January 1943, Casablanca Conference, Morocco. Prime Minister Winston Churchill and General Dwight D. Eisenhower sit in a private room away from the main conference. They’re discussing command appointments for the upcoming invasion of Sicily. Churchill puffs on his cigar, studying Eisenhower carefully.

So, Ike Churchill begins, “Tell me about this general pattern, the one you’re considering for core command in Sicily.” Eisenhower shifts uncomfortably. George is complicated, brilliant tactician, fearless leader. His men worship him, but he’s also difficult, insubordinate, has a temper that gets him into trouble. Is he good? He’s the best armored commander we have, maybe the best in the world. Churchill nods slowly.

I’ve been reading reports about his operations in North Africa. quite impressive, but I’ve also heard stories about his personality. The stories are probably true, Eisenhower admits. I want to meet him, Churchill announces. Before we finalize command assignments, if he’s going to work alongside British forces, I need to take his measure.

Eisenhower looks worried. Sir, I should warn you, George can be unpredictable. He says things he shouldn’t say. He has no filter between his brain and his mouth. Churchill grins around his cigar. “My dear Eisenhower, I’ve been called unpredictable my entire life. I rather enjoy people who speak their minds.
” “You might regret that,” Eisenhower mutters. 2 hours later, after meeting Patton, Churchill will say something about the American general that makes Eisenhower’s jaw drop. This is the story of the strange, combative, mutually respectful relationship between Winston Churchill and George S. Patton, two of the most difficult personalities of World War II, who somehow understood each other perfectly.Section 1, the first meeting, January 1943. Later that day, Patton arrives at the villa where Churchill is staying. He’s in full dress uniform, every metal polished, pearl-handled revolvers gleaming, boots, mirror bright. He’s escorted to a terrace where Churchill sits with Eisenhower and several British officers. Patton snaps a perfect salute.

General George S. Patton reporting as ordered. Sir Churchill gestures to a chair. Sit, General Brandy. Thank you, sir. They sit. Churchill studies Patton with the intensity of a man who spent decades reading people. General Patton, I’ve heard you’re quite the student of military history. Yes, sir.

I believe understanding past battles is essential to winning future ones. Alexander the Great, Caesar, Napoleon, which do you admire most? Patton doesn’t hesitate. Alexander, he understood that speed and audacity can overcome superior numbers, and he led from the front. His men saw him share their danger. Some would say leading from the front is reckless for a general.

Some would be wrong, Patton replies bluntly. Eisenhower tenses. That’s exactly the kind of comment that could offend. But Churchill laughs, spoken like a true warrior. Tell me, General, do you believe we’re prosecuting this war correctly? It’s a loaded question. Eisenhower shoots Patton a warning look. Patton ignores it. No, sir.

I think we’re being too cautious. We should be attacking everywhere all the time. We have the resources. We should use them. The British have been fighting since 1939, Churchill notes. We’ve learned caution through bloody experience. With respect, sir, caution kills soldiers just as surely as recklessness. A defensive posture lets the enemy choose when and where to attack.

An offensive posture keeps him off balance. Even when you’re outnumbered, especially when you’re outnumbered, Patton says, “If you’re defending, the enemy can concentrate forces and overwhelm you. If you’re attacking, you choose where to concentrate, and the enemy has to react.” Churchill puffs his cigar thoughtfully.

You realize you’re advocating the exact opposite of current British strategy. “Yes, sir. That’s because current British strategy is wrong.” Eisenhower nearly chokes on his drink. Several British officers look offended. Churchill, however, grins broadly. My God, Eisenhower, where did you find this man? He found himself.

Sir, Eisenhower says weakly. I just try to point him at the enemy. Churchill turns back to Patton. General, you’re either brilliant or insane. I haven’t decided which yet. I’ve been told they’re the same thing, sir. Patton replies. Churchill laughs. A deep genuine laugh. I like you, Patton. You remind me of someone. Who, sir? Me.

40 years ago. Section two. The private conversation after the formal meeting ends. Churchill asks Eisenhower to stay behind. So Churchill begins. What do you really think of Patton? Eisenhower size. He’s the best field commander I have. Possibly the best field commander anyone has, but he’s also the biggest headache I’ve ever dealt with. Explain.

George doesn’t follow orders he disagrees with. He doesn’t coordinate with other commanders. He takes insane risks. He’s crude, profane, and offensive. He’s been formallyreprimanded three times and should have been court marshaled twice. And yet you keep him because when I need someone to do the impossible, George is the only person I trust to actually do it.

Churchill nods slowly. I’ve had officers like that. Brilliant, but impossible to manage. The question is always, is their brilliance worth the trouble they cause with Patton? Yes. Barely, but yes. Churchill is quiet for a moment, then says something that shocks Eisenhower. Patton is a pure warrior, probably the last of his kind.

Sir, war is becoming industrial, mechanical, scientific, Churchill explains. We calculate logistics, analyze intelligence, plan methodically. We fight with spreadsheets as much as soldiers. That’s modern warfare. I know, Churchill interrupts. And it’s necessary. But Patton, Patton fights like Alexander the Great, like Napoleon, like warriors fought for thousands of years with instinct, aggression, and personal courage.

That style of warfare is obsolete, is it? Churchill challenges. Tell me, Ike, when you need someone to break through enemy lines, do you send your most careful, methodical commander, or do you send Patton? Eisenhower has no answer. Patton is a throwback, Churchill continues. An anacronism, but he’s our anacronism.

And there will be times, many times, when you’ll need a man who fights with his heart instead of his head. He fights with both, Eisenhower corrects. That’s what makes him so effective and so dangerous. Churchill smiles. Then we better point him at the enemy and pray he doesn’t point himself at us.

Section three, Sicily. Churchill’s observation. July 1943. Sicily. Churchill visits the island after Allied forces have secured it. He wants to see the campaign results firsthand. He’s given a tour of captured territory. British officers proudly show him the methodical, careful advances their forces made. Then they reach territory captured by Patton’s seventh army. The difference is striking.

British forces advanced carefully, consolidating each position before moving forward. Patton’s forces raced across the island, bypassing strong points, advancing so fast that supply lines barely kept up. How far did Seventh Army advance in the first week? Churchill asks, “Nearly 100 miles, sir,” a British officer replies with barely concealed disdain. “It was reckless.

They left their flanks exposed. They outran their supplies. It was everything you’re not supposed to do. And yet they took their objectives. Churchill notes. Yes, sir. But at unnecessary risk. Churchill studies a map showing seventh army’s advance, a series of arrows driving deep into Sicily faster than anyone planned.

This pattern, Churchill muses. He doesn’t fight like a modern general. He fights like a cavalry commander. Fast, aggressive. Damn the logistics. It’s not proper military. It’s brilliant. Churchill interrupts. Look at this map. While your forces were carefully advancing, Patton was behind German lines, cutting them off.

The Germans weren’t defeated by careful tactics. They were defeated by speed they couldn’t match. Later, in a private cable to London, Churchill writes, “General Patton is the most unbritish officer I have ever encountered. He violates every principle of careful warfare we hold dear. And yet he wins quickly, decisively, with fewer casualties than expected.

We should study him even if we don’t approve of him. Section 4, the slapping incident. August 1943. Churchill learns about Patton slapping soldiers in field hospitals. He’s meeting with Eisenhower when the subject comes up. I assume you’ll relieve him, Churchill says. I’m considering it, Eisenhower admits.

The press is demanding it. Congress is demanding it. He assaulted hospitalized soldiers. He also just won Sicily faster than anyone thought possible, Churchill notes. That doesn’t excuse. I’m not saying it excuses it, Churchill interrupts. I’m saying you need to weigh his misconduct against his value. Can you afford to lose him? Can I afford to keep him? The political pressure.

Politics is temporary, Churchill says bluntly. This war won’t be won by politics. It will be won by commanders who can win battles. Can anyone else do what Patton does? Eisenhower is silent. That’s what I thought. Churchill says, “Punish him. Make him apologize. Humiliate him if necessary, but don’t remove him from command.

You’ll need him for the invasion of Europe.” You’re defending Patton. I’m defending victory. Churchill corrects. Patton is a bastard, but he’s a brilliant bastard. And in war, I’ll take a brilliant bastard over a pleasant mediocrity every time. Eisenhower eventually follows this advice, keeping Patton, but removing him from active command temporarily.

Churchill was right. Eisenhower tells his staff, “I can’t afford to lose Patton, even if he drives me crazy.” Section five, D-Day deception, spring 1944. Operation Fortitude. The deception plan to convince Germans the invasion will come at Calala, not Normandy. The planrequires a fake army group, and it requires a commander the Germans will believe is leading it.

It has to be Patton, British intelligence argues. The Germans fear him more than any other Allied commander. If they think Patton is at Cala, they’ll believe that’s where the invasion is coming. Churchill approves immediately. Brilliant. Use Patton’s reputation against them, but Eisenhower hesitates. George won’t like being used as a decoy.

He wants to be in the first wave. Then don’t tell him it’s a decoy. Churchill suggests. Tell him he’s commanding the army group that will exploit the breakthrough. Let him think he’s being held in reserve for the decisive blow. That’s manipulative. It’s also necessary. Churchill says Patton’s ego is legendary. Use it. Tell him he’s being saved for the most important mission.

He’ll accept that the plan works. Patton commands the fictitious first US Army group and German intelligence swallows the deception completely. Later, Churchill tells his staff, “Patton thinks he’s too important to be a decoy. We convinced him he’s too important not to be a decoy. The man’s vanity is his greatest weakness and our greatest weapon.

Section six. Normandy breakout. August 1944. Patton is finally unleashed in France. Third army races across France at speeds no one predicted. They advance hundreds of miles in weeks. Churchill follows their progress with fascination. Look at this, he tells his military staff, pointing to a map.

Third army has advanced further in two weeks than we advanced in two months. How is Patton doing this? He’s ignoring logistics, sir. Outrunning his supply lines. Taking absurd risks and winning, Churchill notes. Eisenhower, how is George managing this? I don’t know, Eisenhower admits. by every rule of warfare. He should have stalled days ago, but he keeps finding fuel, keeps capturing German supplies, keeps moving.

It’s not logistics, Churchill says thoughtfully. It’s will. Patton simply refuses to stop. He’s willing his army forward through sheer force of personality. That’s not sustainable. It doesn’t have to be, Churchill interrupts. It only has to work until Germany collapses. And at the rate Patton is advancing, that could be soon.

In his diary that night, Churchill writes, “Patton is proving that warfare isn’t just science, it’s also art.” And sometimes the artist creates masterpieces by breaking all the rules. Section 7, the Baston pivot, December 1944, Battle of the Bulge. When Patton pivots Third Army north in 48 hours and relieves Baston, Churchill’s reaction is immediate and emphatic.

He cables Eisenhower. Patton’s maneuver is one of the most remarkable in military history. Congratulations to him and to you for having the wisdom to unleash him. In a speech to Parliament, Churchill says, “The American Third Army under General Patton has accomplished something thought impossible.

A complete reversal of direction in the middle of winter under combat conditions executed with speed that defies logistics and common sense. Some have asked whether General Patton’s methods are too risky, too unorthodox. To which I respond, judge commanders by results, not methods. And Patton’s results speak for themselves. Privately, Churchill tells his staff, “If Britain had a commander like Patton in 1940, we might have driven the Germans back across the channel.

The man is worth 10 divisions simply because the enemy can’t predict him.” Section 8. The Rine Crossing, March 1945. Patton crosses the Rine before Montgomery’s massive operation. British officers are furious. Montgomery spent months planning operation plunder. Patton crossed in one night with minimal preparation.

Churchill’s reaction surprises everyone. He laughs. Montgomery is brilliant at setpiece operations, Churchill tells his cabinet. He plans meticulously, executes perfectly, achieves objectives with minimal casualties. He’s everything a modern general should be. And Patton, Patton is everything a modern general shouldn’t be, Churchill says.

Reckless, improvisational, ignores doctrine, takes absurd risks. Then why are you laughing? Because while Montgomery was planning to cross the Rine, Patton just did it. No fuss, no massive buildup. He found a weak point and exploited it before the Germans realized what was happening. Sir, surely you don’t approve of Patton upstaging Montgomery.

I approve of results, Churchill says firmly. Montgomery will cross the Rine tomorrow with overwhelming force and minimal casualties. Excellent. But Patton crossed it yesterday, which means we’re one day closer to victory. He pauses, then adds, “Besides, competition between commanders is healthy. Patton beating Montgomery across the Rine will make Montgomery work even harder.

both armies will benefit. In a personal letter to Eisenhower, Churchill writes, “Your general pattern is impossible, insufferable, and insubordinate. He’s also remarkably effective. I suspect that 50 years from now, historians will study Montgomery’s rin crossing as amodel of proper military operation, and they’ll study Patton’s rin crossing as a model of audacity winning wars.

” Section 9, the endgame. April May 1945. Germany is collapsing. Patton’s third army is racing toward Czechoslovakia and Austria. He wants to continue east toward Berlin toward Prague, but political decisions have been made. The Soviets will take Berlin. American forces will stop at agreed upon lines. Patton is furious.

He argues vehemently for continuing east. We can take Berlin before the Russians. We can liberate Prague. Why are we stopping? Eisenhower refuses. Political decisions have been made above my level. Patton appeals directly to Churchill during a meeting in Europe. Sir, we should keep advancing. The Russians are going to occupy half of Europe.

We should take as much territory as possible before that happens. Churchill surprisingly agrees with Patton’s strategic assessment. General Patton, you’re absolutely correct. Militarily, we should continue advancing. Politically, however, decisions have been made at the highest levels. Roosevelt and Stalin have agreed on occupation zones.

Then Roosevelt is making a mistake, Patton says bluntly. Churchill’s staff gasps. Criticizing the American president to the British prime minister is incredibly inappropriate. But Churchill simply nods. I share your concerns, General, but we must abide by Allied agreements, however much we may disagree with them.

After Patton leaves, Churchill tells his staff, “Patton sees the coming cold war more clearly than most politicians. In 20 years, we may regret that we didn’t listen to him.” Section 10, the final meeting. July 1945, Berlin. The Potam Conference. Patton is in Berlin as part of the American delegation. Churchill is there representing Britain.

They meet privately one evening. So, General Churchill says the war in Europe is won. What will you do now? I don’t know. Patton admits. I’m a warrior. What does a warrior do when there are no more wars? You could return to America. Enjoy peace. Write your memoirs. I don’t want peace. Patton says honestly. I want another war.

A war where we fight the right enemy. The Russians, you mean? Yes, sir. They’re the real threat now, not the Germans. The Germans are finished, but the Russians, they’re taking over Eastern Europe, building an empire, and we’re letting them. Churchill is quiet for a long moment. You may be right, General, but the world is warweary.

America is warweary. Britain is warw weary. There’s no appetite for another conflict. Then we’ll pay for that decision. Patton says, “Maybe not now, but eventually.” Churchill studies Patton carefully. “You’re a man out of your time, General. You belong in an earlier age. When warriors fought for glory and conquest, when war was about courage and honor.

That age is gone. It’s dying,” Churchill says sadly. War is becoming industrial, political, ideological. There’s less room for warriors and more room for bureaucrats. I hate bureaucrats, Patton mutters. Churchill chuckles. I know. That’s why I’ve always liked you. They sit in silence. Two difficult men who understand each other, watching the sun set over defeated Berlin. Section 11.

After Patton’s death, December 1945. Patton dies from injuries sustained in a car accident. Churchill is in London when he receives the news. He’s genuinely shaken. Patton is dead. He asks his aid. How? Car accident, sir. In Germany. He’s been paralyzed for 2 weeks. Finally succumbed. Churchill sits heavily. Not in battle.

No, sir. A traffic accident. That’s wrong. Churchill says quietly. George Patton should have died on a battlefield, sword in hand, leading a charge. He deserved a warrior’s death. He drafts a personal message to Eisenhower. I am deeply saddened by the death of General Patton. He was one of the great captains of this war.

History will remember him as one of the finest battlefield commanders America ever produced. He drove us all mad with his insubordination and recklessness. But my god, he could fight. Britain mourns his loss alongside America. In Parliament, Churchill delivers a tribute. General George S.

Patton was in many ways the antithesis of British military tradition. Where we value caution, he embraced risk. Where we prefer methodical planning, he improvised brilliantly. Where we advance carefully, he charged. And yet, I say to this house, General Patton was precisely the commander the allies needed. His speed won battles that careful tactics could not.

His aggression terrified enemies that careful planning would not intimidate. His courage inspired soldiers that careful leadership could not motivate. He was difficult, impossible even, but he was ours and we are poorer for his loss. Section 12. Churchill’s private assessment. Years later, writing his memoirs, Churchill includes a section on Patton.

General George S. Patton was the most extraordinary American commander I encountered during the war. He combined the tactical genius of Napoleon with thepersonal courage of Alexander. He had the aggressive instinct of a Viking and the strategic vision of Caesar. He was also profane, insubordinate, politically naive, and occasionally cruel.

He said things that shocked polite society. He took risks that horrified his superiors. He ignored orders he deemed foolish and pursued strategies he believed correct regardless of opposition. In short, he was everything a modern general should not be. And yet, he won quickly, decisively, brilliantly. I once told Eisenhower that Patton was a pure warrior, a throwback to an earlier age. I stand by that assessment.

The modern world had no place for men like Patton, but the war desperately needed him. History will judge whether his methods were sound, but history cannot deny his results. And in war, results are what matter. I am proud to have known him, frustrated to have dealt with him, but grateful that he fought on our side.

Closing January 1943, Winston Churchill meets George S. Patton for the first time. After two hours of conversation, Churchill makes an assessment that shocks Eisenhower. Patton is a pure warrior, probably the last of his kind. Two difficult men, two impossible personalities, two brilliant, flawed, complicated leaders.

They should have hated each other. Instead, they understood each other perfectly because they were the same type of person. Brilliant, arrogant, convinced of their own correctness, unwilling to compromise, and absolutely committed to victory. He just called me what Eisenhower said. when Churchill described Patton as a pure warrior.

But Churchill was right. Patton was a warrior, not a modern general, not a careful tactician, not a political commander, a warrior in the oldest, most fundamental sense of the word. Someone who fights not because it’s his job, but because it’s his nature. Churchill recognized that, respected it, even admired it.

The man is impossible, Churchill said repeatedly. But he’s our kind of impossible. When Patton died, Churchill mourned not just a fellow officer, but a kindred spirit. Another difficult, brilliant, impossible man who changed history through sheer force of will. He just called me what? The phrase that captured Eisenhower’s shock at Churchill’s assessment of Patton.

But Churchill knew exactly what he was saying. Patton was a warrior, the last of a dying breed. And the war was won in part because that warrior was on the Allied.