The Death of General George S. Patton: Accident or Assassination?

General George S. Patton remains one of the most recognizable American commanders of the Second World War. Alongside Dwight D. Eisenhower and Douglas MacArthur, his name still evokes images of hard-driving battlefield leadership, bold strategy, and intense controversy. Patton played decisive roles in the Allied victories in North Africa, Sicily, France, and Germany, and his Third Army’s rapid advance in 1944–45 became legendary. Yet the final months of his life, following the German surrender, were marked not by triumph but by political missteps, anger, and disillusionment. His sudden death in December 1945 has since fueled decades of speculation: was it a tragic accident, or part of a conspiracy to silence him?

Patton’s personality often created friction among Allied leaders. His flamboyant style, harsh rhetoric, and impulsive decisions repeatedly drew criticism. During the Sicilian campaign, his infamous order implying that no prisoners should be taken led directly to the improper killing of dozens of Italian POWs, creating a scandal the U.S. command preferred to suppress. Shortly afterward, Patton slapped two soldiers suffering from combat fatigue during hospital visits—incidents that severely damaged his standing with Eisenhower and the American public.

Later, in 1945, Patton authorized the ill-fated raid on the Hammelburg POW camp, an operation that cost most of its men and vehicles and appeared motivated by his desire to rescue his own son-in-law, Lt. Col. John Waters. Once again, the higher command had to shield Patton from the political fallout.

Patton’s increasingly open hostility toward the Soviet Union caused even deeper concern. He resented orders halting his advance into Czechoslovakia and privately spoke of Russians in crude, violent terms. He openly argued that the U.S. victory in Europe had been squandered by allowing the Soviets control over territories his army had liberated. His comments about the Germans were equally inflammatory—he objected to strict denazification policies and made careless remarks comparing SS membership to political party affiliation in the United States. His writings and private conversations also contained statements that many viewed as anti-Semitic, earning him additional criticism in the American press.

After Germany’s defeat, Patton hoped to be transferred to the Pacific theater for the final battles against Japan. Instead, he was ordered back to occupied Germany as military governor of Bavaria—a position requiring diplomatic finesse, not Patton’s brand of blunt soldiering. Bored and unhappy in the role, he continued to speak out against U.S. policy, especially in regard to the Soviets and the Morgenthau Plan for postwar Germany. His superiors, including Eisenhower and President Truman, eventually removed him from the governorship and reassigned him to command the largely administrative Fifteenth Army. Though he accepted the change, Patton remained outspoken.

By the winter of 1945, Patton’s criticisms had become a political headache for Washington. Both American and Soviet intelligence agencies monitored his communications, concerned about his unpredictable statements. Yet there is no evidence that either side contemplated assassinating him.

On 9 December 1945, Patton set out on a pheasant hunt near Mannheim with his chief of staff, Maj. Gen. Hobart Gay. Their 1938 Cadillac staff car, driven by PFC Horace Woodring, followed a jeep carrying equipment. After stopping to examine Roman ruins and later pausing at a checkpoint, the Cadillac resumed its journey. Approaching Mannheim, a U.S. Army truck unexpectedly turned directly into their path. Woodring had no time to avoid the collision. The impact was relatively low-speed, but Patton suffered a severe neck injury and a deep laceration to his scalp. He was taken to a hospital in Heidelberg, where doctors soon realized he was paralyzed from the neck down.

Although Patton briefly showed signs of improvement, he abruptly declined on 20 December and died the following day from pulmonary edema and heart failure. He was buried, at his request, among his fallen soldiers in Luxembourg.

Conspiracy theories regarding Patton’s death did not arise until the 1970s. A novel and later a movie imagined a plot to kill a prominent general, and these fictional stories inspired claims that Patton had been assassinated. Decades later, a former OSS operative, Douglas Bazata, asserted—without evidence—that he had been ordered to kill Patton. His story contradicted eyewitness accounts and contained glaring impossibilities, yet gained media attention. The absence of an autopsy and the loss of some accident records further fueled speculation, though both can be explained by routine procedures of the time.

Despite the persistent rumors, no credible evidence has ever emerged to refute the original conclusion: Patton died in an unfortunate accident. His death, ordinary though tragic, became mythologized simply because many found it hard to believe that such a larger-than-life figure could fall victim to chance rather than conspiracy.