Cold War

of objective reality. It had been George Kennan's telegram in February 1946

that helped to provide the intellectual basis for this frame of reference

by portraying the Soviet Union as "a political force committed fanatically"

to confrontation with the United States and domination of the world. It was

also George Kennan twenty years later who so searchingly criticized those

who insisted on seeing foreign policy as a battle of angels and devils,

heroes and blackguards. And ironically, it was Kennan yet again who

declared in the 1970s that "the image of a Stalinist Russia, poised and

yearning to attack the west, . . . was largely a product of the western

imagination."

But for more than a generation, that image would shape American life

and world politics. The price was astronomical—and perhaps— avoidable.

Chapter 2: The Cold War Chronology.

2.1 The War Years.

Whatever tensions existed before the war, conflicts over military and

diplomatic issues during the war proved sufficiently grave to cause

additional mistrust. Two countries that in the past had shared almost no

common ground now found themselves intimately tied to each other, with

little foundation of mutual confidence on which to build. The problems that

resulted clustered in two areas: (1) how much aid the West would provide to

alleviate the disproportionate burden borne by the Soviet Union in fighting

the war; and (2) how to resolve the dilemmas of making peace, occupying

conquered territory, and defining postwar responsibilities. Inevitably,

each issue became inextricably bound to the others, posing problems of

statecraft and good faith that perhaps went beyond the capacity of any

mortal to solve.

The central issue dividing the allies involved how much support the

United States and Britain would offer to mitigate, then relieve, the

devastation being sustained by the Soviet people. Stated bluntly, the

Soviet Union bore the massive share of Nazi aggression. The statistics

alone are overwhelming. Soviet deaths totaled more than 18 million during

the war—sixty times the three hundred thousand lives lost by the United

States. Seventy thousand Soviet villages were destroyed, $128 billion

dollars worth of property leveled to the ground. Leningrad, the crown jewel

of Russia's cities, symbolized the suffering experienced at the hands of

the Nazis. Filled with art and beautiful architecture, the former capital

of Russia came under siege by German armies almost immediately after the

invasion of the Soviet Union. When the attack began, the city boasted a

population of 3 million citizens. At the end, only 600,000 remained. There

was no food, no fuel, no hope. More than a million starved, and some

survived by resorting to cannibalism. Yet the city endured, the Nazis were

repelled, and the victory that came with survival helped launch the

campaign that would ultimately crush Hitler's tyranny.

Such suffering provided the backdrop for a bitter controversy over

whether the United States and Britain were doing enough to assume their own

just share of the fight. Roosevelt understood that Russia's battle was

America's. "The Russian armies are killing more Axis personnel and

destroying more Axis materiel," he wrote General Douglas MacArthur in 1942,

"than all the other twenty-five United Nations put together." As soon as

the Germans invaded Russia, the president ordered that lend-lease material

be made immediately available to the Soviet Union, instructing his personal

aide to get $22 million worth of supplies on their way by July 25—one month

after the German invasion. Roosevelt knew that, unless the Soviets were

helped quickly, they would be forced out of the war, leaving the United

States in an untenable position. "If [only] the Russians could hold the

Germans until October 1," the president said. At a Cabinet meeting early in

August, Roosevelt declared himself "sick and tired of hearing . . . what

was on order"; he wanted to hear only "what was on the water." Roosevelt's

commitment to lend-lease reflected his deep conviction that aid to the

Soviets was both the most effective way of combating German aggression and

the strongest means of building a basis of trust with Stalin in order to

facilitate postwar cooperation. "I do not want to be in the same position

as the English," Roosevelt told his Secretary of the Treasury in 1942. "The

English promised the Russians two divisions. They failed. They promised

them to help in the Caucasus. They failed. Every promise the English have

made to the Russians, they have fallen down on. . . . The only reason we

stand so well ... is that up to date we have kept our promises." Over and

over again Roosevelt intervened directly and personally to expedite the

shipment of supplies. "Please get out the list and please, with my full

authority, use a heavy hand," he told one assistant. "Act as a burr under

the saddle and get things moving!"

But even Roosevelt's personal involvement could not end the problems

that kept developing around the lend-lease program. Inevitably,

bureaucratic tangles delayed shipment of necessary supplies. Furthermore,

German submarine assaults sank thousands of tons of weaponry. In just one

month in 1942, twenty-three of thirty-seven merchant vessels on their way

to the Soviet Union were destroyed, forcing a cancellation of shipments to

Murmansk. Indeed, until late summer of 1942, the Allies lost more ships in

submarine attacks than they were able to build.

Above all, old suspicions continued to creep into the ongoing process

of negotiating and distributing lend-lease supplies. Americans who had

learned during the purges to regard Stalin as "a sort of unwashed Genghis

Khan with blood dripping from his fingertips" could not believe that he had

changed his colors overnight and was now to be viewed as a gentle friend.

Many Americans believed that they were saving the Soviet Union with their

supplies, without recognizing the extent of Soviet suffering or

appreciating the fact that the Russians were helping to save American lives

by their sacrifice on the battlefield. Soviet officials, in turn, believed

that their American counterparts overseeing the shipments were not

necessarily doing all that they might to implement the promises made by the

president. Americans expected gratitude. Russians expected supplies. Both

expectations were justified, yet the conflict reflected the extent to which

underlying distrust continued to poison the prospect of cooperation.

"Frankly," FDR told one subordinate, "if I was a Russian, I would feel that

I had been given the runaround in the United States." Yet with equal

justification, Americans resented Soviet ingratitude. "The Russian

authorities seem to want to cover up the fact that they are receiving

outside help," American Ambassador Standley told a Moscow press conference

in March 1943. "Apparently they want their people to believe that the Red

Army is fighting this war alone." Clearly, the battle against Nazi Germany

was not the only conflict taking place.

Yet the disputes over lend-lease proved minor compared to the issue of

a second front—what one historian has called "the acid test of Anglo-

American intentions." However much help the United States could provide in

the way of war materiel, the decisive form of relief that Stalin sought was

the actual involvement of American and British soldiers in Western Europe.

Only such an invasion could significantly relieve the pressure of massive

German divisions on the eastern front. During the years 1941-44, fewer than

10 percent of Germany's troops were in the west, while nearly three hundred

divisions were committed to conquering Russia. If the Soviet Union was to

survive, and the Allies to secure victory, it was imperative that American

and British troops force a diversion of German troops to the west and help

make possible the pincer movement from east and west that would eventually

annihilate the fascist foe.

Roosevelt understood this all too well. Indeed, he appears to have

wished nothing more than the most rapid possible development of the second

front. In part, he saw such action as the only means to deflect a Soviet

push for acceptance of Russia's pre-World War II territorial acquisitions,

particularly in the Baltic states and Finland. Such acquisitions would not

only be contrary to the Atlantic Charter and America's commitment to self-

determination; they would also undermine the prospect of securing political

support in America for international postwar cooperation. Hence, Roosevelt

hoped to postpone, until victory was achieved, any final decisions on

issues of territory. Shrewdly, the president understood that meeting Soviet

demands for direct military assistance through a second front would offer

the most effective answer to Russia's territorial aspirations.

Roosevelt had read the Soviet attitude correctly. In 1942, Soviet

foreign minister Molotov readily agreed to withdraw his territorial demands

in deference to U.S. concerns because the second front was so much more

decisive an issue. When Molotov asked whether the Allies could undertake a

second front operation that would draw off forty German divisions from the

eastern front, the president replied that it could and that it would.

Roosevelt cabled Churchill that he was "more anxious than ever" for a cross-

channel attack in August 1942 so that Molotov would be able to "carry back

some real results of his mission and give a favorable report to Stalin." At

the end of their 1942 meeting, Roosevelt pledged to Molotov-and through him

to Stalin-that a second front would be established that year. The president

then proceeded to mobilize his own military advisors to develop plans for

such an attack.

But Roosevelt could not deliver. Massive logistical and production

problems obstructed any possibility of invading Western Europe on the

timetable Roosevelt had promised. As a result, despite Roosevelt's own best

intentions and the commitment of his military staff, he could not implement

his desire to proceed. In addition, Roosevelt repeatedly encountered

objections from Churchill and the British military establishment, still

traumatized by the memory of the bloodletting that had occurred in the

trench fighting of World War I. For Churchill, engagement of the Nazis in

North Africa and then through the "soft underbelly" of Europe-Sicily and

Italy-offered a better prospect for success. Hence, after promising Stalin

a second front in August 1942, Roosevelt had to withdraw the pledge and ask

for delay of the second front until the spring of 1943. When that date

arrived, he was forced to pull back yet again for political and logistical

reasons. By the time D-Day finally dawned on June 6, 1944, the Western

Allies had broken their promise on the single most critical military issue

of the war three times. On each occasion, there had been ample reason for

the delay, but given the continued heavy burden placed on the Soviet Union,

it was perhaps understandable that some Russian leaders viewed America's

delay on the second front question with suspicion, sarcasm, and anger. When

D-Day arrived, Stalin acknowledged the operation to be one of the greatest

military ventures of human history. Still, the squabbles that preceded D-

Day contributed substantially to the suspicions and tension that already

existed between the two nations.

Another broad area of conflict emerged over who would control occupied

areas once the war ended? How would peace be negotiated? The principles of

the Atlantic Charter presumed establishment of democratic, freely elected,

and representative governments in every area won back from the Nazis. If

universalism were to prevail, each country liberated from Germany would

have the opportunity to determine its own political structure through

democratic means that would ensure representation of all factions of the

body politic. If "sphere of influence" policies were implemented, by

contrast, the major powers would dictate such decisions in a manner

consistent with their own self-interest. Ultimately, this issue would

become the decisive point of confrontation during the Cold War, reflecting

the different state systems and political values of the Soviets and

Americans; but even in the midst of the fighting, the Allies found

themselves in major disagreement, sowing seeds of distrust that boded ill

for the future. Since no plans were established in advance on how to deal

with these issues, they were handled on a case by case basis, in each

instance reinforcing the suspicions already present between the Soviet

Union and the West.

Notwithstanding the Atlantic Charter, Britain and the United States

proceeded on a de facto basis to implement policies at variance with

universalism. Thus, for example, General Dwight Eisenhower was authorized

to reach an accommodation with Admiral Darlan in North Africa as a means of

avoiding an extended military campaign to defeat the Vichy, pro-fascist

collaborators who controlled that area. From the perspective of military

necessity and the preservation of life, it made sense to compromise one's

ideals in such a situation. Yet the precedent inevitably raised problems

with regard to allied efforts to secure self-determination elsewhere.

The issue arose again during the Allied invasion of Italy. There, too,

concern with expediting military victory and securing political stability

caused Britain and the United States to negotiate with the fascist Badoglio

regime. "We cannot be put into a position," Churchill said, "where our two

armies are doing all the fighting but Russians have a veto." Yet Stalin

bitterly resented being excluded from participation in the Italian

negotiations. The Soviet Union protested vigorously the failure to

establish a tripartite commission to conduct all occupation negotiations.

It was time, Stalin said, to stop viewing Russia as "a passive third

observer. ... It is impossible to tolerate such a situation any longer." In

the end, Britain and the United States offered the token concession of

giving the Soviets an innocuous role on the advisory commission dealing

with Italy, but the primary result of the Italian experience was to

reemphasize a crucial political reality: when push came to shove, those who

exercised military control in an immediate situation would also exercise

political control over any occupation regime.

The shoe was on the other foot when it came to Western desires to have

a voice over Soviet actions in the Balkan states, particularly Romania. By

not giving Russia an opportunity to participate in the Italian surrender,

the West-in effect-helped legitimize Russia's desire to proceed

unilaterally in Eastern Europe. Although both Churchill and Roosevelt were

"acutely conscious of the great importance of the Balkan situation" and

wished to "take advantage of" any opportunity to exercise influence in that

area, the simple fact was that Soviet troops were in control. Churchill-and

privately Roosevelt as well-accepted the consequences. "The occupying

forces had the power in the area where their arms were present," Roosevelt

noted, "and each knew that the other could not force things to an issue."

But the contradiction between the stated idealistic aims of the war effort

and such realpolitik would come back to haunt the prospect for postwar

collaboration, particularly in the areas of Poland and other east European

countries.

Moments of conflict, of course, took place within the context of day-to-

day cooperation in meeting immediate wartime needs. Sometimes, such

cooperation seemed deep and genuine enough to provide a basis for

overcoming suspicion and conflict of interest. At the Moscow foreign

ministers conference in the fall of 1943, the Soviets proved responsive to

U.S. concerns. Reassured that there would indeed be a second front in

Europe in 1944, the Russians strongly endorsed a postwar international

organization to preserve the peace. More important, they indicated they

would join the war against Japan as soon as Germany was defeated, and

appeared willing to accept the Chiang Kaishek government in China as a

major participant in world politics. In some ways, these were a series of

quid pro quos. In exchange for the second front, Russia had made

concessions on issues of critical importance to Britain and the United

States. Nevertheless, the results were encouraging. FDR reported that the

conference had created "a psychology of ... excellent feeling." Instead of

being "cluttered with suspicion," the discussions had occurred in an

atmosphere that "was amazingly good."

The same spirit continued at the first meeting of Stalin, Churchill,

and Roosevelt in Tehran during November and early December 1943. Committed

to winning Stalin as a friend, FDR stayed at the Soviet Embassy, met

privately with Stalin, aligned himself with the Soviet leader against

Churchill on a number of issues, and even went so far as to taunt Churchill

"about his Britishness, about John Bull," in an effort to forge an informal

"anti-imperial" alliance between the United States and the Soviet Union. A

spirit of cooperation prevailed, with the wartime leaders agreeing that the

Big Four would have the power to police any postwar settlements (clearly

consistent with Stalin's commitment to a "sphere of influence" approach),

reaffirming plans for a joint military effort against Japan, and even—after

much difficulty—appearing to find a common approach to the difficulties of

Poland and Eastern Europe. When it was all over, FDR told the American

people: "I got along fine with Marshall Stalin ... I believe he is truly

representative of the heart and soul of Russia; and I believe that we are

going to get along very well with him and the Russian people—very well

indeed." When pressed on what kind of a person the Soviet leader was,

Roosevelt responded:

"I would call him something like me, ... a realist."

The final conference of Stalin, Churchill, and Roosevelt at Yalta in

February 1945 appeared at the time to carry forward the partnership,

although in retrospect it would become clear that the facade of unity was

built on a foundation of misperceptions rooted in the different values,

priorities, and political ground rules of the two societies. Stalin seemed

to recognize Roosevelt's need to present postwar plans—for domestic

political reasons—as consistent with democratic, universalistic principles.

Roosevelt, in turn, appreciated Stalin's need for friendly governments on

his borders. The three leaders agreed on concrete plans for Soviet

participation in the Japanese war, and Stalin reiterated his support for a

coalition government in China with Chiang Kaishek assuming a position of

leadership. Although some of Roosevelt's aides were skeptical of the

agreements made, most came back confident that they had succeeded in laying

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