Conflict in command during the Kokoda campaign of 1942: did General Blamey deserve the blame?

8 Comments

1. 

   MAJ Kenneth Dawson on July 25, 2010 at 4:26 am

   A good article which I think reflects on the importance of the difficult terrain and communications and their impact on command and control. I have always found it difficult (having stood on the ground) to understand why Potts at Brigade Hill, who did have some troops in reserve at Menari did not adequately protect his line of communication / line of withdrawl as this such a fundemental concept. I think in fairness there was a significat problem with experience in the Australian Army at the time in operations on a narrow front and without flanking units, particularly in the context of a withdrawl. Curtin and his cabinet were remarkable for their lack of experience, many among them having done their best as trade unionist to undermine the war effort during WWI. Much of this was underpinned by the Irish-Catholic issues during 1916. Blamey and Curtin were extremely different animals, in many respects natural ememies, forced together in a relationship that neither would have chosen. An interesting, complex moment in time. Many thanks for the article.

2. 

   Derek Cameron on July 27, 2010 at 5:32 pm

   Colonel Tracey’s article is aimed at redressing what he feels to be the unfair treatment of Blamey as C-in-C by recent historians of the Kokoda campaign for the sacking of commanders at Corps (Rowell), Divisional (Allen) and Brigade (Potts) levels in 1942. Tracey’s central point seems to be that the dismissals, often taken to be a “Holy Trinity,” were made for different, complex and justifiable reasons.

   Much is made in the article of the inexperience of the Curtin government, the dominance of MacArthur in decision-making and the forced return of Blamey to New Guinea after the withdrawal to Imita Ridge. Rowell’s sacking is pictured as the result of virtual insubordination through his refusal to accept the difficulty of Blamey’s position. His replacement, Herring, is cited as the chief source of Allen’s subsequent dismissal, through his preference for a new command team and a history of antipathy with Allen. Potts’ sacking is attributed to doubts about his conduct as 21st Brigade commander, especially with the loss of Myola and the Brigade Hill position. (Rowell also is implicated, for having replaced Potts so as to question him about the fighting on the Track.)

   While there are some thought-provoking points made in Tracey’s article, I find myself unable to accept its central thesis that the main actor in the dismissals was not Blamey and that his motives were not self-serving. Context is all-important in deciding the motivations which drive history’s main players and the context for Blamey was a grim one:
   • He was the only high-ranking Australian Army officer included in MacArthur’s command structure;
   • He understood that his appointment was essentially a political one and appears to have made little or no effort to foster close relationships with Curtin (nor, to be fair, did the Prime Minister with his general);
   • His forced return to New Guinea was at MacArthur’s insistence that he “energise the situation” and he understood that he was being thrown to the wolves – military failure in New Guinea would bring him down;
   • His reactions to these pressures were those of a politician rather than a soldier – protection of his own position depended upon proof that he was indeed “energising the situation.” It is interesting to reflect that MacArthur’s reaction to the inability of the inexperienced American National Guard formations he threw into battle against the veterans of the Nankai Shitai mirrored Blamey’s – sack the commanders (with no measurable impact on the outcome);
   • His conflict with Rowell was probably inevitable, given the past history of their antipathy; but, if Rowell failed to appreciate Blamey’s delicate position, the converse holds true – Blamey’s arrival jeopardised any hope for Rowell’s independent command of 7th Division;
   • His appointment of Herring as Rowell’s replacement is significant, since he must have known of the conflicts between Herring and Allen and realised it would not be a workable relationship;
   • His verbatim relays of MacArthur’s intemperate criticisms of the slow progress of Allen’s counter-offensive, followed shortly by his own, show either unforgiveable ignorance about the difficulties of the terrain and logistics which bedevilled the campaign or a chilling lack of concern about the casualties suffered – or worse, both. (One wishes for the wisdom and courage in Blamey which Rowell had already showed at Milne Bay, where he refused to pass on the nonsensical orders of a panicking GHQ and allowed Clowes to fight and win his own battle);
   • His sacking of Potts had nothing to do with Rowell – the latter was satisfied enough with Potts’ leadership to confirm his command of 21st Brigade after ascertaining the conditions under which the Brigade’s operations had taken place;
   • His “intemperate” address to 21st Brigade at Koitaki is the true litmus test of Blamey’s motivations. It is sometimes forgotten that there were actually two parts – one with the full parade and one later with the Brigade’s officers – to this infamous episode, so there is no chance that his listeners confused the message of cowardly behaviour and military ineptitude. Koitaki was the act of a man desperate to preserve and justify his position by any means and he found them in accusations about the incompetence and lack of spirit amongst the men he sent to fight;
   • His concurrence in the disastrous and needless frontal attacks at the beachhead battles at the campaign’s conclusion, motivated solely by MacArthur’s need for a speedy victory to guarantee him the resources he needed to retake the Philippines, and his endorsement of the relief of commanders who thought differently, further illuminate the shoddy motives that drove Blamey.

   With the greatest respect for Colonel Tracey’s interpretation of the events, it remains my view that the historians who pilloried Blamey have it right. He chose the security of his job before loyalty to the commanders he appointed, ahead of prudent military decision-making and above the lives of his men. The sackings of Potts, Rowell and Allen reveal serious flaws in Blamey as both man and commander, and the casualty lists at Templeton’s Crossing, Eora Creek, Buna, Gona and Sanananda stand in mute and awful testimony to the ultimate price of political generalship. Battle plans inevitably result in casualties. Bad battle plans, especially those which override the concerns of the commanders in the field, mean the “butchers’ bills” are much worse than they otherwise would be. Two major negative consequences followed from the inordinate haste to conclude the campaign: subordinate commanders felt pressured into premature and ill-considered action; and, in turn, battalion and company commanders were robbed of the opportunity to use the talents and experience of their men to best advantage.

   Remote geographically and emotionally from their troops, politically driven, and chillingly unconcerned about the human cost of their inept directives, MacArthur and Blamey frustrated rather than fostered the final triumph in the battle for Australia. The Australian leaders and troops who gave so much in the battles for Papua deserved much better than they got from their commanding general.

   Regards, Derek Cameron.

3. 

   Charlie on July 29, 2010 at 1:47 pm

   The following paper was presented by Major-General Gordon Maitland AO OBE RFD ED (Rtd) to the United Services Institute on 31 May 2005:

   Field Marshall Sir Thomas Blamey: Australia’s most promoted, but least appreciated soldier

   The United Services Institiute presents the Blamey Oration biannually in conjunction with the Field Marshall Sir Thomas Blamey Memorial Fund. The oration perpetuates the memory of Sir Thomas Blamey, Australia’s highest ranking serviceman and, arguably, its greatest soldier. In this oration, which marks the 54th anniversary of the death of the Field Marshall on 27 May 1951, General Maitland reviews several controversial relationships and events in Blamey’s career and, in seeking to set the record straight, presents new evidence from his own research on the Kokoda campaign.

   I’m somewhat overwhelmed to see this impressive attendance and I thank you all for making the effort which, in a way, is a tribute to Blamey. The Blamey Oration is intended to foster debate on key military and strategic issues, but I feel that from time to time our attention should return to the man himself.

   As I note that many of you are my friends, I would additionally thank you for your loyalty. I am thus emboldened to make an unusual request. Would you please expunge from your memories your past reading and list today with a completely open mind. Why? You might well ask. Because to an extent you have been influenced by writers who have allowed themselves to be influenced. They have done well in bringing us splendid descriptions of terrain, events and experiences, but some have produced conclusions beyond their competence to make. Think of all that has been written about the Kokoda Trail, including the published deductions, conclusions and accusations. Yet you will fail to find any worthwhile analysis of the conduct of operations.

   Also, the influences which shape a commander’s decisions range well beyond those that can later be identified by historians, some of whom lack understanding of the culture of the army. Even when comprehensive information is held, judgements will usually be subjective – was a heavy penalty motivated by vindictiveness, or was it simply warranted in the circumstances of the time? Early in his career (1978) our eminent military historian Professor Horner wrote of ‘the necessity for a great deal of evidence to ensure that reputations are not disparaged unfairly’ – but did other authors read that? I think not!

   Interpretation of Australian military events of sixty-odd years ago was unfortunately shaped by the only first hand account of a senior officer that was available for many years – General Rowell’s 1974 autobiography. Not surprisingly, he presented himself in a very favourable light and succeeded in tarnishing the image of Blamey, who was no longer alive to provide his version – not that he would have chosen so to do. The book was so santised that it doesn’t mention Rowell’s removal of Potts from command of the 21st Brigade.

   Generals have special problems; they operate in a complex political environment under unique stresses which can be fully appreciated only by those who have had the experience. Whereas a battalion commander is only accountable to his brigade commander, General Blamey was accountable to his military commander, to his Minister for the Army (Forde), to his Prime Minister (Curtin), and to some other ministers. The media and subsequently the public thought he was accountable to them too. There are those at lower ranks who may choose to play politics, but general is the rank at which soldierly forthrightness is not enough. Examples are not hard to find. Consider the case of General Bennett. General Sturdee, the Chief of the General Staff, advised Blamey that he had misgivings about Bennett’s escape from Singapore, prompting Blamey to decide to convene an inquiry. However, on that very same day Bennett was commended by the Minister for the Army who, considering himself senior to Blamey, was always loath to consult him. In the circumstances, Prime Minister Curtin, obviously concerned about public reaction, told Blamey to desist. Political considerations will usually override military ones. Later, when General Percival (Bennett’s commander in Malaya) criticized Bennett’s departure from Singapore, Blamey was obliged to hold an inquiry.

   An American general once said: ‘The higher I climb the ladder the more ‘arse’ people see to kick’. I accept that responsibility has to be taken for errors and omissions; however it is inappropriate that criticism of generals is usually freely expressed without a sense of proportion being exposed.

   Setting the Record Straight

   Moving on to the actual topic, you will be aware that it is 60 years since the end of the Second World War. Last year various ex-service organizations were considering what the focus of this year should be. My friend (a member present here today) John Allen, the son of famous Major General Tubby Allen, suggested that it should be ‘Setting the Record Straight’. That is something that hopefully, this talk may help to achieve – but in respect of Field Marshall Sir Thomas Blamey, someone whom John Allen is unlikely to have in mind.

   To a minor extent, I am moved to do so by a feeling of guilt. I was a 19-year old sergeant when Blamey flew into by brigade. It took absolutely no time for the news to circulate that he had brought ‘some grog for the officers’. It is incredible to look back and remember how bitterly that news was received. To my discredit, I joined in the condemnation of Blamey. It was a reflection of how successful the media had been in poisoning people’s minds about him. Quite obviously he couldn’t bring liquor for the whole brigade and it was a courteous and thoughtful act to bring it for those with whom he would be spending the night. He was better received in places where officers had taken the trouble to brief the troops: this was particularly so when Blamey was being attacked by the politicians – a group not held in high esteem by Australian soldiers. Indeed, soldiers had a lot for which to be thankful to Blamey, as his consideration of them was outstanding. At the very start of the war, he had told his senior officers that he had selected them ‘because I think you will look after the troops. This is my chief concern.’ I have read criticism of even that praiseworthy comment, which indicates the extent to which even thinking people have allowed themselves to be prejudiced.

   As this sad story progresses you will come to realize what an undeservedly maligned person Blamey was. The media were the principal offenders for two simple reasons – bad stories sell papers; and Blamey’s peccadilloes set him up as an easy target.

   About Blamey

   As this is about Blamey a brief description is warranted. He was born near Wagga Wagga in 1884, one of ten children of a drover (he obviously didn’t drove enough!). He became a teacher, and, as an additional activity, he became a cadet officer. This led him to the regular army and to his being the first Australian to pass Staff College examinations. This took him to Quetta in India and, when the Great War commenced, to appointment as a major on the headquarters of the Australian Imperial Force’s (AIF) famous 1st Division. He landed at Anzac at 7.20 a.m. on 25 April 1915, and the official historian, Bean commended his work and bravery. He went on to be a brigadier and Monash’s highly regarded chief staff officer on the Australian Corps in 1918.

   Subsequently he became Deputy Chief of the General Staff. In 1925, he left the army to become Chief Commissioner of Victoria Police; however, he served on in the militia. Although he was obliged to resign from the police in 1936, he was Menzies’ choice in 1939 as the commander of the 2nd AIF.

   He had a unique presence, some say ‘radiating power’, and, in 1942, he was recalled from the Middle East to Australia to the new position of commander-in-chief of the Australian Army, which he steered to reach a peak of 14 divisions. It may surprise you to know that 1 in 10 Australians served under him. Almost on his death bed, he was appointed field marshall.

   Blamey’s Dark Side

   Blamey has his shortcomings: he drank heavily, but not so as to detract from his work (one of his aides said he had ‘the body of a bull’ and quite clearly he had incredible stamina), and he enjoyed amorous adventures. When he decided ‘to party’, he would have no compunction about doing so at a night club where he would be rubbing shoulders with junior officers. But as Prime Minister Curtin said to the press on 17 July 1942: ‘When Blamey was appointed, the government was seeking a military leader, not a Sunday School teacher’.

   It did not help that Blamey, while Chief Commissioner of the Victoria Police, had his name linked to a brothel raid and, later had been forced to resign for having released information which he knew to be untrue. Blamey placed loyalty very high in his rating of personal qualities and his problems in the police force arose from his being too loyal and endeavouring to protect the reputation of others.

   Blamey’s ‘Achilles’ Heel’ was his complete disregard for what others thought about him. His concern for his troops was outstanding, but he never sought their approbation; he treated Forde, the Minister for Defence, with contempt (but this started with Forde, not Blamey); and completely neglected public relations. But this was also his strength – in the Middle East he fought so strongly (and loyally to his government and the Australian Army) that he confided to his friend Major General Burston that he was ‘the most hated man in the Middle East’. Nothwithstanding, both of his principal opponents, Wavell and Auchinleck, held him in high regard – this according to Lord Casey and Field Marshall Lord Alanbrooke. Wavell referred to him as the ‘best soldier in the Middle East’.

   The Media

   Returning to the media; their campaign against him started when he fought with characteristic vigour, but with characteristic tactlessness, to protect the Victoria Police. Smith’s Weekly described the campaign as ‘the most sensational ever conducted by the regimented Press against a public official’. Famous correspondent, Chester Wilmot, added fuel when Blamey received command of the 2nd AIF; Wilmot referred to him as a ‘crook’, and circulated a story of Blamey getting a commission from a laundry contract. Later, in reporting the Greek campaign, he ignored Blamey’s farsightedness in identifying the evacuation beaches, gave Rowell the credit for the withdrawal and claimed that Blamey left Greece early ‘against the advice and in spite of pleading of his senior officers’ – this despite General Wavell having ordered Blamey to leave and General Wilson having dismissed Blamey’s protests. Wilmot later raised rumours of Blamey profiting from picture contracts and canteens, but never had any evidence for his accusations. Indeed, in any rebuttal is needed, it can be found in Blamey’s rejection of a very large sum of money to write his memoirs, because, as he explained: ‘They would inevitably damage reputations’. On 4 July 1942, Smith’s Weekly went so far as to advocate firing Blamey.

   At war’s end The Bulletin of 12 December 1945, finally extended an apology to Blamey. It stated:

   “He was watched continually by an unfriendly press bent upon commanding his army for him and upon assuring that he should not be accorded any of the privileges which commanders normally are accorded by common consent in progress of keeping their health and comfort.” It added: “[He] gave Australia equable military leadership, and he did it without the unfaltering support of Ministers, press or public. On the contrary, strong influences were at work all the time to divide him from his troops, to undermine his authority over them, even to incite their derision of him”

   Adverse publicity was such that only for a few short periods was Blamey able to operate without the likelihood of his being dismissed. However, he did make it and thus became the Allies’ only commander who kept his command from the start of the war to the finish.

   The Senior Officers
   Sowing the rumours and the seeds of dissension was an incredible collection of senior officers. Discipline is the cornerstone of military forces yet this strange group obviously thought that stopped with the troops. As distinguished historian Jeffrey Grey wrote: ‘[A]t times, it must be wondered whether some of Australia’s senior officers ever put as much energy into fighting the Germans and Japanese as they did into quarrelling with one another.’ Such rivalries were not unique to Australia.; that between MacArthur and the United States Navy was worse, and, if reports be true, inter-service rivalry in Japan was even more so.

   Most historians refer to staff corps versus militia rivalry but, as senior officers sought to achieve their own advancement, both the staff corps and the militia showed no reluctance to denigrate their own. The so called ‘revolt of the general’ (regular and militia) was aimed at Lavarack (a regulear) and Bennett (a militiaman). Senior officers should be ambitious, but it should be a matter more of hoping to receive acknowledgment as a result of performance, rather than agitating or, even worse, conniving, for it.

   It gives me no pleasure to talk in the following terms about a former Chief of the General Staff, but Rowell’s behaviour towards Blamey was appalling, and it is no less appalling that many have glossed over it. When Blamey told Rowell (his principal staff officer) that he had been ordered out of Greece, Rowell responded ‘I don’t believe you’. Rowell’s conduct permeated the headquarters, and he later spread the story that ‘Blamey showed the white feather and ran out of the country in a plane’. General Lavarack seized on that and so the damage to Blamey spread. That Rowell continued his denigration of Blamey in correspondence with Vasey was unpardonable disloyalty, as was his later lack of balance towards Blamey in New Guinea. He used terms like ‘crafty gangster’ and ‘evil cancer’ in referring to Blamey. He wrote to another general (Clowes) that ‘I would never have believed a senior officer would have taken what I said to him’. Yet, in his autobiography, Rowell accuses Blamey of magnifying his remarks when reporting to the Prime Minister.

   Appropos Rowell’s accusation of cowardice; history makes it clear that Blamey performed with great gallantry on Gallipoli, and there is overwhelming evidence that his moral courage was second to none. Quite obviously Wavell couldn’t afford to risk the capture of Australia’s top soldier and Rowell’s inability to recognize that situation and other incidents suggest that he lacked politico-military awareness.

   It was shrewd of Rowell to write his own biography for it obviously dissuaded today’s critical military historians from undertaking the task. Rowell makes much of the 25th Brigade not arriving in Papua until 7 September 1942 (he wrote that they ‘could have been in New Guinea in July or even in June’), yet he would have been aware that Blamey was following MacArthur’s wishes for the experienced 7th Division to be kept for his future offensive operations; also on 21 August 1942 Rowell told Blamey that he didn’t want the 25th Brigade; he only asked for it on 2 September, implying that up until then he had seen his forces as adequate. His friend, Vasey, saw him becoming ‘a bit full of himself’, and it is clear that Rowell was intent on bringing Blamey down, showing no gratitude whatsoever to his mentor who, in October 1939, had picked him out as a lieutenant colonel, and had made him into a lieutenant general by April 1942. The seer total of Blamey’s achievements proves Rowell to have been malignantly biased, and it is my belief that critical study would reveal Rowell as a character quite different form the victim popularly portrayed.

   Blamey is accused of being a ‘hater’, but two months after the Greek campaign he had sent back splendid competence reports on Rowell and also on Bridgeford, who had also passed some denigrating remarks.

   Later both Generals Vasey and Robertson would go behind Blamey’s back and cause problems for him as they endeavoured to advance themselves, yet they trusted Blamey – everyone did. That was one of the keys to Blamey’s success. Everyone respected his judgements; they trusted him, so that there was wholehearted support for his plans and the Australian Army found a confidence that played a large part in its success.

   Surely what MacArthur told Prime Minister Curtin on 17 July 1942 said it all. Curtin wrote:

   “General MacArthur said that had heard much loose talk from some people about General Blamey and he regretted to say that much of it had originated from officers in the Australian Army. Other Australian officers coveted the post of Commander-in-Chief and had made representations against General Blamey. He had also received anonymous letters on the subject.’

   Having said that, MacArthur was playing his own game.

   General MacArthur and his Cohorts

   General MacArthur had been an abysmal failure in the Phillipines, but was theatrical, egoistic, and dedicated to his own self-aggrandisment, never allowing truth to stand in the way. Many of MacArthur’s press releases were not only distortions of fact, but fictitious, prompting Jack Galloway, in his illuminating book The Odd Couple, to dub them ‘Ripping Yarns’. When General Eisenhower (later U.S. President) was asked whether he knew MacArthur, he replied: ‘Yes, I studied drama under him for some years.’

   Although Australians in senior positions held prudish reservations about Blamey, they were completely unconcerned about MacArthur, whose private life was scarcely less sullied; and who turned a blind eye to his senior American officers not only living with Australian mistresses but putting them on the payroll, which incidentally was met by Australia.

   The government was without moral fibre, was frantic, and was amateurish. It completely surrendered to MacArthur, handing operational control of Australian armed forces to a foreigner and abrogating Australian contribution to strategic direction – incredible acts for which Shedden must share the blame. (Shedden was the Defence Secretary, whom I will describe later). In an historical article, on 6 December 1972, the Sydney Morning Herald put the government’s sycophantic approach to MacArthur in these words: ‘You take over what you need of the entire resources of the country and we will have what you leave’.

   Unfortunately MacArthur was haunted by his failure in the Phillipines and his humiliating departure from Corregidor; as a consequence he was fanatical about re-conquering those islands. The United States Navy, on the other hand, was no less haunted by the humiliation that had been inflicted on it at Pearl Harbour, and also was bent on a redemptive crusade. It became a race, and MacArthur was almost paranoic in wanting to win the right to the starting position for the liberation of the Phillipines. His consequent ruthlessness did not meet the standards Australians look for in their leaders. Stephen Taafe wrote regarding the loss of American lives at Wadke-Sarmi: ‘MacArthur sacrificed those men not so much to win the war as to win his race with the Navy’.

   In was in MacArthur’s interests to keep the Australian Government under pressure, and he didn’t want any interference from Blamey who seemed to be the only one to realize that MacArthur had no interest in Australia’s future, only in his own. On the other hand, he saw Blamey as far superior to the other Australian generals and he needed both Blamey and the Australian Army in order to achieve his aims. Being devious, he worked to retain Blamey, but to curb him. In particular he was a master of public relations and was determined that all good publicity would go to himself.

   Blamey served MacArthru loyally, but MacArthur would repay his loyalty only so far as it suited himself. MacArthur was responsible for Blamey being sent to Papua by Prime Minister Curtin, to be the scapegoat in the event of an adverse outcome there, and later he worked to delay Blamey’s return to Australia. Later still, as American strength built up and reliance on the Australian Army reduced, MacArthur sidelined Blamey as much as possible ‘by stealth and by the employment of subterfuges that were undignified and at times abusrd’ – the official historian’s words. However it must be conceded that MacArthur was acting in accordance with guidance he had received from Washington.

   Curtin had given MacArthur complete control over the media and he took full advantage of it. All successes were attributed to ‘Allied Forces’, even if there had been no Americans there, and MacArthur was presented as the successful general. Favourable mention was never made of Blamey or other Australian generals; but in this MacArthur was even handed – he never mentioned his own generals either. It was the opposite when there was hint of events not so favourable. MacArthur never accepted blame for anything and was always quick to identify scapegoats. In Papua, it was the Australians, notwithstanding that he owed everything to them. When Shedden asked MacArthur why the beachheads campaign had lasted so long he quickly blamed Blamey. It follows that while MacArthur ensured that Blamey survived, his manipulation of publicity tarnished Blamey’s image even further.

   You will be aware that MacArthur finally got his comeuppance; he was fired during the Korean War by President Truman, who observed (and I don’t want the admirals here to smirk):

   “I fired him because he wouldn’t respect the authority of the President. I didn’t fire him because he was a dumb son-of-a-bitch, although he was, but that’s not against the law for Generals. If it was, half to three-quarters of them would be in jail.”

   Truman seems to have disliked generals even more that Prime Minister Curtin.

   The Politicians

   Before Curtin came to office Menzies was prime minister, and it was Menzies who appointed Blamey to command the second AIF. Thereby, Blamey was prejudiced in the eyes of the opposition Labor Party. The trade union movement had already found against Blamey because of his handling of strikes when police commissioner and, as the movement was closely linked to the Labor Party, Blamey was left with ground to make up when the party achieved government. Needless to say, it was not Blaymey’s style to endeavour to do so. What is more, Curtin, the new prime minister, was a reformed alcoholic and, as although puritanical, had been jailed for his conduct as a pacifist – hardly the qualities that would appeal to Blamey; or vice versa.

   As Blamey stood head and shoulders above his competitors, Curtin had no choice other than to appoint Blamey as Australian commander-in-chief; however, it was a qualified appointment – the Defence Department was given the responsibility for war policy, and the War Conference which Curtin established, comprised only himself, MacArthur and the manipulative Shedden. What was worse, as mentioned earlier, MacArthur was given supreme command of the Australian services and control of the media.

   It is interesting to speculate how another general might have fared, but the hierarchial system of the army was an anathema to the Labor Party and it is unlikely that another would have been received significantly better. Apart from a short period of two years the Labor Party had been in the political wilderness, so that it brought no experience to its new role. In addition, its members had been opposed not only to military service but to the military system, so that they lacked basic military knowledge – this in the middle of a war with the nation in crisis. Little wonder that The Bulletin chose to describe them as ‘a government of novices’.

   In February 1942, Curtin earned a reputation for being an outstanding wartime leader by standing firm against Churchill and insisting on the return to Australia of the 6th and 7th Divisions. In fact he had little choice; it is said that his chief of the general staff had threatened to resign if he didn’t, and some of his ministers (plus many others) were in a state of funk. Not long after, when the news from Kokoda was at its worst, Beasley, the minister for Supply and Shipping, in his agitation, called out: ‘Moresby is going to fall. Send Blamey up there and let him fall with it.’ At MacArthur’s opportunistic suggestion and in ignorance of what a commander-in-chief’s job entailed, that is exactly what Curtin did – sent him to Moresby. If credit should go to anyone for how an ill-prepared and dispirited Australia emerged from its greatest crises, it should go to its battle winning soldiers, under the command of Blamey.

   The government could scarcely have been more loyal to and supportive of MacArthur; and consequently belittling of Blamey. Even in January 1945, when suppression of news about the Australian Army was a major concern, acting Prime Minister Chifley would not approach MacArthur to loosen his stranglehold on the media. Rather, an attack was launched at Blamey. This was the government which had cut Blamey off from the media, yet it was Calwell, the then Minister for Information, who told the media that Blamey was to blame. It was all too much for Blamey, who, in his best public relations manner, called him a liar! Not withstanding, even Calwell was constrained to say: ‘The next man to Blamey is like a curate to a bishop’.

   MacArthur continued to bamboozle the government. When his Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington were reluctant to approve his Australian-manned Balikpapan invasion, he sold it to them by saying that cancellation would produce ‘grave repercussions with the Australian government and people’. Yet, when Blamey finally prodded Chifley to query MacArthur about the expedition, the misleading answer that it had been ‘ordered by the Joint Chiefs of Staff’ not only mollified Chifley but increased the lack of confidence in Blamey.

   The government was never wholeheartedly behind Blamey and the continuing thought given to his replacement, even though it never happened, was so well known that it detracted from Blamey’s achievements which, clearly, the ‘government of novices’ had never paused to appreciate. There were always people, like Shedden, volunteering comments on military matters, and the government was only too willing to listen.

   The six months following 27 March 1942, when Blamey took up his appointment, are revealing. The pre-war Military Board had failed abysmally in preparing the Australian Army for war, and the enormity of Blamey’s job was beyond imagination. The army had to be restructured and reorganized and the arrival of American troops in large numbers had to be absorbed. The AIFhad been used to being looked after by the British and the new need to be self-sufficent created tremendous logistical, communication, training, intelligence and security pressures; munitions also were a major difficulty and every step had financial ramifications. In addition, much was happening – air and submarine attacks, the war in the north, and the never ending conferences (particularly those demanded by the politicians). At the same time, Blamey was commanding Allied Land Forces in which role he had to cope with MacArthur’s paranoia about beating the United States Navy. Victory in the 4 June Battle of Midway ended the possibility of an assault against Australia, and attention was concentrated on New Guinea. There, by the end of August, the Battle of Milne Bay had been won and the only problem was the Kokoda Trail. Despite the Australian’s steady retreat, the forces that Blamey had assembled allowed no possibility of defeat, as Blamey assured the Advisory War Council. The trouble was that the government’s inexperience and alarm was too deep-seated and, when MacArthur expressed concern, the politicians turned on Blamey.

   The end result was, as mentioned earlier, Curtin’s 17 September dispatch of Blamey to Port Moresby. Then, adding to that disgraceful decision, Curtin told the media that he had sent Blamey to New Guinea ‘to give him one final chance’. To denigrate and undermine his commander-in-chief in that completely undeserved way was shameful.

   But even worse was in store when Curtin became ill, for Chifley, Dr Evatt and others saw the army as a fascist organization and Blamey as having the worst characteristics of that regime. Finally, Forde, the Minister for the Army, vented his spite when he gave little notice for Blamey in retiring him after the war. Blamey, not to be outdone and ‘still the diplomat’, left Forde in no doubt as to what he thought of him and his government – and little wonder!

   The Civilian Bureaucracy

   Firmly in command of the civilian defence bureaucracy was Sir Frederick Shedden, Secretary of the Department of Defence from 1937 to 1956. He believed himself to be a military and strategic expert, not by virtue of a six months stint overseas in the Great War as a lieutenant in the Pay Corps, but by his attendance at the Imperial Defence College.

   He was a great admirer of the British way and was a disciple of his British counterpart, Sir Maurice Hankey; so much so that he was cleverly dubbed by some wit as ‘the pocket hanky’. Hanky taught Shedden how to wield power behind the scenes. It was Shedden who had been a strong advocate of the Singapore strategy, despite a convincing criticism of it by the Australian Army but, in the manner of MacArthur, he succeeded in putting the blame on Britain when the Australian Army was proved correct and Singapore ‘came tumbling down’.

   Shedden was one who swallowed MacArthur’s public relations ‘hook, line and sinker’, going so far as to commend MacArthur’s inspiring defence of the Phillipines. He didn’t seek to talk to United States High Commissioner Sayre, who was evacuated to Australia en route to the United States, and who was embittered against MacArthur. Perhaps Shedden knew on what side his bread was buttered, for his later knighthood was probably due to MacArhtur’s suggestion to Curtin.

   Professor Horner’s biography of Shedden, Defence Supremo, reveals him to be untruthful when it suited and dedicated to ‘blowing his own trumpet’. Indicative of how Shedden was; he persuaded the government to request a Royal Air Force officer to inspect and report on the Royal Australian Air Force without telling the Chief of the Air Staff.

   It is intriguing that the Curtin government had MacArthur and Shedden knighted, but not one Australian serviceman.

   There is no denying that Shedden was a most capable and hard working public servant, but like all in the senior bureaucracy, he had an appetite for power. I give you that background so that you may better understand when I tell you that he adopted the same tactics as MacArthur to Blamey – keep him, but in an inferior role.

   General Wynter wrote of the civil staff:

   “They take any and every opportunity to oppose the Commander-in-Chief. This has been their attitude virtually since November 1942 when Sinclair [the Secretary of the Army] first started his intrigue for replacing the C-in-C by an Army Council.”

   Authors

   It is interesting that authors have never wanted to pick up the odd supportive remark about Blamey. For example, were you aware that on Armistice Day (11 November) Blamey would arrive at his office early, close the door, and live with his thoughts until after 11 a.m.? Doesn’t that reveal a person different from the one usually painted? Horner is an exception; in his valuable book, Crisis of Command, he says: ‘Blamey always felt a certain loyalty to those officers who had served their country long and well, and through no fault of their own found themselves in situations that they were not equipped to handle’.

   Consider all the authors who have written about the Kokoda Trail. They are numerous, and everyone maligns Blamey, but based on what evidence? Remember that books, like newspapers, need to ‘spiced up’ to boost sales.

   And what about the furore over Blamey’s remarks to the 21st Brigade at Koitaki after the decimated brigade was withdrawn from the Kokoda Trail. Sadly, there is no proof of what Blamey said, but surely the first source one would go to would be the commander of the brigade. Yet no one ever asked Sir Ivan Dougherty. Ivan was my friend, and some will recall my giving the eulogy at his funeral. In his ‘recollections’ he wrote:

   “In other parts of this narrative I have indicated that I am firm in my opinion that General Blamey’s comments on the parade at Koitaki were given the wrong interpretation. I was alert in carefully listening to what he said.

   He did use the term ‘rabbits’, but as I stood on parade I did not anticipate that the men of 21 Brigade would give his words the interpretation that he said the troops of 21 Brigade had ‘run like rabbits’. He said the Jap had animal-like instincts. He said that while they stayed in their holes they would shoot anyone who moved near them. He said it was like shooting rabbits back home – we had to get them out of their burrows before we could get them.

   General Blamey said words to the effect that: ‘Brigadier Doughery has had troops under his command of whom he has every reason to be intensely proud, and I know he will be just as proud of the men of 21 Brigade’. Perhaps it might have been better if he had mentioned the men of 21 Brigade first, saying something like: ‘I know Brigadier Doughery will be intensely proud of the men of 21 Brigade just as he has been intensely proud of the men he has commanded previously.

   In General Vasey’s war by David Horner, on page 220, it is written: ‘Back in Port Moresby MacArthur and Blamey were in deep discussion about which formation to send, the 127th U.S. Regiment, the 21st Brigade under Ivan Dougherty, or perhaps the 41st U.S. Division from Australia. Blamey told MacArthur that ‘he would rather put in more Australians, as he knew they would fight’. MacArthur therefore agreed to fly in the 21st Brigade.

   This would most certainly appear to support my contention that General Blamey’s address at the Koitaki Parade has been misconstrued.”

   Your Conclusion

   It is difficult to know to whom to give the last word. General Eather was one of the brigadiers harried by Blamey on the Kokoda Trail, yet he wrote to his parents: ‘To me it is disgraceful to think that a great man who has done what he has for Australia in the last six years should be open to attacks as he has been’.

   Then there was General Morsehead. Curtin had chosen him as a successor to Blamey ‘should unfortunately anything happen to him’ [like being ‘fired’] Moreshead, when told, wrote to Curtin: ‘I do sincerely trust that the occasion will not arise. General Blamey is truly great Commander and it would be a national calamity if he were to become a casualty.’

   Perhaps the most significant tribute was paid by MacArthur – not in his memoirs in which he used the words ‘of highest quality’ to describe Blamey, but by his 1948 action in inviting Blamey to visit him in Japan, a very rare act of gratitude completely out of character with MacArthur’s normal conduct.

   Today’s topic does not lend itself to spelling out either Blamey’s successes or his mistakes. If your interest has been whetted, then read David Horner’s biography. However, it may help you to understand the man better if I mention the following:

   • His whole military career was characterized by his concern for Australian lives and interests.

   • Monash, who knew him as well as anyone, described his mind as ‘prehensile’. For example, it was he who, on Gallipoli, immediately perceived the potential of the periscope rifle.

   • He and Monash conceived the first modern battle – Hamel, which changed the conduct of war.

   • He thought and spoke about the future of Australia. The Australian National University was one of his brainchilds.

   • The steps he took on the health front were quite outstanding. His seeking for advice; and willingness to implement unusual measures beat malaria. He even brought Lord Florey to Australia.

   • He was behind the emphasis on training and the creation of training facilities which played a major part in the success of the Australian Army.

   The question you might wish to address is – what motivated him? There are those who focus on his private life and believe he lusted for power and the trappings that accompanied it. Others believe he was a patriot, who stuck to the job, despite his abominable treatment, because of his dedication to the army and his determination to preserve it from mishandling by a lesser person.

   The subjective judgement is one for you to make; however whatever conclusion you reach, you must also conclude that we were extremely fortunate to have had him; that he deserved to be a field marshal; and that he didn’t deserve to be so ill appreciated.

   The Author: Gordon Maitland is a member of the Field Marshal Sir Thomas Blamey Memorial Fund; and a past-president and current councilor of the Institution. A former citizen-soldier, he joined the Army in 1944. He eventually rose to command the 2nd Division and become Chief of the Army Reserve, before becoming Regimental Colonel of the Royal New South Wales Regiment. In civil life, he was a senior executive of the Agricultural Society of New South Wales. He is a noted military historian whose published works include Tales of Valour from the Royal New South Wales Regiment (1992); The Second World War and its Australian Army Battle Honours (1999); and the two-volume The Battle History of the Royal New South Wales Regiment, (Volume 1, 2001; Volume 2, 2002).

4. 

   Charlie on July 29, 2010 at 1:56 pm

   CARL BRIDGE, Menzies Centre for Australian Studies, King’s College, London, wrote the following review of ‘Blamey: the Commander-in-Chief’ by Professor David Horner of the Strategic Studies Centre, Australian National Univerisity.

   Australians of my generation – whose parents fought in the Second World War – grew up with a number of oft-repeated stories that were hardly complimentary to our nation’s wartime commander-in-chief. “That bastard Blamey”, as he was almost invariably called, was the man who accused some of our men of “running like rabbits” at Kokoda, though he himself was safe in Melbourne at the time. He was the bloke who escaped by plane from Greece taking his son with him and leaving many other people’s sons behind to die or be captured. He was the police commissioner in 1930s Melbourne whose badge was found in a brothel. He was the general who dismissed his field commander in New Guinea in 1942 to save his own skin, and who in 1944-45 committed our forces to an “unnecessary war” in Bougainville and Borneo. In short, we heard that Blamey was selfish, corrupt and cowardly, and that we won the war despite Blamey rather than because of him.

   Assessments by Blamey’s peers were more mixed. His American superior, Douglas MacArthur, thought him a “sensual, slothful and doubtful moral character but a tough commander likely to shine like a power-light in an emergency. The best of the local bunch.” Another American senior officer saw only a “drunken old fool”. Churchill described Blamey as a “more ardent politician than soldier”. An Australian general, George Vasey, called him “the Lord”, a “tiresome fellow – swollen-headed and pig-headed beyond words”. No wonder Curtin had to come to Blamey’s defence, saying he had appointed “a military leader not a Sunday School teacher”.

   Those who have written in Blamey’s favour, his aide-de-camp (Norman Carlyon) and one of the few journalists who liked him (John Hetherington), have failed to overturn his appallingly negative public image. To make matters even harder for any biographer, Blamey was notoriously secretive. Unlike the confessional Monash (whose papers were a goldmine for his biographer, Geoffrey Serle), Blamey left a scant record, which revealed little of his private self. Perhaps he had a lot to hide?

   David Horner is one of Australia’s most respected military historians. His dozen or so books, mostly on the Second World War, have been in effect training runs for his attempt on Blamey, the Everest ascent of Australian military biography. That training has paid off: twenty years in the making, Horner’s Blamey is magisterial. Carlyon’s and Hetherington’s books were merely sympathetic character sketches; Horner’s offers a full assessment of Blamey as a commander. It subjects Blamey’s career to the most rigorous of analyses, based on the widest possible archival trawl and on interviews and correspondence with most of the key witnesses. Resting his argument firmly on von Moltke the Elder’s dictum that “the military commander is the fate of the nation”, and readily acknowledging Blamey’s faults, Horner makes the case for Blamey as Australia’s greatest soldier. He also presents us with a much more detailed and convincing portrait of the man than available anywhere.

   Born in 1884, Blamey was the seventh of the ten children of a struggling small-farmer-cum-butcher-cum-drover from the Wagga district. His ancestors were Cornish and Scottish. Horner maps young Tom’s quick clamber up the ladder from pupil teacher in New South Wales (£88 p.a.) to teacher in Fremantle, Western Australia (£130 p.a.), to officer instructor in the Commonwealth Military Forces (£250 p.a.), overcoming along the way a brief yearning for the Methodist ministry. In 1910 he married a Melbourne stockbroker’s daughter nine years his senior. In 1912, Blamey was the first Australian officer to attend the prestigious British Army staff college in Quetta, India. His commandant there found him an average student, “not gifted with a large amount of tact”, but one who “knows what he wants and means to get it”. Blamey was clearly a man after, in his own words, “any job that savours of advance”.
   Appointed to a staff post in London in 1914, he sailed close by the Dardanelles, to which he returned a few months later as a staff officer in the Gallipoli campaign. Drafting orders became his forte and as a precocious 34-year-old brigadier on Monash’s staff he helped plan the great ANZAC victories of 1918. The rise was dramatic. Monash, shrewd as ever, summed up Blamey’s character: “He possessed a mind cultured far above the average, widely informed, alert and prehensile. He had an infinite capacity for taking pains.” Monash also found him to be not unlike himself: “a ‘work and burst man'” who would “slave for long hours, then drive off for a night in Amiens”. (In matters of the flesh, Quetta had converted Blamey from puritan to cavalier.) Blamey, too, was an ambitious outsider. The official historian Bean sensed “a bad man to cross” who had “few close friends”.

   After the war and work as the military attaché in London – “a sort of commercial traveller in military affairs” – Blamey became in 1925 Victoria’s chief of police (£1500 p.a.). A month later, his badge was found in a brothel, though it was ascertained that Blamey himself was elsewhere at the time. The reports relating to this grubby affair have long been destroyed and Horner can only say that we will never know whether he was covering for a mate or framed by enemies in the force. Blamey introduced necessary reforms and was knighted in 1935. These were tough times for him. His elder son, a pilot in the Royal Australian Air Force, died in a crash in 1932; his invalid wife died in 1935; and a year later – when Blamey was caught lying to a royal commission in a vain attempt to protect the reputations of two women inadvertently involved in a police operation – the new Labor government forced his resignation.

   Sidelined at age 52, he was reduced to occupying his time with citizen-soldiering and occasional journalism. The coming war and Menzies’ rise to power rescued him. Recognising in Blamey the “power of command” (though the journalist and later war correspondent Chester Wilmot thought his “reputation of being a crook” would impair it), Menzies appointed Blamey first to organise mobilisation and then to command the 6th Division and the Second Australian Imperial Force (AIF). In 1939 Blamey married a Melbourne fashion artist twenty years his junior.
   Blamey went to war with a charter which guaranteed the integrity and autonomy of the national force, and his most demanding task in the Middle East proved to be keeping the 2nd AIF together, constantly resisting the attempted depredations of the British high command. He stood up to Wavell and Auchinleck over Tobruk and to ‘Jumbo’ Wilson over Syria, becoming as a result, in his own words, “the most hated man in the Middle East”. Only in Greece did he command in the field. There, in a campaign ill-fated from the start, he showed commendable foresight in surveying evacuation beaches on the way in, but fell out with his chief of staff, Rowell (who said he was “incompetent”, “completely broken” and issuing “garbled orders”), Bridgeford (who thought him “a coward” for diving ignominiously into slit trenches) and Vasey (who wrote that he “lost a terrible amount of caste” by evacuating his surviving son, an artillery major, in a plane reserved for generals). Further, Blamey ducked and weaved in the planning stages of the campaign, allowing Menzies to believe that he approved of British intentions while leaving room for denial should the need arise.

   To appease Australia for the Greek disaster, the British made Blamey deputy commander-in-chief in the Middle East and he became a full general. Though really “a fifth wheel on the coach”, his advice was valued by Wavell, who told Casey he was “probably the best soldier in the Middle East” and by Auchinleck, who thought him “a tough old boy with plenty of commonsense”. Horner’s well-founded judgment is that through “determination, toughness and sheer bloody mindedness” Blamey used the Middle Eastern stage to establish the 2nd AIF as a competent national force. His finest moment was arranging the relief of the 9th Division in Tobruk; his worst, the political, military and personal wobbling during the Greek campaign. Had Blamey not taken on himself responsibility for doing two jobs – field command and overall AIF command – his grip in Greece might have been surer and his reputation less blighted, but as Horner says the military outcome would not have been any different.

   Back in Australia for consultations on the eve of Pearl Harbor, Blamey chastised his complacent fellow countrymen in a newspaper interview: the “apathy… sickens me”. But Japan’s southward thrust soon vindicated him and he was given a “blank cheque” by the panicking Curtin government to do all possible to defend Australia. Thus he became the most powerful Australian soldier ever, commanding at the front and administering at the rear.

   By April 1942 ‘Magic’ intelligence decrypts showed that Japan did not intend to invade Australia. Consequently, as commander of Allied land forces Blamey decided, with the Supreme Commander (US General MacArthur), that it was expedient to hold back the 7th Division in Port Moresby and instead to commit raw militia battalions to the fighting on the Kokoda Track. He clearly miscalculated the public mood. A frightened cabinet, backed by a MacArthur who was now looking for a scapegoat, sent Blamey to assume personal control. As Jack Beasley (Minister for Supply and Development) put it: “Moresby is going to fall. Send Blamey up there and let him fall with it.” Fighting for his professional life, Blamey found not one scapegoat but three, sacking in succession Rowell, Potts and Allen, and also removing Chester Wilmot for good measure. “Like all crafty gangsters”, Rowell remarked, “he got in his blow first”. At this time, Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Honner, commander of the 39th Battalion, the “ragged, bloody heroes” of Kokoda, visited Blamey and recalled: “He didn’t know who I was. I had been his commander of the Australian forces opposing the Japs. He didn’t know. He didn’t care.” Soon afterwards, Blamey accused the 2/16th Battalion to their faces of “running away” like “rabbits”. None of this made military sense – these were “the men who saved Australia despite your [Blamey’s] mistakes”, their padre said. But, as Horner demonstrates, it made political sense: Blamey’s ruthless tactics satisfied MacArthur’s, the politicians’ and the public’s need for explanations, and by so doing, Blamey engineered his own survival.

   After the Kokoda and Buna-Gona battles, MacArthur bypassed Blamey as his deputy by appointing special US task forces directly under himself. This left Blamey to command Australian troops, with US air and naval support, in the arduous but well-executed and successful fighting in the Huon Peninsula and later campaigns in New Guinea. From early in 1944, however, Blamey manoeuvred for the command of a projected British Commonwealth combined force of twelve divisions that was to assist the Americans in the conquest of Japan. But Curtin and MacArthur vetoed the idea. Instead, he waged aggressive “mopping up” operations in Bougainville and the assault on Borneo, the so-called “unnecessary war”. Horner shows the operations to have been government-approved and aimed at strengthening Australia’s hand in the peace negotiations rather than, as some say, ordered mainly for Blamey’s self-aggrandisement.
   With Allied victory guaranteed, Blamey ended his war in frustration, embroiled in internecine fighting with the Defence Department bureaucracy and increasingly out of favour with the government. The generals he had perceived as rivals and marginalised (Bennett, Lavarack and Robertson) intrigued against him and his troops sometimes openly taunted him, booing and crying out “Get back to your brothels, Blamey!” Blamey’s chief protector Curtin died, and the new Prime Minister, Chifley (once described by Blamey as a “slow-thinking churl” who “hates nothing so much as a soldier”) backed Blamey’s political enemies, Army ministers Forde and Fraser. For a time it was uncertain whether Blamey would see out the war in office. He just managed it.

   Horner is fairly candid about Blamey’s imperfections – his political vindictiveness and favouritism; his grasping materialism and overweening ambition; his tawdry sex life; his propensity to thumb his nose at public opinion; and his harsh, authoritarian politics. He points out, for example, how Blamey once faked claims to collect overseas allowances and notes Kenneth Slessor’s disgust at finding the commander of the AIF “jazzing fatuously with a blowsy Egyptian girl” in a Cairo night club. But Horner seems unwilling to examine fully the more unsavoury aspects of Blamey’s character. Was Blamey paid a dual salary for his dual command and administrative roles? We suspect so, but are not told. Horner also draws a veil over the contents of Shedden’s lengthy report into Blamey’s flagrant sexual and alcoholic indiscretions while travelling with Curtin’s official party to Washington and London in mid-1944. Nor does Horner fully run to ground Wilmot’s allegations that Blamey was “on the take” over a number of military contracts. One commentator has written perceptively that it was not Blamey’s private life itself that was so worrying, but rather that it was so manifestly not private. Horner does not attempt to explain what it was about Blamey’s character than made him flaunt his boozing, womanising and cronyism. Horner follows Blamey in choosing to pigeon-hole all of this as only a public relations problem, unfortunate, but ultimately irrelevant to the main issue. For Horner, it is enough to conclude that Blamey may not have been loved, or even admired, but he was respected and feared.

   Be all this as it may, Horner certainly takes the measure of the military man. He says Blamey was one of the very few national commanders to serve from the beginning of the war to the end. Guarding “the fate of the nation”, he saw Australia through its greatest military crisis when Japan threatened to invade in 1942. Further, Blamey presided over the expansion of Australia’s forces to nearly a million men and women. He successfully managed the relationships with our British and American allies. Arguably, his ruthless treatment of subordinates paid off both in his own and in the national interest. He may have faltered in Greece and on Kokoda, but the machine he fashioned contributed significantly to the Allied victory. According to Horner, others were better field commanders, but no other among the Australians had his all-round skills as politician, administrator and logistician. Blamey climbed to administrative and political heights never essayed by Monash. He certainly did more for Australia than his men ever knew or ever told us, their children. Just before Blamey’s death in 1951 Menzies recognised his achievement by making him a field marshal. Blamey is still the only Australian ever to have reached that rank.

   Horner’s is a compelling case for Blamey’s irrefutable achievements, and we are greatly in his debt. But one senses remaining dark corners in Blamey’s character and career that would reward further probing. Moreover, one still suspects that Blamey too often devoted too much of his considerable energies to outwitting imagined rivals at the expense of focussing on victory in the war. To what extent did he win his field marshal’s baton by dint of merely having survived for so long at the top? When someone puts an equally compelling case for the prosecution we shall be even closer to resolving the Blamey enigma.

5. 

   Derek Cameron on September 1, 2010 at 11:55 am

   Major General Gordon Maitland’s 2005 Blamey Oration was an attempt to redress what he believed had been the unfair denigration of the reputation of Sir Thomas Blamey as Commander in Chief of the Australian Army in World War Two. In particular, the general cited Rowell’s autobiography as being designed to bring Blamey down; the failure of modern day historians to test its contentions against the evidence; a hostile press; disloyal senior officers intriguing against him; an interfering buraucracy; a Curtin “government of novices” [one wonders how Maitland rates Menzies and the UAP] which surrendered Australian sovereignty to the US; and the intrigues of MacArthur, the American Caesar, as playing a role in this sullying of Blamey’s reputation.

   Two points should be made at the outset. The first is that Blamey’s overall record is not the concern of this writer. Secondly, despite Mailand’s contention to the contrary, historians have not glossed over Blamey’s achievements to concentrate on his shortcomings. Paul Ham, for example, is fulsome in his praise of Blamey as a military administrator and recognises also his considerable achievements in preserving the integrity of the Second AIF under British pressure in the Middle East. It is his performance in the Papuan campaign which is the litmus test of Blamey as commander and man for this writer, for modern historians and indeed for most Australians who are in any way informed about those critical events in our history.

   Maitland’s central thesis seems to that “Generals operate in a complex political environment under unique stresses” which cannot be appreciated until one has experienced it. This is a contention that cannot be tested except by that tiny minority of soldiers who have experienced senior command. What can be argued with, however, is the assumption implicit in Maitland’s analysis that this somehow then frees this group from being subjected to the same standards of judgement which are usually applied to ordinary mortals.

   Further, some statements made in Maitland’s article would seem to fall into the same errors for which he castigates recent historians of the campaign, namely (at best) a failure to test assertions against the evidence and (at worst) viewing the past with an already convinced mind. Three will suffice as examples:

   ” Everyone respected his judgements; they trusted him, so that there was wholehearted support for his plans.”;

   “Blamey seemed to be the only one to realise that MacArthur had no interest in Australia’s future, only in his own.”;

   “Indeed, soldiers had a lot to be grateful to Blamey for, as his consideration for them was outstanding.”

   The men who stood on the parade ground at Koitaki or who hurled themselves at entrenched Japanese at the Beachheads would at least have been able to mount a dissident case.

   Specifically, Colonel Tracey’s article on the sackings of Rowell, Potts and Allen in the Papuan campaign suggests that they were complex developments, made for militarily justifiable reasons. I have argued in return that such a view glosses over the real truth, which is that Blamey was responsible and that his only motivation was to save his professional career by “energising the situation.”

   Resolving this conflict of views is difficult, if not impossible; and, perhaps fittingly, Blamey will remain a figure whose role will be debated as long as interest in the campaign exists.

   For now, the best we may be able to do is turn to Bridge’s review of Horner’s biography of Blamey, since Maitland does not lump Horner with other historians, describing him as eminent. What was Horner’s assessment of the sackings (and by implication, the conduct of operations throughout the Papuan campaign of 1942-43)?

   To quote Bridge:

   “Fighting for his professional life, Blamey found not one scapegoat but three, sacking in succession Rowell, Potts and Allen, and also removing Chester Wilmot for good measure….. Soon afterwards, Blamey accused the 2/16th Battalion to their faces of “running away” like “rabbits”. None of this made military sense – these were “the men who saved Australia despite your [Blamey’s] mistakes”, their padre said. But, as Horner demonstrates, it made political sense: Blamey’s ruthless tactics satisfied MacArthur’s, the politicians’ and the public’s need for explanations, and by so doing, Blamey engineered his own survival.”

   If this assessment is good enough for David Horner (and there is no more expert source on Australian military history) it’s good enough for me.

   Defending Blamey’s role in Papua, and his ruthless sacking of three competent military commanders for his own ends, is opening an attack from a very insecure base.

6. 

   Lyn Dale on October 5, 2010 at 8:56 am

   My father, Pte John Murray (Cobber) Kane was one of the men of the 2/16 battalion . He was not at Koitaki to witness Blamey’s infamous speech as by then he had been wounded and with others of his company, cut off behind enemy lines for 10 days and then evacuated to Australia where he spent the next 3 months in hospital recuperating. He and his mates had nothing but contempt for Blamey. They deeply respected Brigadier Potts who was an inspirational leader. They would have followed him into hell and they did.

7. 

   kpix on November 5, 2010 at 8:06 pm

   A good article which I think reflects on the importance of the difficult terrain and communications and their impact on command and control. I have always found it difficult (having stood on the ground) to understand why Potts at Brigade Hill, who did have some troops in reserve at Menari did not adequately protect his line of communication / line of withdrawl as this such a fundemental concept. I think in fairness there was a significat problem with experience in the Australian Army at the time in operations on a narrow front and without flanking units, particularly in the context of a withdrawl. Curtin and his cabinet were remarkable for their lack of experience, many among them having done their best as trade unionist to undermine the war effort during WWI. Much of this was underpinned by the Irish-Catholic issues during 1916. Blamey and Curtin were extremely different animals, in many respects natural ememies, forced together in a relationship that neither would have chosen. An interesting, complex moment in time. Many thanks for the article.

8. 

   average Jjoe on May 3, 2021 at 2:32 pm

   From my limited reading on the subject the author gets it pretty much right in defending Blamey.

   Who else in the Australian army but Blamey could have handled MacArthur in 1942 and 1943? People need to understand that while Australia was very lucky to have MacArthur and the enormous military resources that flowed from having him in Australia, MacArthur himself wanted nothing more than to be in Washington directing the war. But MacArthur wasn’t wanted in Washington, by either President Roosevelt or the highest military commanders in the US (Leahy, Marshall and King), so in Australia he stayed. It also needs to be understood that in the US, the public had a view of MacArthur as a military hero and this view was seen as critical to nurture because at that stage of the war, after the Pearl Habor attack and the loss of the Philippines the US had few military heroes in the eyes of the public and the press. And finally people need to understand, that despite some of the grandiose plans proposed by MacArthur (that could have easily cost many tens of thousands of Australian lives), MacArthur could be a very good commander once he was able (made) to understand the situation on the ground in a coming battle. Blamey was the only person who had the combination of intellect and understanding of human nature (read:cunning) to do this.

   I often think what would have happened if Brudenell White had not died in the air crash in 1940, Australia’s senior military man at that time. And I think Blamey would still have been appointed to his position of command of the Australian Army (read: the Australian Military point man with MacAurthur) and Brubenell White would have moved into an advisory role to the Australian Prime Minister (Curtin). A bit like Admiral Leahy was to President Roosevelt, a quite steadying hand for the President to get advice from and being nominally in charge of the US military. And the analogies with the situation in the US military don’t end there. In the US after the attack on Pearl Habor there was major upheaval in the US Navy command, which eventuated in the appointment of Admiral King to command of the US navy. And there is a legend that a reporter asked Admiral King why he thought President Franklin D. Roosevelt had picked him, and King responded, “when the shooting starts, they have to send for the sons of bitches.” And inspite of Admiral King being nominally subordinate to Admiral Leahy, make no mistake it was Admiral King that ran the US Navy in WW2. This may very well be applied to Australia and Blamey.

   And with Brigadier Potts, he was outflanked at Brigade Hill, admittedly by a brilliant military effort from the Japanese army, but he was still out flanked and it resulted in the loss of his only effective fighting battalion (the 2/27th, as the 2/16th and 2/14th had fought themselves into exhaustion with the previous engagements) at that point in the battle. I think this is a situation that is likely to endanger any Brigadiers command. Command in a fighting situation must be given to those who are best able to carry it out, it is not about being fair to those who hold it. Again it I think it is worth paralleling the situation in Australia with that in the US Navy’s Pacific command. Under Admiral Nimitz (probably the best military commander of the war in my humble opinion), who was in command of the US Navy’s Pacific theartre (reporting directly to Admiral King) naval commands were only being given to aggressive commanders who would take the fight up to the Japanese military at every reasonable opportunity. Those that were found wanting or whose judgement was questioned were replaced without much thought to being fair to the commander being replaced. This was a war.