General Jacob Devers: World War II's Forgotten Four Star

Prologue

When appointed chief of staff in 1939, george c. Marshall faced a seemingly impossible task. Out of a small, second-rate peacetime army, he had to create what became an 8-million-man machine tasked with beating both the horror of Nazi Germany and the Japanese scourge of the Pacific. One of the first people to whom he turned is little remembered today. Out of a bag of good ideas, Jacob Devers created the Armored Force of sixteen armored divisions and a host of separate battalions that led to the retaking of Europe. As one of two American army group commanders under Dwight Eisenhower (the other was Omar Bradley), Devers led the invasion of southern France, commanding most of the French Army as well as the U.S. Seventh Army as they rampaged across southern Germany and into Austria.

While he worked for Eisenhower, the two did not get along well. Marshall had his hands full keeping both his star protégé and one of his first picks for general highly motivated and productive. Here is the story of Devers and his rise to four stars.

ONE

Early Years

Born on september 8, 1887, in the pennsylvania dutch town of York, Jacob Loucks Devers was the oldest of four children born to the very upright couple of Philip and Ella Kate Loucks. Philip Devers was a sturdy, good-natured Irishman, 5' 10" and 220 pounds or so, with a thick crop of curly hair, olive complexion, and a moustache. Oddly, the American who was to free Alsace descended on Ella Kate’s side from stock that hailed from Strasbourg. A heavyset semi-invalid, she needed domestic help to raise her three sons and a daughter. Altogether they were a gregarious and friendly family – a touch of the Irish in Pennsylvania Dutch country.

Father worked his way up to become a highly skilled watchmaker and partner in the well-regarded jewelry store, Stevens and Devers. My father had to put those damned watches together – he had to do everything right or it didn’t work. That impressed me, his son later commented.¹ Afterward, Philip became the only one in York who could repair the new high tech adding machines. As the junior partner in the jewelry business, he often had to work late hours. He was a Democrat active in civic affairs and a Thirty-Second Degree Mason. A boyhood friend remembered him as one of the great fathers I knew. He was a real companion to the boys.² Jacob’s sister remembered him as a man’s man: He had a horse and fancy pigeons which he trained. Father would come home from work for meals on the trolley car. For the boys he made the first skis in the area. He had a great deal of fun in him. Our childhood was happy and carefree.³ The children remembered spending a lot of time with their father. He helped them to build a coaster that the boys endlessly took down hills. In warm weather, they might all go to the Susquehanna River and picnic. Honesty, integrity, dependability, and hard work were family trademarks.

In the autumn of his life, Jacob remembered his family as close-knit, even as they grew older. Family life was a source of strength. My mother always kept us well stuffed with food and made us toe the mark and be on time. Mom was active at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church and remembered for her skill at baking. Another time, the general recalled, While she was warm and loving, there was always a cat-o-nine tails over the ice box. My mother never had to use it after the first time. Ella Kate disliked braggarts and admonished her children to be very reticent about their accomplishments. The Devers kids learned punctuality the hard way; be late for supper and you got none. From his mother, Jamie, as Jacob was called as a boy, inherited a dogged determination and self-reliance that were hard to shake, and a marked reticence that he overcame only with difficulty. Birthdays were a big deal, and Christmas was something to look forward to. We did have chores, but I knew we could not have had a happier life.

In those days before universal automotive transportation, many people walked. In the part of town where the Devers resided, the streets were lined with boardwalks. Late in the evening, some people returning from the downtown taverns would stagger by, smoking. Jacob’s mother would say, See that man smoking? Putting another nail in his coffin. And if she said that once, Devers recalled, she repeated it a thousand times. I have never forgotten it and never had any desire to smoke. Besides, to play sports I had to run fast and if I smoked, I couldn’t breathe. She counsels you when you really don’t appreciate it. But you need it. But she always had several cans filled with cookies which you could share with your friends.

Devers also remembered the family’s six mule teams that pulled great rock trucks used to fix the roads. The gravel came from quarries not too far from the house. We always seemed to meet our bills but sometimes they would pile up. In the jewelry business, most of your money came around Christmas, so we would catch up then. The farm provided much of our food including butter.

Jamie’s two brothers, Frank and Philip, were close in age. The housekeeper remembered the three boys were so close together and active that it was like looking after triplets. Catherine (Kit) was six years younger. Frank and Phil were such good students that they each skipped a grade. Frank’s placement put him in Jamie’s class. Phil was always the man of science and later became an inventor at GE Labs. He held a number of patents, including one for the ultraviolet lamp. Jamie was always the energetic, active one. Frank, a little less active, was the thoughtful one. He became a banker. The three boys were always competitive with each other. Kit would later run a small bookstore in York. Said Devers, We had a wonderful family life. That happy, carefree childhood induced him to set deep roots into the rich Pennsylvania soil, and he maintained close relationships in York until the end of his life. His parents lived out their lives there. Frank died at an early age in 1947; Philip passed away in 1969.

At the turn of the century, York was a budding, bustling manufacturing center situated along the Susquehanna River among the neat, well-cared-for farms in the rolling green hills that lie a hundred miles due west of Philadelphia. Small city life at the end of the nineteenth century is barely recognizable to those of us who dwell in the twenty-first. For the Devers children, grade school was only a few blocks away. Few residents journeyed outside of the county. Horse-drawn buggies and trolley cars were the principal transportation. It was a time when upright residents instilled the values of hard work, honesty, and good manners in their young and, expected them to be well-behaved.

The Devers family had a nice fairly new three-story brick home on West York Street (now known as Roosevelt Avenue). As was common at the time, the structure housed two modest, hardworking families. They had a horse and barn but not a lot of money. But no Devers ever wanted for the basics. Like his neighbors, Jamie grew up learning good manners and the value of hard work. Grandfather Jacob Loucks, the young Devers’s namesake, owned the York Machine Shop, which matured into the York Manufacturing Company, later a part of Borg Warner Company. After selling the machinery business, he bought a 191-acre farm on Bull Road. During harvest, Jamie would be pressed into service as a farm hand. He used my Park Street Gang to help pick potatoes, Devers recalled.⁴He paid me one half what he paid his laborers, and I did twice as much work as any one of them and I always resented it. When I was much younger, he bribed us by taking us to Bierman’s Ice Cream Parlor and giving us all the ice cream and cake we could eat, but we never were able to eat enough to pay for all the work we did picking those potatoes…. He taught us economics in a realistic way. Grandfather Loucks was an active Republican. Jamie used to listen over the fence to the political discussions of the adults. Still, he noted, I have ended up after all these years as a Republican but not because of my grandfather. Grandfather Devers was a kindly but upright man. He had a lively blacksmithing business and shoed a lot of the neighborhood horses. The general fondly remembered his paternal grandfather’s sense of humor. Grandfather Devers was a great man in his own right and influenced me greatly. He was six feet tall with a fine soldierly posture and the best blacksmith and horseshoer in town. He saw that I got to Sunday school every week by walking me a mile and a half. I always remember he had a keen sense of humor and that he was kindly and helpful to everybody in every sense of the word.

Nearby stone quarries would flood during spring runoff. Mom thought those old quarries were too dangerous, so the boys had to sneak off when they wanted to swim there in the summer or ice skate in the winter. We didn’t have much money. I remember going down and getting some of the woodworkers to make our bats and getting a shoemaker to cover our baseballs. He was a lame man and had been a ball player and taught me how to pitch. Somewhere along the line, Jamie learned to cook. When not tending to chores or schoolwork, the boys often were down along the Susquehanna River swimming, sailing, or catching shad. Surprisingly, Jamie was not a hunter. Sometimes they would canoe a mile down river to pick up supplies. All of this had a lot to do with building my physique. The discussions we heard by the river men were generally clean stories about the progress the country was making and of the tremendous advantages that the counties of York and Lancaster had because of the kind of soil and the kind of people who inhabited the area. When it was in season, the kids picked watercress and sold it for 10 cents a bunch. As they grew of age, his buddy recalled, We all pretty much liked the girls and we managed to spend as much time as we could with them. Jamie was popular with the fairer sex. Throughout his life, people commented on his pleasant, optimistic disposition.

Unlike his father, Jamie was slight of build, but he was well coordinated and showed athletic ability. His real passion was sports; they dominated his teen years and his outlook on life. From as far back as anyone could remember, he always seemed to wind up as the leader. Despite his demure size, only 120 pounds, he quarterbacked his high school football team. What he lacked in size, he more than made up in quick thinking and hard running. On the baseball diamond, he showed great enthusiasm and a willingness to play at whatever position the team required. He showed promise on the baseball diamond. Others who batted against him gave respect to his curve ball. Jamie’s house was the headquarters for the school team. They kept their equipment in the Devers’s barn. Even field hockey was given a try. But Jamie’s favorite was the basketball court, where he captained the team for both his junior and senior years. Today some might dub him an alpha male or Type A personality. He was always highly competitive, an attitude that colored his entire life. I was a poor loser; I didn’t like to lose. He looked to excel at almost anything he took on, including beating his brothers. But the competition remained good natured – at least most of the time:

I was the youngest of the group that played baseball. But I was first to be there and about the last to leave. I’d play whatever position the team needed, from catcher to pitcher. Broke my finger as catcher. I was captain of the basketball team and quarterbacked the football team. My father belonged to a club that gave him access to a cottage. Eleven miles down the river. We would go there for a couple of weeks and fish, the shad would come in a big run. Mr. Detweiler lived in a big house next door. He’d set out a net. I have seen hundreds of fish in the net on the beach. They would barrel them and haul them out with farm wagons to Columbia or Wrightsville.

Jamie was an earnest and serious student. Most everyone found him to be extremely intelligent though not bookish. His lessons were well prepared, and it was evident that he wanted to learn. Generally students of the period were respectful of their teachers. Jake described his student-teacher relationships as good and friendly. The public high school Jake attended taught about four hundred students in four grades. While grade school was only a few blocks from home, the high school was several miles away. From the beginning, Jamie excelled, as did his brothers. Jamie finished third in his class; Frank, who skipped a grade, wound up in Jamie’s class and finished second. In his own class, Philip also finished second. Jamie showed aptitude in mathematics, but languages, including English, were another matter. Later in life, Devers would come to feel that the Pennsylvania Dutch spoken around York limited his proficiency in English. Throughout his life, he was concerned that his writing might reveal this weakness so he avoided projects that required long, complex write-ups instead of short or verbal summaries. Overall, Jamie stood out as both popular and a leader among his peers. For three years he was voted class president, and from an early age, Jamie’s social antenna seemed particularly attuned to interaction with others.

Jamie’s father pushed him to be an engineer. In the Devers household, little thought was given to anything but doing one’s best. At the turn of the twentieth century, engineers were big men in Pennsylvania. Mines, oil wells, and railroads were all created by these can do learned men, and joining their ranks promised a big future for an ambitious young man. He was going to study engineering at Penn State or Lehigh University.

Many famous men had to compete fiercely for West Point appointments. By contrast, Devers was sought out by his local congressman. The politician wanted a student who had good grades in math and science and could survive the tough engineering regimen for which The Point had a reputation. As with many new cadets, a free college education was just too valuable for Jamie to pass up. According to the general himself, he became interested in attending West Point as a high school junior, but he did not pursue the entrance process at the time. It was sports that eventually sparked the inclination. Jamie was enthralled at the exploits of the All-American Charlie Daly, who led Army’s football team. I had been reading about West Point graduates and the Indian Wars out there. Kit Carson was a hero to me.

Nevertheless, Jamie and one of his best friends applied and were accepted to Lehigh, a fine Pennsylvania engineering college, and the local Republican congressman appointed the son of a prominent family to West Point. Jamie’s father, considered one of the town’s more important Democrats, inquired about an Annapolis appointment, but Jamie did not think he would take to the sea. Then the other West Point candidate turned down the appointment. It was the third time that this congressman had had trouble with cadet appointments. Previously, one of his appointments had failed the entrance exam, and another had washed out academically. The congressmen was about to retire, and he was frustrated with the record of Republican protégés. Despite being pushed by two families to appoint their sons, the congressman decided to appoint the son of a prominent Democrat – Jamie. He accepted. Prior to this, Jamie had never shown any interest in a military career or even playing army with his childhood buddies, but in this serendipitous moment, the army gained a youth that would become one of its four-star combat commanders. Said the congressman, One day when some historian writes a history book on what small hinges the doors of destiny open and shut on, the story of the accidental general may lead all the rest.⁵

Jamie continued to worry that his Pennsylvania Dutch so interfered with his ability to communicate in clear English that he might have trouble with the entrance exam. Before entering the military academy, he engaged one of his former teachers as a tutor. After worrying about, and studying for, the entrance exam, Jamie was ultimately accepted on the basis of his good academic record compiled in York’s public high school. After attending an Army football game, Jake informed Lehigh that he had settled on The Point. His high school yearbook predicted General Devers would emerge from this decision.

Jamie was nervous about attending West Point. I was the shy boy from York. His penmanship was atrocious, and he continued to worry that his reliance on the Pennsylvania Dutch of his youth would handicap him with better-spoken cadets who had been educated to express themselves in clear, proper English. Neither was he a gifted orator. When he arrived at the academy, he was so intimidated, he almost turned around and left. I was scared to death. But I’d been coached a little by older people. They’d say ‘Jake somebody else had done it, and if they did it, you can do it.’ So I always plunged in, and it worked. I got a lot of confidence built up in me that way. I think the real thing my parents gave me was a sense of justice. I’ve never had any trouble about what was right and what was wrong. I just knew that at West Point, you don’t fail. And if somebody else could get through that place, I had a good chance of doing it, provided I worked at it.

I was just a scared small town kid. I was awkward and had no poise. But the Army soon knocked all that out of me. As a first-year student, a plebe, Jamie’s slight stature and boyish looks did not engender respect from always demanding upperclassmen. His meager 140 pounds and pigeon-toed gate instantly made him stand out as a bit of an oddity both on the parade ground and in barracks. Plebe life and its hazing were hard on him. His smile got him in a lot of trouble. Upperclassmen thought that expression was a smirk, meant to be trifling, when that was not what Devers intended. The slight plebe from York did not realize the image he was projecting. In his retirement, the general recalled, I took an awful beating. I just went along as a plebe. Jamie picked up few demerits, but unlike some of his more adventuresome classmates, he was no prankster. He was known as a bit of a goodie two shoes who did not gamble or use coarse language, and seldom drank. He was just a young man from the wholesome Pennsylvania countryside who did not want to call attention to himself in barracks. From an early age, Devers wanted to achieve but not stand out for the wrong reason. There is little evidence from his cadet years that the proper, shy nice boy from small town Pennsylvania would mature into the self-confident, risk-taking man of action that would become his hallmark.

Despite his diminutive sized, he was a gifted athlete. As a school boy, he was a triple threat playing baseball, basketball, and football. Too small for the intercollegiate gridiron, he captained Army’s basketball team. Later he would return to West Point twice as an instructor and coach or athletic director. Jamie also tried his hand at lacrosse and polo, but Devers lettered on the baseball team. He is remembered as one of the best shortstops the U.S. Military Academy (USMA) ever had. Likewise, almost from the beginning, Devers exhibited an equestrian aptitude. Many said he was a better rider than classmates like George Patton, who rode extensively while growing up on his family’s California estate. At the beginning of the twentieth century, horsemanship was an important career skill for a young officer; Jamie’s way with horses proved a valuable adjunct to his early career.

A young tactical officer, Joseph Stilwell, who became famous as chief of staff to Chinese General Chiang Kaishek, was the basketball coach while Jamie captained that team. Devers reminisced, All the officers I admired had great integrity and were tough. In addition Stilwell had some sarcasm, which would later earn Stilwell the sobriquet Vinegar Joe.

Jamie had never been a good foreign language student. I pretty near got ‘found’ [flunked] in French, he later noted. Stilwell taught Spanish, so Devers transferred. I went from being the goat [last place cadet] in French to the top in Spanish…. On the basketball court he was just as sarcastic as he could be…. He could burn me out to no end and I always produced for some reason. I loved the man. He knew how to get the most out of me.⁶ Stilwell’s techniques led Devers to investigate psychology to try to understand the mechanics of human motivation. For the cadet who was not known for using the library, this was major motivation itself. Captain Stilwell had cadets to his quarters for dinner, especially athletes, and he and Devers became fast friends. Stilwell taught Devers how to handle cadets. I admired him greatly, Devers later recalled.⁷

On the banks of the Hudson, Jamie learned the elements of leadership with many of the luminaries of World War II. In later life, Devers recalled, USMA firmed the values that count – hard work, meeting deadlines, being accurate, telling the truth. He found the history and English courses, many taught by recent USMA graduates, to be lacking, but overall he enjoyed the military academy. Outside of sports, Jamie did not stand out in his class. Unless it was assigned, he didn’t read much, which proved a lifelong trait. While he had a quick mind, he never showed great interest in intellectual pursuits. Rather than inquiring deeply and looking for subtle differences, he was far more likely to survey the field to the horizon, quickly size up what he deemed important, and then take action. Religion was strong in Cadet Devers’s life, and he attended chapel every Sunday. Strong language for him was gol dang it. The 1909 USMA yearbook recorded that he had been a low-level ranker in his final year, a quartermaster sergeant. Said the book, he was an exceedingly earnest youth, and enthusiastic worker with puritanical views. Jamie was the model of a well-bred kaydet.

Upon commissioning in 1909, Devers (now Jake) chose the artillery. He was drawn to that arm’s mobility and fire power. Although not among the academic elite who chose the Corps of Engineers, artillery was a thinking man’s branch. In an era that was just accustoming itself to the typewriter and couldn’t imagine the computer, the ability to solve the geometry and physics required to turn a call for artillery support into precise firing instructions required a facility with mathematics.

Jake’s first assignment was with the 4th Mountain Artillery, a pack artillery outfit in the far West. Duty began with stables before breakfast. What you preach you have got to do.⁸ First tend to the horses, then the men, and finally the officers. At Vancouver barracks in Washington state, Jake’s sparse room in the bachelor officer’s building contained a chair, table, bed, and little else. But he had a single room to himself. Not permitted civilian clothes, the young second lieutenant went to Portland in uniform. Some young officers got into trouble over gambling debts, so Jake stayed away from poker, especially since he didn’t know the game. Mostly he was interested in his job, and had plenty of work on that post. After a short stay at the Vancouver barracks, the young artillery subaltern found himself in Fort D. A. Russell, a forlorn old cavalry post on the windswept Wyoming plains. Jake learned to handle mules and men as well as gunnery tables. Both man and beast required a steady hand, guided by a person with sensitivity to their needs.

In 1911, Cheyenne was still full of cowboys and Indians. There were enough rough and rowdy places to go but we didn’t go.⁹ Still, with little recreation, the men drank heavily. Jake, however, by contrast, almost became a teetotaler. Back then, there were lots of details, including KP (kitchen patrol), necessary to keep the post running. Most of the time, less than a full battery turned out for training. Bugles still punctuated the day. Added duties were common assignments for junior officers, and Jake’s was to serve as post communications officer with a focus on the rudimentary telephone system. That was high technology and something of a rarity in the far West before the Great War. Devers later remembered that the relatively simple switchboard was a constant problem. Showing some aptitude for things electrical and mechanical, he tinkered with it to keep people communicating. If he had stayed with his first collegiate choice, he might have earned a living as a passable engineer.

The 4th Mountain Artillery was made up of big tough men accustomed to lifting heavy weights and skinning mules. On pay day, they just disappeared. This was the West, and in Wyoming, it was still pretty wild. One of the older soldiers showed Jamie how to draw a holstered pistol with speed, which fascinated the young lieutenant. While it was quite a change from West Point, Devers had little difficulty making the transition from cadet to lieutenant. Without fanfare, he was the boss. He recalled, You had to train your solders how not to get kicked [by mules]. If they get kicked you have to train them to keep going if they can. This is the way you build a team. I learned a lot about life because we had to go in and get them straightened out.¹⁰

There were other social issues as well. We had 9th Cavalry [one of the famous Buffalo Solder units full of black troopers] at Fort Russell, Devers recalled, so we had to be very tactful. We had trouble with some soldiers from the South because in Wyoming, blacks could sit anywhere on the trolley. Had a little trouble with the black chaplain from the 9th who would get very worked up about this. We were going to live with them, and by golly we did. In Rome, do what the Romans do.¹¹

While out in Wyoming, Devers and the 4th Artillery made a 1,000-mile march from Cheyenne to southern Colorado and back. Most of the roads were little more than dirt tracks. The artillery formed up as a battalion of three 4-gun firing batteries and a headquarters (HQ) battery. Each battery had thirty-five mules and the battalion had three Quartermaster trains of fifty mules each. Mules should only carry 250 pounds apiece, but often the 4th Artillery overloaded them with 300–400-pound packs. Jake commanded all of these pack trains. With two hundred men to a battery, Devers had quite a task keeping the mules and mule skinners in line, especially for a young officer recently from West Point. Devers later recalled that they were a tough lot. Most of the men had had little education and came from the lower edges of society. The arduous trip took two months.

A typical march for this trip was twenty miles a day, five days a week, with Denver as an intermediate destination. Of course, the enlisted men walked while officers and senior noncommissioned officers (NCOs) rode horses. Care of feet and hooves was paramount. Devers learned the importance of proper shoes for both pack animals and men. After a few days on the trail, junior officers and NCOs often relinquished their mounts for several hours each day to give the most blistered men a little bit of relief. On the high plains and in the mountains, a part of the country called the empty quarter, cold permeated the camp each night. Fog shrouded the mornings; the men broke ice most sun rises. Several times, the 4th Artillery stopped and conducted live fire exercises that reverberated in the mountains. Jake’s battery commander was First Lieutenant Lesley McNair, with whom he would work for many years. They got to know each other and got along very well.

With little else to do in Wyoming, a post dance was an important social event. On the raw, isolated Wyoming plain, a young, well-turned-out Army officer was quite a catch, a ticket to escape the howling wind and see something of the world. Devers recalled that many of the young ladies in the area made it to post for social occasions. In 1911, the post commandant’s daughter came out from Washington to stay for a month. Devers first met her on the street in town. Soon, he noticed that she seemed to come by the post guardhouse when he was on duty. After dating Jake a few times, Georgie Hayes Lyon decided to stay for another month. Jake taught her how to ride. She was already a good skater, and they frequently skated together outside on the pond. By the time she was to return to Washington, the couple was formally engaged.

They married on 11 October 1911. Until her death, the pair remained close, supporting each other. Georgie was known to be a charming wife who easily made friends with other officers’ wives. Always ready to help out when an army family was having difficulty, she gained the reputation of an eloquent southern lady and had a huge impact on Jake’s life. She stayed abreast of current events, and the Devers’s dinner table was known for its lively conversation. Long after retirement, the general still began his letters My Love and closed with lots of love. Human emotion contains the foundation of much human behavior. Adoration by the Japanese of their emperor. Love of Mother Russia. Deep love as between two people like the Deverses. Even though it’s not quantifiable, never underestimate its fundamental influence as multiplied by millions of servicemen and their families.

In 1912, lieutenants lived modestly. Like most newlyweds, in the early days they had money problems; every nickel was important. Georgie recognized that a lot of sorrel grass graced their lawn, so she boiled and served it. The Deverses rode out to the dump to gather edible mushrooms. Little did Georgie know then that, in retirement, they would live in a fine house with a domestic staff. She was a great factor in Jake’s career. As an Army brat, Georgie knew what was expected of a young officer’s wife: a life of genteel poverty, a closed society of officers’ families on post. She was a gracious hostess. Unlike many officers’ wives, Georgie did not attempt to play politics in order to advance her husband’s career.

The Devers spent only a short time listening in Wyoming’s high plains. In 1912, Devers was assigned back to the military academy as an instructor. There, he taught mathematics and artillery to classes that contained many cadets that would rise to become senior generals in World War II’s European Theater of Operations (ETO). As baseball players, cadets Omar Bradley and Dwight Eisenhower served under Coach Devers. Bradley recalled that he saw a great deal of Devers, especially when he played plebe baseball, and was not favorably impressed with Devers.

Promotions were painfully slow for Devers. After seven years of commissioned service Devers made first lieutenant on April Fool’s Day 1916. He thought that if he was lucky, he might retire as a lieutenant colonel. While ambitious, he felt that the opportunity for fast promotion was less than slim.

In the classroom, every cadet had to recite every day, particularly in mathematics. Typically the instructor would write a problem on the board. Each cadet would take his place along a line of blackboards and work the problem he was assigned. Since grammar school, math had been Jake’s best and favorite subject. But he was concerned that he wasn’t sufficiently prepared to teach the subject at West Point. After all, he had no more formal instruction than passing the required courses to obtain his diploma and commission. A Colonel Echols was head of the mathematics department at the time. Typically, recent graduates who had done well returned as instructors. The colonel, recognizing the lack of depth in these teachers’ subject knowledge, gathered them together and had the budding instructors recite the work that they were to teach the cadets a few days later. By the end of Devers’s tour, Echols had rated the young instructor as excellent. General William Palmer remembered Devers while Palmer was a cadet: He was very highly regarded at West Point. In addition to teaching math, he was attached to the Artillery. He became the protégé of the commanding officer of the West Point artillery detachment, Colonel William P. Ennis.¹²

Devers’s four-year posting as an academy instructor ended in 1916. In Europe, World War I raged, and most professional officers readied themselves for the great battles that lay ahead. Adventuresome young men, like classmate George Patton, sought to join Black Jack Pershing down on the border of the American Southwest to chase Pancho Villa and his armed banditos back into Mexico. Instead, the young Devers requested a posting to the 9th Artillery at Schofield Barracks on Oahu.

Hawaii was comfortable duty, and assisting in the formation of the first motorized artillery broadened Devers’s knowledge. Medium artillery was just entering the American army. Formed from the 1st Artillery, the 9th had a battalion of 155mm guns and a battalion of 4.7-inch guns. As Devers recalled, Mediums were too big; we didn’t have any way to horse them. The 9th became the first tractor-drawn artillery in American service. Mobility is very important to the artillery, and it was the coming thing. So I was very enthusiastic about the assignment.¹³ The first tractors were slow and clumsy, often jackknifing while descending grades, creating accidents. Soon the army substituted four-wheel-drive trucks, brutes in their day. Such line batteries needed a lot of mechanics to handle the cantankerous, rough-hewn motorized equipment. I was very much for truck-drawn over draft animals, recalled Devers.¹⁴

At first he was just another officer with the regiment. Then, unusual circumstances led to his being designated as F Battery commander while still a first lieutenant, after only four months in the 9th Artillery. F Battery had essentially mutinied and lost its captain. Due to expansion pressures throughout the army, no other officers were assigned, so the Hawaiian battalion commander called in Devers: These are hard men. If I give you F Battery you will be new to the battery and the only officer there. I am not telling you what to do but look to your NCOs and see what the problem is. I’ll back you up 100%. If you need advice or help come to me. Devers willingly took on the assignment.

He discovered that the first sergeant was gambling with the men and had gotten many into debt. The mess sergeant also was doing a horrible job, and food being served was cold and unappetizing. The first thing Jake did was replace the first sergeant with a junior section sergeant. Then he called the battery together and promised that the food would improve. He replaced the mess sergeant with the chief cook. But that wasn’t enough. Devers had to be present during the preparation of every meal or something would go wrong. I got a lot of ideas from the men. When the battery showed skill at their drill and on my timeline, we would break and play baseball. Essentially, the less than fully seasoned first lieutenant was thrown into a cauldron of fire. That would have been a test for an experienced captain. But his leadership worked, and Devers learned much.¹⁵

At Schofield, Jake and Georgie had a nice house and help from a Chinese domestic. They were very happy in the islands. And soon they were three – Georgie delivered a baby girl named Frances.

While assigned to F Battery, Devers was also made judge advocate general – the legal officer. In those days, finding a trained lawyer out in the field was rare. The army held that any officer could perform as either prosecutor or defense counsel in even a general court martial. Devers was involved in about a dozen major cases. He also caught the duty of managing the officers’ club. This included the need to collect past-due bar bills from senior officers, many of whom were not fond of being reminded of their obligations. Jake learned how to manage these delicate interpersonal jams.

Officers as a group did not study war the way they do today, and Jake did not read deeply like his classmate Patton.¹⁶Hostilities in Europe expanded the army, bringing much welcomed promotions. The proud father pinned on captain’s bars on 15 May 1917 and a major’s oak leaf on 5 August of the same year.

When America declared its participation in World War I, Jake was ordered to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and the School of Fire there, which was turning into a major school for artillery. A new post recently built, Fort Sill was just coming into its own. Most of the instructors were raw, nowhere near the level they would attain in World War II. The youthful Major Devers was sent to be an instructor and the executive officer in the gunnery department. During the war and its immediate aftermath, Devers was promoted first to lieutenant colonel (30 July 1917) then colonel (24 October 1918). He was considered one of the school’s experts in virtually all phases of artillery and was called upon to troubleshoot many projects at the post. A senior officer on post at the time commented, Devers was very effective as a battalion commander. His professional knowledge was of the highest. He was recognized by his compatriots as an expert in artillery. He was a man of highest integrity and one of the most energetic officers.¹⁷ A subordinate recalled, He knew how to handle things in a simple, forthright manner. Everyone liked Jake.¹⁸ Recalled Devers himself, I didn’t have time to read [the manuals]. My instruction was more practical than theoretical. I liked Fort Sill and its way of life.¹⁹ For a while, Devers commanded two artillery regiments, the 14th Artillery and the 60th Artillery, a 155mm outfit that was being readied to be shipped to France when the war ended. Anyone who read the papers knew how important the big guns were in the battle of the trenches. But Jake developed a distaste for heavy artillery, decrying its lack of mobility and requirements for heavy maintenance and logistic support.

All three Devers brothers served as officers during World War I. Frank successfully completed officer’s training and achieved the rank of captain. Phil became a lieutenant in the Balloon Corps. During the Great War, both sides relied on balloons tethered just behind friendly lines to maintain visual observation of enemy movements along the front. Airplanes were armed with machine guns to counter the menace of observation balloons. During interviews conducted in the 1960s, Devers said he never volunteered to go to France. He claimed he wasn’t bothered about not seeing action in World War I. I knew more than the guys that had been in combat.²⁰ His sister, Kit, however, dismissed Jake’s recollections about not serving at the front: He hated the fact that he missed going overseas during the war and thought his military career was over.²¹ Right after the Great War, Jake was heard lamenting, I was left standing at the starting post.

TWO

The Interwar Years

In may 1919, while most soldiers were returning home, Devers was one of the few American officers sent to France to attend the French artillery school at Treves. Jake never tried to use his influence to get assignments but was happy with this one. When he went to France, he retained the rank of colonel, thereby outranking many officers who had outranked him before the war, causing a great deal of embarrassment.

The French conducted staff rides of former battlefields to point out practical lessons of field artillery employment, an approach Devers liked. The British officers didn’t impress him, but he got to know several French officers who were experts at their profession. Little did he know how much this background would help him during the world war that was to come. Unfortunately, the tour was unaccompanied, so Georgie and Frances stayed home with Georgie’s parents while her husband was abroad. Jake left France with a very favorable impression of the French Army.¹ After completing the French school, Jake served shortly with the Army of Occupation in Germany, returning to the United States in August.

After his return, Devers again was assigned to West Point as instructor of field artillery tactics, a post he filled until 1924. Upon arriving at the West Shore train station for West Point along the Hudson, Jake had reverted to his permanent rank of captain (following his various war-time promotions). His elevation to major would not become effective until 1 July 1920. He commanded a demonstration horse battery of two hundred men and five officers, armed with 155mm howitzers and 75mm guns. Jake knew both pieces well and personally gave cadets instruction. Again, because pulling the 155mm weapons was difficult for horses, Jake organized a complement of tractors, which also allowed his students to receive instruction in more contemporary artillery methods. Despite (or perhaps because of) what he had seen in France, Devers did not believe in trench warfare and favored mobile firepower in a war of maneuver.

Unlike both Dwight Eisenhower and George Patton, Devers did not immerse himself in the study of strategy or the reasons why men fight. While intelligent, he was not a deep thinker who pondered the intricacies of humans at war. His conversations and reminiscences were not laced with references to Carl von Clausewitz or examples of the great battles through history. Instead, they feature sports similes and analogies to the field of play: A football team has to use all eleven men in order to win.

A longtime subordinate recalled, I never did consider General Devers to be an intellectual giant, but he has sound judgment, a great sense of timing, tremendous energy and the enthusiasm and drive to get any job done. He is completely honest. No one could ever convince me that Jake Devers, however great the pressure, would submit to any wrong or dishonest act. He is a man of great compassion and sympathy for the under-dog.² While Devers headed the artillery section, Omar Bradley served West Point as a company tactical officer, providing guidance and an example for cadets. All of the instruction was in horse-drawn artillery. Major Devers was remembered as a meticulous instructor, with a keen interest in cadets, and an athletic enthusiast. Devers spent a lot of time on cadet athletics. Again, he didn’t use the library much.

The Devers family received good quarters at West Point. Georgie displayed her knack for gardening and helped with post committees, as many of the officers’ wives did. The Devers family usually had a couple of cats and at least one dog. As Frances showered her cats with attention, she picked up the nickname Cat Girl. Always they had horses. The family thought the army a fine life.

Unlike most officers promoted during the war, Douglas MacArthur retained his new pair of stars. He was assigned as superintendent at West Point. MacArthur, however, was upset that the academic course of instruction at the USMA was out of date. Despite intense resistance from old-line officers, MacArthur worked hard to bring instruction at the academy into the twentieth century. He did not involve himself with trivial concerns, instead concentrating on what was important. For instance, MacArthur initiated intramural athletics so that most of the corps benefited from participating in competitive sports. Jake admired this approach. He did not have a personal relationship with the superintendent but was in MacArthur’s office frequently. Early in this tour, he was called to the superintendent’s office. Instead of coming directly to the point, the general, pacing back and forth as was his custom, expounded on impending international problems. It was the most brilliant conversation I had listened to in a long time, Devers noted. Then the general handed Jake an inspector general report critical of the area maintained by the artillery detachment. MacArthur told Devers to clean it up. I will be down to inspect, said the superintendent. If you can’t come see me, just walk in here. Don’t tell the adjutant, he will only delay you.³ His direct, simple orders left an impression on Devers.

At another of his visits to the superintendent, Devers and MacArthur talked about the academy’s baseball season. MacArthur told Jake that he was in charge of winning it, plain and simple. Then they discussed a matter concerning the league West Point played in. Devers told the superintendent about a strong letter he was about to mail to the president of the Eastern Collegiate League in which West Point played. Devers commented that he might make enemies.

MacArthur responded, Well, it is the truth isn’t it?

Yes, sir

Devers, always tell the truth, then you can attack from there on. If you don’t tell all of it there, then you have to go back and rearrange everything. This way you get things moving.⁴

At a time when the military academy did not have an honor code, this statement made a big impression on Devers.⁵

In retirement, Devers recalled that both

MacArthur and [George] Marshall operated in more or less the same way. They gave you a job to do. They didn’t tell you how to do it. They expected it to be done in a hurry…. Everybody tried to build up that General Marshall and General MacArthur disliked each other. Well, I know they were in competition with each other to some extent, but I think those two men admired each other and they knew the abilities of the other. I don’t think that General Marshall ever crossed up General MacArthur and I don’t believe General MacArthur ever crossed up General Marshall.⁶

While not perfectly accurate, this assessment sums up Devers’s beliefs about the two men. They called me a Pollyanna but I always defended General MacArthur and his methods.

Despite Devers’s stint in Hawaii using clumsy tractors as prime artillery movers, Jake understood that the army had to learn how to move faster and shift fire with more agility. Oversized weapons like the 155mm howitzer were difficult to transport and even harder to emplace. Their gun tubes wore rapidly, introducing accuracy errors, and they were difficult to replace. You have to be flexible, said Devers. The first tractors used to replace horses to draw caissons also had their problems. They tended to get bogged down in the mud, jackknife, or get pushed over when going downhill by the weapons they were drawing. Devers knew that horses could not generate the required mobility, and that better all-wheel trucks had to be developed. As his career progressed, Jake was repeatedly involved in the development of artillery transport.

Throughout his early career, the officers that served with Devers noticed his energy level and his focused attention to detail. His enthusiasm was infectious. Known as a bright officer who could make all the pieces fit together, he was both a talented planner and a man who could get things done. Devers became expert at field artillery and was a recognized