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With the publication in full of the second volume of the gossipy World War II diaries of Britain's Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke (TIME, Oct. 26), a new ruckus began, lending further mystery to the question of how the Triumph in the West was ever achieved, what with so much apathy and bungling alleged among the highest military brass. On Nov. 24, 1944, Alanbrooke recorded a "very unsatisfactory state of affairs in France, with no one running the land battle." Then he observed: "Eisenhower, though supposed to be doing so, is on the golf links at Reims—entirely detached and taking practically no part in running the war." When these tidings hit the White House, Presidential Press Secretary Jim Hagerty rose wearily, said: "From the time the Allies landed in Europe until the victory was won, the President didn't have a golf club in his hands—much less play at a golf course." At week's end, Alanbrooke hastened to explain: he had not meant, he said, that Ike was actually playing golf just before the critical Battle of the Bulge; he was merely referring to the fact that Ike's headquarters at Reims was on a golf links. Gruffed Alanbrooke: "You might just as well say that I was accusing Eisenhower of drinking champagne because he was at Reims!" During the week, Postwar Golfer Eisenhower also drew fire from that talky old (71) gadfly. Field Marshal Lord Montgomery, who declared that Ike started all the latter-day bickering among Allied generals by publishing his Crusade in Europe. Monty, whose own memoirs plopped dunce's caps on many of his fellow generals, including Eisenhower, then traced the continuing war about the war to General Omar N. (A Soldier's Story) Bradley: "Eisenhower was followed by Bradley and he said some very unpleasant things about me. I accept it all in good humor." Monty also made it clear that he bears no grudge against Ike, no matter what Ike wrote about him. Said Monty: "He is the incarnation of selflessness and sincerity, and I would do anything for him!" War-weary civilians praying that some civilian might have a last (interim) word in the generals' debate were rewarded by a literate book review in the London Observer. After reading Alanbrooke's latest outpouring, the reviewer, Lord Attlee, one of Alanbrooke's greatest admirers, took it upon himself to tell Alanbrooke—and, by implication, all the other shoulder-starred rehashers—to permit World War II to end conclusively in an Allied victory, however illgotten. Understated Attlee: "I doubt, however, whether people will be more conscious of their debt to Alanbrooke, or readier to acknowledge it, as a result of the publication of this book."