George C. Marshall: A Man of Duty, Honor, and Humility

Portrait of George C. Marshall, circa 1949, by Thomas E. Stephens. National Portrait Gallery. Public Domain

Fans of the movie “Saving Private Ryan” will recollect the scene where General George C. Marshall, U.S. Army chief of staff, orders a search-and-rescue mission for a paratrooper in Normandy whose three brothers were killed that week in combat.

George Marshall is no longer a household name in the country to which he gave a lifetime of service. He has so little a place in our memory that the Marshall Foundation, which since the 1960s has maintained a museum and research center at the Virginia Military Institute, Marshall’s alma mater, announced in 2021 the closure of that museum. The long decline in the number of visitors finally brought about its demise.

But the demand for the man was once beyond compare.

A Life of Accomplishment

After Marshall’s mediocre grades prevented him from entering West Point, he decided to follow in the footsteps of his older brother Stuart and other relatives, and won admission to the Virginia Military Institute (VMI). Stuart protested, convinced that his parents were wasting money in sending him there. But his mother sold off some property, paid his tuition, and so began a career that would have an enormous effect on American history.

After graduating from VMI—he ranked in the middle of his class academically but received top honors for his military performance—Marshall entered the Army in 1902 and would spend the next 49 years in public service. Several of his superiors recognized in him a genius for organization and logistics, gifts which led him up the ladder of promotion. He served in World War I as General Pershing’s staff officer in France and is credited with planning the Meuse-Argonne offensive.

General John Pershing (L) with Colonel Marshall in France, 1919. Public Domain

Between the wars, he held a number of positions. In 1939, with the German war machine gearing up, President Roosevelt bumped him up over 33 other general officers, and he became chief of staff, a position he held throughout the war.

On the day the war in Europe ended, Secretary of War Henry Stimson called together a group of officers and officials, summoned Marshall, and in front of this assembly said of the brilliance he’d shown during the last four years: “I have never seen a task of such magnitude performed by man. ... I have seen a great many soldiers in my lifetime and you, sir, are the finest soldier I have ever known.”

Army Chief of Staff Marshall (L) with Secretary of War Henry Stimson, January 1942. Public Domain

Following the war, Marshall, as secretary of state, took charge of a plan to revive the fortunes of war-battered Europe, an effort that succeeded brilliantly and became known as the Marshall Plan. For this achievement, he won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1953. He served, too, as secretary of defense during the most intense fighting of the Korean War.

Gravitas

No World War II American military commander possessed more gravitas than George Marshall.

He was by nature a circumspect personality, careful with his words, often remaining silent when another man might have blurted out an opinion. He was a serious man to be taken seriously, but in turn accorded dignity to those around him, whatever office or station in life they had attained.

In “General of the Army: George C. Marshall, Soldier and Statesman,” author Ed Cray’s account of Marshall at the time of Franklin Roosevelt’s death and the ascension of Harry Truman as president again and again underscores this side of Marshall in just a few pages. Marshall, Cray writes, “seemed impassive, displaying no outward emotion.”

(L–R) President Harry Truman, George Marshall, Paul Hoffman, and Averell Harriman, in the Oval Office discussing the Marshall Plan, in 1948. National Archives. (Public Domain) 

For the incoming president, who had served in the field artillery in World War I, “George Catlett Marshall as chief of staff represented the finest qualities that Harry Truman’s fondly remembered Army had to offer: selflessness, dedication, uncompromising integrity.”

Possessing Objectivity

Disinterested: This word is out-of-date and definitely out of fashion. If we look at public figures today, it’s difficult to find any of them—politicians, military general officers, celebrities, even scientists—who push aside their egos and their politics to objectively tackle a problem.

Marshall had this ability to as high a degree as anyone in our history. He had long admired former American generals like George Washington and Robert E. Lee for their gravitas and their ability to take in a situation with calm, cool objectivity, and he brought to his own endeavors those same qualities.

Six months before Pearl Harbor, a lively and fiery debate ensued on Capitol Hill about American military preparedness, particularly in regard to an extension of the draft. At one point, when Marshall was trying to muster support for this unpopular measure with some Republican members of Congress, one of them refused his entreaties outright “if it meant going along with Mr. Roosevelt.”

Uncharacteristically, Marshall snapped back, “You are going to let plain hatred of the personality dictate to you to do something that you realize is very harmful to the interest of the country!” On another occasion that summer, leaving another such meeting, he leaned wearily back in the staff car, closed his eyes, and murmured, “If I can keep all personal feelings out of my system, I may be able to get through with this job.”

Duty, Honor, Humility

This same disinterestedness was undoubtedly linked to Marshall’s philosophy and practice of humility.

This virtue, this ability to take a modest view of one’s self-importance, is often a rarity among the great and the powerful—both then and now. Despite his many accomplishments, Marshall kept that temptation toward pride in check, if it existed at all.

When the time came to appoint the commander of Operation Overlord, the invasion of the European mainland through the beaches of Normandy, the choice came down between Marshall and Dwight Eisenhower. For days, Franklin Roosevelt mulled over that decision, seeking at the same time to get some word of preference from Marshall. He even dispatched his aide and friend, Harry Hopkins, to seek the general’s wishes. But all these attempts were rebuffed. “It is for the President to decide,” Marshall told Roosevelt. “I will serve wherever you order me, Mr. President.”

When Roosevelt selected Eisenhower to command Overlord, thus keeping Marshall with him in Washington, he made a rare admission of dependence, telling Marshall, “Well, I didn’t feel I could sleep at ease if you were out of Washington.”

As much as any man of his generation, George Marshall shaped the world in which we now live.