“We are the eighth wonder of the world,” Patton says of the Third Army on March 19, congratulating himself on yet another success. “And I had to beg, lie and steal to get started.”

Patton’s forces capture the pivotal city of Koblenz, at the confluence of the Rhine and Moselle Rivers. He now has eight full divisions lined up along the western shore of the Rhine, the tank barrels aimed directly at the eastern bank.

All Patton needs is a place to cross.

*   *   *

The date is March 22, 1945. Two hours before midnight, under cover of darkness, a Third Army patrol paddles across the Rhine at Nierstein in flimsy wooden assault boats. The slap of their paddles stroking the swift waters goes unheard. They report back that no enemy troops are in the vicinity. When Patton receives the news, he immediately orders that bridging material be sent forward. By morning, hastily built pontoon bridges7 span the river, and an entire division of Patton’s army is soon across.

Patton calls Bradley, but instead of making the sort of bold pronouncement that would inform the Germans of his precise location, he sets aside his ego in a moment of caution.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m across,” Patton informs Bradley.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bradley responds. “You mean across the Rhine?”

“Sure I am. Sneaked a division over last night. But there are so few Krauts around here they don’t know it yet. So don’t make any announcement. We’ll keep it a secret until we see how it goes.”

It goes well—but only for a short time.

The sight of thousands of men marching across hastily built pontoon bridges is hard to conceal. The German air force discovers the Third Army’s encroachment later that day. Disregarding Allied air superiority, the few Luftwaffe Messerschmitt fighters that have survived thus far in the war patrol low above the Rhine, searching for signs of soldiers, vehicles, and supplies. The pilots radio back what they see, then harass the intruders by dropping down to treetop level to strafe the Americans with lethal rounds of machine-gun and cannon fire.

But the German pilots are too bold, and in their determination to throw back Patton’s invaders, all thirty-three Luftwaffe planes are blasted out of the sky by precision firing from the Third Army’s antiaircraft guns. The German pilots are so low that bailing out and parachuting to safety is not an option. The American soldiers continue their march across the swift blue waters of the Rhine, cheered throughout the day by the sight of enemy planes exploding all across the horizon and falling into the river with a mighty splash.

It is clear that the Americans no longer need to proceed under radio silence.

Patton once again phones Bradley, on March 23, eager to make history at his rival Montgomery’s expense. “Brad, for God’s sake, tell the world we’re across,” he barks into the receiver. Bradley will later remember that Patton’s already high voice “trebled” in happiness. “We knocked down thirty-three Krauts today when they came after our pontoon bridges. I want the world to know Third Army made it before Monty starts across.”

*   *   *

Patton’s swagger only increases the next day, as he takes his victorious celebration to a new level. He is driven to the front, close to where American troops pour across the Rhine at the small German town of Oppenheim. The broad, icy river is dull gray, reflecting the overcast morning sky.

Sergeant Mims eases Patton’s jeep onto the temporary bridge, taking care to align the wheels with the wooden planks. Patton has thought carefully about how he will mark the occasion of crossing the Rhine and has a very special plan in mind.

At the bank of the river, he orders his driver to stop. “Time out for a short halt,” he tells Sergeant Mims. Patton steps out of his jeep and walks along the wooden planks to the center of the bridge. “I have been looking forward to this for some time.”

Walking carefully to the edge of the swaying bridge, Patton instructs army photographers to look away. However, his aide Charles Codman will be allowed to take a photograph to preserve the moment for posterity. Patton unzips his fly, faces downriver, and relieves himself.

General George Patton making good on his ambition to “piss in the Rhine”

“I didn’t take a piss this morning when I got up so that I would have a full load,” he brags as he begins to urinate.8 Patton looks straight into the camera lens.

Upon reaching the far bank of the Rhine, Patton continues his celebration by once again stepping from his jeep and re-creating William the Conqueror’s arrival in England nearly nine centuries earlier. It was William, the legendary invader from the Norman region of France, who famously fell flat on his face while leaping from his boat as it kissed the English shoreline. “See,” he yelled to his men. “I have taken England with both hands.”

Patton falls to one knee and then plants his hands deeply into the German soil. “Thus,” Patton cries, “William the Conqueror,” in an allusion appreciated but not completely understood by some within earshot.

George S. Patton and his Third Army are now across the Rhine and prepared to invade the German heartland. Just as he did nearly two years ago at Messina, the ever-competitive Patton has defeated his military nemesis, British field marshal Bernard Law Montgomery.

Patton will take particular pride in boasting of this accomplishment: “Without benefit of aerial bombardment, ground smoke, artillery preparation and airborne assistance, the Third Army at 2200 hours, Thursday, 22nd March, 1945, crossed the Rhine River.

“The 21st Army Group was supposed to cross the Rhine on 24th March, 1945,” Patton will continue, “and in order to be ready for this ‘earthshaking event,’ Mr. Churchill wrote a speech congratulating Field Marshal Montgomery for his first ‘assault’ crossing over the Rhine River in modern history. The speech was recorded and through some error on the part of the British Broadcasting Corporation, was broadcast. In spite of the fact that the Third Army had been across the Rhine River for some thirty-six hours.”

*   *   *

Looking east, Patton just needs to find a way to beat the Russians into Berlin.

“We are now fairly started on that phase of the campaign which I hope will be the final one,” he writes to Eisenhower two days after crossing the Rhine. He couches his letter in respect, but his desire to remain in the fight is evident in the quiet demands of his conclusion.

“I know that Third Army will be in at the finish in the same decisive way that it has performed in all preliminary battle,” Patton reminds Eisenhower.

17

BERLIN, GERMANY

APRIL 1, 1945

NIGHT

Nobody stands as Adolf Hitler enters the conference room.

The Führer’s entire body quivers as he assumes his usual place before the war map table. Hitler’s hands shake, his head nods uncontrollably, and he is bent at the waist, too weak to stand upright. The distant thunder of Allied bombing shakes the concrete walls. Yet the Führer’s eyes shine brightly behind his rimless pale green spectacles, showing no fear as he gazes down at the current location of his armies. Most of them, however, are not real, though he is too deluded to know the truth. In his desperation to end the war on his terms, Hitler imagines nonexistent “ghost” divisions as he scrutinizes the map, and pictures thousands of Panzers in places where there are none at all.

Meanwhile, private conversation hums as if the Führer has never even entered the first-floor room. German officers and Hitler’s secretaries gossip and chitchat as if the most feared man in the world were not in their presence.1

An Allied bomb explodes nearby. Lights sway, flickering temporarily, then return to full strength. All talk ceases. The military officers know better than to appear afraid, while the secretaries train their eyes on Hitler, waiting for his response.