I
Early in 1941 there arose suddenly the need for a body of combat troops, equipped and trained and ready to move out quickly on a mission of vital importance. The United States was faced with the compelling need for making a foreign commitment, one which would require strength, if not active force, to support it.
By that time the Marine Corps had been beating its tribal drums for two decades, intoning its traditional chant that a Force in Readiness (by Common Sense out of Force in Being) was essential to the security of the nation. Then, suddenly, it was called upon to furnish such a force. The following account tells how, with one week’s notice, from its Fleet Marine Force of about 20,000 men, it shipped out a provisional brigade of about 4,000, equipped with little save its basic weapons, ammunition, and a consummate ability to use them.
II
By the end of 1940 the threat of a cross- Channel invasion made it necessary for Great Britain to concentrate all possible forces on the home island for defense. At the same time two other problems faced her, the solution of either of which would involve strong forces of ground troops. On the one hand, her intelligence sources reported that negotiations were being carried on between Hitler and Franco for the peaceful occupation of the Iberian Peninsula by the armies of the Third Reich—it was unlikely that Portugal could escape occupation if Spain consented to it. On the other hand, Iceland, with her excellent naval base and submarine refuge potential, occupied a magnificent strategic position astride the North Atlantic shipping lanes. In fact, whoever occupied Iceland thereby controlled those lanes.
The dilemma was a perfect one. Occupation of Spain by Nazi forces would make Gibraltar untenable and would therefore seal off the Mediterranean. This, in turn, would make it necessary for Great Britain to place forces in the Cape Verde, Canary, and Azores island groups in order to protect the sea lanes from the Antipodes to the British Isles. The situation of Iceland, on the other hand, especially in face of the mounting intensity of the submarine war, made it absolutely mandatory that the small British garrison already there be maintained unless other troops could be found to replace it. And over all this was the even greater menace of invasion.
There was only one course to take, and it was an obvious one. The United States had assumed the responsibility for defense of the Western Hemisphere in July, 1940. By the end of that year, President Roosevelt had declared against sending expeditionary troops overseas. The effect of that declaration, however, was mitigated almost at once by the passage of the so-called Lend Lease Agreement. Thereupon, Winston Churchill requested that the United States assist England to the extent of supplying troops for the purpose of occupying the Azores.
In the meanwhile, another request for military assistance in the form of troops had come from a wholly different and completely unexpected source.
On December 18, 1940, Bertel E. Kuniholm, the United States Consul at Reykjavik, was visited in his office by Stefan Johan Stefansson, the Minister for Foreign Affairs of Iceland. Mr. Stefansson expressed privately and unofficially the fears of his Government when he said that it seemed almost certain that England would go down under the attacks of the Axis forces. Although the Battle of Britain was being won by the Royal Air Force, there was still every chance that Hitler’s forces might undertake an invasion. The Icelandic Government believed that, in that event, the British garrison would be withdrawn and that Iceland would be seized at once by Nazi forces, probably from the Norway units.
The Minister then asked that his country be included in the “Monroe Doctrine Area” and that the United States undertake to occupy and defend it. He added that the idea of asking assistance from the United States was by no means a new one in Iceland. As far back as the spring of 1940, Mr. Thor Thors had addressed the Althing in camera, mentioning the Government’s fears of a Nazi move to occupy the island and recommending that the Althing ask help of the United States.
Although Mr. Thors’ request was turned down by his parliament because that body did not believe the danger to be a pressing one, his fears were allayed when Great Britain, uninvited and as a complete surprise, moved in. A commando of Royal Marines, under Colonel R. G. Sturges (whose staff consisted of two officers and six enlisted men), was alerted in Southern England on May 4 and landed at Reykjavik on the night of May 9-10. Disembarking in the early morning, they occupied strategic points in the city and captured the entire German colony of the city, 52 people in all. Included in the haul was the staff of the German Consulate and almost all its records. The commando thereupon deployed and took up defensive positions over a front extending 70 miles. It was relieved one week later by the first units of a force which was to grow to a strength of 25,000 by the date of Mr. Stefansson’s visit.
It was the possible loss of the protection offered by this garrison which impelled the Minister to speak thus unofficially and without authority to Mr. Kuniholm. The latter reported the conversation at length to the Secretary of State at Washington.
The request arrived at perhaps the least opportune of times. Lend Lease was being debated and was by no means certain of passage. The assurance given by the President to the parents in the country was still fresh in everyone’s mind. Mr. Roosevelt, meanwhile, was dealing directly with Mr. Churchill through his remarkable and devoted agent, Harry Hopkins; the armed forces of the country were being built up by conscription and by the calling up of reserves. There was an atmosphere of kaleidoscopic and momentary change, in which no discernible pattern could be detected.
Therefore, it was not until January 18 that Mr. Hull found it possible to answer. He told Mr. Kuniholm that the United States could not accede to the Icelandic request. He also advised Mr. Kuniholm neither to encourage nor to discourage further conversations on the subject and to report at once should a further approach be made.
The British request was made about one month later. The scene was one of the meetings of a joint British-United States military conference in Washington. Great Britain pointed out that, by attenuating her forces to the point of actual danger, she herself could scrape together units for the Grand Canary and Cape Verde garrisons. She could not do more. And by thus pressing the lever of threat of invasion upon the fulcrum of hemisphere defense, she was able to weaken the objections to foreign commitment of United States troops. Her request was accepted and given careful and sympathetic attention.
The question of forces available arose at once, being basic to anything but a purely academic discussion. The United States Army delegation to the joint conferences announced that by the following September— in six months, that is to say—a maximum of four infantry and two armored divisions would be in a condition of combat training.
At this perfect moment for illustration of the reason for being of a force in readiness, the Chief of Naval Operations was able to say that he had a force of marines, trained, equipped, and ready to go. And on the basis of this advice, the United States granted the British request. On May 24 President Roosevelt directed the Joint Chiefs of Staff to prepare a force of marines to be used in occupation of the Azores.
III
On the next day, this directive was passed on to the Major General Commandant, Thomas Holcomb. He immediately selected the newly formed Second Division as the unit from which the necessary force would be drawn, and he stipulated that either the 6th or 8th Marines be used as the nucleus. Major General Clayton B. Vogel, commanding officer of the division, elected to use the senior regiment, and the 6th Marines was directed to prepare for duty beyond the seas.
All this had happened on May 25. On the sixth day afterward, the force sailed from San Diego. Under ideal circumstances, this celerity would satisfy the most demanding exponent of prompt action by a force in readiness. The circumstances, however, were far from ideal.
For example, the regiment itself was far under strength. As we have seen, the strength of the entire Fleet Marine Force was slightly over 20,000 men, very little larger than a full strength division. When we consider that the Fleet Marine Force contained two divisions, each of three-regiment size, plus a number of specialized troops, it will be seen that none of the component units was at full strength. In fact, in order to fill up the blank files, 58 officers and 577 men were transferred at once to the 6th Marines.
This transfer has certain overtones of interest to the student of military mores and tribal customs. The division had reached its status as such on February 1. On that date the 2d Marines was activated. In the consequent reshuffling of personnel within the division, the 6th Marines had lost several hundred men to the newly formed unit. The 6th bore this loss bravely, and the company commanders and top sergeants exercised great care in the selection of men for transfer. Then came the events with which we are dealing and the bringing up to strength of the regiment. A critical observer within the unit noted with interest a curious phenomenon. Almost every one of the original transferees returned to his old billet. The observer thereupon noted with interest a second strange fact—their coming back caused a much greater spiritual shock to the company commanders and top sergeants than had their going forth.
Another circumstance which complicated the preparation for movement was that, when the orders were received, the regiment was on the point of departing for amphibious training at San Clemente. The transports were loaded with the equipment needed for such an exercise. The holds had to be emptied, ninety days’ supplies and ten units of ammunition had to be obtained and stowed, together with all organizational gear.
Work began on the unloading and reloading on May 27. Troops embarked at 1100 on May 31. The final consignment of the ammunition necessary to complete the ten units arrived at 1300, and at 1824 that day the transports got under way.
IV
The intended objective of the regiment was the Azores. Its orders however directed only that it report to the Commanding General, First Marine Division, for duty with that organization. Major General Holland M. Smith, in turn, had been advised on May 25 that his force was to be augmented by the reinforced 6th Marines and that he was to prepare for duty in the Azores.
By the time the convoy was passing through the Panama Canal, however, there had been a fundamental change in the international situation. Hitler’s approach to Franco had been unsuccessful, and that particular phase of the threat to Britain’s shipping had vanished. Furthermore, Churchill had received conclusive evidence of Hitler’s plans to attack Russia. The Azores, as a logical objective, immediately disappeared— and with them disappeared the necessity for employing the entire First Division.
There was still a great need, from the British point of view, for consolidating some of its thinly spread ground forces. The Iceland force, numbering about 25,000 men, could be used to great advantage elsewhere, and the United States was asked to supply troops to relieve it. The request was granted, on condition that the British government obtain a formal request from Iceland for the employment of United States forces. Negotiations for obtaining such a request began at once and were under way when the 6th Marines landed at Charleston.
In keeping with the change in mission, there was an alteration in the nature of the force itself. The 6th Marines landed at Charleston on June 15. On the next day a brigade was activated within the newly formed First Corps, Atlantic Fleet. Composed of the reinforced 6th Marines and specialized troops, it was placed under command of Brigadier General John Marston, who was notified that his unit would serve in Iceland.
It might be added here, parenthetically, that some evidence exists to show that Martinique may have been considered seriously as an objective for the brigade. Although the evidence is most inconclusive, there is a certain logical basis for a suspicion that this may in fact have been the case. The activities of its Vichyite governor and its role as headquarters for pro-Axis propaganda throughout Latin America made it something of a focus of preoccupation for the United States and Great Britain as well. There was considerable public speculation on the possibility of a United States move against the island, and rumors to the same effect persisted within the 6th Regiment until it landed and received its mission.
V
This prototype employment of a force in readiness, the First Marine Brigade (Provisional), to support a national commitment (to keep open the shipping lanes) is all the more interesting when it is inspected within the context of the national temper of the time.
For in spite of the determination of the Third Reich to extend the battlefields of the war to the high water line of every sea-coast of the world (a determination which was crystal clear from the moment of the sinking of the Athenia), the United States, as a people, still hoped to avoid entering that war as a combatant. The strongly isolationist elements were still a force in national politics. They were aided to no mean extent by small but raucous groups, especially on various college and university campuses, which were dominated or influenced by the Communist Party, parrots of that party’s current line that the Third Reich was a friendly power, and that in any event the United States had no real interest in the war.
Against that background, the decision to employ a token force may well be looked upon as a refutation of Walter Lippmann’s thesis that the executive branch of the government no longer governs. For it was an executive decision, pure and simple, which sent the brigade to Iceland.
The national temper, however, was changing, and with its changing government was able to take an increasingly firm stand vis a vis Nazi Germany. Especially was this true in the case of the navy, upon whom the burden of the war not war rested most heavily.
Perhaps the best gauge upon which to read this rising of the national temperature is the series of orders and directives issued by the Commander in Chief, Atlantic Fleet, Admiral Ernest J. King.
The first of these, issued in April, 1941, is most circumspect:
“Entrance into the Western Hemisphere by naval ships or aircraft of belligerents other than those powers having sovereignty over territory in the Western Hemisphere is to be viewed as possibly actuated by an unfriendly interest in shipping or territory in the Western Hemisphere.”
Almost coincidentally with the landing of the brigade in Iceland—the writer does not wish to suggest causal connection—Admiral King found it possible to speak from closer to his heart:
“Approach of any forces within fifty miles of Iceland will be deemed conclusive evidence of hostile intent and will justify attack upon such Axis forces by the armed forces of the United States.”
Finally, early in September, the gloves came off entirely, and the man, who six months later was to goad the Joint Chiefs of Staff into launching an early offensive instead of following the more cautious course of a strategic defensive, made known to the world:
“The presence [in the Western Atlantic Area] of German or Italian naval, land or air forces will be deemed conclusive evidence of hostile intent and will require attack upon such forces. ...”
With the same quarterdeck growl, and just to make things good and clear, he defined the eastern limits of the Western Atlantic Area as the meridian of 10° West Longitude south to the 65th North Parallel, thence by rhumb line to the junction of 53°N and 26°W, thence south along the 26th Meridian West.
The Admiral had drawn a line and issued a warning—crossing the line meant a fight. And one seems to hear, in the background, a faint but reverberating cheer from all the Tom Sawyers who make up the United States.
The brigade departed Charleston on June 22, although the long awaited invitation from the Government of Iceland had not yet been sent. Negotiations between Icelandic and United States officials had been under way since the middle of April, but it was not until the first of July that the final step was taken by the Government of Iceland. This delay interrupted the passage of the convoy, which had to put into Placentia Bay for two days while it awaited its final directive. The task force departed the bay at 2150 on July 1, came into the harbor at Reykjavik on July 7, and by July 11 the brigade was ashore.
VI
The most interesting military aspect of the brigade’s employment was that of command relationships. There was no combat, of course. The entire activity of the brigade consisted of labor, camp construction for itself as well as for the Army units which began to arrive in August, as well as longshoreman’s work on the docks at Reykjavik. There was a bare minimum of training.
When it became certain that marines would be used to help defend the island, the British military wanted them to be put directly under the command of the General Officer Commanding the Iceland Force. The political implications of such a move were explosive, however, and the British desires could not be met. General Marston, therefore, remained under command of the Commander in Chief, Atlantic Fleet, while en route to his objective. Once he had established his command post ashore, he served directly under the Chief of Naval Operations, with orders to support the British forces by the method of mutual cooperation.
This pleasant, albeit somewhat loose, arrangement lasted for just over two months. It changed radically and fundamentally with the arrival of the first detachments of United States Army troops.
The directive under which the Marines moved to Iceland contained a provision that the brigade would be relieved by Army units as the latter became available. It was believed that such relief would probably be effected some time in September. Until such time as they were relieved, however, and while the force was a mixed one of Army, Navy, and Marines, command would rest in the senior officer present of such forces—Marine Corps, Army, or Naval Local Defense Force.
Almost at once, however, the command aspects of the directive were changed, after a short, hard debate. The antagonists in this quiet but hard fought engagement were General Holcomb, on the one hand, and General George C. Marshall, on the other. The Secretaries of War and the Navy did not participate directly. The set-to was begun when General Marshall, taking a long second look at the recently promulgated directive, came to the conclusion that the Iceland operation, from the United States forces point of view, would have to be entirely under Army command, since the bulk of the forces to be employed there would be Army troops. He presented his views to the two Secretaries, apparently without notifying General Holcomb of his change of mind. The Secretaries concurred.
On September 3 a draft Executive Order was submitted to the President for approval, providing for the detachment of the brigade from the Navy to the Army. On September 4 General Holcomb, who had just been brought into the picture, wrote Admiral H. R. Stark, Chief of Naval Operations, protesting strongly against the proposed transfer. His views must have been made known to General Marshall, for next day the latter wrote to Admiral Stark, discounting the Commandant’s objections, saying that Marine Corps units had served under Army control before, with no ill results.
General Holcomb fought the matter through, routing all his correspondence on the subject through the Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Stark. An interchange of memos between the Admiral and General Marshall ensued, in which the Admiral’s position was that of a rather disinterested bystander. His final memo, addressed to “Dear George” and signed “Betty,” contains a sentence which shows that the point of view of his subordinate, the Major General Commandant, had never had a chance. For, after suggesting mildly that the President might not object to altering the proposed executive order if General Marshall asked him to, the Admiral assured his Army opposite number, “I will stand back of your decision in the matter.”
It was all over by September 22. On that date, the brigade was detached to the Army, and the Commandant was directed to report to the Secretary of War for that duty. Two days later both Brigadier General C. H. Bonesteel, in command of the Army forces, and General Marston were advised of their new relationship, and on September 29, General Bonesteel announced that he had assumed command of the Marine Corps [sic.]l
VII
War surrounded the island, but only rarely did the brigade get a glimpse of it. Submarine activity came to the mouth of Faxafloi itself, and in mid-October the destroyer Kearney limped into Hvalfjordur after her historic encounter, looking as though a gigantic mouth had taken a bite from her starboard side. On several occasions enemy reconnaissance planes paid hurried and furtive calls.
It was early evening, and long dark, when news of the Pearl Harbor attack began to come in fragmentary fashion through the crackling static of the brilliant Northern Lights. The Articles of War were read early the next morning. Wake Island began to be mentioned in the rare news programs which were received, and there was a pervasive feeling that the brigade would be shoving off before long.
It did. At the end of January the 3d Battalion 6th Marines boarded the Munargo, leaving all supplies, weapons (save personal weapons), and ammunition for use of the Army force, and set off for New York. As it landed at that port, a column of smoke showed where the Normandie lay burning at her pier.
The brigade followed piecemeal, and it was not until March 8 that the last units went on board ship. At 1010 on that date, the brigade command post closed on shore and opened on board the McCawley. One hour and fifty minutes later, the marines were back in the Navy.
And it was high time they were, for Admiral King, now Chief of Naval Operations, realized how the war in the Pacific would have to be fought—an early offensive, and none of this strategic defense pablum. Which meant, of course, that the country again needed its Force in Readiness.