It all started with a fender bender at the corner of 5th Avenue and 67th Street. An angry driver chased the other car through Central Park. It ended at 65th Street where Major Terry Allen was charged with driving a motor vehicle without proper identification. A charge of disorderly conduct was added after Allen stated his opinion of the arresting officer.
In court that day in 1926, Terry Allen admitted his guilt, but complained that the cops hadn’t allowed him to call friends to post the $500 bail. When Allen insisted he was a reliable person, the judge asked how he’d prove it. A police officer present in court spoke up. “I can vouch for him. He led me over the top many times. He always brought me back safely, too”. The policeman had been an Army private during WWI with troops led by Allen. The judge immediately suspended the sentence.
That sums up Terry Allen. He was admired, even adored, by the enlisted men who served in his command because he was a soldier’s soldier. He was a hard-drinking, hard-living man most comfortable with cavalry troopers. He ignored spit and polish protocols because he thought they were irrelevant to combat skills. Perhaps most importantly, he always tried to limit the number of battle casualties.
Terry de la Mesa Allen was born on April 1, 1888. His father, Samuel Allen was a career Army officer descended from Irish immigrants. His mother, Concepcion Terry, was descended from Carlos de la Mesa, a Spanish officer who came to the U.S. to fight for the Union during the Civil War despite not speaking any English.
Allen was an Army brat and apparently never considered another career path for himself, but his non-conformist attitude constantly got him into trouble. He flunked out of West Point. Later he earned a college degree and was commissioned a second lieutenant in 1912.
In World War I, Allen proved he was personally brave and able to inspire his troops. He had an intuitive grasp of tactics and operations that offset his lack of formal training. He got results. However, leading from the front earned him many injuries.
On one occasion, machine gun fire knocked out several teeth. Unconscious and bleeding profusely from face and neck wounds, he was taken to an aid station where he was tagged to be evacuated to the rear. When Allen regained consciousness, he staggered away to rejoin his battalion. Along the way, he rounded up stragglers and attacked several machine nests, knocking them out of action. After the battle, the regimental surgeon ordered him to go to the hospital for treatment.
Allen ended WWI as a major. His combat exploits earned him a place in the downsized Army. In 1924, he attended the Command and General Staff School at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. The program was a prerequisite for promotions but Allen approached it much as he had West Point. He graduated 221st in a class of 241. (Dwight D. Eisenhower was 1st of 241.) The official assessment noted that he had a brilliant mind but would make a lousy staff officer.
To salvage his career, Allen agreed to be a cavalry instructor at Ft. Benning Infantry School. Fortunately the assistant director was Lt. Col. George C. Marshall, who had served as Pershing’s chief of operations during WWI. Marshall recognized Allen’s brilliance in strategy and tactics, although he gave Allen a low grade in “military bearing and neatness”.
Marshall’s approval kept Allen’s career on track until WWII brought more opportunities. In 1940, Marshall named two new brigadier generals: Terry Allen and George S. Patton, Jr. The promotion vaulted Allen over about 900 officers with more seniority, causing resentment.
In June, 1942, Allen was appointed commander of the 1st Infantry Division in the invasions of North Africa and Sicily. His troops fought well but some spit and polish officers claimed he had ruined the Big Red One by failing to enforce discipline. Setbacks during the Sicily campaign allowed Major General Omar Bradley to engineer Allen’s dismissal.
Allen was shipped stateside, disgraced. His career had one last hurrah when he was appointed to lead the 104th Infantry Division which linked up with the Russians on the Elbe River in 1945. But Allen had changed, becoming a stickler for discipline. His career was never as brilliant after he became a conformist.
Allen died on September 12, 1969, not long after his son, Terry junior, was killed in combat in Vietnam.
Terry Allen’s adventurous life can be explored in an excellent biography, Terrible Terry Allen, by Gerald Astor (2003).
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