Few American generals have left an imprint as profound as George S. Patton, Jr. Brilliant, enigmatic, and larger than life, Patton represented the warlike ethos of the U.S. Army during some of the most critical battles of the 20th century. To his men, he was both revered and feared, a man of unyielding will who drove results. To his country, he was a symbol of American determination in conflict, remembered as much for his victories as for the quick-tempered personality that often landed him in hot water.
Patton’s life began in San Gabriel, California, in 1885, when he was born into a profitable family with a centuries-long military heritage. His childhood was nourished on stories of ancestors who had fought in the Civil War, and he grew up with a nearly obsessive passion for warfare. He was not raised poor, but he had struggled with schoolwork, particularly reading and spelling—what nowadays would be diagnosed as dyslexia. However, his determination never wavered, and his love for military history became the cornerstone of the career that he would ultimately pursue.
After a brief time at the Virginia Military Institute, Patton was accepted into West Point. Though his studies were difficult, his persistence carried him through, and in 190,9 he graduated as a second lieutenant of cavalry. A year later, he married Beatrice Banning Ayer, whose family’s wealth and support would give him the stability to focus wholly on his military ambitions. From the beginning, his life in uniform was marked by drive and intensity.
In 1912, Patton raced in the modern pentathlon for America in the Stockholm Olympics, finishing a respectable fifth. He then designed the Model 1913 Cavalry Saber, and it came to be known as the “Patton Saber.” Sports, horses, fencing, and polo interested him, and he was engrossed in them with the same fervor he would later display on the battlefield. Injuries occurred regularly, but his appetite for risk and competitiveness were impossible to ignore.
His early exposure to warfare came in 1916 with the American expedition into Mexico under General John J. Pershing. Patton, on Pershing’s staff, led a motorized attack against Pancho Villa’s troops—the first motorized attack in United States military history. His piratical raid made him famous and associated his name with the new age of mechanized warfare. Within a year, America entered World War I, and Patton’s role would be enormously expanded.
Patton was the first officer detailed to the new Tank Corps in France. He plunged into work, creating training programs, writing tactics, and even creating uniforms. Not just an administrator, he went into action with his men, leading tanks in the Meuse-Argonne campaign. Shot by a machine gun, he refused evacuation until he had delivered his report, an act of valor that was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. This made him even more convinced during his lifetime that battles could be won by speed, firepower, and ferocity.
Between the wars, Patton emerged as the most outspoken advocate of armored warfare. He kept reading throughout, graduated from the Army War College in 1932, and rose steadily through the ranks. At the beginning of World War II, he had gained command of the 2nd Armored Division, perfectly positioned to implement his theories on the field.
Patton’s genius came to the forefront during the war. He oversaw the Desert Training Center in California, preparing American soldiers for the rigors of combat. In 1942, he commanded forces during the landings at Casablanca, and the following year his Seventh Army drove through Sicily with breathtaking speed. His campaign there showcased his ability to outmaneuver not only Axis defenders but also his Allied rivals.
But it was in France that Patton truly came into his own. In 1944, leading the Third Army, he began a breakneck push across the countryside, liberating town after town. His famous turnaround at the Battle of the Bulge, when he reversed his army to save the trapped 101st Airborne Division at Bastogne, is one of the greatest examples of logistics and combat common sense. His wire upon his capture of Trier summarized his aggressiveness: “Have captured Trier with two divisions. Do you wish me to restore it?
Patton’s leadership, however, was as controversial as it was successful. He was rough, occasionally abrupt, and insisted on his men experiencing as much hardship as himself. He had a quick temper and was stubborn, and he regularly clashed with superiors over tactics and demeanor. Stories of his adventures—such as driving a half-track to a prison to bail out two of his soldiers—circulated widely, adding to his reputation as a man who obeyed rules only when it suited him.
His appearance was also unforgettable. Patton never went anywhere without his ivory-handled pistols: a .45 Long Colt and a .357 Magnum Smith & Wesson. The general’s appearance, helmet glinting, pistols holstered at his hips, became legendary. He cultivated his image deliberately, believing that a general ought to look and act like a warrior to inspire his soldiers.
Patton did not die in battle but in an accident. Outside Mannheim, Germany, in December 1945, he was paralyzed in a car accident with severe spinal injury. Though he seemed hopeful for recovery, there were complications, and he died twelve days later. He was buried in Luxembourg among the very soldiers that he had led, his grave at the entrance of the cemetery as if he was still in command. His legacy lives on past books on history.
His posthumously published memoir, War as I Knew It, still influences. The 1970 film Patton, in which George C. Scott played the title role, won several Academy Awards and solidified his place in American mainstream popular culture. To this day, mention of his name evokes images of widening offensives, stern discipline, and the combative personality of a man predestined to lead. Even in death, General George S. Patton, Jr. remains the essence of a warrior who would never retreat, always going forward, always leading from the front.