When art historians went to war

Alumni were key in efforts to save Europe’s art treasures

By W. Barksdale Maynard ’88
Published in the June 2, 2010, issue

"Monuments Men” examine relics of the Holy Roman regalia upon their return to Vienna in 1946. Lt. Ernest DeWald *14 *16 is at far right, and Lt. Perry Cott ’29 *37 is third from left. Photo courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, MD.

Late in World War II, the Allies prepared for their bloody ­invasion of Fortress Europe. Many observers expected to see heartrending destruction of art and architectural treasures as bombs rained from the sky and soldiers ransacked and looted. Culture had suffered grievously in countless wars of the past; why should this, the most horrific conflict in all human history, be any different?  

But it was different: The Allies took remarkable measures to protect threatened art. “Shortly we will be fighting our way across the continent of Europe in battles designed to preserve our civilization,” Gen. Dwight Eisenhower told his commanders just before D-Day in a historic message signaling an enlightened new attitude. “Inevitably, in the path of our advance will be found historical monuments and cultural centers which symbolize to the world all that we are fighting to preserve” — and so he ordered his commanders to safeguard those treasures as their armies swept violently forward. It was a first in military history.  

Key to this noble effort were art historians serving in the ranks of the American, British, and Canadian forces, including more than a dozen young Princetonians. As described in a new book by Robert Edsel, a former Texas oilman who recently set up the Monuments Men Foundation to honor their memory, and co-author Bret Witter, these soldiers volunteered for the Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives Service (MFAA). They tagged along with the advancing troops, warning them of art landmarks to avoid and performing emergency restorations as needed to paintings, sculpture, and architecture. After the Third Reich collapsed, MFAA officers undertook the daunting task of finding lost art, which the enemy had scattered for safekeeping across more than a thousand secret locations in Germany alone — including deep underground in salt mines. Assembling this jumbled material at “collecting points,” they began the tedious process of repatriating 5 million objects, a herculean task that took until 1951 to complete.  

Monuments Man Sgt. Kenneth C. Lindsay and the bust of Queen Nefertiti, now housed at the Neues Museum in Berlin. Photo courtesy of the Kenneth C. Lindsay Collection.

Edsel calls their efforts “a completely overlooked part of history,” so little public attention have they received. But 60 years later, the records MFAA kept are still used regularly by museum professionals like Nancy Yeide of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., who researches the ownership history of paintings — their “provenance.” The contribution of MFAA was, she says, “absolutely inestimable. It should be a source of pride to Americans. Especially when you consider there were a lot of things the U.S. military had on its plate, like feeding and clothing Europe.”  

It seems especially admirable when compared to the actions of the Soviet Union, which dispatched a Trophy Commission in 1945 to steal 2.5 million art objects in reparation against Germany, including the famous gold artifacts excavated by Schliemann at Troy (which didn’t surface again until the 1990s). Berlin’s Museum Island was systematically ransacked. Russia still refuses to return many of these looted items. By contrast, the 350 or so members of MFAA were selfless and disinterested in their efforts to return art to its proper owners, including those in the former Reich — even though the U.S. government didn’t always follow MFAA’s lead.

Princetonians figured prominently in MFAA. The Univer­sity’s Department of Art and Archaeology was nearly 60 years old when the war began and was rivaled only by Harvard’s as the finest in the nation. Many professionals had trained in McCormick Hall and the Art Museum, including the innovative director of the Museum of Modern Art in New York, Alfred Barr ’22. He became the first American to warn of the threat to art by Nazi “sons-of-bitches,” as he called them after witnessing a Stuttgart rally in 1933 — the Nazis routinely burned paintings they considered “degenerate” and looted Europe’s treasures for their personal aggrandizement. Hitler, a frustrated artist himself, planned a megalomaniacal museum for Linz, Austria. In assembling his trove, the Führer competed against Washington’s National Gallery of Art (opened in 1941) and other world museums — but he had persuasive powers of acquisition they lacked. At his death he owned an astonishing 8,000 paintings, double the number the National Gallery has been able to amass over the past 70 years.  

When the war ended, MFAA established a collecting point in bomb-cratered Wiesbaden, Germany, in a building that had served as a state museum before the war and later housed Luftwaffe headquarters. Conditions were grim in the building, where every window was shattered and doors had been blown off their hinges. A ring of U.S. Army tanks kept looters away. As crates arrived daily in trucks, Capt. Patrick “Joe” Kelleher *47 and fellow officers were staggered to find that they contained some of the greatest masterpieces in art history, including Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. For Kelleher, it was like returning to the McCormick Hall classroom where he had studied these very works as a master’s-degree student just before enlisting.

Nestled in one box was a glittering treasure: St. Stephen’s Crown, a talisman held sacred by the Hungarian people for 700 years. Kelleher seized the opportunity to study the seldom-seen crown up close, and later he wrote his Princeton dissertation on it. The U.S. government refused to send the crown back to Communist Hungary, so it languished at Fort Knox until being repatriated in 1978 — after Kelleher, by then retired as director of the Princeton University Art Museum, had been invited to examine it one more time.  

Boyish and high-spirited, Kelleher liked to needle Capt. Walter Farmer, the brusque and jumpy director of the Wiesbaden collecting point. At Christmas 1945, Farmer went out of town, leaving strict orders that no more crates should be opened — the German museum curators had packed the artworks carefully before hiding them in the salt mines, and Farmer wanted them to remain undamaged. But Kelleher invited fellow art lovers for a bibulous dinner party and, with great fanfare, pried open a lid to extract the most famous of all Egyptian sculptures, the bust of Nefertiti. Delighted to find her unbroken, they raised their glasses to a woman whose beauty was undimmed after 3,300 years.  

When Farmer found out, he fulminated about this “outrageous act of disobedience by a fellow officer.” He knew that the ravishing Nefertiti was dogged by controversy already: She had been whisked to Berlin within months of her discovery by archaeologists in 1912, and now the Egyptian government was clamoring for her return. Nefertiti remains a sore point even today: Over strident objections from Cairo, the bust has just become the centerpiece of Berlin’s Neues Museum, gutted by bombs during World War II and not reopened until last year.  

Given MFAA’s mission to return all artwork to its rightful owners, Farmer was incensed when top generals ordered him to pack up 202 of the very best paintings for shipment to the National Gallery of Art for safekeeping, including 15 Rembrandts. Would they ever be returned to the German museums that formerly housed them? he wondered. Kelleher and other MFAA officers grimly assembled “The 202” for shipment, but not before 32 of them signed the “Wiesbaden Manifesto” on Farmer’s desk Nov. 7, 1945. This letter of complaint to the military higher-ups warned that the German people would see this as “a prize of war” confiscation: No other act “will rankle so long, or be the cause of so much justified bitterness.”  

Author of the Wiesbaden Manifesto was feisty Capt. Everett “Bill” Lesley *37, later an art history professor at Old Dominion University. A seasoned MFAA veteran, he had followed the advancing armies after the Normandy invasion and reported on the condition of art-rich places along the way: Chartres was mercifully intact, he found, but La Gleize Cathedral in Belgium had been pulverized. Other Princeton signers of the manifesto included Kelleher, Lt. Charles Parkhurst *41, and 1st Lt. Robert Koch *54, the last familiar to many alumni from his long career teaching art history at Princeton. “We believed first of all that the language was the same the Nazis had used when they looted, which was ‘protective custody,’” Parkhurst later said in explaining why he signed the manifesto. “We thought that was a bad omen.”

Art historians in the United States were unhappy about “The 202” confiscation as well. Truman’s secretary of state received a stern letter from Rensselaer Lee ’20 *26 on behalf of the College Art Association, a professional organization representing artists and academics. Lee had advised President Franklin Roosevelt on cultural treasures in the theater of war and later became an esteemed professor at Princeton. But despite all objections, “The 202” were delivered to America as ordered, where nearly a million visitors saw them on display at the National Gallery in the first “blockbuster” show in history, military police sternly standing guard. Lee and others were gratified when all the paintings finally were returned to Germany in 1948, a positive outcome that the Wiesbaden Manifesto perhaps helped ensure.

MFAA officers at the Munich collecting point, including Lt. Craig Hugh Smyth ’38 *56, second from left, and Lt. Charles Parkhurst *41, second from right. Photo courtesy of the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., Gallery Archives.

Among the young curators at the National Gallery of Art was serious-minded Craig Hugh Smyth ’38 *56, who supervised the wartime removal of that museum’s contents to Biltmore Estate in Asheville, N.C. As a naval lieutenant, he went on to establish an MFAA collecting point in Munich just a month after the city fell to the Allies, housing it in former Nazi administration buildings still draped in green fishnet camouflage. (Nearby museums had been destroyed by bombing.) Smyth held conferences in the room where hapless Neville Chamberlain had signed the Munich Accord that promised “peace for our time.” He found framed portraits of Hitler heaped in the basement, along with booby-trap explosives that blew one workman to bits.  

Trucks constantly rumbled across the courtyard, bringing art found deep in Austrian salt mines. Smyth was joyous at the arrival of Leonardo da Vinci’s “Lady with an Ermine” and Jan van Eyck’s “Ghent Altarpiece,” among thousands of works the Nazis had intended to destroy to prevent their capture by the Allies at war’s end — but time suddenly ran out. Not every shipment was greeted with delight, however. One day a box arrived filled with gold teeth and children’s orthodontic braces, discovered at Dachau.

Recent years have brought heightened interest in the problem of looted art from the Holocaust era. Major museums, including Princeton’s, have reinvestigated their collections to be certain they do not contain stolen works. To assist in this global effort, the National Gallery’s Yeide has assembled a catalog of the collection of top Nazi Hermann Goering. His nefarious trove included 2,000 paintings, Yeide has proven — not 1,300 as previously thought. She could not have completed her work without the diligent records of Smyth and his Munich collecting point. “They did a fantastic job, a monumental job,” she says, “especially if you think about the situation they were dealing with” amid the devastation of a bombed-out city. Smyth’s distinguished career was only beginning: In later years he served as director of the Institute of Fine Arts at New York University.  

MFAA in Italy was headed by another Tiger, Lt. Col. Ernest DeWald *14 *16. Genteel and effortlessly polylingual, he had attended Rutgers before coming to Princeton for his Ph.D. After service in World War I he considered a career as a singer, but Dean Andrew Fleming West 1874 convinced him to enter academia instead, so he joined the Department of Art and Archaeology in 1925. Starting in 1943, he worked with MFAA in North Africa, identifying what ought to be preserved in the coming invasion of Italy. Then he moved north with the conquering armies through Sicily and the Italian mainland, overseeing emergency repairs to damaged buildings and finding museum art hidden in the countryside. Ready with expert assistance was his Princeton departmental colleague Charles Rufus Morey, founder of the Princeton-based Index of Christian Art (now the world’s largest archive of medieval art), who was serving as a cultural attaché in Rome.  

DeWald’s pocket diary, little-noticed today in Firestone Library, records the excitement and danger of these tumultuous times. Air-raid sirens howled as he reconnoitered medieval towns for endangered art. DeWald often came upon Army engineering units bulldozing fallen buildings out of roadways, using the debris to patch holes in blown-up bridges — until he frantically waved them to stop, pointing out fragments of historic sculpture, fresco, and manuscripts mingled with the rubble. “It’s amazing what Italian experts can piece together from what appears to be just a pile of smashed rock,” he told PAW in a wartime letter.  

DeWald decried needless Allied bombing, including an attack on the ruins of Pompeii. But American transgressions paled beside the destructiveness of the Wehrmacht, he repeatedly said. He was horrified by their dynamiting of venerable campanile towers and thousands of bridges, all across Italy. As curators watched helplessly, they had poured benzene and sulfur on the historic state archives of Naples and lit a match. He blamed them too for the burning of the huge Roman ships recently excavated from the bed of Lake Nemi, south of Rome. Of these priceless nautical remains that Mussolini had drained the lake in order to salvage, nothing was left now but heaps of blackened nails. The Germans also had wreaked havoc on the elegant Palazzo Ruspoli nearby, where, DeWald told his diary, “every stick of furniture remaining was hacked to pieces and the pictures slashed to ribbons.”

DeWald was proud of his record in tracking down lost art, including Titian’s “Danae” and Pieter Bruegel’s “Blind Leading the Blind,” both filched from storage at Monte Cassino abbey (later pounded to dust by American bombs) as gifts for Goering and eventually found in the bowels of the Austrian salt mines. To forestall looting and vandalism by Allied troops, DeWald wrote the Soldier’s Guide to Rome, which fresh-faced GIs carried through the Forum as they gawked at historic ruins. Subsequently, he was transferred to Austria, where he helped sort out Hitler’s artwork, working with yet another Princeton-trained expert — S. Lane Faison *32 of the OSS Art Looting Investigation Unit. Later a legendary professor at Williams, the pistol-carrying Faison interrogated shady dealers who had rounded up art for the Führer. Some swallowed cyanide rather than be questioned by this mild-mannered academic.

Back at his desk in McCormick Hall, DeWald wrote the introduction for the 1946 book Lost Treasures of Europe, a photographic catalog of the continent-wide destruction wrought by six years of pillaging and bombs. “The loss or destruction of these prized heritages of the past becomes in fact a personal loss comparable to that of a friend,” he said mournfully. Appointed as director of the Princeton University Art Museum in 1947, he bought an ancient sculpture of a goat’s head — “Princeton Billy,” the students called it — that turned out, ironically, to have been snitched from a collection in Rome during the war. DeWald promptly returned it, though Italy soon gave it to Princeton as a gesture of friendship.  

After his service with the Monuments Men, Patrick “Joe” Kelleher *47 served as director of the Princeton University Art Museum from 1960 to 1972. Photo courtesy of the Princeton University Art Museum; Naomi Savage, American, 1927–2005; “Patrick J. Kelleher” 1975; Gift of Naomi Savage; © 1975, Naomi Savage; Photo: Bruce M. White

After his service with the Monuments Men, Patrick “Joe” Kelleher *47 served as director of the Princeton University Art Museum from 1960 to 1972.

In 1950, the Austrian government honored his personal contributions to MFAA in their country by briefly exhibiting Vermeer’s “The Art of Painting” at the Art Museum.   Perhaps the greatest of the 34 works surviving by that legendary Dutch artist, it had been purchased by Hitler himself with proceeds from Mein Kampf. Rescued by American troops from the salt mines at Altaussee, Austria, it ultimately was repatriated to the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna — not to the aristocrat who had sold it to Hitler, Jaromir Czernin, who complained bitterly. Today, Czernin’s descendants are demanding to have the painting back, saying that he only parted with it under threat. The Austrian government hopes to avoid giving up its beloved Vermeer, which may now be worth a quarter-billion dollars. It is still smarting from the loss of five Gustav Klimt paintings in 2006: Stolen by the Nazis from a Jewish family and displayed in a Vienna museum for decades, they finally were repatriated by court order to a California woman after lawyer E. Randol Schoenberg ’88 successfully pleaded her case.

Many MFAA men — Princetonians and others — later became museum directors, including Charles Parkhurst, who headed the Baltimore Museum of Art. Joe Kelleher replaced DeWald as director of the Princeton Art Museum (his esteemed predecessor later dropped dead from a heart attack in Palmer Stadium parking lot at the 1968 Columbia game). Working with Barr and other experts, Kelleher selected the artists for the Putnam Collection of modernist sculpture scattered across campus and wrote the guidebook Living With Modern Sculpture.  

Today, the World War II generation is fast exiting the scene, with nearly 6,000 U.S. veterans dying every week. The loss of Faison and Smyth in 2006 and Parkhurst in 2008 leaves just one living Princeton MFAA man, Robert Koch, now 90 and unable to be interviewed because of failing health. Many Tigers fondly recall Koch’s courses on Northern Renaissance art, which he taught for 42 years. Koch grew up in academe as the son of drama professor Frederick Koch of the University of North Carolina, whose Carolina Playmakers pioneered the American “folk play” and whose star student was Thomas Wolfe. The younger Koch earned a master’s degree at the University of North Carolina before enlisting in 1942. Years later in conversations with undergraduates, he sometimes mentioned, in his modest Southern way, his MFAA service and how those unspeakable Nazis had intended to blow up the salt mines, incinerating the “Ghent Altarpiece” and so much else.

But now, two decades after he retired, his stories largely have been forgotten. Current Princeton faculty recall almost nothing about his wartime service — “I didn’t really know Bob Koch and certainly never heard him mention that subject,” says one professor who passed him in the hall daily for several years. “He talked a lot about retrieving stuff from the salt mines outside Salzburg, I think,” a former student says with the vagueness typical of all who were asked. “That’s disheartening, but it doesn’t surprise me,” says Robert Edsel of the Monuments Men Foundation. He has interviewed the few remaining veterans of MFAA — just nine of the 350 survive — and he travels the country giving talks about their unsung achievements, which the soldiers were usually too humble to brag about themselves.   “Sometimes their own families didn’t know what they had done,” says Yeide.  

The general amnesia about Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives seems unfortunate, especially among art historians, whose livelihood comes from studying and interpreting the works their predecessors bravely rescued (two Monuments Men were killed in combat). We all owe them a great debt, Edsel believes — “for saving these great cultural treasures that people now travel the world to go see” and then for coming home and helping America go from “cultural backwater to cultural epicenter” in the 1950s. That trajectory continues today, when the students of MFAA men occupy key positions in scores of museums and universities nationwide. In 1945, amid widespread destruction and horror, a few khaki-clad lovers of art lit a small flame of humanity amid the ashes by helping to safeguard great masterpieces. That’s a proud legacy well worth recalling. 

W. Barksdale Maynard ’88 wrote his senior thesis under MFAA veteran Robert Koch *54 and subsequently taught art history at Delaware, Johns Hopkins, and Princeton.

http://paw.princeton.edu/issues/2010/06/02/pages/3664/index.xml?page=1

This month’s Monuments Men Newsletter focuses on the efforts of Dwight D. Eisenhower regarding his victory in Europe and protecting cultural property. We also highlight the role of Germany in this last chapter of World War II. Please click on the link to read the newsletter.

(Nazi General Alfred Jodl (between Major Wilhelm Oxenius to the left and Generaladmiral Hans-Georg von Friedeburg to the right) signing the German Instrument of Surrender at Reimes, France, 7 May, 1945.)

The most destructive war in history formally ended this date 65 years ago. May 8 forever became known as “V-E” Day; Victory in Europe. More than 60 million people were killed many during World War II, many murdered by the Nazis. Property of all kinds, in particular cultural items — books, church bells, sculpture, and paintings to name but a few — were stolen as part of Hitler and the Nazis’ premeditated looting plans. It was the greatest theft in history, one that lasted almost eight years.

We continue to live with the altered legacy of Hitler and the Nazis. Consider the painful memories of families that never knew their loved ones who perished during the war, perhaps in battle or at a concentration camp; who WASN’T born that might have been, who DIDN’T live the life they were destined to live but for the murderous consequences of Hitler’s ambition? A scientist who might have discovered an alternative fuel to hydrocarbons? A doctor who perhaps could have pioneered our understanding of medicine and discovered cures for diseases? An artist or writer whose work might have transcended all ages and provided insights or happiness to people of our generation?

Life’s fragile realities play out in the obituary sections of newspapers everywhere. Not a day passes that we’re not reminded of the loss of the incredible generation of men and women who saved civilization as we know it from the gravest threat of the 20^th century, and perhaps ever. When they are gone, this will no longer be “living history”. Today should be a day of celebration, the date this great war in Europe ended. Sadly, there is little mention of the day’s significance by our media and even less discussion among the public. That is a shame.

I think of my father today, a World War II veteran of the Pacific, who died in January two years ago. We miss you Dad. Thank you and the men and women who served along side you for saving our world.

As part of the 65th Anniversary of Victory in Europe (VE-Day) celebration at the Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library and Museum in Abilene, Kansas, I will be discussing my new book, The Monuments Men and presenting a completely revised presentation that focuses on General Eisenhower’s role concerning protection of the arts during World War II. Ike’s policies were implemented by the Monuments Men. In conjunction with the presentation I will be bringing with me one of the “Hitler Albums” which will be on display during the weekend. The presentation starts at 7pm in the Visitors Center Auditorium, with audience Q&A to follow. On Saturday, Secretary of Defense Robert Gates will be the other keynote speaker beginning at 1pm.

If you would like to attend the events, please click on the following link for more information: Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library and Museum: VE-Day 65th Anniversary

Photo Courtesy of CNN

As they say in westerns, “where’s the sheriff when you need one?”

I previously wrote about the damage to Haiti’s great national cathedral (blog dated February 9) and pointed out the hope that restoring it can bring to the citizens of this devastated country.  These cultural symbols with which they have lived for decades bring hope and inspiration; they’re destruction conveys the opposite message.  But in Haiti, like in war torn Europe at the end of World War II, the damage to culture went far beyond buildings and structures to include paintings, sculpture…in fact, most every form art takes.  This was the overwhelming challenge faced by the Monuments Men and women in the days after the war.

Christiane Amanpour, one of the truly gifted journalists of our time, due in no small part to her years of travel and fascinating family of origin, “gets it” in my view on this and so many other subjects.  Art matters; culture matters.  They are priceless parts of our existence; when they are damaged or our ability to enjoy them restricted as was the case in Nazi Germany, our lives are greatly diminished in ways few appreciate until those horrible moments are presented.  Christiane has prepared a great piece about the cost to Haiti in terms of its loss of cultural heritage due to the damage of works of art from the earthquake. The link is http://www.cnn.com/haitilostart.html

We must always state how much we mourn those who are no longer in Haiti, the tragic victims of this epic natural disaster.  But our focus must now shift to those who have survived, and those who have a chance to recover.  As time passes, these symbols of hope—the cultural heritage of a nation—will become increasingly important to the people of Haiti, perhaps less due to a desire to enjoy them initially and more so knowing that until the day when the rebuilding has begun, their cultural patrimony is safe.  Compliments to Christiane Amanpour for her insights and program.

The imposing majesty of the National Gallery of Art and its remarkable collection deceive many visitors into believing it is centuries older than it is. In fact, this March, it will celebrate only its 70th year!

No sooner than the National Gallery opened than the nation was consumed with World War II; Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7th.  The United States would soon be fighting on European soil for the second time within 24 years.  Included among the fighting forces would be a small group of men and women dedicated to saving the great cultural treasures of Europe formally know as the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives section, or MFAA. But they were better known as “Monuments Men”.

Because much of the Monuments Men operation was run out of the National Gallery by its director, David Finley, and others, my speaking engagement this past Sunday was a homecoming of sorts.  It was a distinct honor to stand before a full house of about 400 people to present these great heroes and their stories to a very well-informed and enthusiastic audience, especially after such a heartwarming introduction by Nancy Yeide, head of curatorial records and files, and a dear friend.

Having had the good fortune of visiting most of the world’s great museums, I can say with conviction that the National Gallery of Art is truly one of the greats. Every American should be very proud of our nation’s museum and thankful to Andrew Mellon, the man whose vision and generosity made this great institution a reality.

On January 14, 1943, President Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill met at the Anfa Hotel in Casablanca, Morocco. The ten day meeting became known as the Casablanca Conference – one of the most famous and decisive of the war.

“…For ten days the combined staffs have been in constant session, meeting two or three times a day and recording progress at intervals to the President and Prime Minister.

The entire field of the war was surveyed theater by theater throughout the world, and all resources were marshaled for a more intense prosecution of the war by sea, land and air.

Nothing like this prolonged discussion between two allies has ever taken place before. Complete agreement was reached between the leaders of the two countries and their respective staffs upon war plans and enterprises to be undertaken during the campaigns of 1943 against Germany, Italy and Japan with a view to drawing the utmost advantage from the markedly favorable turn of events at the close of 1942.” [Footnote 1]

At the Casablanca Conference, the Americans and British reached the crucial decision that the best plan of action was to attack the Axis powers through the “soft underbelly” of the Mediterranean, instead of across the English Channel. This would be done through a joint invasion of Sicily, known as “Operation Husky”. Some of Roosevelt’s advisors felt that this would prolong the war, and were strong advocates of a cross-Channel attack, however Roosevelt realized that the British simply were not yet prepared for an invasion of Northern France. After Casablanca, British and American forces, including the Monuments Men, began preparing for the invasion of Sicily and eventually Italy. While the MFAA didn’t have much time to prepare for Operation Husky, the first Monuments Man, Captain Mason Hammond, was on the ground in Sicily just 3 weeks after the invasion.

Another lasting result of the Casablanca Conference was the declaration by Roosevelt and Churchill that they would only accept an unconditional surrender from the Axis powers. This was expressed in a radio address by Roosevelt on February 12, 1943.

“In an attempt to ward off the inevitable disaster, the Axis propagandist are trying all of their old tricks in order to divide the United Nations. They seek to create the idea that if we win this war, Russia, England, China, and the United States are going to get into a cat-and-dog fight.

This is their final effort to turn one nation against another, in the vain hope that they may settle with one or two at a time-that any of us may be so gullible and so forgetful as to be duped into making “deals” at the expense of our Allies.

To these panicky attempts to escape the consequences of their crimes we say-all the United Nations say-that the only terms on which we shall deal with an Axis government or any Axis factions are the terms proclaimed at Casablanca: “Unconditional Surrender.” In our uncompromising policy we mean no harm to the common people of the Axis nations. But we do mean to impose punishment and retribution in full upon their guilty, barbaric leaders…”

Footnote 1: “Casablanca Conference Communiqué, January 24, 1943.” Pamphlet No. 4, PILLARS OF PEACE. Documents Pertaining To American Interest In Establishing A Lasting World Peace: January 1941-February 1946. Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania: Book Department, Army Information School. May 1946.

The Four Freedoms flag or "United Nations Honor Flag"

On January 6, 1941, Franklin D. Roosevelt delivered the “Four Freedoms” speech to Congress. While the United States was not yet formally involved in World War II, this address was delivered during the height of the Nazi occupation of Europe. President Roosevelt proposed four fundamental freedoms that everyone had the right to enjoy, a direct counter to the laws the Nazis were implementing on the continent of Europe:

1. Freedom of Speech and Expression

2. Freedom of Religion

3. Freedom from Want

4. Freedom from Fear

(Freedom of Speech)

Norman Rockwell’s Four Freedoms paintings were inspired by the speech. These four paintings toured across the country in 1943, raising over $130,000,000 in war bond sales.

Below is the speech in its entirety:

In the future days, which we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms.

The first is freedom of speech and expression — everywhere in the world.

The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way — everywhere in the world.

The third is freedom from want — which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants — everywhere in the world.

The fourth is freedom from fear — which, translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor– anywhere in the world.

That is no vision of a distant millennium. It is a definite basis for a kind of world attainable in our own time and generation. That kind of world is the very antithesis of the so-called new order of tyranny which the dictators seek to create with the crash of a bomb.

To that new order we oppose the greater conception — the moral order. A good society is able to face schemes of world domination and foreign revolutions alike without fear.

Since the beginning of our American history, we have been engaged in change — in a perpetual peaceful revolution — a revolution which goes on steadily, quietly adjusting itself to changing conditions — without the concentration camp or the quick-lime in the ditch. The world order which we seek is the cooperation of free countries, working together in a friendly, civilized society.

This nation has placed its destiny in the hands and heads and hearts of its millions of free men and women; and its faith in freedom under the guidance of God. Freedom means the supremacy of human rights everywhere. Our support goes to those who struggle to gain those rights or keep them. Our strength is our unity of purpose.

To that high concept there can be no end save victory.

From Congressional Record, 1941, Vol. 87, Pt. I

One of the Monuments Men we admire most is Walker Hancock. Walker married his wife, Saima, on December 4, 1943 in a chapel at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. He was shipped out to Europe just three weeks later. He wrote her a very touching letter for their first anniversary, which is shown below. This letter, and many others like it, are included in The Monuments Men.

Letter from Walker Hancock

To his new wife, Saima

December 4, 1944

Precious Saima,

This is the great day of our lives—the anniversary of the happiest one in mine. And if I loved you a year ago today, I do so many times more this fourth of December. For even though we have spent such a small part of this year together, we have been together the whole time in the best sense, and you have helped me and nourished me through these interesting but trying months in a way that you would hardly have had the opportunity to do in a happy normal life at home. That will come, and our joys will be boundless, but what you have been to me during these months of separation is something that I never could have imagined without the experience. Your letters have been my mainstay. Just the simple account of what you do and think—and between letters I think about you.

Today has been rather a grind—and one of those days when one seems to have just missed accomplishing something all along the line. But I hope I’ll be able to make up for it during the week. One just has to learn that things have to be done a little bit at a time in the army—and it doesn’t pay to bite off more than can be chewed. The howling mob that moved in on us while we were in Luxuembourg have now left – and  we have a few “casuals” that drift in and out. It’s much better, but I still want those ear plugs. Tonight I’m trying sleeping in a bed with a mattress! What good news about Teddy! I’m so glad he has his wings and i’m proud, though I didn’t doubt for a minute that he would win them.

There’s a Polish soldier sitting on the bunk beside me, saying that this will be his sixth Christmas in the army and away from his people. He’s pretty discouraged—but we are guaranteeing him this will be the last away from home.

Tomorrow or the next day I expect to see George Stout. I wonder if he will be coming back to the First Army. I hope so, for there is more work than I can keep up with at present. Worlds of love to you—you sweet creature—I love you—

Walker

Last Friday was the 50th anniversary of the death of General George Marshall.

Time magazine had a simple tag line to its December 1943 cover when he was named its “Man of the Year”: “He armed the Republic”. Winston Churchill referred to him as “the organizer of victory.” His name was George Catlett Marshall. On this day 50 years ago, the commander of the largest army this country has ever assembled to fight the greatest war the world has known, died. Sadly, his name rarely is heard when asking almost anyone, even veterans, “Who was the greatest general in our nation’s history?”

First a little background: Marshall first entered the U.S. Army in 1901. By 1919 he had become an aide-de-camp of General John J. Pershing. He was a key war planner and later educator at the Army War College. He later served for 3 years in China. At least one of the publications he wrote, Infantry in Battle, is still used as an officer’s training manual. In 1939 he was selected by President Roosevelt to become the Army Chief of Staff. He would hold this position for a period of 6 years, until 1945. In 1944 he was awarded—over his objection—a 5-star rank, the first such award of its kind. (In keeping with his selfless demeanor, General Marshall didn’t believe that such recognition was necessary as he could perform all his tasks with the rank of 4 stars.)

The General was not without humor: The rank of 5-star general was the equivalent to that of Field Marshall, a rank that did not exist in the United States. General Marshall once commented that he was glad the United States never created such a rank as he would have been referred to as “Marshall Marshall.”

In 1939 he assumed leadership of an army with only 188,000 soldiers. 188,000!!! Within five years he would successfully lobby Congress for the necessary approvals to build the most modern, complex war machine in history with more than 8.3 million men and women in uniform. When former General Electric CEO Jack Welch and so many other well-known business titans discuss the topic of leadership and building organizations, this accomplishment really gets put into proper historical perspective. It is, like so many of the events of World War II, an unimaginable achievement.

Even when his service during war had ended, General Marshall continued to perform great deeds for this country–and the world. Within just two days of his “retirement”, President Truman asked him to return to China in an attempt to broker peace between Communist and Nationalist forces. In 1947 he returned home to become the Secretary of State, a role which would earn him the most name recognition of his career. Once again, that notoriety came over his objection. While delivering a speech at Harvard University in June 1947, General Marshall outlined his vision for the “European Recovery Plan”, as he referred to it until the day he died. Of course, the world today knows it as the “Marshall Plan”. For this great achievement he would be recognized once again as Time magazine’s “Man of the Year in 1948″. He was also honored with the Nobel Peace Prize in 1953.

Photographs of plaques on the facade of the Hotel Talleyrand I took while visiting Paris

General Marshall’s service to the United States also included a brief period as President of the American National Red Cross which was interrupted when war in Korea commenced. Once again, General Marshall was asked to serve his nation, this time as Secretary of Defense, where he served for a year before retiring from politics for good in 1951. He would enjoy retirement but for eight years before dying on Friday, October 16, 1959.

His record of service and career are truly inestimable. A few years ago, then Secretary of State Colin Powell was asked why his office had two portraits of his hero, General Marshall, to which he replied: “George Marshall recognized that the Western democracies were in uncharted waters after World War II, with both dangers and opportunities ahead. He had a vision that was built to scale for the challenges of that moment in history. He wasn’t afraid to think boldly.  He was afraid of what would happen if we didn’t think boldly.”

Where is such leadership, such vision, such courage among leaders today??? Perhaps if we spent a little more time studying history to learn about great leaders such as George C. Marshall, we would have a much better idea of what kind of leadership is possible today? No doubt, leaders today would stand only in this giant’s shadow.