Phew–what a way to start the year. I like to average an entry a week, and it’s been a month since the last one because this book was muddy going. Not the subject. Not even the writing. But Patton–A Genius for War is 820 dense pages that covers every aspect of the man’s life and nature from infancy to death. Good thing he didn’t survive longer than he did (1895-1945), or Carlo D’Este might have kept me reading until Easter. Following close upon the rather difficult Einstein bio, I’m ready for a literary rest.
He was the general the Germans feared most, maybe the only one they really feared. Hitler called him “that crazy cowboy,” which would have pleased him had he lived long enough to hear it. From the beginning of his life, he was all about attack, attack, attack. Yet, he was full of insecurities, born, according to D’Este, of his acute dyslexia (unnamed and undiagnosed in those days), which kept him running to keep up in the world when what he wanted desperately was to be its master. His ancestors were Civil war heroes, and he aspired always to emulate them in battle, believing himself the reincarnation of previous generals (Stonewall Jackson, Hannibal) and destined to be reincarnated as another one after his death.
He saw his first action as a lieutenant fresh out of West Point in WWI, suffered and survived a severe bullet wound. Suffered through a peacetime army which offered little or no chance for advancement, waiting for his chance to fight again and earn those stars. In the meantime, he made an advantageous marriage to a rich eastern woman named Beatrice Ayers, which opened the way to high society, military and civilian. For all his cowboy nature and dyslexia, he became fluent in French and adept at negotiating the world of the hoi poloi. If that sounds like a set of irreconcilable opposites, then you have understood the core of George Patton.
He was a ruthless fighter who went into tears in front of his wounded soldiers, a man who nearly lost his career by slapping privates around, yet became famous for his on-the-ground support of his troops. He negotiated treaties, but couldn’t negotiate his way through the staff of eminent WWII generals (Eisenhower, Bradley, Clark, Montgomery) whose timidity he despised and who kept him around only because they couldn’t quite do without him even though they hated living with him.
Not a sympathetic, or even an admirable figure in many ways. Yet a unique one, and emblematic of a certain part of American nature and history. Old Blood and Guts. Maybe he’s come back as OPhew–what a way to start the year. I like to average an entry a week, and it’s been a month since the last one because this book was muddy going. Not the subject. Not even the writing. But Patton–A Genius for War is 820 dense pages that covers every aspect of the man’s life and nature from infancy to death. Good thing he didn’t survive longer than he did (1895-1945), or Carlo D’Este might have kept me reading until Easter. Following close upon the rather difficult Einstein bio, I’m ready for a literary rest.
He was the general the Germans feared most, maybe the only one they really feared. Hitler called him “that crazy cowboy,” which would have pleased him had he lived long enough to hear it. From the beginning of his life, he was all about attack, attack, attack. Yet, he was full of insecurities, born, according to D’Este, of his acute dyslexia (unnamed and undiagnosed in those days), which kept him running to keep up in the world when what he wanted desperately was to be its master. His ancestors were Civil war heroes, and he aspired always to emulate them in battle, believing himself the reincarnation of previous generals (Stonewall Jackson, Hannibal) and destined to be reincarnated as another one after his death.
He saw his first action as a lieutenant fresh out of West Point in WWI, suffered and survived a severe bullet wound. Suffered through a peacetime army which offered little or no chance for advancement, waiting for his chance to fight again and earn those stars. In the meantime, he made an advantageous marriage to a rich eastern woman named Beatrice Ayers, which opened the way to high society, military and civilian. For all his cowboy nature and dyslexia, he became fluent in French and adept at negotiating the world of the hoi poloi. If that sounds like a set of irreconcilable opposites, then you have understood the core of George Patton.
He was a ruthless fighter who went into tears in front of his wounded soldiers, a man who nearly lost his career by slapping privates around, yet became famous for his on-the-ground support of his troops. He negotiated treaties, but couldn’t negotiate his way through the staff of eminent WWII generals (Eisenhower, Bradley, Clark, Montgomery) whose timidity he despised and who kept him around only because they couldn’t quite do without him even though they hated living with him.
Not a sympathetic, or even an admirable figure in many ways. Yet a unique one, and emblematic of a certain part of American nature and history. Old Blood and Guts. Maybe he’s come back as Osama
