You know of any articles or books I might want to try and track down?
Also, on the subject of the Soviet commanders, can you offer any insight as to why, say, Rokossovsky and Zhukov had different styles with regards to "meatgrinder" battles? You noted that Rokossovsky was quite skilled at operational decisions and avoiding unnecessary casualties by but Zhukov not so much despite Zhukov being a largely competent commander. Did Zhukov just lack imagination to have better plans or were other considerations at play?
EDIT: Was it you who has said Blaskowitz was the most underrated German commander of the war, or was that someone else?
The former British officer C. J. Dick recently wrote a two-part series comparing Western and Soviet operations in 1944:
From Victory to Stalemate and
From Defeat to Victory. They are very, very good. Although he's not a professional soldier or historian, John Adams'
The Battle for Western Europe contains some very interesting takes on Western commanders during the fall of 1944. For Soviet forces overall, Glantz and House's
When Titans Clashed is still excellent, although Alexander Hill's
The Red Army and the Second World War is more up-to-date and focuses on the organization as an institution rather than on operations.
One problem is that, while all these books are reasonably authoritative on their own and in general, the literature on the war is so vast and the scope so huge that, invariably, many of my impressions come from things I have read in texts on other subjects
related to the topic of Allied generals. For example, Rob Citino has written
extremely extensively on the
Wehrmacht, and one of the stronger aspects of his most recent books (
Death of the Wehrmacht
, The Wehrmacht
Retreats, and
The Wehrmacht
's Last Stand) is his work to try to underline the different challenges faced by German military leaders compared to those of other countries; necessarily, he discusses those other countries' leaders, too. Similarly, although the overwhelming focus of David Stahel's series on the German offensive against the USSR in 1941 is on German documentary evidence, it's impossible to come away from his books without an appreciation for many Soviet leaders, as well.
The thing that most people emphasize about Rokossovskii is that, with the exception of the Soviet offensives against Belorussia in 1943 (in which his Front played a supporting role), it is basically impossible to find an example of him repeatedly hammering away at a failed line of attack or wasting his soldiers' lives. (Also, since the Belorussian campaign did not get a monograph until
last year, when Glantz published an extensive, albeit extremely dry, study, most people weren't even really aware that First Belorussian Front was even doing anything between September 1943 and June 1944.) Rokossovskii is also associated with inventive military solutions and complex operations. Ever since John Erickson's
The Road to Berlin came out in the 1970s, Western historians have been marveling at Rokossovskii's plans - how he managed to get heavy mechanized units through forbidding Pripet marshes, for example, or how in the Belorussian Strategic Offensive Operation he had to manage two complex attacks, spread out in both space and time, and synchronize them effectively with the other Fronts participating in the offensive. Just as Vatutin argued his case during the Battle of Kursk, Rokossovskii went to the
Vozhd himself to argue for his plan in 1944, and possessed the immense moral courage to refuse to alter his plan, even when Stalin demanded it, until he successfully changed Stalin's mind.
It is
extremely easy to find examples of Zhukov repeatedly hammering away at a failed line of attack and wasting his soldiers' lives. There is even a book about the most egregious failure:
Zhukov's Greatest Defeat, Glantz's text on the failure of MARS in 1942. S. A. Gerasimova's Russian-language text,
The Rzhev Slaughterhouse, expanded the treatment of the fighting in the salient and makes quite clear the unimaginative and bloody nature of Zhukov's repeated obsession with the place. If I had to guess about why he was so willing to do these sorts of things - and, again, I'm not even qualified to psychoanalyze people who are alive, let alone the dead ones - I would say that Zhukov's determination and stubbornness was just something he couldn't turn off. In 1941, when every defensive line the Red Army stood at collapsed, Zhukov's willingness to order men to stand and die in increasingly hopeless positions paid off. It saved Moscow. He refused to admit defeat. However, he also refused to admit defeat even when doing so would have saved his men's lives, like at Rzhev, which he spent fifteen months attacking - each time failing to reduce the salient while piling up massive casualty lists - before the Germans voluntarily withdrew from the salient to free up troops to fight at Kursk.
I don't know that I've ever said that
Blaskowitz was the most underrated German commander of the war. I doubt I
would've said that, because he spent most of the war in relatively undistinguished posts due to the questions he raised about SS and
Wehrmacht atrocities against Poles and Jews in 1939. He possessed at least some moral courage, unlike most of Hitler's generals, but not very much: he continued serving the regime, albeit not in positions that made him responsible for atrocities.
Most of the successful and skillful German leaders have people to sing their praises, anyway. Men like Balck, Hube, Mackensen, Hoth, Raus, Guderian, Model, and (sigh) Manstein are securely ensconced in the history books. Balck's stand on the Chir River, Hube's "moving pocket", Manstein's
Rochade - all are well-studied topics at places like CGSC or JSCSC. If anything, many of the German leaders of the war are
overrated, rather than the reverse. Rundstedt, for example, enjoyed a tremendously good press, largely because he was not as overtly Nazi as many of the other members of the marshalate (and also because he defeated the British, who wrote the history books). Manstein himself was a highly gifted commander who thought he was God and did his best, in his autobiography,
Lost Victories (even the title is super cringe), to perpetuate the belief. As Citino aptly points out, though, after the Battle of Kursk, Manstein got his opportunity to do the "elastic defense" he so often demanded of Hitler, and he had the majority of Germany's panzer forces to do it. The result was a bunch of inconclusive armored clashes at places like Okhtyrka that nobody will ever remember, all of which resulted in an increasingly disorganized Army Group South bugging out to try to reach the Dnepr River. For all his vaunted operational ability, Manstein failed, and it was not Hitler's fault.
What was the Phantom Regiment mentioned in British sections above?
Montgomery's network of liaison officers. "Phantom" Regiment was initially created as a reconnaissance unit; Montgomery adapted it to effectively spy on people lower in the chain of command, so that he could form his own opinions about things at the tactical level without getting that information filtered through his immediate subordinate commanders. It was one of his most effective tools at micromanaging 21 Army Group.
Most Americans know the Phantom Regiment better as an international-quality drum corps.
that was the 36th , from Texas and had the Japanese attached ? Could/would/should explain the lack of customary American fire support and the like ?
No. The Americans' problem wasn't really a lack of fire support. The location Clark selected for the crossing was a natural bowl-shaped depression, with II Corps' crossing point at the bottom. US forces had difficulty bringing German artillery under effective fire, but were themselves subjected to murderous fire from all varieties of German weapons. They also lacked the space to maneuver around the Germans effectively. A brief attempt to introduce 1st Armored Division directly into an already small bridgehead simply caused a traffic jam and clumped forces up too much, making them an even better target.
The entire assault was a fiasco from top to bottom.
Ah, the histories they don't tell you in school...
Anyway, can anyone give a short overview of what cavalry units transitioning to armored vehicles from horses was like? What challenges did they face in doing so in terms of training, logistics, and culture?
The problems are best documented in the British Army. Britain maintained extensive cavalry forces during the Great War and also possessed tanks in significant quantities. Several officers believed that tanks were the wave of the future and should be used like cavalry, riding hard to attack from unexpected directions at high speeds. British tank design philosophy emphasized purpose-built armor for different roles: "infantry tanks" for direct support of infantry, and "cruiser tanks" and "tankettes" acting as the light cavalry, moving quickly around enemy flanks and through breaches in enemy lines.
Conceptually, this kind of made sense. Plenty of other armies thought that there should be a division between lighter and heavier armor, and that some armor should directly support infantry and some shouldn't. However, the implementation was shot through with flaws. First of all, tankettes were a dumb idea, an attempt to directly transpose the cavalry concept onto tanks by having a tank that could move really fast and only needed one or two men to control. They were effectively worthless; any tank with armament worth using required more than one or two men to keep it working in combat. Secondly, the fascination with cavalry extended to British tactics. One officer in the Western Desert campaign ruefully noted that British tankers seemed to want to
fight tanks like cavalry. All too often, Rommel's integrated antitank defenses found themselves pounding away at an unsupported line of British tanks, charging out of the dust like a bunch of horses. Unsurprisingly, British tank attacks usually ended with the Germans and Italians turning British armor into a line of smoking, burning hulls. The British abandoned combined arms in their early tank experiments, and it took them years to find it again.
(Interestingly, all-cavalry formations that were incapable of combined-arms fighting were
also bad at cavalry warfare. In the First World War, the German Higher Cavalry Commands were an effective blend of horse cavalry, light
Jäger infantry, machine guns, and light artillery. HKK 2 performed very well on the extreme right flank of the German army, despite the foibles of its commander, Georg von der Marwitz, and those of the commander of the infantry formation to which it was attached, Alexander von Kluck.)
The light tank mania extended to other powers, of course. Famously, over half the Soviet tank park in 1941 was made up of light tanks that were obsolete when they rolled off the assembly line. One of the reasons the Germans were able to destroy so many Soviet tanks early in the war was because the T-26 had very little prospect of surviving long in combat against virtually any German formation. Its armor was too thin, its armament too weak, and its speed too low. Germany itself possessed a very high number of Panzer Is and Panzer IIs, neither of which even had a main gun worth the name (Panzer IIs were armed with 2 cm guns), which comprised a shockingly high percentage of their armored force in both 1940 and 1941. The Americans mostly avoided light tanks, because they didn't really start mobilizing until 1940; the one light tank they produced in significant quantity during the war was the M3 Stuart, which still had some utility as a reconnaissance vehicle. It's also, of course, worth pointing out that "light" and "fast" are usually euphemisms for "cheap", and in the interwar years, most governments were very interested in "cheap", regardless of military doctrine.
In most other countries, cavalrymen contributed to armored doctrine, but did not control it. Many of the contributions were positive. In the USSR, M. N. Tukhachevskii, G. S. Isserson, and V. K. Triandafillov formulated the concepts of operational art and deep operations based largely on cavalry examples from Russian and American history, but adapted them quite easily to armored concepts. The notion of extended raids and strikes at enemy communications remained a constant when shifting from cavalry to armored doctrine. It is quite easy to imagine Tukhachevskii, for example, conducting his wide flank maneuver in the Polish campaign with tanks. So long as they avoided the less well thought-out aspects of applying cavalry ideas to armored warfare, cavalry generals could usually do quite well. Patton, of course, was the archetypal cavalryman, and the outstanding example of operational thinker in the entire US Army in the Second World War. But unlike the British, who maintained formations that were almost entirely made up of tanks and then, late in the war, attached them to infantry units as necessary, the Americans, Soviets, and Germans all used combined-arms formations as the core of the armored force. The US armored division, the Soviet mechanized corps, and the German panzer division all possessed large amounts of infantry, usually motorized infantry, to cooperate with the armor: breaking through enemy lines, holding flanks, and providing the core of the unit's fighting power. Cavalry-minded thinkers in all of those armies did not prevent those formations from being created.
Of all the interwar Great Power armies, the Germans were probably the one with the smallest amount of cavalry influence. Most of the German cavalry formations were disbanded during the Great War, and although the
Reichswehr, the postwar treaty-limited army, was limited to nine infantry divisions and one cavalry division, many of the cavalrymen saw themselves as armored soldiers
manqué anyway. The real testbed for armored doctrine was the German supply services, where the truck-mounted communications formations controlled by Oswald Lutz (and, later, Heinz Guderian) were in reality a secret tank training organization. Bizarrely, while the
Wehrmacht largely abandoned the horse soldier (although not the horse itself, which formed the core of the German infantry's supply trains), old-style cavalry found a new home in the
Waffen-SS during the second half of the war. Units like the 8th SS Cavalry Division were a mixture of horse cavalry, motorcycle infantry, and straight-leg infantry. In the conditions of Eastern Europe, they were more than just a curiosity, but they were undoubtedly an oddity.
The USSR, on the other hand, made the most effective use of horse soldiers. During the Civil War, Stalin and his cronies formed what was known as the "cavalry mafia". His buddies Voroshilov and Budennii remained in the army at the beginning of the Second World War and helped keep the spirit of horse cavalry alive. In some conditions, however, there was undoubtedly plenty of scope for the traditional horse soldier to shine. Horses required a vast amount of food, but no gasoline, and they could move more easily during the spring and autumn
rasputitsa, the rainy period that turned the entire road network into an endless sea of mud. By 1943, cavalry groups were effectively cooperating with tanks; by 1944, the "cavalry/mechanized group" combined horse soldiers (for flexibility) and armored columns (for firepower) into a highly useful formation good for exploiting breaches in enemy positions and racing through to encircle them. I. A. Pliev's cav/mech group earned immortality in the Belorussian Strategic Offensive Operation by infiltrating through the swamps to take the German Ninth Army totally unaware.
Overall, then, the transition from cavalry to armored cavalry was relatively easy in most armies. It was not
painless - the interwar era was full of acrimonious arguments over the proper role of the tank in doctrine, disagreements that were initially a matter of infantrymen vs. cavalrymen - but it was basically complete by 1939. Only in Britain did the cavalry issue actually crop up on the battlefield in a negative way. Only in the USSR did the military manage to find an effective, if technologically limited, synthesis between cavalry and armor.