April 10th, 1943. A cable arrived at Allied forces headquarters in North Africa addressed to General Dwight D. Eisenhower. The message was from British Lieutenant General Bernard Montgomery. It read, “Personal Montgomery to Eisenhower. Entered SVAC 08:30 this morning. Please send fortress.

” Eisenhower stared at the cable. Bedell Smith, his chief of staff, read it over his shoulder. What fortress? Neither man could remember agreeing to give Montgomery an American bomber, but Montgomery clearly remembered something they didn’t, and he wasn’t going to let them forget. In early February 1943, Major General Walter Bedell Smith had visited Montgomery’s headquarters in Tripoli.

Smith was Eisenhower’s chief of staff, the man who handled the details while Eisenhower handled strategy. During the meeting, Montgomery made a request. He wanted a Boeing B17 flying fortress for his personal transport. Smith thought it was absurd. B7s were strategic bombers. Every one of them was needed for the air campaign against Germany.

 Giving one to a British general as a personal taxi was ridiculous. So Smith made what he thought was a joke. If Montgomery could capture the Tunisian city of Saxs by April 15th, he said he could have his fortress. Smith meant it as sarcasm. Montgomery took it as a contract. To understand why Montgomery took a joke seriously, you have to understand Montgomery.

Bernard Law Montgomery didn’t smoke. He didn’t drink. He didn’t chase women. But he loved to gamble. No wager was too trivial. Montgomery bet on everything and he never forgot a bet, especially one he could win. Montgomery was also obsessed with oneupmanship. He competed with every general around him for glory, recognition, and status.

A personal B17 would be the ultimate trophy. No other British general had one. Most American generals didn’t have one. Montgomery wanted to be the exception. Smith had made a terrible mistake. He’d offered a gambling addict a prize worth winning. The North African campaign was grinding toward its conclusion in spring 1943.

Montgomery’s eighth army was pushing west from Libya. American forces under Patton and others were pushing east from Algeria. The goal was to trap the German and Italian forces in Tunisia. Spfax was a key port city on the Tunisian coast. Capturing it would cut German supply lines and accelerate the Allied victory.

Montgomery didn’t need extra motivation to take Spaxs. It was already his objective. But now he had a personal incentive. His soldiers were fighting for a strategic port. Montgomery was also fighting for a prize. He pushed his forces hard. April 15th was the deadline. Montgomery intended to beat it. On April 10th, 1943, Montgomery’s forces entered Sfax at 8:30 in the morning, 5 days ahead of schedule.

 Montgomery didn’t pause to celebrate the victory. He didn’t inspect the captured port or address his troops. Before the dust of the final artillery barrage had settled, he sent his demand to Eisenhower. Montgomery had won his bet. Now he wanted his prize immediately. Within minutes, the confusion turned to rage.

 Smith was in full damage control, frantically arguing that no sane officer would take a throwaway, sarcastic comment as a binding military contract. Eisenhower felt trapped. B7s were desperately needed for the bombing campaign. Giving one to Montgomery as a personal aircraft was militarily indefensible. Montgomery was relentless. He treated the sarcastic quip like a signed treaty, flooding headquarters with follow-up messages demanding the Americans honor their word. Eisenhower faced a choice.

Refuse and create a diplomatic incident or give Montgomery his prize and accept the humiliation. Eisenhower understood the political reality. If he refused Montgomery, Montgomery would complain to Churchill. Churchill would complain to Roosevelt. Roosevelt would complain to Eisenhower. The argument would consume weeks of diplomatic energy.

 It would damage Anglo-American relations at a critical moment. It would make Eisenhower look petty for refusing to honor his chief of staff’s word. Montgomery had calculated all of this. He knew Eisenhower couldn’t afford a public fight over a bomber. So Eisenhower swallowed his anger and gave the order. Find Montgomery a B7.

The bomber assigned to Montgomery was a B17E serial number 41 1982 known to its crew as Terresa Lita. It came with a full American crew. The pilot, co-pilot, navigator, bombardier, radio operator, and gunners were all pulled from combat duty to become Montgomery’s personal chauffeur. Staff Sergeant Ward, the 19-year-old tail gunner, had been flying bombing missions against German targets.

 Now, his job was covering Montgomery’s rear while the general flew between headquarters. These men were weeks away from a ticket home. survivors of a 25 mission combat tour that killed most of their peers. Now they were serving as a British general’s status symbol. Their war wasn’t over. It had just become a PR mission.

Word of Montgomery’s personal B17 spread quickly through the American command. George Patton was insensed. Patton was commanding American troops in Tunisia, fighting the same campaign as Montgomery. But Patton didn’t have a personal bomber. Patton was struggling to get rides between his units. He traveled in convoys exposed to enemy air attack.

 He begged for transport aircraft and was told none were available. Now a British general had a 4ine bomber as a personal taxi because of a joke. Patton saw it as everything wrong with the alliance. American resources going to British officers who demanded them, while American commanders made do with less. Even the British were embarrassed. Eisenhower was so angry that he complained to Field Marshal Alan Brookke, the chief of the Imperial General Staff.

 Brookke was Montgomery’s superior and his strongest defender. Brookke was mortified. He valued the American alliance above all else. And he saw Montgomery’s stunt as a threat to that unity. He summoned Montgomery and tore into him. Brooke called Montgomery’s behavior crass stupidity and a gross piece of egoism. He wrote those exact words in his personal diary after the confrontation.

He told Montgomery the demand had damaged relations with the Americans at the worst possible time. He ordered Montgomery to show more diplomatic sense. Montgomery apologized for the friction, but he kept the keys. Montgomery was oblivious to the damage he’d caused. On June 19th, 1943, King George V 6th visited the 8th Army in North Africa.

 Montgomery was eager to show the king his command. He also showed off his American bomber. Montgomery walked King George around the B7, explaining its features, introducing the American crew. He was proud of his prize. He seemed genuinely unaware that it had become a source of controversy. The American crew stood at attention with stony, silent faces, while a British general showed off their aircraft to British royalty.

In July 1943, during the invasion of Sicily, Theresa Lita was badly damaged in a crash landing. The crew survived, but the aircraft was no longer operational. Montgomery’s prize was grounded. At Allied headquarters, nobody mourned the loss. Montgomery immediately requested a replacement. Eisenhower’s refusal was curt and final.

 One bomber was a joke honored. Two bombers was appeasement. Montgomery would have to find other transportation. The B17 scandal was over. This wasn’t just a squabble over a plane. It was a harbinger of the friction that would nearly tear the Allied command apart. The B17 was the opening ante. Today it was a bomber. Tomorrow it would be the leadership of the entire Allied ground force.

A joke about a bomber had revealed something important. Montgomery would always push for more than he deserved, and Eisenhower would usually give it to him to keep the peace. The cost of that pattern would be measured in lives before the war was