Free PATTON: A BIOGRAPHY by Alan Axelrod Page A

inner circle, rapid promotion—on the face of it, these were just what Patton had always hoped for. But, increasingly, he hated it all. Perhaps contemplating the antiaircraft guns over which he had command—but which never had to be fired—he confessed to Beatrice that he was “darned sick of my job” and that “I would trade jobs with almost any one for any thing.” 1
    So he started looking precisely for “any thing,” and what he soon found was a new, ugly, and utterly unproven weapon the British called the “tank.” When Colonel LeRoy Eltinge happened to ask him if he wanted to be a tank officer, Patton found himself answering yes. Then, after the fact, he talked the matter over with another officer, Colonel Frank McCoy, “who advised me to write a letter asking that in the event of Tanks being organized that my name be considered. I did so.” In this almost casual way, George S. Patton Jr. arrived at the service branch with which his name would be most intimately connected. He wrote to Pershing, presenting himself as qualified for tanks because their use was “analogous to the duty performed by cavalry in normal wars” and “I am a cavalryman.” Moreover, “I have always had a Troop which shot well so think that I am a good instructor in fire. It is stated that accurate fire is very necessary to good use of tanks.” Additionally, Patton cited his experience with gasoline engines and the use and repair of “Gas Automobiles,” his fluency in French (“so I could get information from the French Direct”), and his aggressive spirit and willingness to take chances. He closed by reminding Pershing of the shootout at San Miguelito: “I believe that I am the only American who has ever made an attack in a motor vehicle.” 2
    As an American tank service had yet to be inaugurated, Pershing held off responding directly to Patton’s letter, but instead asked him whether, after promotion to major (which would come on January 23, 1918), he wanted to continue on staff or command an infantry battalion. Patton responded instantly: he wanted to be with troops.
    In mid-October, Patton began to feel ill. Examining himself in the mirror, he noticed that his complexion had turned to yellow, and he promptly reported to the base hospital, where he was diagnosed with “jaundice catarrhal.” He was put into the same room as Colonel Fox Conner, who was recovering from surgery for “stoppage of the bowel.” A fine officer who was an early influence on Pershing as well as George C. Marshall and Dwight D. Eisenhower, Conner advised Patton to forget about tanks and try to become an infantry major. Patton agreed, but the very next night Colonel Eltinge came to visit, told him that an American tank school was going to be started at Langres on November 15, and asked Patton “would I take it. Inspite of my resolution to the contrary I said yes. But I kept discussing it pro and con with Col. F. Conner and again decided on Infantry.” 3 Patton left the hospital on November 3 and when he was ordered on November 10 to take charge of the tank school, he worried that he had made the wrong decision. Almost immediately, however, he reconciled himself to what he now deemed his “destiny.” Besides, the really important thing was not whether he had a command in infantry or tanks, but that he was no longer tied to Pershing’s coattails. Association with the commander of the American Expeditionary Force (AEF) had brought him a long way, but the time had come, Patton decided, for him to be seen making it on his own.
    As if to lend a hand to destiny, Patton mentally tallied the advantages of getting into tanks. First was exclusivity. The infantry had lots of majors.
    Patton would be the one and only major in tanks. Second was the civility of it all. Infantry in World War I was all about cold days and miserable nights in muddy trenches. Tankers fought only during attacks. In between these actions, they lived in the comfort of their warm,