The Soldiers' General: Bert Hoffmeister at War

Description of the book:

Self-doubt so plagued him that he suffered a nervous breakdown even before fighting his first combat action. But, by the end of the Second World War, Bert Hoffmeister had exorcised his anxieties, risen from Captain to Major-General, and won more awards than any Canadian officer in the war. Fighting from the invasion of Sicily in July 1943 to the final victory in Europe in May 1945, this native Vancouverite earned a reputation as a fearless commander on the battlefield – one who led from the front, one well loved by those he led. How did he do it?

The Soldiers’ General explains, in eloquent and accessible prose, how Hoffmeister conducted his business as a military commander. With an astute analytical eye, Delaney carefully dissects Hoffmeister’s numerous battles to reveal how he managed and how he led, how he directed and how he inspired. An exemplary leader, Hoffmeister stood out among his contemporaries, not so much for his technical ability to move the chess pieces well; there were plenty who could do that. Rather, Bert Hoffmeister was exceptional for his ability to get the chess pieces to move themselves.

An excerpt from, “Review of Delaney, Douglas E., The Soldiers’ General: Bert Hoffmeister at War.” By Geoffrey Hayes, H-Net Reviews. February, 2008:

It seems remarkable that Douglas E. Delaney, a professional soldier and fine historian, would argue that Bert Hoffmeister “was the most successful Canadian battlefield commander of the Second World War” (p. 3). That is a large claim, for Hoffmeister was not a professional soldier. Unlike his fellow divisional commanders, he did not learn his trade at Canada’s Royal Military College or in British staff courses. He joined the Seaforth Highlanders of Vancouver in 1927, partly for social reasons, as the militia unit offered few opportunities for real training. Instead, Delaney argues that Hoffmeister’s work in the forestry industry taught him a great deal about organization and leadership.

When the Seaforths left for overseas in December 1939, thirty-two-year-old Major Hoffmeister knew that he was not ready for war. Early in 1941, Hoffmeister was diagnosed with “hysteria” and was briefly hospitalized for treatment. In Delaney’s view, this crisis stemmed from his growing frustration with not having a chance to learn the technical side of his trade. Delaney offers a highly critical picture of the Canadian army’s time in England, arguing that it was saved by the steadying influence of British General Bernard Law Montgomery. After a staff course in 1942 helped him regain his confidence, Hoffmeister took command of the Seaforths, whose reputation had suffered under previous commanders. Delaney’s keen research details how Hoffmeister called on both his personal qualities and his growing technical competence to turn the unit around.

Battlefield command remains the harshest test of military leadership, and Hoffmeister proved his worth. After successfully leading the Seaforths in Sicily during the summer of 1943, Hoffmeister was promoted in Italy to command the next highest formation, a brigade. In both commands, he developed a reputation for leading from the front. In the awful fighting for the Italian city of Ortona in December 1943, Hoffmeister insisted, even when given a choice in the face of mounting casualties, that the battle be fought to the end. Three months later his reputation as a “fighter” helped him win the command of the 5th Canadian Armoured Division over more senior, professional soldiers (p. 120).

Wikipedia:

Major General Bertram Meryl Hoffmeister, OC, CB, CBE, DSO & Two Bars, ED (15 May 1907 – 4 December 1999) was a Canadian Army officer, businessman, and conservationist. He served with distinction during the last two years of the Second World War, becoming, in Jack Granatstein’s words, “the best Canadian fighting general of the war”, rising from captain and a company commander in 1939 to major general and commander of the 5th Canadian (Armoured) Division in 1944.

Born in Vancouver, British Columbia to parents Louis and Flora, Hoffmeister was a sales manager with the Canadian White Pine Co. Ltd. in Vancouver. He enlisted with the Non-Permanent Active Militia (NPAM, the Canadian Army Reserve Force) in 1927. He was promoted captain in 1934. After he was promoted to major, in 1939, he was made officer commanding a company of the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada, who went to England in 1939, the year the Second World War began, as part of Andrew McNaughton’s 1st Canadian Division.

An excerpt from, “The Soldiers’ General” pg. 69-70 (via Google Books): 

Hoffmeister’s uniqueness lay in his direction and control of the battle. His short, simple, verbal orders furnished enough detail to allow his subordinate command-ers to accomplish their tasks, but not so much detail as to stifle their initiative. In short, he told his commanders what to do, not how to do it.” As Bell-Irving com-mented: “T[he] performance [of "A" Company at Agira] depended entirely on absolute freedom of manoeuvre, freedom of time, and delegation of initiative to subordinate officers.”60 Hoffmeister realized that victories in battle, like victories in business, depended to a large degree on the performance of subordinates. At Agira, the key subordinate was Bell-Irving. Hoffmeister also made decisions quickly. Not all his tactical decisions had the desired effect – the failure of “B” and “C” Companies to reinforce “Grizzly,” for example – but Hoffmeister’s penchant for being well forward allowed him to assess the situation as it developed and take rapid action. In other words, he did not wait for information to come to him before making a key tactical decision; he went to it. This proved all the more cru-cial when communications failed. Quicker decisions translated into quicker ac-tions. He was a technically sound battlefield manager.

Still, the inevitable question must be asked: What made soldiers fight for thirty-six uninterrupted hours and do extraordinary things? There were many factors: group cohesion, a soldier’s aversion to letting down his comrades, and the state of individual training among them. But the very human connection between the leader and the led was also crucial. Consider the case of Corporal Denis Meade, one of Hoffmeister’s radio operators during the Battle of Agira. When communications failed at a critical juncture in the battle, on his own initiative and un-der mortar fire, Meade set up his radio on a high feature between Hoffmeister’s headquarters and the companies that were out of radio contact. From there, he relayed messages between parties that could speak to him, but not to each other. At one point, after Meade had re-established communications with Bell-Irving’s fatigued force on “Grizzly,” Hoffmeister joined Meade in his exposed position so that he could speak directly to the commander of the isolated company. Realiz-ing that the young corporal was alone and scared, Hoffmeister assured Meade that he would send someone forward to stay with him, which he later did. Then, before leaving the radio relay position, Hoffmeister thanked the soldier for his efforts. This affected Meade profoundly. When asked why he took the action that earned him the Military Medal, Meade’s response was simple and heartfelt: “I didn’t want to let him down.” That was the key to Hoffmeister’s success as a battalion com-mander; he made ordinary people do extraordinary things – “out there where the shells are falling.”