operate more effectively against the Japanese and restrain their activities in the Pacific. This was what Lend-Lease was for, as the War Department saw it. Marshall, as a result of his own experience in China, had absorbed Stilwell’s view of the Chinese soldier’s potential. He knew their endurance and willingness to die, and during a visit to Feng Yu-hsiang’s domain, had been impressed by the discipline of his troops. This led him to believe that given competent leadership a force could be developed that would be “unbeatable.” Chinese leadership from the company level up he considered incompetent and in need of replacement and retraining.

  The mission did not appeal to General Drum who saw it as “nebulous,” distant from the main effort and, since Marshall disclaimed any intention of sending American ground troops to the theater, a waste of an officer of his rank and combat experience. While he demurred and debated, Chiang Kai-shek accepted the title of Supreme Commander China Theater with what dignity he could and asked for a high-ranking U.S. officer to serve as chief of his Allied staff who “need not be an expert on the Far East. On the contrary, military men who have a knowledge of Chinese armies when China was under the warlords operate at a disadvantage when they think of the present national armies in terms of the armies of the war lords.” This interesting qualification was probably a reference to General Magruder.

  The implication of Chiang’s message was obvious. What he wanted was someone amenable, of imposing rank and influence at home, and not so knowledgeable as to be critical of Chinese requisitions—in short, a General Drum. But cooled by Drum’s disrelish for the task, Stimson ruled him out. With GYMNAST postponed, the finger of destiny swung like a compass needle to Stilwell. Marshall, who wanted him for a field command no less than Stilwell wanted it for himself, tried to ave
rt the sacrifice. “Joe, you have 24 hours to think up a better candidate, otherwise it’s you.” The first American combat command of the war and of his career had been in Stilwell’s grasp and he could fairly expect to lead whatever action replaced GYMNAST. “For God’s sake, think hard or we’re hooked,” he urged Dorn, but he knew the hook was lodged.

  In Stimson’s eighteenth-century house on its own 20 acres overlooking Rock Creek Park he found himself the only guest. They talked for an hour and a half in front of the fire in the library. “Secwar” asked him how he felt about the mission. “I told him I’d go where I was sent.” Stimson too kept a diary and wrote afterwards, “I was very favorably impressed by him. He knows China thoroughly and in half an hour gave me a better first hand picture of the valor of the Chinese armies then I had ever received before. Of this valor he has a very high opinion.” Stilwell told him that the whole success of the mission depended on whether Chiang Kai-shek would turn over any part of his Army to American command, which he had always refused to do hitherto. The Secretary assured him that Chiang had suggested it himself and T. V. Soong had promised it. Stilwell expressed doubts but, as recorded by Stimson, said that given such command, the possibilities of the mission were “unbounded and he was very enthusiastic about it.” Some of the enthusiasm was certainly Stimson’s own for to him the mission represented “fulfillment of a policy and principles which I believed in for many years.” Enthusiasm was what he was looking for and Stilwell’s feeling for China encouraged him. He went to bed feeling that “I had discovered a man who will be very useful to us in the problems that are coming.” He was to remain Stilwell’s warmest and steadiest supporter from that day to the end.

  Stilwell thrashed out the mission in a long conference with Marshall two days later. He learned that Stimson had at first not wanted to consider him because at a GYMNAST conference he had sat with his head down. “George told him I was getting ready to butt.” Marshall asked Stilwell if he thought the chances of tangible results from the China mission were good. “Yes, if I were given COMMAND.” Marshall asked how he thought that could be arranged. “I said, ‘Ask CKS if he will.’ George said, write the question. So I did and he’s sending it to Soong.” Marshall told him he would be made a lieutenant general but events were moving fast and “by the time you get there you may be in command in Australia.”

  There seemed to be no stiffening anywhere from the Indian Ocean to the Southwest Pacific. The Japanese had now made landings in Borneo and the Celebes. On the Malay peninsula two British divisions, unable to get a grip, were retreating toward the strait that guarded Singapore. Incredibly it appeared that the greatest naval base east of Gibraltar, the anchor of the Malay Barrier, might not hold. The Barrier was the chain of land and islands stretching from Burma through Malaya, Sumatra and Java to Australia that protected the Indian Ocean. On January 15 Burma itself, northern anchor of the Barrier, was penetrated in the south by an advance party of Japanese who came from Thailand over mountain passes once used by foot soldiers and elephants of former emperors but supposedly impassable to troops with modern transport and guns. Guided by dissident Burmese nationalists, they advanced on Moulmein.

  Suddenly the Chinese divisions, once rejected, appeared desirable. The British now asked for them to take up the defense of the Shan states on Burma’s eastern border in order to relieve the 1st Burma Division from that area for the defense of Rangoon. Churchill on returning to London from ARCADIA, faced with a choice of sending the only available reinforcements to Burma or to Singapore, made the rather astonishing statement to his Chiefs of Staff that “as a strategic object I regard keeping the Burma Road open as more important than the retention of Singapore.” Its loss would be “very grievous. It would cut us off from the Chinese.” For the first time maintaining contact with China seemed important. But the reinforcements in the end went to Singapore because Australia, which had sent its best divisions to fight for Britain in the Middle East, warned that abandonment of Singapore would be an “inexcusable betrayal.”

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  On January 19 Stimson took up with Soong the question of obtaining the Generalissimo’s promise of command for the American as yet unnamed “of some of the Chinese troops, particularly those who are to operate in Burma.” Chiang’s reply was affirmative if not foolproof. He agreed to “executive control” of Chinese units in Burma (the wording in which Soong had relayed the question) and specified a lieutenant general, not to be Magruder. T. V. Soong who had been named Foreign Minister on December 23 interpreted his chief to the Americans and vice versa as he saw fit in the interests of smoothness. A man of strong character and immense ambition, brusque and able, he was thoroughly Westernized in thought and speech and equally Chinese in a quality of bland arrogance. He had small respect for the regime he represented and no reservoir of mutual trust with the leader and brother-in-law whose place he desired to fill. Stimson understood from him that there was “one matter in regard to Burma which still must be straightened out” but this cryptic reference was not clarified. Soong said there was no need to send another radio as his okay was sufficient. He had found out the identity of the nominee, had investigated Stilwell’s record, was perfectly satisfied and knew Chiang would be likewise. He thought “the best man in the Army for the job had been chosen.” The Generalissimo subsequently approved in a message stating, “General Stilwell’s coming to China and assuming duty here is most welcome.”

  On this basis on January 23 Marshall told Stilwell he appeared to be “it.” “Will you go?” he asked. “I’ll go where I’m sent,” Stilwell answered, as he had to Stimson. He accepted the duty without further remark though not without recording in his diary that “the blow fell” and adding a reference to the goat sacrificed as a burnt offering. His staff took the news in “stunned silence.” At the War Department a colleague commented that Marshall had thought “to get rid of Drum in a clever way and all he’s accomplished is to lose his best corps commander.”

  The next days were spent in study of the China files, assembling a staff, preparing requisitions and conferring at length with Soong (“devious and slippery”) and the China Defense Supplies group (“usual froth about transport planes, big guns, dive bombers”). He met with Lauchlin Currie, administrator of Lend-Lease to China, and with the Navy, which at about this time was despatching Admiral Milton E. Miles, a veteran of the China station, with instructions “to prepare the China coast in any way you can for U.S. Navy landings in three or four years” and meanwhile “to find out what’s going on there.”

  While Stilwell prepared, the enemy progressed. On the day he was named “it” the Japanese landed at Rabaul on the Bismarck archipelago and three days later in the nearby Solomons in their first step toward cutting the United States’ line to Australia. In Burma they were closing in on Moulmein where, in the words of a British historian, they “did not come down the road in a straightforward manner” but infiltrated through the jungle in small parties. Here as in Malaya their mobility and progress were astonishing. Lightly equipped, using bicycles or animals for transport, carrying their own ammunition for small-caliber weapons, they were not road-bound. They wore sneakers and shorts and gym shirts and were trained to live on restricted rations of which they could carry enough in their packs for four days. The British, though using troops native to the area, moved in trucks with full equipment of large weapons, tinned foods, helmets, gas masks and heavy boots and suffered the same disadvantages as had General Braddock’s Redcoats in the forests of North America.

  Marshall was not encouraging. He doubted if the British could hold Singapore or Rangoon, admitted the China mission was a gamble and reiterated his warning that Stilwell might end up in Australia. Stilwell was hardly more optimistic. “Will the Chinese play ball? Or will they sit back and let us do it? Will the Limeys cooperate? Will we arrive to find Rangoon gone?”

  In a memorandum for Marshall on strategy he saw the Southwest Pacific as a defensive theater and China as the place where “maximum o
ffensive power,” involving at least one U.S. Army corps, should be developed for carrying the war to Japan. His final instructions, the first addressed to him as Lieutenant General (“no thrill whatsoever”) did not include this concept. They designated him Commanding General of U.S. Army Forces*3 in the China–Burma–India theater, Chief of Staff to the Supreme Commander China Theater, supervisor of Lend-Lease and U.S. representative on any Allied war council. His functions and purposes were to maintain the Burma Road, “command such Chinese forces as may be assigned to him,” “assist in improving the combat efficiency of the Chinese Army” and “increase the effectiveness of U.S. assistance to the Chinese Government for the prosecution of the war”—a phrase carefully drafted to specify the purpose of the assistance. Trying to reduce his tasks to a list, Stilwell found a mixture of eight positions and functions.

  Two more tasks of awful proportions, the “Hump” and the Ledo Road, were already taking shape, to counteract the foreseeable loss of Rangoon. When on January 30 the Japanese took Moulmein the threat to Rangoon sharpened. The Chinese, with their faith in Western strength shattered, foresaw the port city lost and themselves isolated once more unless an alternate supply route could be developed. Roosevelt was equally worried and at a Cabinet meeting on January 30 suggested the possibility of opening an air freight route and also an alternate land route which, as Stimson recorded, “He said existed north of the present road through a pass that didn’t go over 6,000 feet.” Soong, who was consulted at the President’s request by Averell Harriman, produced a map with a route marked in red extending from the Persian Gulf by railroad to the Caspian Sea, thence by boat to the railroad across Russian Turkestan as far as the Chinese border, and from there some 2,000 miles by motor road to Chungking, for a total distance of 5,000 miles.