Chester W. Nimitz

"In World War II, Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz commanded thousands of aircraft and millions of men, amounting to more military power than had been wielded by all the commanders in all previous wars. The operations he directed and, to a large extent, devised involved projecting across the Pacific Ocean forces that blasted Japan and defeated an enormously expanded Japanese empire."

"In actual practice much of the Pacific war was devised by Admirals King and Nimitz. They were thus thrown into the closest cooperation, though most of the time they were far apart geographically. They maintained a constant dialogue in the form of radio dispatches, often several a day, letters, exchanges of representatives, and periodic meetings, usually in the Federal Building, San Francisco, King flying there from Washington and Nimitz from his headquarters in the Pacific. Though Admiral King's tone in communicating with Nimitz was occasionally acerbic, as was his nature, it is clear that the two commanders greatly respected each other. At the end of the war, King recommended Nimitz to be his successor as Chief of Naval Operations. Although their styles were in sharp contrast, King and Nimitz were more alike than different. Simplicity and directness were the keynotes of their characters. They were both dedicated to their country and to the Navy, though King's interests were more narrowly naval. Both were men of integrity and keen intelligence, and both were born strategists and organizers, with a genius for clarifying and simplifying and a jaundiced eye for the useless complications and waste emotion. Their chief difference lay in their attitudes toward their fellow human beings. King had little of Nimitz's understanding of, and empathy for, people. Said one of King's wartime associates, "Every great man has his blind spot, and his was personnel." King went to great lengths to draw into his command the sort of men he wanted and to eliminate those he did not. The results were not always fortunate. Several cases of his placing the wrong man in the wrong spot for the wrong reasons could be cited."

"On the morning of the 11th, Admirals Leahy, King, and Nimitz went to the White House to get the President's approval for the Joint Chiefs' strategic plan and for the command arrangements in the Southwest Pacific. Roosevelt received them in the Oval Office. He was obviously not well. His face was ashen and his hands trembled. Yet he smiled and turned on the Roosevelt charm for his visitors. He listened with attention to the briefing and approved the strategy. He said he was glad to see that the drives were directed toward the China coast, for he was determined to keep China in the war. Roosevelt noted that the plan did not carry through to the actual overthrow of the enemy and reminded his callers that in the Pacific war his objective was the defeat of Japan as soon as the Allies had enough forces. With regard to Manus, Roosevelt said he did not know exactly where it was and it was a matter for the Joint Chiefs to handle. Lunch was served in the office, and afterward Roosevelt brought out a packet of enormous cigars, very dark in color, that Prime Minister Churchill had accidentally left in the White House. The President offered them around, but all his guests, like himself, were cigarette-smokers. Admiral Nimitz said, however, that he'd like to take one to his housemate, Dr. Anderson, who smoke cigars. He'd have the doctor keep it for some special occasion. The President began asking irrelevant questions and making random comments. He was probably getting tired. He asked Nimitz why, after the daring raid on Truk, he had sent his carriers to raid the Marianas. Since Roosevelt prided himself on keeping abreast of the progress of the war, he obviously knew the answer. The question provided an opportunity for Nimitz to end the visit on a light note. Grinning, he said the question reminded him of the case of the elderly, fat hypochondriac who wanted to have his appendix removed. Because of his age and obesity, no local surgeon was willing to perform the operation. At last the hypochondriac obtained the services of an eminent surgeon from out of town, and the appendectomy took place. When he regained consciousness, the patient, anxious about the operation, sent for the surgeon and asked about his condition. "You're doing fine," said the surgeon. "But, doctor," the patient said, "there's something I don't understand, I have a terrible sore throat which I didn't have when I entered the hospital. What causes that?" "Well," said the doctor, "I'll tell you. In view of the circumstances, your case was a very special one, as you know. A big group of my colleagues came to watch the operation. When it was over they gave me such a round of applause that I removed your tonsils as an encore." "So you see, Mr. President," said Nimitz, "that was the way it was. We just hit Tinian and Saipan for an encore." Roosevelt threw back his head and laughed, and the visit was at an end."

"Nimitz considered the atomic bomb somehow indecent, certainly not a legitimate form of warfare."

"As he prepared to leave office, Admiral Nimitz was sick at heart to see the national defense being endangered by political considerations- for such appeared to him to be the case. He was almost equally disturbed by an apparent change in the character of the U.S. Navy. He had expected that in wartime, with the great influx of reservists, the Navy would undergo change. But somehow he expected that, after the war, it would again become the almost intimate association of friends he had known in, say, his Augusta days. He gradually realized that, so far as he was concerned, the Old Navy had gone forever. The Navy Department seemed to him now less like an association than like a corporation. In his own class of 1905, 144 midshipmen had been graduated. Even the immediate prewar classes never produced as many as 500 graduates. By 1947 the Naval Academy was turning out graduates by the thousand, and to these was added an increasing influx of officers from the NROTCs. The Navy was acquiring more potential commanders than there were ships to command. Nimitz, walking the corridors of the Navy Department building, was continually encountering officers he had never seen before. Above all, Nimitz was tired. For six years he had been carrying heavy burdens and had had no leave to speak of. There had been times when he regretted and rather resented Secretary Forrestal's having cut his tenure as Chief of Naval Operations from the usual four years to two. But, as December 1947 approached, he could hardly wait to lay down his burdens and get out of Washington."

"Among the assets the United States could count was one which Nimitz would never dream of listing- the man himself. Neither President Franklin D. Roosevelt nor Secretary Knox ever served his country better than when they passed over an impressive seniority list to select this gentle, courtly and highly respected Texan to command the U.S. Pacific Fleet in a desperate hour. Nimitz became a rear admiral in 1938, and had served as chief of the Bureau of Navigation in Navy Headquarters since June 15, 1939. There he gained a reputation for hard work, zealous attention to detail, efficient organization, strict conformity to official form, as well as mature and ethical judgments. He had hoped for a sea command, but perforce accepted another desk job with no complaint."

"He graduated seventh- that mystic, lucky number- in the Annapolis Class of 1905. Already his classmates had him fairly well pegged. "Possesses that calm and steady-going Dutch way that gets to the bottom of things," read the Naval Academy's class book, Lucky Bag. He brought to his new command in Hawaii a solid if unspectacular background in submarines, battleships, cruisers, and Navy headquarters positions. Infinitely more important, he brought a mind, heart and spirit equal to the task. The thundering challenges, the crushing responsibilities of the Pacific command were to prove over the years that here was one of America's great men in the tradition of Robert E. Lee, whom he resembled in temperament, character, and ability."

"Superficially, Nimitz promised little in the way of picturesque "copy," for he was no exhibitionist and never raised his voice. If he had an eccentricity, it was a mild addiction to the homely pastime of pitching horseshoes. Nor did he look in the least like the popular conception of a gruff old sea dog. In fact, he appeared startlingly youthful, although his once incredibly blond hair had turned so white that some, behind his back, nicknamed him "Cottontail." He had a fresh, fine-textured complexion, and only the lines which experience and humor had etched at his nostrils and candid, steel-blue eyes, gave any hint of his fifty-seven years."

"Tell Nimitz to get the hell out to Pearl and stay there till the war is won."

"The Admiral was frequently the despair of his public relations men; it simply was not in him to make sweeping statements or to give out colorful interviews."

"While MacArthur was a forceful and colorful personality, a man of dramatic gestures and rhetoric, Nimitz was soft-spoken and relaxed, a team player, a leader by example rather than exhortation. "The Admiral was frequently the despair of his public relations men," wrote correspondent Robert Sherrod; "it simply was not in him to make sweeping statements or give out colorful interviews." An officer recalled that during tense moments, while awaiting word of the outcome of important operations or battles, Nimitz would joke with his staff "while he calmly practised on his pistol range or tossed ringers with horseshoes just outside his office." By contrast, at such moments MacArthur "would as a rule sit stonily in his chair, chewing on the stem of a corncob pipe.""

"There were contrasts as well in the two men's relations with Washington. According to one of King's biographers, Thomas Buell, the Chief of Naval Operations "never entirely trusted Nimitz's judgment," believing him to be too susceptible to bad advice and too ready to compromise with the Army. Throughout the war, King held frequent personal meetings with Nimitz, usually in San Francisco or Hawaii. By contrast, Marshall saw Army theater commanders in Europe infrequently, and MacArthur only once. King's numerous conferences with Nimitz may indeed "indicate the extent of King's anxiety to keep Nimitz under his thumb; they may also have reflected King's special interest in directing Pacific strategy."

"Nimitz and MacArthur differed radically in style of command. Whereas Nimitz came to Pearl Harbor virtually alone, retaining many of the members of Kimmel's staff, MacArthur brought with him from the Philippines a group of loyal and deferential- critics said sycophantic- subordinates who served as his key staff officers and assistants throughout the war. In the course of his campaigns MacArthur later developed other close personal relationships, with General Robert Eichelberger, Admiral Thomas Kinkaid, General George C. Kenney- even to some extent with Admiral Halsey- but the ascendancy of "the Bataan gang" was never challenged."

"Chester Nimitz, Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet, was a mild-mannered Texan promoted past 28 officers to take over after Pearl Harbor."

"Nimitz decided to apply for admission to West Point after talking to two young army officers who stopped at the Kerrville hotel. Informed by his congressman that no appointments were available at the Military Academy, he accepted the offer of one to the Naval Academy, of which until that moment he had never even heard."

"Nimitz came the academy in 1901, the year one of its texts provoked the notorious Sampson-Schley controversy. The book as the third volume of Edgar S. Maclay's History of the United States Navy, which covered the Spanish-American War. Maclay charged that Commodore Schley, who with Dewey and Sampson had emerged as one of the war's naval heroes, had bungled the search for Cervera and lost his nerve at the Battle of Santiago. The outraged Schley demanded that the work be withdrawn from the academy, which it was. Unfortunately, Schley did not stop there. He also demanded a court of inquiry to investigate his conduct throughout the entire war. This had the effect of polarizing naval opinion into two hostile camps, one of which agreed with Macley's interpretation and held that Sampson deserved all the credit for Santiago, while the other supported Schley. The court did not help matters by turning in a majority report condemning Schley and a majority report exonerating him. The publicity attracted by this unseemly squabble proved an embarrassment to the navy as a whole, and the episode seems to have left a lasting impression on the minds of the midshipmen of Nimitz's generation. The extreme tact most of them later observed in discussing the command decisions they made as admirals in World War Two proceeded in part from a determination to avoid any more Sampson-Schley controversies."

"Like King, Nimitz did well at the academy. A midshipman company commander, he graduated seventh in a class of 114 and pulled stroke on the varsity crew. And like King, he came close to disaster in his first-class year. At its beginning, his class was moved into the completed wing of Bancroft Hall. Nimitz was assigned a room on the third floor, from which he and his friends discovered a way to reach the roof of one of the wings still under construction. There they held moonlight beer parties, dropping their empties to explode with a gratifying crash on the blocks of granite piled below. One day it fell to Nimitz to pick up the beer from the back room of an obliging Maryland Avenue tailor. Also present at the tailor's was a distinguished-looking stranger in civilian clothes. At the next meeting of his navigation class, Nimitz was aghast to find the distinguished stranger at its head, this time in uniform. He was Lieutenant Commander Levi C. Bertolette, '87, who had just joined the academy staff. Certain that he was recognized, Nimitz awaited the summons that might herald his dismissal from the academy. It never came. Although it may have been simply that Bertolette did not place him, Nimitz was convinced that he had decided to give him another chance. years later, he commented, "This escapade taught me a lesson on how to behave for the remainder of my stay at the academy.""

"Nimitz did not take command of the fleet immediately. He spent his first week getting to know the lay of the land, with Pye often at his side. Rising each day at 6:30 a.m., he did some exercises, dressed, had breakfast, and arrived at the fleet headquarters at eight. The admiral had a phenomenally good memory for faces, and surprised old colleagues and subordinates by remembering their names. Lieutenant Commander Jasper Holmes had once served as an obscure junior engineering officer in a submarine division commanded by Nimitz. "He had little reason to remember me," wrote Holmes, but when the two men came face to face in a corridor, the new C-in-C not only greeted the younger man by name but evidently knew details of his subsequent service record."

"William Ewing, a reporter with the Honolulu Star-Bulletin, thought Nimitz seemed too "kindly," too "fatherly," and his khaki uniform seemed at least one size too large. "I thought Admiral Nimitz looked more like a retired banker than the kind of hell-for-leather leader we needed to pull us out of the worst hole the country had ever been in." The remark anticipated Samuel Eliot Morison's observation that "war correspondents who expected admirals to pound the table and bellow as in the movies, were apt to wonder 'Is this the man?'" It was true that Nimitz was not a cinematic naval hero in the mold of Nelson, Decatur or Jones. Like most American officers of his vintage, he had no experience of combat. He had never even seen a shot fired in anger. But the fleet did not need a show of blood and thunder after the beating it had suffered; there was plenty of the real stuff to go around. Nimitz was an executive, a strategist, and a leader. He was a gentleman of the old school. It was not in him to shout or abuse the furniture or let a word of profanity fall from his lips. Holmes took comfort in the admiral's "aura of calm confidence" while Edwin Layton thought "the incisive thrust of his questions... made it clear that he was steeled for the tremendous task he was to assume.""

"Nimitz crossed the dock to the headquarters and climbed the stairs to his office. He called the senior staff into the room. Having been stationed at Pearl Harbor before the Japanese attack, and having witnessed the craven recall of the Wake relief force, many of those officers carried an enervating burden of guilt, akin to a feeling of personal disgrace. They expected to be shunted off into dead-end billets for the remainder of the war, and many hoped only to be sent to sea, with a chance to redeem themselves in combat. Nimitz saw the problem clearly and understood what had to be done. "These were all fine men," he later said, "but they had just undergone a terrible shock, and it was my first duty to restore morale and to salvage these fine officers for future use, and this I proceeded to do." He spoke briefly, in a low tone. "I know most of you here," he said, "and I have complete confidence in your ability and judgment. We've taken a whale of a wallop, but I have no doubt of the ultimate outcome." December 7 would not be held against them. They were needed, and must remain, at their posts. He would listen to requests for seagoing assignments, but "certain key members of the staff I insist I want to keep." "In a very few minutes of speaking softly," one such officer recalled, "Admiral Nimitz convinced all hands of his ability to lead us out of this.""

"In the U.S. Navy of 1942, ever admiral knew every other admiral, at least by name and face. But King and Nimitz had never been close, either personally or professionally. King's overbearing domination drew a sharp contrast to Nimitz's soft-spoken collegiality, and if it had been up to the new COMINCH to name Kimmel's replacement, it is safe to assume he would have chosen someone else. In letters to his wife, the Texan confided that he and King had not yet established trust or rapport. He would have to tread lightly, for when the COMINCH lost confidence in a man, the consequences were felt immediately."

"Admiral Nimitz was a very perceptive officer who recognized logic when he saw it."