General Groves believed strongly, as he explains in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project, that in time of war every possible regular officer should be in the combat area:
I was undoubtedly influenced in this belief by my personal knowledge of the disappointment suffered by many regular officers who were kept in this country during World War I, with no chance of combat experience. In my own case, I was already a cadet when the war started, and remained at West Point until a few days before the Armistice. Had my own experience been different, I would quite probably have had a considerable number of regular officers assigned to the project throughout its duration.
As I look back now with a full appreciation of the tremendous import of the development of atomic energy, I think it was a mistake not to have had them. Our country would have been much better off in the immediate postwar years if we had had a group of officers who were thoroughly experienced in all the problems of this type of work—not only in problems of atomic energy but in all the manifold problems involved in technical and scientific developments that have played such an important part in our national defense since 1945.
While I am on the subject of my own mistakes, I perhaps should add that there was another consideration, similar to this, to which I did not give adequate attention. That was the necessity of having replacements available if either Nichols or I died or became disabled. Many serious problems would have arisen if anything had happened to either of us, and it was not proper for me to have placed such great reliance, fortunately not misplaced, upon the physical and mental ability of both of us to stand up under the strain, to say nothing of the possibility of accidental death or injury, particularly since we did so much flying.
This was brought very vividly to my attention in December of 1944, when Mr. Churchill suggested that I should come to London to talk over our problems, and particularly our progress, with him and other members of his government. In discussing his request with Secretary Stimson, I said that while I would like very much to go to England, I was afraid that it might take me away from my work for a considerable period of time, especially if something developed that would make it impossible for Mr. Churchill to receive me immediately on arrival.
Mr. Stimson told me that if I went, I could not go by air, because of the hazards involved. When I said, “Well, I don’t see what difference that would make,” he replied, “You can’t be replaced.” I said, “You do it, and General Marshall does it; why shouldn’t I?” He repeated, “As I said before, you can’t be replaced, and we can.” Harvey Bundy, who was also present, said he had heard that I had previously urged flying when air safety dictated otherwise, and then asked, “Who would take your place if you were killed?” I replied, “That would be your problem, not mine, but I agree that you might have a problem.”
I went on to say that if anything happened to Nichols, I felt that I could continue to operate, though it would mean a very strenuous period for me personally, but that if it were the other way around, while Nichols was thoroughly capable of taking over my position, I thought because he was not so familiar with my responsibilities as I was with his that he could not do both my job and his.
Mr. Stimson said, “I want you to get a Number Two man immediately who can take over your position, and with Nichols’ cooperation, carry on in the event that something happens to you.” He added, “You can have any officer in the Army, no matter who he is, or what duty he is on.”
I drew up a list of about six officers who I thought would be satisfactory, keeping in mind that it would be all-important for the man selected to be completely acceptable to Nichols, since success would depend on the utmost co-operation between them. I particularly wanted someone who would not attempt to overrule Nichols in any of his actions or recommendations until he had had time really to understand what the work was all about, and I doubted whether it would be possible for anyone to accumulate the essential background for this before the project was completed.
Having made up my list, I discussed the matter with Nichols. I asked him to look over the names and to strike from the list anyone whom he would prefer not to have in such a position. He struck several names. I always suspected he struck the first one just to see if I really meant what I had said, because it was the name of a man whom I had known for many years, and who was a very close friend. When he struck that name, I did not bat an eye, but merely said, “Well, he’s out.”
After he had crossed off the names of the men he considered unacceptable, I asked him if he had any preference among the remainder. He replied, “You name him and I’ll tell you.” I said that I felt that the best one on the list was Brigadier General Thomas F. Farrell, and Nichols replied, “He would be my first choice, too.”
After the war, Groves had two personnel problems. Scientists and soldiers. Of course every scientist who’d built the Bomb was swamped by great offers. And the ones who left had the habits of college intrigue:
‘Oppenheimer told me that Bradbury found it hard to explain “a statement attributed to you that you had lost your first and second quality scientists and were in danger of losing your third, fourth and fifth.” This was like many another statement attributed to me in that I had never said it or anything resembling it.’
And Groves had big eyes for grabbing the best officers:
‘Because we were in a hurry, we concentrated at first mainly on graduates of West Point. We wanted officers who as cadets had been highly regarded by the Academic Board not only for their scholastic achievements but for their other qualities. We preferred men who were among the first five or ten of their class, and we did not want anyone who stood below the first 10 per cent. A successful athletic career, demonstrating a more than average determination and will to win, was a particular asset. Later, when it became necessary to secure a large number of young officers for duty at the new Sandia Base at Albuquerque for our bomb assembly teams, these requirements were relaxed slightly. Also, as time went on, it became possible to make a searching investigation of the background, educational and military, of other officers, not graduates of West Point, and to bring them in. My request for highly qualified officers was not greeted with too much enthusiasm by the General Staff, whose position was very well put by General Handy, when he said there was no reason why I should have a solid group of the best officers in the Army; that there were other important things besides the Manhattan Project. Many officers I wanted were in rather important spots overseas. All of them were officers that no commander wanted to lose.’
This greedy-grabbing was bound to make enemies of the rest of the Army. It might be why Eisenhower called in Groves in 1948, gave him a chewing, told him he’d never head the Army Engineers, and caused his retirement. But Eisenhower conducted his sex life by screwing his subordinates, and might have hosed Groves just for fun.
Is it not amazing that the senior officer class was so small pre-war, that everyone knew everyone? The same thing occurred when Marshall chose Eisenhower, then a lowly colonel, for head of the ETO. Does anyone believe that situation continues today among a thousand, or so, flag officers?
Did Eisenhower see combat in WWI? MacArthur led a brigade (?). After the war, Eisenhower was on MacArthur’s staff for a while.