“I Can Arrange That”: What Patton Did After a German Commander Said, “You’ll Have to Kill Me”
The Challenge
September 1944. Eastern France.
As American forces surged across liberated territory, the German front was collapsing unevenly—some units retreating in disorder, others clinging desperately to prepared positions left over from earlier wars. One such position sat astride a critical road junction: an old stone fortress, elevated, thick-walled, and stubbornly defended.
Inside were roughly 1,500 German troops—infantry, artillery crews, and scattered officers pulled together by circumstance rather than design. Their commander, a German major, had made his intentions clear. He would not surrender. Not to the Americans. Not ever.
When George S. Patton, commanding the Third United States Army, reached the area, he did what he almost always did first.
He offered surrender.
The terms were straightforward and lawful. Lay down your arms. Avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Your men will be treated as prisoners of war under the Geneva Convention.
The response that came back was theatrical, absolute, and personal.
“Tell General Patton that if he wants this fortress, he’ll have to kill me to get it.”
It was meant as defiance. A statement of honor. A final stand.
Patton’s reply was four words.
“I can arrange that.”
A Fortress That Couldn’t Be Ignored
The German position was no temporary strongpoint. It was a true fortress—thick stone walls several feet deep, underground chambers, limited approaches covered by machine guns and artillery, and natural high ground that favored the defender. It even had its own water supply.
On paper, it was formidable.
Patton could have bypassed it. Many commanders would have. Leaving a screening force behind and pressing forward would have saved time in the short term.
But this fortress controlled a key road junction. Supply convoys would have to detour for miles. Leaving 1,500 armed German soldiers in the rear was not just inconvenient—it was dangerous.
Patton believed in momentum, but he also believed in certainty. An enemy behind your lines was still an enemy.
So he sent the surrender demand.
The German major didn’t just refuse. He framed his refusal as a personal challenge.
And Patton took people at their word.
No Anger, No Debate—Only Orders
When the messenger returned with the German major’s statement, Patton’s staff expected anger. Perhaps profanity. Maybe even a grudging decision to bypass the fortress and return later.
Instead, Patton was calm.
“The major says we have to kill him,” he said. “Let’s not disappoint him.”
Then he began issuing orders.
Not emotional ones. Not reckless ones. Precise, professional, devastatingly efficient orders designed to do exactly what the German commander had demanded—while minimizing American casualties and ending the problem quickly.
First: complete encirclement. No gaps. No leaks. No reinforcements, no resupply, no escape.
Second: heavy artillery. Every available 155mm gun within range was ordered to register on the fortress. Not random fire, but methodical targeting of walls, gun positions, and known structures.
Third: air power. Not area bombing, but precision strikes. P-47 Thunderbolt aircraft would hit specific targets—command posts, artillery emplacements, ammunition storage.
Finally: psychological warfare.
Patton ordered loudspeakers brought forward.
The Germans inside would not just be threatened. They would be informed—calmly and clearly—of exactly what was about to happen and when.
A schedule.
Artillery at first light.
Air strikes to follow.
Ground assault afterward.
And throughout, repeated offers of surrender.
The Longest Night
Patton chose dawn for a reason.
He wanted the German garrison to spend the entire night knowing what was coming.
In the darkness, doubt spread. Junior officers questioned the wisdom of resistance. Soldiers whispered among themselves. Some already knew the war was lost. Others feared their own commander more than the Americans outside.
The loudspeakers had done their work before the first shell ever landed.
When the sun rose, the artillery began—exactly on time.
Methodical Destruction
The bombardment was not furious chaos. It was disciplined violence.
Shells struck the same sections of wall again and again, opening breaches. German guns that fired back were rapidly silenced by counter-battery fire. Underground chambers collapsed under direct hits. The fortress began to come apart piece by piece.
After two hours, the air strikes began.
Thunderbolts dove in, dropping 500-pound bombs with precision. The major’s command post took multiple direct hits. Ammunition storage exploded, sending shockwaves through the structure. The main gate was blown apart.
All the while, the loudspeakers continued.
This is what is happening.
This is what comes next.
Surrender now and live.
Some Germans listened.
Small groups began to emerge from the rubble, hands raised. At first a handful. Then dozens.
The German major attempted to stop it—ordering soldiers shot as traitors for trying to surrender. Instead of restoring discipline, it shattered what little morale remained.
The garrison was now trapped between overwhelming American firepower and a commander willing to kill his own men.
The Assault
By mid-morning, the fortress was already broken.
When American infantry attacked, they didn’t come from one direction. They came through every breach simultaneously.
M4 Sherman tanks rolled up to point-blank range, firing directly into openings. Engineers used explosives to collapse remaining strongpoints. Flamethrowers cleared bunkers.
But it wasn’t the brutal, grinding fight such assaults often became.
There was no coherent defense left.
German resistance was scattered, localized, and brief. Many soldiers surrendered as soon as American troops appeared. Loudspeakers followed the advance, repeating surrender instructions in German.
By early afternoon, organized resistance had ended.
The Major’s End
The German major was found in the ruins of his command bunker with a handful of loyal troops. When American soldiers breached the position, he reportedly raised his pistol.
An American sergeant shot him.
No speech. No ceremony. No drama.
The man who had said Patton would have to kill him was dead.
The remaining soldiers immediately surrendered.
From the first artillery round to the final surrender, the operation lasted less than twelve hours.
The Arithmetic of War
American casualties were minimal—several wounded, none killed.
German losses were severe. Approximately 200 killed, mostly during the bombardment and assault. Around 300 wounded. Nearly 1,000 taken prisoner.
If the major had accepted Patton’s initial surrender offer, all 1,500 would have lived.
Instead, hundreds died for a position that delayed the American advance by less than half a day.
When American intelligence officers examined the fortress afterward, they found evidence of how fragile German morale had been even before the attack—notes questioning the decision to fight, evidence of executions carried out to enforce obedience.
The defiance had not inspired loyalty.
It had trapped men with no good options.
Patton’s Other Rule
The next day, Patton toured the fortress.
There was no gloating.
“The major said we’d have to kill him,” he remarked. “We did.”
But Patton also visited wounded German prisoners. He ordered American medics to treat them alongside American casualties.
This was not contradiction. It was doctrine.
Patton believed in a sharp line.
Be ruthless in combat.
Be professional in victory.
Enemies who fought were destroyed.
Enemies who surrendered were protected.
Never confuse the two.
The Lesson That Spread
Word of the fortress spread quickly—on both sides of the front.
For American troops, it reinforced what they already knew: Patton always offered surrender first, and if refused, he followed through without hesitation.
For German commanders, the lesson was chilling.
Patton’s threats were not rhetoric. They were statements of fact.
German officers later admitted that they surrendered specifically because they had heard the fortress story. They understood that dramatic defiance did not deter Patton—it authorized him.
With Patton, you were always given a choice.
And you always lived—or died—with it.
The Meaning of Defiance
The German major wanted to make a statement. To die for honor. To prove something.
Instead, he became a cautionary tale.
His name faded. The fortress fell. The road junction was secured. Patton’s advance continued.
The lesson endured.
When you tell someone, “You’ll have to kill me,” you should be prepared for the possibility that they will.
Especially if that person is George S. Patton.
