Posted on September 24 2009 at 01:51 AM
The Fieseler Fi 156 Storch (stork) was a small German liaison aircraft built by Fieseler before and during World War II, and production continued in other countries into the 1950s for the private market. It remains famous to this day for its excellent STOL performance, and French-built later variants are a common fixture at air shows.
Design and development
In 1935, the RLM (Reichsluftfahrtministerium, Reich Aviation Ministry) put out a tender for a new Luftwaffe aircraft (suitable for liaison, army co-operation today called Forward Air Control), and medical evacuation, as required to several companies. Penned by chief designer Reinhold Mewes and technical director Erich Bachen, Fieseler's entry was the most advanced in terms of STOL (Short Take Off and Landing) performance, by far. A fixed slat ran along the entire leading edge of the long wings, while the entire trailing edge, inspired by earlier 1930s Junkers "double-wing" aircraft wing control surface designs, including the ailerons, was a hinged and slotted flap. In a design feature that was rare for land-based aircraft, the wings on the Storch could be folded back along the fuselage, in a manner not unlike that of the US Navy's F4F Wildcat fighter, allowing it to be carried on a trailer or even towed slowly behind a vehicle. The long legs of the main landing gear contained oil and spring shock absorbers that compressed about 450 mm (18 inches) on landing, allowing the plane to set down almost anywhere. In flight they hung down, giving the aircraft the appearance of a very long-legged, big-winged bird, hence its nickname, Storch. With its very low landing speed the Storch often appeared to land vertically or even backwards, in strong winds from directly ahead.
Variants
Operational history
The Storch could be found on every front throughout the European and North African theaters of operation in World War II. It will probably always be most famous for its role in Operation Eiche, the rescue of deposed Italian dictator Benito Mussolini from a boulder-strewn mountain top near the Gran Sasso, surrounded by Italian troops. German commando Otto Skorzeny dropped with 90 paratroopers onto the peak and quickly captured it, but the problem remained of how to get back off. A Focke Achgelis Fa 223 helicopter was sent, but it broke down en route. Instead, pilot Walter Gerlach flew in a Storch, landed in 30 m (100 ft), took aboard Mussolini and Skorzeny, and took off again in under 80 m (250 ft), even though the plane was overloaded. The Storch involved in rescuing Mussolini bore the radio code letters, or Stammkennzeichen, of "SJ + LL" in motion picture coverage of the daring rescue.
On 26 April 1945 a Storch was one of the last planes to land on the improvised airstrip in the Tiergarten near the Brandenburg Gate during the Battle of Berlin and the death throes of the Third Reich. It was flown by the test pilot Hanna Reitsch, who flew her lover Field Marshall Robert Ritter von Greim from Munich to Berlin to answer a summons from Hitler. Once in Berlin von Greim was informed that he was to take over command of the Luftwaffe from Hermann Göring.
A Storch was the victim of the last dog fight on the Western Front and another was fittingly downed by a direct Allied counterpart of the Storch-an L-4 Grasshopper-from the L-4's crew directing their pistol fire at it. The pilot and co-pilot of the L-4, Lts. Duane Francis and Bill Martin, opened fire on the Storch with their .45 caliber pistols, forcing the German air crew to land and surrender. The involved Storch was the only aircraft known to have been downed by handgun fire in the entire war.
A total of about 2,900 Fi 156s, mostly Cs, were produced from 1937 to 1945. When the main Fieseler plant switched to building Bf 109s in 1943, Storch production was shifted to the Mráz factory in Choceň, Czechoslovakia. A large number were also built at the captured Morane-Saulnier factory in France, starting in April 1942, as the M.S.500 Criquet. Both factories continued to produce the planes after the war for local civilian markets (in Czechoslovakia it was made as K-65 Čáp, 138 were made by 1949).
Licenced production was also started in Romainia in 1943 at the ICAR (Īntreprinderea de construcţii aeronautice româneşti) factory in Bucharest. Only 10 were built by the time Romania switched sides, with a further 70 aircraft being built by the Romanians before production ended in 1946.
During the war at least 60 Storchs were captured by the Allies, one becoming the personal aircraft of Field Marshal Montgomery.
Because of its superb STOL characteristics (which would be of obvious great benefit to bush pilots, for example) there have been many attempts to recreate or outright copy the Storch in modern form, namely in the form of various homebuilt aircraft. One of the most successful recent examples of this is the Slepcev Storch designed by Nestor Slepcev. It is a 3/4 scale reproduction of the original with some modification for simplicity. Through the use of modern materials the aircraft features better STOL performance than the original with a take-off run of 30 m and landing-roll of 50 m with no headwind.
Posted on September 24 2009 at 01:50 AM
The Blohm&Voss BV 141 was a World War II German tactical reconnaissance aircraft prototype. It is best remembered as the most asymmetrical aircraft to have ever flown.
Design and development
In 1937, the German Air Ministry Reichsluftfahrtministerium (RLM, German Air Ministry) issued a specification for a single-engine reconnaissance aircraft with optimum visual characteristics. The preferred contractors were Arado, but the request prompted the Focke-Wulf company to work up the alternative idea of the Focke-Wulf Fw 189, a twin-boom design with two smaller engines and a central crew gondola, while Blohm & Voss proposed something far more radical. The proposal of chief designer Dr. Richard Vogt was the unique asymmetric BV 141.
The perspex-glazed crew gondola on the starboard side strongly resembled that found on the Fw 189, and housed the pilot, observer and rear gunner, while the fuselage on the port side led smoothly from the 746 kW (1,000 hp) Bramo 123 radial engine to a tail unit (which was symmetrical in the BV 141 V1 prototype).
It would seem that the displacement of lift vs weight, and thrust vs drag, would have induced tendencies to yaw and roll requiring continual trimming to control, but the aircraft proved very stable and maneuverable. Indeed, Dr. Vogt had calculated that the greater weight on one side of the aircraft could be cancelled out by the torque of the propeller.
Testing
The aircraft's design prompted a mixed response from the RLM and had no impact on their decision to build the Fw 189. Indeed, an urgent need for BMW 801 engines for use in the Fw 190 fighter aircraft further reduced any chance that the BV 141 would see production.
Three further prototypes and an evaluation batch of five BV 141As were produced, but the assessment was that they were underpowered. By the time a batch of 12 BV 141Bs were built with the more powerful BMW 801 engines, they were too late to make an impression, as production of the Fw 189 was already well along. The BV 141B had the starboard tailplane virtually removed to improve the rear gunner's field of view.
Several wrecked BV 141s were found by advancing Allied forces. One was even recovered by British forces and returned to England for examination. None survive today. Contrary to much that has been written, all BV 141s ordered were produced and delivered.
The Blohm & Voss team came up with several other asymmetric designs, but none were actually built.
Posted on September 24 2009 at 01:49 AM
The Fw 190 D (nicknamed the Dora; or Long-Nose Dora, "Langnasen-Dora") was intended to improve on the high-altitude performance of the A-series enough to make it useful against the American heavy bombers of the era. In reality, the D series was rarely used against the heavy bomber raids as the circumstances of the war in late-1944 meant that fighter versus fighter combat and ground attack missions took priority. A total of 1,805 D-9s were produced. Production started in August 1944 with the variant entering Luftwaffe service in September 1944 with III./JG 54.
The liquid-cooled 1,750 PS (1,726 hp, 1,287 kW) Jumo 213A could produce 2,100 PS (2,071 hp, 1,545 kW) of emergency power with MW 50 injection, improving performance to 426 mph (686 km/h) at 21,650 ft (6,600 m). Early D-9s reached service without the MW 50 installation, but in the meantime Junkers produced a kit to increase manifold pressure (Ladedrucksteigerungs-R端stsatz) that increased engine output by 150 PS to 1,900 PS, and was effective up to 5,000 m (16,400 ft) altitude. It was fitted immediately to D-9s delivered to the units from September, or retrofitted in the field by TAM. By the end of December, all operational Doras, 183 in total, were converted. From November 1944, a simplified MW-50 system (Oldenburg) was fitted, that boosted output to 2,100 PS. By the end of 1944, 60 were delivered with the simplified MW 50 system or were at the point of entering service. The 115 l tank of the Oldenburg system would hold the MW 50 booster liquid was single purpose, while later systems were to be dual purpose, either holding MW 50 or additional fuel.
Historian Donald Caldwell noted:
The new airplane lacked the high turn rate and incredible rate of roll of its close-coupled radial-engined predecessor. It was a bit faster, however, with a maximum speed of 680 km/h (422 mph) at 6,600 meters (21,650 ft). Its 2,240 horsepower with methanol-water injection (MW 50) gave it an excellent acceleration in combat situations. It also climbed and dived more rapidly than the Fw 190A, and so proved well suited to the dive-and-zoom ambush tactics favored by the Schlageter pilots. Many of the early models were not equipped with tanks for methanol, which was in very short supply in any event. At low altitude, the top speed and acceleration of these examples were inferior to those of Allied fighters. Hans Hartigs recalled that only one of the first batch of Dora-9s received by the First Gruppe had methanol-water injection, and the rest had a top speed of only 590 km/h (360 mph).
Due to the multiple attempts to create an effective next generation 190, as well as the comments of some Luftwaffe pilots, expectations of the Dora project were low. These impressions were not helped by the fact that Tank made it very clear that he intended the D-9 to be a stop-gap until the Ta 152 arrived. These negative opinions existed for some time until positive pilot feedback began arriving at Focke-Wulf and the Luftwaffe command structure. Sporting excellent handling and performance characteristics, it became very clear that the D-9 was nearly the perfect response to the Luftwaffe's need for an effective medium altitude, high-speed interceptor, although its performance still fell away at altitudes above about 20,000 ft (6,100 m). When flown by capable pilots, the Fw 190D proved to be a match for P-51s and Mk. XIV Spitfires. Lt. Karl-Heinz Ossenkopf, a fighter pilot of JG 26 with five months of frontline service, commented on the aircraft:
The FW 190D-9 was quickly adopted by the pilots, after some initial reservations. They felt that it was equal to or better than the equipment of the opposition. Its serviceability was not so good, owing to the circumstances. I felt that the aircraft built at Sorau had the best fit and finish. They could be recognised by their dark green camouflage. I hit 600 km/h with my "own" green aircraft, "Black 8", with full power and MW 50 methanol injection, clean, 20-30 meters above the ground.
Compared with the FW 190A-8, the Dora-9: 1. With 40 hp (30 kW) to 50 hp (37 kW) more power, had a greater level speed, climb rate, and ceiling; 2. Had much better visibility to the rear, owing to its bubble canopy; 3. Was much quieter - the Jumo 213A vibrated much less than the BMW 801; 4. Handled better in steep climbs and turning, owing probably to its greater shaft horsepower at full throttle; 5. Had less torque effect on takeoff and landing; and 6. Had slightly greater endurance.
Compared with the Spitfire, the Dora-9: 1. Had greater level, climbing and diving speeds; 2. Was inferior in turns, especially in steep climbing turns typical of combat.
Compared with the Tempest, the Dora-9: 1. Was better in the climb and in turns; 2. Had the same or lower level speed, depending on its fit and finish; and 3. Had a lower diving speed.
Compared with the early P-47 Thunderbolt C, the Dora-9: 1. Had a greater level and climbing speed; 2. Had a better turning ability; 3. Was inferior in roll rate; and 4. Was inferior past all hope in diving speed.
In order to fit the new engine in the Fw 190 fuselage while maintaining proper balance and weight distribution, both the nose and the tail of the aircraft were lengthened, adding nearly 1.52 m (4.99 ft) to the fuselage, bringing the overall length to 10.192 m (33.438 ft) versus the 9.10 m (29.9 ft) of the late war A-9 series. The lengthened tail required that an extra, straight sided bay, 30 cm (12 in) in length, was spliced in forward of the rear angled joint and tail assembly of the fuselage. To further aid balance the pilot's oxygen bottles were moved aft and located in the new bay. This gave the rear fuselage a much "skinnier" appearance.
Furthermore, the move to a V12 engine from a radial engine required more components to be factored into the design, most significantly the need for coolant radiators (radial engines are air-cooled). To keep the design as simple and as aerodynamic as possible, Tank used an annular radiator (the AJA 180 L) installed at the front of the engine, similar to the configuration used in the Jumo powered versions of the Junkers Ju 88. The annular radiator with its adjustable cooling gills resembled a radial engine installation, although the row of six short exhausts stacks on either side of the elongated engine cowling showed that Jumo 213 was an inverted vee-12 engine. While the first few Doras were fitted with the flat-top canopy, these were later replaced with the newer rounded top "blown" canopy first used on the A-8 model. With the canopy changes, the shoulder and head armour plating design was also changed. Some late model Doras were also fitted with the Ta 152 vertical stabilizer and rudder, often called "Big Tails" by the Luftwaffe ground crews and pilots as seen on W.Nr. 500647 Brown 4 from 7./JG 26 and W.Nr. 500645 Black 6 from JG 2). The centre-line weapons rack was changed to an ETC 504 with a simplified and much smaller mounting and fairing.
As it was used in the anti-fighter role, armament in the "D" was generally lighter compared to that of the earlier aircraft - usually the outer wing cannon were dropped so that the armament consisted of two 13 mm (.51 in) MG 131 machine guns and two 20 mm MG 151/20 E wing root cannon, with all four weapons synchronized to fire through the propeller arc. While inferior to the A-series in roll rate, the "D" was superior in turn rate, climb, dive and horizontal speed. The Dora still featured the same wing as the A-8, however, and was capable of carrying outer wing cannons as well, as demonstrated by the D-11 variant, with a three-stage supercharger and four wing cannon (two MG 151s and two MK 108s).
The first Fw 190 D-9s started entering service in September 1944 with III./JG 54. It was quickly followed by many, including I./JG 26, starting 16 November to convert to the new fighter from the A-8.
Some Fw 190 Ds served as fighter cover for Me 262 airfields as the jet fighters were very vulnerable on takeoff and landing. These special units were known as Platzsicherungstaffel (airfield defence squadron). One unit in particular was created by Leutnant Heinz Sachsenberg at the behest of Adolf Galland, had the entire aircraft underside painted in narrow red and broad white stripes. The unique colour scheme helped anti-aircraft artillery protecting the airfields quickly identify friendly aircraft, and may have been based on the D-Day invasion stripes used by the Allied air forces. The unit, known as W端rger-Staffel, guarded the airfield of JV 44, operational late in the war, from about March 1945 to May 1945, and was used only to defend landing Me 262s and as such prohibited from chasing Allied aircraft
Posted on September 24 2009 at 01:48 AM
The end of the J series did not mean the end of the Dornier night fighter. One of the few German fighter pilots to side with the type against its critics was Hauptmann Schoenert of III./Nachtjagdgeschwader 3. Schoenert suggested to his Commanding officer, in July 1942, that trials be made by with slanting weapons (later known as Schräge Musik) at an angle of 70° in the fuselage in the hope of increasing efficiency of his Do 217. This entailed mounting four to six MG 151/20 guns in the centre of the fuselage. At Teschnische Amt, two Do 217s, one with four and the other with six MG/151/20 cannon were ready for inspection on 5 August 1942 and testing in September. The idea of the upward firing cannon had originally come from an engineer, Dr. Poppendieck, in June 1942. Nevertheless Schoenert built on it, and with the introduction of the IR spanner and headlight, the bomber could approach from below a British bomber and avoid exposure to its powerful powered turrets guarding its tail, nose and upper fuselage by attacking from behind or head-on. Unlike the B-17 Flying Fortress the British bombers lacked a Ball turret and the new Dornier design attempted to take advantage. It decided, owing to technical expense to limit the armament to four oblique guns. Other tactical improvements involved fitting a semi-rigid brake parachute on October 1942, allowing the Dornier to adjust to the speed of the bomber before firing on its target. The prototypes J-1/U2 and J-1/U4 were tested under these conditions.
These designs were to be carried forward into the new variant, the Dornier Do 217N. The BMW 801 that powered the Do 217J proved underpowered, so a night-fighter using the more powerful DB 603A-1 engines was produced, with the first prototype flying on 31 July 1942. While it had much improved performance, it was still unpopular due to its poor agility and climb rate, and was prone to engine problems. Ten pre-production series N variants were designated as test beds. Trials began in the summer, 1942. On 16 August 1942 the Do 217 NV2 entered trials, the second prototype. The NV1 and NV2 were the main test beds and the DB 603A-1s they were powered by, were tested at high altitude. On 11 October 1942 the NV1 crashed after stalling and with its landing gear down and crashing into Müritz Lake killing the crew. On 21 December 1942 engine 100 hour endurance trials began at Rechlin began with the DB engines. The pistons were rendered useless after 91 hours. Testing of DB 603 A-2 inline engines was carried out between the 28 April and 8 May 1943, but the programme was beset by continual breakdowns and the project was abandoned. There was no further record of the N variant prototypes after 20 June 1943.
In April 1943, the four MG FF guns had started but were not completed until the late summer. The third prototype, N-1/U and was fitted with MG 151/20 and unspecified aerodynamic refinements. The machine was used in high altitude de-icing tests and was the aircraft tested with Lichtenstein BCR and Bernhardine radar. In August 10 of these aircraft were constructed and between 27 and 31 August, they were fitted with their Schräge Musik at Tarnewitz and Wismar Testing Facilities. The tenth N variant, designated N-0, was tested with radio trials. The machine was tested with the Peil G VI/APZ 6, a later and more sophisticated variant automatic direction-finding equipment. On 2 December further tactical trials with infrared target illuminating equipment. These trials were carried out with DB 601 powered J-1s.
After testing was satisfied the two variants, the N-1 and N-2, which had two subvariants, were fitted with FuG 202. The N-1 variants were given two subvariants which were to follow the design of the E-2/E-4 and the J-1/J-2 with emphasis on range and endurance. Extra fuel tanks were added to the empty bomb bay. For operations over water the heavy night fighters were fitted with lifeboats and radio transmitters. The FuG X with TZG 10 and FuG 16. IFF equipment was the FuG 25s. The N also had the FuG 101 radio altimeter, blind flying equipment FuB1 2 and PeilG V. AI search radar was the FuG 202. The defunct bomb release gear remained, bring the aircraft up to 15 tons so it was barely able to reach 7,400m. Fuel consumption lightened the load and the Dornier could reach a maximum operational ceiling of 8,400m. The speed of the N was a maximum of 500km/h at 6,000m. The N-2 was much improved, as it was much lighter and refined.
Overall the N-1 was an initial production of the J-1 version. Powered by a DB 603 it had similar armament to Do 217J-2, retaining defensive armament. Entered service in April 1943. Some modified with dorsal and ventral guns replaced by wooden fairings as Do 217 N-1/U1, conversion with Schräge Musik arrangement of four upward firing 20-mm MG 151s as Do 217 N-1/U3. About 240 built.
The Do 217 N-2 was a new build equivalent of Do 217 N-1/U1, some were fitted with two or four cannon in Schräge Musik installation. About 95 were built until it was retired from front line use in mid 1944.
The N-2 was originally not to have the Schräge Musik armament configuration or a break parachute. It was then decided the configuration to fit the armament set for better tactical reasons. A semi-rigid brake parachute was also installed for unspecified reasons. The N-2 prototype was a converted E-1, serial 0174, code PE+AW. The Dornier N-2 handbook gives the date of the aircrafts appearance as April 1944. The communications were improved with FuG 16 ZY and FuG 214. The B and C cupolas were deinstalled and the positions fared over, with plexiglass and wood. The MG FF guns were eliminated and MG 151/20 cannons replaced them. The MG 17s in the nose were to be removed with more powerful armament, but this was never carried out. To kill the excess weight that had plagued earlier types, the bomb bay, its doors, the bomb release gear and changes to the control panels. The gaps were replaced by lighter wood parts which reduced weight and enabled more weight to be expended on armament protection for the crew. The N variant was the most heavily armoured Dornier variant. The improvements enabled a top speed of 525km/h (an increase of 25km/h) and a reduction from 15 to 12.5 tons, which increased ceiling height to 9,500m.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:37 PM
KMS Prinz Eugen
KMS Scharnhorst
Although Scharnhorst and Gneisenau posed a considerable threat to the British while lying at Brest in 1941 and the repeated raids by the Royal Air Force were far too inaccurate to do any serious damage, Hitler felt the two units were too exposed, and ordered them to return. Operation 'Cerberus', the daylight dash through the English Channel in February 1942, was probably the Kriegsmarine's greatest success, for it took the British completely by surprise, the two battle-cruisers and the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen slipping past ineffectual air and sea attacks. Apart from slight damage to Scharnhorst from a magnetic mine during the final phase it had been a humiliation for the British and proof that audacity pays.
The two great grey ships appeared off the entrance to the French Atlantic port of Brest just after dawn. They were Germany's 32,000-ton battleships, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau returning from marauding raids against Allied shipping in the Atlantic.
They had sailed from Kiel at the beginning of 1941. Evading the British Home Fleet based at Scapa Flow, they had broken through the Denmark Strait into the Atlantic. For the next two months like gigantic pirates they roamed the Atlantic shipping lanes sinking more than twenty ships totalling over 100,000 tons. It was the first-and last-successful foray by German battleships against Allied merchant shipping in the Second World War. Then in early March they seemed to disappear into Atlantic mists.
At 7 a.m. on 22 March 1941, as sullen French dock workers watched, they tied up at the quai Lannion in Brest. It was nearly a year since France had fallen and the French Naval base had been taken over by German dockyard workers from Wilhelmshaven. They had returned to Brest because they were badly in need of repairs. The two-months' cruise had revealed serious defects in Scharnhorst's boilers. The tubes of the super-heaters, especially, had given constant trouble threatening a major breakdown. German dockyard engineers who examined her estimated ten weeks would be needed for repairs. When her Kapitän, Kurt Hoffmann, reported this news to Grand Admiral Erich Raeder, head of the German Navy in Berlin, the German Admiralty staff were shocked at the extent of the repairs necessary.
Her sister ship Gneisenau was also in need of minor repairs. The refit of both battleships went ahead quickly but no Frenchman was allowed to work on them, for French workmen in the repair depots ashore went as slow as they dared to hold up the work of the German conquerors. Throughout the dockyard and in the town, the inhabitants were not only surly and hostile, but some of them were in touch with French underground agents, who would pass the information about the repairs to Britain.
After the ships' arrival eight depressing days passed with unceasing rain and frequent false air-raid alarms. Then on the evening of 30 March came the real thing. The wail of sirens was followed by the crash of bombs. The flak gun crews poured up a curtain of fire but their shells could not reach high-flying planes.
Ashore, many officers of the German Naval Staff were killed when the hotel where they were accommodated was hit and caught fire. The ships were undamaged but when the fragments of bombs were examined by German experts next day they made an important discovery. The RAF had dropped 500-lb armour-piercing bombs specially made to crash through the armoured decks of the warships. The Germans then knew that this was no routine dock raid. These bombs were direct evidence that the RAF knew they were there. Now the raids would never cease. They were right. The RAF started to come day and night when weather permitted.
At dawn on 6 April a RAF torpedo-bomber suddenly dived out of the clouds. It was a Coastal Command Beaufort from St. Eval in Cornwall, piloted by Flying Officer Kenneth Campbell, who made a most courageous and determined attack upon Gneisenau. She was tied up to the buoy against a wall at the north end of the harbour, protected by the curving mole. The little hills all around the harbour bristled with clusters of guns and moored near the mole as extra protection were three flak ships.
The battleship's position appeared to be impregnable. Even if an aircraft managed to deliver a low level attack it would not be able to pull out in time and must crash into the high ground surrounding the harbour.
But Kenneth Campbell dived down to deck level and flew steadily past the blazing muzzles of the flak ships' guns. He skimmed over the mole and dropped his torpedo at point-blank range towards Gneisenau's stern. As he did so, the German flak gunners hit him and he crashed in flames into the water.
But he had done his job. Seconds later his torpedo exploded against Gneisenau on the starboard side aft. Water rushed in and she began to list heavily. A salvage vessel which came alongside to pump tons of water from her scuppers had difficulty keeping her from sinking.
The bodies of Campbell and his gallant aircrew, Sgts. Scott, Mullis and Hillman, were fished out of the harbour and brought on board the battleship. Their bodies were draped in flags and placed on the quarterdeck, where a guard of honour was mounted as a mark of respect.
While this chivalrous ceremony was taking place, the salvage crews managed to pump enough water out to right her, since she could not remain in danger at the buoy. RAF spotter planes were now informing the British about every move of the battleships. Another attack like Campbell's on Gneisenau would probably sink her.
The following morning Gneisenau again entered dry dock where inspection confirmed that Campbell's torpedo had wrecked the starboard propeller and shaft tunnel. This would need six months to repair. She would be out of action twice as long as Scharnhorst.
When the British heard about Campbell's heroic act he was awarded the highest decoration for gallantry, the Victoria Cross. The citation said: "Despising heavy odds Flying Officer Kenneth Campbell went cheerfully and resolutely to his task. By pressing home his attack at close quarters in the face of withering fire on a course fraught with extreme peril, he displayed valour of the highest order."
As a result of Campbell's torpedo both battleships were now due for a long stay so the German Navy decided to put their static fleet to some use. A detachment of a hundred midshipmen were sent from Germany to the Brest battleships to complete their training. They were posted equally to both ships and, as anti-aircraft defence was most vital, this was their main task. It became a brutal battle training for these budding officers. For some it was very short.
On the night of 10 April, the sirens again wailed and the first bomb explosions could be heard above the roar of the flak guns. Suddenly there came a series of tremendous flashes and explosions and a red glow lit up Gneisenau's superstructure. She had been hit by three bombs and was on fire. The bombs killed fifty and wounded ninety of her crew, the heaviest casualties being among the flak crews and the young midshipmen. At the time of the raid many of the off-duty midshipmen were in their quarters between decks. Most of them were killed by fragments of other big bombs exploding on the quayside.
As ambulances drew up at the ship's gangway and long rows of stretcher cases were taken to hospital, Captain Hoffmann went across from Scharnhorst to offer help. He ordered a working-party to fight the fires on the mess decks, but they had to flood one magazine before the fires were controlled and Gneisenau out of danger.
The Germans' main concern was to conceal the extent of the damage from the French, but each battleship could only make ten coffins, and this meant tiiey would have to call in French carpenters to make many more. When the order was given the news of the German dead spread rapidly among the inhabitants of Brest.
After this they arranged for most of the crews to sleep ashore in barracks, leaving only flak gunners and a duty watch in the ship. This raid also decided the authorities in Berlin to step up the A.A. defences of Brest. They increased the number of 4-inch guns to 150 and smaller flak guns to 1,200, to make a murderous concentration of fire. Also the two battleships were moved closer together. The lock gates were closed and protected by nets against torpedoes fired by either intruding submarines or wave-skimming planes.
In Scharnhorst's old berth, Hoffmann built a wooden and sheet-iron replica of her on the hull of an old French cruiser, Jeanne d'Arc. Nets hung from the battleships' masts to the dockside with paint sprayed over them to make them resemble clumps of trees. On the roofs of the Naval College the surviving midshipmen erected wooden huts to make it look like a village.
A network of artificial smoke-generators which could shroud the port under a thick fog within a few minutes was installed around the harbour. This last precaution aroused protests from the Luftwaffe who maintained that the dense smoke would endanger their fighter operations. This artificial fog also nearly caused a collision between the two battleships when they came to leave harbour.
The flak and the fighters gave them protection during the day but in darkness it was a different story. As the RAF's heavy bombing continued nearly every night it looked as though not only would the ships be damaged but most of their crews endangered. Although many of them were taken at night in lorries to barracks in Brest, many were still being killed ashore so it was decided to move them farther out to avoid the raids.
They were moved at night to La Roche fifteen miles from Brest near the sleepy little Breton town of Landerneau. Both places were on the main line to Paris and the railway was used a lot to move crews about.
Hidden in a small forest of birch trees near Landerneau, barracks were built for the crews of each ship. It was also planned to build extra ones for the crew of another German battleship, Bismarck, due in for a refit after her own Atlantic merchant shipping forays. Outside the dockyard at Brest the large buoys swung at their moorings awaiting her arrival.
While the other two German battleships were being repaired in Brest, Bismarck was sheltering in the German-occupied Norwegian port of Bergen. But on a moonless night-20 May 1941-she slipped out, escorted by the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen. At noon next day, when the news reached the Admiralty in Whitehall, the Home Fleet was ordered to sail from Scapa Flow to intercept the German ships south of the Denmark Straits.
At dawn on 24 May the two German ships were in action with the British fleet, which included the veteran battle-cruiser Hood and the battleship Prince of Wales on her maiden voyage. The Royal Navy had the worst of the battle. Hood, hit by Bismarck and Prinz Eugen, blew up. Prince of Wales was so badly damaged that she took no further part in the action. But smaller Royal Naval ships still shadowed the fast-steaming Bismarck.
In the afternoon the new aircraft-carrier Victorious was detached from the main force to attack her. When 825 Squadron of Swordfish rose from her flight deck to make a night attack on the German battleship, the leading plane was piloted by Lt.-Cdr. Eugene Esmonde.
At 11:30 p.m., when they were 120 miles from the carrier, Esmonde's Swordfish squadron sighted Bismarck. Flying 100 feet above the waves in the darkness, they let go their torpedoes from less than 1,000 yards. As they banked away there was a roar followed by a flash and a curling plume of flame.
The Bismarck had been hit amidships.
The torpedo slowed her down, and after a three-day chase the Home Fleet again brought the Bismarck into action. This time she was alone. Four hours before the battle the Prinz Eugen had slipped away. The Bismarck sank under the guns and torpedoes of the Royal Navy.
It was on the night of 7 May that German naval officers at Brest, surreptitiously listening to the B.B.C. news, heard: "At 10:37 G.M.T. the German battleship Bismarck was sunk."
The German Navy in Brest took the news of Bismarck's sinking gloomily. Equally depressing was the lack of news of her escorting cruiser, Prinz Eugen. Had she too been sunk? Or had she escaped and was preserving radio silence in case her calls were intercepted by the pursuing Royal Navy? For five days there was silence. Then at dawn on 1 June a buzz of excitement went round the battleship crews. Prinz Eugen had appeared at the entrance to Brest Harbour.
She brought grim news. When her captain, Helmuth Brinkmann, made a report to Grand Admiral Raeder in Berlin about the fate of the Bismarck, he stated that the British battleships now had such good radar equipment that it could not be evaded.
The rest of the situation was also depressing. Despite German precautions, day and night raids on Brest docks became a familiar part of their daily life. Almost every day, the B.B.C.'s nine o'clock news reported that bombers had visited Brest to attack the German warships.
The British realized that this constant bombing might eventually cause the Germans to make a desperate dash home. A series of conferences was held between Admiralty and Air Ministry planners. As a result Coastal Command was ordered to establish three separate dusk-to-dawn radar reconnaissance patrols off Brest and along the Channel. They became known as "Stopper," which covered from Brest to Ushant, "Line SE" from Ushant to Brittany and "Habo" from Le Havre to Boulogne. Fighter Command also organized daylight Channel sweeps known as "Jim Crow."
On 29 April 1941 an Air Ministry letter to the three RAF Commands-Fighter, Bomber and Coastal-said: "Scharnhorst and Gneisenau may attempt to reach a German port up the Channel route during the period April 30th to May 4th inclusive. It is considered probable that the Straits of Dover will be navigated in darkness. It is considered unlikely that the enemy would attempt the passage of the Straits in daylight. But if this should be attempted, a unique opportunity will be offered to both our surface craft and air striking force to engage the enemy ships in force whilst in the Straits of Dover." Bomber Command was instructed to have strike forces in readiness for the Germans leaving Brest.
At this stage, the RAF were well ahead of the Germans in their tactical appreciation. It was not until 30 May-a month after the Air Ministry had considered the possibility of a Channel break-out-that the German Naval Command West in Paris sent a memorandum to Grand Admiral Raeder in Berlin suggesting a contingency plan: "The possibility of bringing heavy ships through the English Channel should be carefully examined. The route is shorter than the Iceland passage. There are good escort possibilities, both air and sea. Enemy radar could be jammed. Superior enemy units would not be present and the passage would be in the close proximity of our own harbours to which ships could be taken in the event of breakdowns."
Raeder reacted strongly against this suggestion. He drew up a formidable list of hazards: "1. The difficulty of navigation in narrow waters. 2. The battleships must be seen by the British. 3. The danger from mines, torpedo boats, torpedo-carrying aircraft and dive-bombers."
But Raeder's principal objection was that mine-sweepers could not clear a wide enough path for the ships to take avoiding action in the event of torpedo attack. He concluded, "The naval war staff therefore consider an unobserved and safe escape through the Channel to be impossible." This view entirely coincided with that of his opposite number in London, First Sea Lord Sir Dudley Pound.
Raeder had good reasons for being cautious. For he had only five battleships-including the "pocket" battleships-to the Royal Navy's fifteen. He had no aircraft-carriers, although the Graf Zeppelin was under construction-but never completed-whilst the British had six operational carriers.
Raeder, one of the ablest and most professional naval officers Germany has ever produced, nursed his ships like a duck with ducklings. During the fourteen years in which he was its Commander-in-Chief no one had guarded the honour of the German Navy more jealously than he.
When Raeder rejected the Channel plan it was generally felt among the admirals in Berlin that this was the end of the matter. For Hitler trusted Raeder's judgement and had promoted him to Grand Admiral, second only to Goring as Hitler's adviser for the prosecution of the war.
It came as a surprise when Admiral Krancke, Raeder's personal representative on Hitler's Supreme Staff, was summoned to the Führer's headquarters and, standing stiffly to attention, listened pale-faced to the tirade of abuse concerning the German capital ships and their officers which Hitler hurled at him.
Hitler, at war with Russia since June, was becoming alarmed at the numerous small British commando raids on the coast of Norway, starting with the Lofotens in March 1941. He considered the Norwegian coastline to be the most vulnerable section of his Western Wall. The news had also reached Hitler that British convoys were bringing tanks, aircraft and guns to the Eastern Front. He decided that Norway, where in any case he had always thought the British intended to open a second front, had now become even more strategically important.
Meanwhile the RAF continued to keep up their non-stop bombing attacks on Brest. A month after Raeder had rejected the Channel plan-on the morning of 1 July-it was Prinz Eugens turn. While she lay alongside the eastern basin of the commercial dock, a RAF bomb smashed the ship's armour-plating and exploded in the most vulnerable compartments- the plotting room and transmitting station. It killed forty-seven men, including her first officer, Cdr. Otto Stoos, and wounded thirty-two. It also put Prinz Eugen out of action for three months.
On the other hand, Scharnhorst was refitted and on the morning of 23 July left for La Pallice, 250 miles to the south, for trials to test her super-heaters and practise firing her guns. Captain Hoffmann chose the shoal-dotted waters around La Pallice because they afforded the best protection against submarines and he needed only a few patrol boats to keep watch.
A tanker took her place in the dock as a decoy and was covered with netting. To disguise the direction of her departure, the Germans put out false oil trails leading north from Brest. In spite of this careful camouflage, the ever-watchful RAF spotted the move and reported that Scharnhorst was moving south from her berth. Was she about to break out into the Atlantic? As spotter planes watched her, the opinion grew that this might be the long-awaited escape.
Unaware of the British suspicions, the battleship performed perfectly, reaching a speed of thirty knots without difficulty. She returned to La Pallice that evening, expecting to remain there for several days while minor adjustments were made.
Before dark a group of Stirling heavy bombers attacked her and made one direct hit with a heavy armour-piercing bomb. More heavy bomber attacks during the night damaged La Pallice docks. At dawn a RAF photographic reconnaissance plane was over La Pallice. As it revealed little serious damage it was decided to mount the most massive daylight raid on both battleships.
Ninety-nine RAF bombers took off, arriving over the battleships at 2 p.m. Three Flying Fortresses, sixty-three Wellingtons and eighteen Hampdens attacked the Gneisenau in Brest while eight Halifaxes bombed the Scharnhorst in La Pallice.
This was the first time Fortresses, fitted with the new Sperry bombsight for high altitude bombing, had taken part in a raid on the Brest battleships. They had arrived in England just three months before and the attack that hot July afternoon on the German battleships was only their third operation.
Because of the height at which they operated they carried special aircrews-none of them over 24 years old. The pilots of the three Fortresses, Wing-Cdr. Macdougall, Sq. Ldr. MacLaren and Flt.-Lt. Mathieson, were told to concentrate on the Gneisenau. At eight minutes past two they started bombing from a height of 30,000 feet, each aircraft dropping four 1100-lb. bombs which burst on the quays and docks. Although accurate flak was seen following them a thousand feet below they were too high for the German defences. After they had released their bombs three Messerschmitts climbed steeply towards them but the Fortresses turned away and lost them.
At the same time Wing-Cdr. Maw led the low-level British-built bombers down to 6,000 feet, their bombs bursting among the dockyard buildings. Pilot Officer Payne went down to 3,500 feet and as his bombs straddled the Gneisenau both he and his front gunner, Sgt. Wilkinson, were wounded by flak.
The Halifaxes attacked the Scharnhorst at La Pallice from 12,000 feet. She was easily identified by the high-flying bomber pilots from a cloudless sky, and a row of five bombs hit her. Thick smoke began to pour from her as terrific explosions shook the ship. Two bombs exploded on deck, causing a great rent. Yet she was lucky. The three heavy bombs that penetrated the armoured upper deck and smashed through the hull failed to explode, although they caused her to take in 6,000 tons of water.
The ship began to settle with a heavy list. But the efficient repair-parties quickly righted her and the damage was promptly repaired. A signal went to the port authorities for divers, who found the impact with Scharnhorst's deck had torn the steel off one of the bombs and had helped to prevent it exploding. The holes in Scharnhorst's hull were soon patched up.
Good luck was still with her for, miraculously, there were no casualties. She returned to Brest at twenty-seven knots.
The autumn of 1941 was the beginning of bad times for the German war machine. Hitler's blitzkrieg against the Soviet Union was slowing up at die onset of the savage Russian winter. Hitler was personally conducting the campaign from his headquarters at Rastenburg in East Prussia, known as Wolf's Lair.
Since the start of the Russian campaign Admiral Raeder had heard nothing from his preoccupied Führer. But on 17 September, as the Admiral was preparing plans for using his battleships in the Atlantic shipping lanes again, he was summoned to a conference with Hitler at Wolf's Lair.
Hitler did not want to hear about the Atlantic plan. He was convinced the British were going to invade Norway and interrupted to say, "The Atlantic can be left to the U-boats. Your battleships, all your major units, must be stationed along the Norwegian coast. They can be of some use in guarding Norway against invasion. They will be safer there from air attack than in Brest."
He called Norway the "zone of destiny." Hitler, who had referred to himself to Raeder as "a land animal," said to him, "Battleships are not good for anything. The big guns would be more useful and less vulnerable in emplacements ashore. I have plans for disarming these steel monsters and using them for the defence of the Norwegian coast."
There was a second conference in November when Hitler produced a marked map of the Norwegian coast with areas shown from which the two battleships and Prinz Eugen could operate against the British. He was impatient with Raeder. What was the major part of German sea power doing bottled up and being bombed in Brest? He ended by inquiring harshly, "What solution does the Navy have?"
To placate him, Raeder brought out a contingency plan by Naval Group West in Paris which had been pigeon-holed. It suggested that, while awaiting completion of repairs to the battleships, an attempt might be made to send Prinz Eugen on a lone dash through the English Channel to a German port. Hitler, who had appeared uninterested, even bored, suddenly looked up and commented, "Why only the Prinz Eugen? Why not all the ships?"
Raeder, who was not expecting even the Prinz Eugen plan to be taken seriously, was astonished. He replied, "A dash through the Channel by a solitary cruiser is a very different matter, mein Führer, from a movement by a whole fleet."
Hitler was the last person on earth to be put off by such a statement. "The issue of war will be decided in Norway," he said. "Unless the British are fools they will attack us there."
As he said this, he looked directly at Raeder and gave the Nazi salute in dismissal. Raeder flew back to Berlin and sent a signal to Admiral Saalwächter, Chief of Naval Group West in Paris, asking how soon the battleships could put to sea. He was not displeased when he received a reply that the two battleships would not be ready until December. It was just as well. By then Hitler, obsessed with the Russian front, might have forgotten this hare-brained idea.
At first Raeder tried to gain time saying he must have discussions with his staff. He explained the position to his Chief of Staff, Admiral Fricke, in Berlin and also to Admiral Wagner, head of the Operations Section directing the war at sea, saying, "Hitler wants the ships back in home waters, for he believes there might be an attempt at a British invasion in the Norwegian area."
As the Berlin naval chiefs studied the basic aspects of the plan their first objection was the state of crew training. The better trained the crews were, the more chance they had of pulling off a daring operation like this. Yet through no fault of Captain Hoffmann and his fellow commanders, the crews' training and morale was very much below standard. Brest-bound as they were, always under the threatening shadow of the RAF, they were only able to carry out restricted exercises and drills. But the greatest obstacle to the plan would be the need for the strictest secrecy. Except for the most senior officers at Brest, no one could be allowed to know what was to happen. This would mean the crews could not be inspired by their training instructors with a promise of glory.
Yet the more Admiral Wagner studied the Führer's plan the more he found he was not against the operation. This was because the entire world naval situation had changed suddenly on 6 December 1941, when America had come into the war. He considered the days were now over when the Germans could keep the ships in Brest as a constant Atlantic threat.
In his view, to do this indefinitely would be to invite disaster. The situation seemed quite plain; on one side there were the British with the increasingly destructive power of their bombing raids; but on the other side there was the menacing voice of the Führer. "You will remove the ships where I can employ them in the Norwegian theatre. Otherwise you will give me their guns and I will mount them in shore batteries. Make your choice, meine Herren."
Was there an alternative to a break-out through the Channel? They could bring the ships north of Britain round by the Iceland route. But in their path in Scapa Flow lurked the might of the British battle fleet which was bound to intercept-and send them to join Bismarck at the bottom.
However, his intelligence reports revealed that the English appeared to have very little in the Channel.
His chief, Admiral Raeder, still did not like the plan. Like First Sea Lord Dudley Pound in the Admiralty in London he feared for his capital ships. If the ships were put out of action by the RAF or Royal Navy, it would be the virtual end of the German Navy as a force. Feeling that the ships would be too like sitting ducks on the narrow waters of the Channel, he told Wagner, "I cannot make this proposal to Hitler that we break through the Channel."
Wagner argued the risk might have to be taken. He said, "If the ships are dismantled we will present the British with a bloodless victory. The German Navy will never hold up its head again. To concede victory to the enemy without a fight is to sentence the German Navy to death."
Faced with these views, and the Führer's fanatic insistence, Raeder began to give way a little-but he was still not convinced.
On 29 December, he had a stormy meeting with Hitler when the Führer persisted in his plan. When Raeder said that, after being in port for so long, his ships could hardly be expected to face the powerful British Home Fleet without some preparation, Hitler once again raved about "the uselessness of the battleships." He refused even to allow the time for lengthy "shake-down" sea-going exercises and firing practice which Raeder wanted. For as he pointed out quite reasonably, they might easily be bombed and sunk while on these practices.
Raeder flew back to Berlin and passed the whole matter over to Naval Group West in Paris. Although the operation would be under the immediate command of Vice-Admiral Otto Ciliax who commanded the Brest ships flying his flag in Scharnhorst, Naval Group West in Paris was responsible for all operational directions.
The Commander-in-Chief of Naval Group West was 59-year-old General-Admiral Alfred Saalwächter. Fair-haired and blue-eyed, he had an exceptional mind. Although smallish in height, he was regarded in the German Navy as riesengross- "gigantic in stature."
A Prussian, born at Neusalz on the River Oder, he had been a submarine commander in the First World war, but although he had been awarded the Knight's Cross in 1940, he was no friend of the Führer, with whom, like so many German admirals, he had had differences.
Between wars, Saalwächter had gone round naval ports inspecting establishments and training personnel. He wrote a standard book on naval warfare for the German Navy, Seekriegsanleitung, which became the textbook for all officers.
His headquarters-Naval Group West-were in the Avenue Maréchal Faijolle, near the Bois de Boulogne. It was a large, four-storied mansion of Napoleon III period. The only indications of its naval importance were two striped sentry boxes at the entrance, each with a German sailor in blouse and gaiters carrying a rifle.
Saalwächter had a staff consisting of about fifteen high-ranking naval officers, with several hundred petty officers and technicians. On the upper floors of the mansion were the "cabins" where the staff officers lived and took their meals. In the basement was a big garage with a fleet of staff cars. The drivers were civilians, mostly white Russians. Their leader, ironically enough, had been a Russian admiral in the First World war.
As there were few German troops in metropolitan Paris at that time Saalwächter's staff led a strange isolated life. They worked so hard they often did not go out for days at a time but they always had seats at the Paris Opera House because their chief liked opera. The only time Saalwächter appeared relaxed was when he was stealing an evening from his headquarters at the Opera.
At the end of 1941 Admiral Otto Ciliax, commander of the Brest squadron, was away on Christmas leave in Germany. He was not due back until the New Year. Ciliax-a product of the German: Naval Academy at Flensburg-was a tall, brusque black-haired man. He was a former captain of the Scharnhorst and was not very popular. He was a notorious martinet and nick-named "The Black Czar." When a staff officer saluted him and his hand did not travel to his brow with regulation agility, a frown would come on Ciliax's face as he returned his salute. A little bit later he would send a petty officer over to him with a message, "The Admiral's compliments, mein kapitän, but he would like to speak with you." Ciliax would say angrily, "I just wanted to tell you I did not like your salute!" As the Germans put it, he was a "starker Mann!"
Another reason he was not popular was that he could not delegate authority. In Scharnhorst, he and his staff had an admiral's bridge immediately above Captain Hoffmann's navigational bridge, and he was several times snubbed for giving orders on the running of the ship literally over the captain's head.
If Ciliax met an officer whom he did not like the Admiral made him miserable. He suffered from stomach trouble and was frequently in some pain, which may have played a part in his irascibility. But with all his rough mannerisms he had dignity.
His Chief of Staff, the calm 41-year-old, pipe-smoking Captain Hans Jürgen Reinicke, had heard about his reputation before he joined him-so he was prepared. He swallowed what Ciliax said to him in public but later sought him out privately and told him if things continued in this manner he would put in for a. transfer. He had no more trouble and Reinicke became one of the few officers who could handle him.
On 30 December just after dinner an urgent signal was brought to Reinicke aboard Scharnhorst. It was from Naval Group West in Paris ordering him to report there at 10 a.m. on New Year's Day. As the message said Admiral Ciliax was also being ordered to report in Paris, he realized it was more than a routine matter.
It was too late to catch the evening train to Paris so he took one the next morning. It was evening when he arrived at the Gare Montparnasse and crossed Paris to the Gare de l'Est to meet Admiral Ciliax recalled from home leave in Germany by the same cryptic message from Group West. It was not surprising that Ciliax, never noted for his good temper, came off the train in one of his blacker moods.
"What's this all about, Reinicke?" he growled more than once. But his Chief of Staff could not enlighten him. They would both have to wait for their appointment next morning.
It was New Year's Eve. They had a meal, split a bottle of champagne, and went to bed early.
The next morning they went to Group West headquarters and waited in a conference room for Alfred Saalwächter. He soon appeared with Admiral Schniewind, the new operational commander of the German Navy. Saalwächter briskly told Ciliax and Reinicke the news-the Führer wanted the three ships to leave Brest, proceed to their German home ports and then to Norway for operations there.
But Admiral Saalwächter revealed he was worried about the fate of his great ships. After he told them of the Führer's demands he asked for their frank opinions. He was trying to organize expert opposition to dissuade the Führer. When Ciliax raised many objections against Hitler's scheme, he told him to go away and put them in writing. After Ciliax had written his detailed objections, Saalwächter forwarded them with his own report to Raeder.
He wrote: "I submit herewith conclusions for the comprehensive scrutiny that has been ordered into the question of the withdrawal of the Brest Group eastwards through the Channel.
"The hazards applicable to a voyage of battleships through the Channel eastwards are summed up at the end of the outline.
"I view these hazards as being very great. I must for this reason alone give an urgent warning against it being carried out.
"On the 12 November I commented that one single surprise move to the west by one or by several battleships was feasible. But conversely, a move eastwards of the battleships is one combined with too great a peril. Subsequent navigation through the Channel would be rendered impossible because the element of surprise would have departed.
"It can be executed only during the period of the longest nights. It must be accompanied by control of the mine situation and air preponderance in the Channel.
"I do not take the view that the new experiences in the East Asian theatre of war can be taken as proof of the uselessness of battleships to abandon our warfare in the Atlantic.
[The sinking of the Repulse and Prince of Wales by Japanese aircraft.]
Our opponent does not think so, as the unchanged characteristics of his heavy forces show.
"I advocate, as I have always done, the conception that the essential tasks of our battleships lie in the Atlantic.
"Our numerical inferiority affords us opportunities for success only by surprise offensive sorties directed at the enemy's weak points which are to be found in his long Atlantic supply routes, and not by continually facing with defensive action a greatly superior enemy.
"At this time the best possibilities of success for the Brest Group lie in surprise action against north to south convoys. The Brest Group's achievements already go to show that the enemy feels and fears this threat and straightaway tries by air attacks to rid himself of it.
"This pressure can only be made permanent if our battleship strength actually goes to sea. Yet even during the long period of repairs the enemy can hardly foretell with exactitude when one or several of the ships are able to pounce. Withdrawal of the Brest Group from the Atlantic means releasing the enemy from this strategic pressure.
"The plan for tying down his heavy naval forces in the Atlantic falls apart. Maintenance of pressure on other theatres of war such as East Asia and the Mediterranean must also stop. A perceptible strengthening of English sea power in East Asia will follow, thereby impeding Japan.
"In addition to actual strategic prizes, there is great prestige for our enemy. On the other hand there would be a great loss of prestige for us which would be made far worse if the ships were lost by the voyage through the Channel. Political consequences very damaging to us and our allies are inevitable.
"If our ships disappear from the Atlantic or from the Atlantic position people would rightly talk about a 'lost battle'. Naval actions from Norway would not make up for such a move.
"We do not stand there on the Atlantic just for raiding possibilities against the enemy supply routes. We threaten Scotland, Iceland, the North Arctic and Russia.
"In the Norwegian harbours the aerial danger and with it the stresses for the Luftwaffe would hardly be less. The enemy at all times could by choice of place and time have greater superiority. Liaison with any battleships in the Atlantic would be impossible.
"I am convinced that the problem of the Atlantic position as it is at present cannot be gone back upon later. In any case, it is clear that a "bringing back again" of the ships would be enormously difficult.
"Finally, there are indications that if our ships withdrew from the Atlantic after a lost battle, to appear again in home waters and remain there it would be injurious to the psychology of our own ships' companies, of the entire Navy and of the German people.
"I am therefore convinced that it would now be a very serious mistake by us at this time to withdraw the ships from Brest in their Atlantic position.
"I consider their remaining there, even though with heavy damage and lengthy repair times, is the correct course.
"There remains for consideration only the slight relief of the Luftwaffe which would come about in Brest.
"If the withdrawal plan of the Brest Group to the East is adhered to, then examination might be made as to whether Prinz Eugen should take part. By the cruiser remaining at Brest, at least a portion of the present strategic operations of the Brest Group would remain in being to confront our enemy.
"I submit with this report extracts from three letters of C-in-C of the ships (Ciliax), corresponding to my point of view, which he sent me after the first conference on the matter in Group West.
"Should the question be put through the Supreme Commander-in-Chief of the Wehrmacht to the Navy: 'Break-out or Disarm?' then I would say with a heavy heart that against the 'Break-out' with its enormous risks, I would prefer temporary disarmament. For when the fortunes of the day change the ordnance could be restored, whilst a loss of these valuable ships and their crews could only bring damage without benefit."
It was a gloomy and defeatist document and Hitler was to have none of it. He was concerned that the constant BAF bombing was slowly fraying the fabric of crew morale.
Although unaware of Hitler's plan and Saalwächter's strong objections, the BAF bombing of Brest increased in December. And for the first time photographic planes revealed that all three ships seemed to be preparing for sea.
On Christmas Eve the Admiralty ordered seven submarines to form an "iron ring" around the approaches to Brest.
The navigator of Scharnhorst, 42-year-old Helmuth Giessler, was on Christmas leave. When he went off, neither he nor any other naval officers at Brest had any inkling that Hitler was holding a pistol at Baeder's head demanding the ships leave Brest. At that time not even Admiral Ciliax had the faintest suspicion of their fate.
Giessler came back from his leave on the same day as Vice-Admiral Ciliax returned from the New Year's Day conference with Admiral Saalwächter at Naval Group West in Paris. That evening Ciliax summoned him to his cabin. As navigating officer of the flagship he was responsible for the whole squadron so he had to be one of the first to be told about the plan. Ciliax informed him in his usual brusque way about the proposed operation. He added crisply, "Consider your needs and requirements, Giessler, and what preparations you consider necessary. You have until morning!"
With these words the Admiral dismissed him. That night Giessler climbed into his bunk but did not get a wink of sleep. He tossed about all night with the information racing through his brain.
A voyage of these great battleships through the narrow English Channel had been so improbable that he had hardly looked at the Channel charts-he had never considered them as waters where the Scharnhorst might sail. Now the problem was how to obtain these charts without arousing gossip and suspicion.
Next morning he called Chief Petty Officer Wehrlich to his cabin and handed him a list. "I require these charts, of the Mediterranean and these charts of Icelandic waters," he said. "Also these of the West African coast." He also demanded pilot books of the Mediterranean and everywhere else he could think of. Wehrlich kept bringing so much navigational material that towards the end of the day he could hardly enter his cabin for papers and books. Among this pile of material were his charts of the English Channel. In the middle of all his other requests, Giessler had slipped in a casual order for them.
Giessler had an extra problem. He knew Wehrlich was not experienced enough for the magnitude of his task-but Wehrlich's predecessor, Lt. Johann Hinrichs was. He was the man he wanted at his side to help plan this vital operation.
He was now the skipper of a fleet of mine-sweeping trawlers, but when Giessler explained the situation to Ciliax, a puzzled Hinrichs received a secret signal posting him back to Scharnhorst. When he arrived Giessler let him into the secret. During those January days they sat together in the navigator's cabin. Giessler kept muttering to himself "Ach so," and humming tunelessly as they pored over his charts. They worked out the tides, times of darkness, depth of water, and the complete timetable the ships must try and adhere to hour by hour on the voyage from Brest to Wilhelmshaven.
While Giessler was working out his plan, unknown to him something happened which was to help him. On 2 January, the Royal Navy's submarine "iron ring" faded away. High submarine losses in the Mediterranean and a bottle-neck in the training programme caused the "subs" to be withdrawn-and surveillance left to the RAE
Yet, as if to confirm Hitler's attitude, at 8:30 p.m. on 6 January 1942, a RAF bomb burst against the hull of the Gneisenau as she was lying in Number Eight Dock. Several yards of her armour were ripped and two compartments were flooded.
On 12 January, Admirals Raeder, Saalwächter and Ciliax were summoned to Wolfs Lair for the final full-scale conference. Raeder brought his Chief of Staff, Admiral Fricke, while Ciliax was accompanied by Captain Reinicke, his own Chief of Staff, and Saalwächter by his mine expert, Commodore Friedrich Rüge. The. Luftwaffe was represented by Göring's Chief of Staff, Lt.-General Jeschonnek, accompanied by one of Germany's famous fighter aces, Col. Adolf Galland, who had fought in the German Condor Legion in the Spanish Civil War and was a veteran of the Rattles of France and Britain.
They arrived in a snowstorm at Wolfs Lair. Lt.-General Jodl, Hitler's personal military adviser, who lived and worked there, described the Führer's headquarters as "a cross between a monastery and a concentration camp."
Hitler spent his days in a concrete bunker with a 20-foot thick roof. It was a sealed box with no window and no outlet to the open air. Next door was another similar concrete bunker used by Hitler as his map room, where he stood waiting for them. After giving them the Nazi salute he asked them to be seated round the big conference table.
At Hitler's request, Raeder opened the session, saying, "The question of the passage of the Brest Group through the Channel has been examined by all agencies concerned. In the light of the Führer's opinion, the German Fleet's primary task is to defend the Norwegian coast and ports and, in so doing, it should use its might unsparingly. Since you, mein Führer, informed me that you insist upon the return of the heavy units to their home bases, I suggest that Vice-Admiral Ciliax report on the details of how this operation is to be prepared and carried out, and that Commodore Ruge subsequently report on the necessary mine-sweeping measures, to enable you, mein Führer, to make the final decision afterwards."
Hitler replied: "The Naval Force at Brest has, above all, the welcome effect of tying up enemy air forces and diverting them from making attacks upon the German homeland. But with our ships at Brest, enemy sea forces are tied up to no greater extent than would be the case if the ships were stationed in Norway. If I could see any chance that the ships might remain undamaged for four to five months and, thereafter, be employed in operations in the Atlantic, I might be more inclined to consider leaving them in Brest.
"Since in my opinion such a development is not to be expected, I am determined to withdraw the ships from Brest to avoid exposing them to chance hits day after day. I fear that there will be a large-scale British-Russian offensive in Norway. I think that if a strong task force of battleships and cruisers, practically the entire German Fleet, were stationed along the Norwegian coast, it could, in conjunction with the German Air Force, make a decisive contribution towards the defence of the area."
Then it was Ciliax's turn. "I recommend the necessity of leaving Brest under cover of darkness, taking maximum advantage of the element of surprise, and of passing through the Straits of Dover in the daytime. This will make the most effective use of the means of defence at our disposal."
Hitler agreed, saying, "I emphasize particularly the surprise to be achieved by having the ships leave after dark."
Ciliax said, "I must stress emphatically that a very strong destroyer and fighter protection must be provided on the day of the break-through itself from dawn to dusk."
"I am aware of the decisive role to be played by the Air Force in this enterprise," replied Hitler and turned to Luftwaffe Chief of Staff, Lt.-General Jeschonnek, who said, "I do not believe I will be able to provide constant unfailing protection for the ships with the available 250 fighters which cannot possibly be reinforced."
Even in the presence of the Führer he was exhibiting the Luftwaffe's traditional reluctance to co-operate with the Navy. But with Hitler's cold eyes upon him, Jeschonnek hastily promised to draw on the existing night-fighter formation to provide dawn fighter protection.
Hitler then asked for opinions as to the possibility of using the northern route saying, "I do not care which route is selected by the Navy, if only it is successful in getting those ships transferred to Norwegian waters."
The four Admirals explained that the northern route was not suitable for several reasons. Baeder commented, "The present disposition of enemy forces is against such a move; there are two or three battleships and two aircraft-carriers in the Home Fleet. Moreover, the German air forces would not be able to provide the necessary air cover."
Commodore Buge, commanding the seaward defences of the occupied French coast, including the mine-sweeping and mine-laying forces, was asked to report. Buge was able to assure Hitler that the menace from mines, always regarded as the main danger to forcing a passage through the Channel, was not as bad as imagined.
Baeder, still unsure of the Luftwaffe's full support, repeated his demands to the Air Force for a very strong fighter cover. He also asked for attacks on enemy torpedo plane bases in the early morning of the day of the break-through, and possibly a few days earlier.
Lt.-General Jeschonnek replied stiffly, "The constant air cover demanded will leave insufficient aircraft for the heavy air battles that are sure to develop on the day of the breakthrough. We may expect our fighter force to become very inferior in strength-at least during the afternoon. Also our own anti-aircraft personnel are susceptible to fatigue in the afternoon as experience has shown."
Col. Galland, who was to command the Luftwaffe fighter cover, also offered his opinion, "The strong Spitfire forces at the disposal of the British will render things difficult for the long-range fighters which we are going to employ."
Raeder remarked that tide and daylight would determine the timing of the operation. That was the reason the date could not be changed. When he asked what should be done in case one or several ships were unable to move on the date set, Hitler decided, "If two battleships are in a position to move, they are to undertake the operation, if necessary without the cruiser. If only one battleship and the cruiser can move, they must do likewise. But in no case should the Prinz Eugen do so alone."
Then Hitler, cutting through both air and naval objections, said briskly, "The ships must not leave port in the daytime as we are dependent on the element of surprise. This means that they will have to pass through the Dover Straits in the daytime. In view of past experience I do not believe the British capable of making and carrying out lightning decisions.
"This is why I do not think they will be as swift as is assumed by the Naval Staff and the Admiral Commanding Battleships in shifting their bomber and pursuit forces to the south-eastern part of England for an attack on our ships in the Dover Straits.
"Picture what would happen if the situation were reversed!-if a surprise report came in that British battleships have appeared in the Thames estuary and are heading for the Straits of Dover. In my opinion, even we would hardly be able to bring up air pursuit forces and bomber forces swiftly and mediodi-cally."
He added dramatically, "The situation of the Brest Group is comparable with that of a cancer patient, who is doomed unless he submits to an operation. An operation, even though it might be a drastic one, will offer at least some hope that the patient's life may yet be saved. The passage of our ships through the Channel would be such an operation. It must therefore be attempted."
Finally Hitler said, "Nothing can be gained by leaving the ships at Brest. Should the Brest Group manage to escape through the Channel, however, there is a chance that it might be employed to good advantage at a later date. If the ships remain at Brest their ability to tie up enemy air forces may not continue for long. As long as they are in battle-worthy condition they will constitute worthwhile targets, which the enemy will feel obliged to attack. But the moment they are seriously damaged-and this may happen any day-the enemy will discontinue his attacks. In view of all this and in accordance with the suggestion of the C-in-C Navy I decide that the operation is to be prepared as proposed."
That was it. After the conference Hitler entertained his admirals and generals at dinner in the concrete shelter where he lived. He ate frugally as usual but was more genial than anyone had seen him for a long time. He said, almost jovially, "You will find that this operation will turn out to be our most spectacular naval success of the war."
He revealed his only doubt-would the Luftwaffe manage it? He realized that Galland with his fighters was the key figure in the operation. Saying good-bye to him he asked quietly, "Do you think they will bring it off?" When Galland assured him he thought they would he dismissed him with a rare smile.
The decision was made. Far from dismantling the great ships the Germans were to fight them through the English Channel in daylight. An attempt like this had not been made by an enemy of England for over three centuries-since the Spanish Armada of 1588.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:36 PM
The second phase of the western campaign, which began on June 5th, 1940, and ended less than three weeks later with an armistice between France, Germany and Italy, saw the Luftwaffe, on the model of the Polish campaign, mainly occupied in giving close support to the rapidly advancing army. Its next opponent would be Britain. Or would that country prefer to be "reasonable" and come to terms before the struggle re-opened and the island bore the whole brunt of the enemy's might?
On July 10th south-east England and the Straits of Dover lay covered beneath broken cloud, height about 6,000 feet, with short, sharp showers beating down. A low-pressure front was approaching from the North Atlantic, and over the rest of England it was raining cats and dogs. The weather was typical of this very wet July.
The German fighter pilots, whose units had gradually re-grouped on air- fields behind the Channel coast, slapped their arms about to keep warm. Mud stuck to their flying boots, and the runways had become swamps. How were they supposed to force the British fighters into battle under such conditions? Or was there to be no battle after all?
No one seemed to know. Since the end of the French campaign most of them had been cooling their heels, while the Luftwaffe waited and watched. The authorities hoped that Britain would take steps to end the war. For bombers and fighters alike it was a time of rest.
But there were exceptions. Today reconnaissance reported at noon a large British coastal convoy off Folkestone headed for Dover. At the command post of the "Channel zone bomber-commander", Colonel Johannes Fink-it consisted of a converted omnibus stationed on Cap Gris Nez just behind the memorial to the British landing in 1914-the telephone rang. A Gruppe of Do 17s was duly alerted, plus another of Me 109s to act as escort, and a third of Me 110s.
Fink's mandate was "To close the Channel to enemy shipping". It looked as if the convoy was in for a hard time.
At 13.30 British Summer Time, several radar stations plotted on their screens a suspicious aircraft formation assembling over the Calais area. They were right, for at this moment-14.30 continental time-II/KG 2 under Major Adolf Fuchs, from Arras, was making rendezvous with III/JG 51 under Captain Hannes Trautloft, which had just taken off from St. Omer.
One fighter squadron took over close escort of the Dorniers, while Trautloft went up with the other two to between 3,000 and 6,000 feet to be in a favourable position to attack any enemy fighters that assailed the bombers. The stepped-up formations then made a bee-line towards the English coast- some twenty Do 17s and twenty Me 109s. Within a few minutes they sighted the convoy.
Approaching from another direction were the thirty Me 110Cs of ZG 26 under Lieutenant-Colonel Huth, making a total of seventy German aircraft. Would the British accept the challenge?
Routine air cover for a British convoy consisted of just one flight of fighters'-in this case represented by six Hurricanes of 32 Squadron from Biggin Hill. According to British sources these six had the additional disadvantage, just before the crucial attack, of becoming split up in a rain cloud. When the first section of three eventually emerged, they were startled at the sight of "waves of enemy bombers approaching from France". Undeterred, "the Hurricanes pounced on them-three versus a hundred", as one British report read.
In the official history of the Royal Air Force it is stated regarding these air battles of July 1940 : "Over and over again a mere handful of Spitfires and Hurricanes found themselves fighting desperately with formations of a hundred or more German aircraft."
Against such evidence stands the fact that during this period the only fighter unit facing England across the Straits of Dover was JG 51, under the command of Colonel Theo Osterkamp. Thanks to the bad weather and the air battles in which they were engaged, the aircraft serviceability of his three Gruppen-under Captains Brustellin, Matthes and Trautloft-declined to such a degree that he had to be reinforced on July 12th by a fourth one (III/JG 3 under Captain Kienitz) to retain his operational strength of sixty/seventy Me 109s. Such a modest force had furthermore to operate with considerable discretion if its strength was not to be dissipated before the real assault on Britain began. It was not until the last week of July that JG 26 (of which Captain Galland led a Gruppe) and JG 52 began to take part in the Channel battle.
But back to July 10th-the date on which the Battle of Britain is regarded as having begun. The Dorniers of III/KG 2 were approaching the convoy when Captain Trautloft suddenly sighted the patrolling Hurricanes flying high above: first three, then all six of them. For the moment the latter made no attempt to interfere, but held their altitude waiting for a chance to elude the twenty German fighters and attack the bombers below them. In this way they were more of a nuisance than if they had rushed blindly to their own destruction.
Trautloft was compelled to remain constantly on watch. To engage them or just to chase them off would take his force miles away from the Dorniers, which he was committed to protect and bring safely back home. That might be exactly the Hurricanes' intention: to entice the Me 109s away by offering the hope of an easy victory so that other fighters could attack the bombers without hindrance.
Within a few minutes the Dorniers had penetrated the ships' flak zone, unloaded their bombs over the convoy, and dived to sea level for the return journey. But in these few minutes the whole situation changed.
Warned in good time by the radar plots, the R.A.F.'s 11 Group threw into the battle four further squadrons of fighters : No. 56 from Mansion, No. 111 from Croydon, No. 64 from Kenley and No. 74 from Hornchurch. The first two were equipped with Hurricanes, the second two with Spitfires.
"Suddenly the sky was full of British fighters," wrote Trautloft that evening in his diary. "Today we were going to be in for a tough time."
The odds were now thirty-two British fighters against twenty German, and there would be no more question of the former holding back. Strictly the Me 110 Gruppe should be added to the German total, but as soon as the Spitfires and Hurricanes swept on to the scene from all sides, all thirty of them went into a defensive circle. With their single backward-firing 7.9-mm machine-guns, fired by the observers, they had little protection against attack from astern by faster fighters.
Accordingly they now all went round and round like circus horses in the ring, each protecting the rear of the one in front with its forward armament of four machine-guns and two 20-mm cannon. But that was all they did protect. As long-range fighters they were supposed to protect the bombers. Now, however, they just maintained their magic circle and made no contribution to the outcome.
Consequently Trautloft's Gruppe bore the brunt of the battle, which promptly resolved itself into a series of individual dog-fights. The radios became alive with excited exclamations.
A number of Hurricanes suddenly swept from 15,000 feet in a breath- taking dive. Had they "had it", or were they just trying to get away? Or was their objective the bombers headed homewards just above the sea?
Hard on the heels of one of them was First-Lieutenant Walter Oesau, leader of 7 Squadron and to date one of Germany's most successful fighter pilots. The British pilot had little chance of escape, for in a steep dive the Me 109 was considerably faster. Oesau had already shot down two of his opponents into the sea, and was on the point of scoring a "hat trick" when the Hurricane ended its dive by crashing full tilt into a German twin-engined plane. There was an almighty flash as they both exploded, then the wreckage spun burning into the water. Was it a Do 17 or a Me 110? Oesau could no longer recognise the wreckage as he pulled out over it and climbed up to rejoin his comrades.
In the heat of battle Trautloft himself saw several aircraft dive, trailing thick smoke, without being able to tell whether they were friend or foe. But once, on the radio, there came the familiar voice of his No. 2 Flight-Sergeant Dau, calling urgently: "I am hit-must force-land."
Trautloft promptly detailed an escort to protect his tail so that he would reach the French coast unmolested-if he could get that far.
Dau, after shooting down a Spitfire, had seen a Hurricane turn in towards him. It then came straight at him, head-on and at the same height. Neither of them budged an inch, both fired their guns at the same instant, then missed a collision by a hair's breath. But while the German's fire was too low, that of the British pilot (A. G. Page of 56 Squadron) connected. Dau felt his aircraft shaken by violent thuds. It had been hit in the engine and radiator, and he saw a piece of one wing come off. At once his engine started to seize up, emitting a white plume of steaming glycol.
"The coolant temperature rose quickly to 120 degrees," he reported. "The whole cockpit stank of burnt insulation. But I managed to stretch my glide to the coast, then made a belly-landing close to Boulogne. As I jumped out the machine was on fire, and within seconds ammunition and fuel went up with a bang."
Another of Trautloft's Me 109s made a similar belly-landing near Calais, its pilot, Sergeant K端ll, likewise escaping with only a shaking-up. Those were the only aircraft that IH/JG 51 lost, with all their pilots safe. Against this they claimed six of the enemy destroyed.
So it went on from day to day, with a fraction of the Luftwaffe waging a kind of free-lance war against England with a very limited mandate. With the small forces at his disposal-KG 2's bombers, two Stuka Gruppen and his fighters of JG 51-Colonel Fink was only permitted to attack shipping in the Channel.
Towards the end of July Colonel Osterkamp paraded all his JG 51 Gruppen on a series of high-altitude sweeps over south-east England. But Air Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding, chief of British Fighter Command, saw no reason to accept the challenge. After the heavy losses incurred in the French campaign and at Dunkirk, he was grateful for every day and week of grace to repair his force's striking power. For one thing was certain: the Germans would come, and the later they launched their attack, the better. That would be the time to send up his squadrons against them; not now, in answer to mere pin-pricks.
"Why doesn't he let us have a go?" murmured his pilots, to whom these sweeps were a provocation. But Dowding was adamant. The German radio interception service reported that British squadrons were being repeatedly instructed by ground control to refuse battle whenever an enemy formation was identified as fighters only. "Bandits at 15,000 feet over North Foreland flying up Thames estuary," they would be warned. Then: "Return to base-do not engage."
At first Dowding even refused to provide fighter cover for the coastal convoys, their protection in his view being a matter for the Navy. On July 4th, however, Atlantic convoy OA 178 had been dive-bombed off Portland by two Gruppen of StG 2, and with only the ships' guns to defend it had suffered the loss of four vessels totalling 15,856 tons, including the 5,582-ton auxiliary flak ship Foyle Bank, with nine other vessels totalling 40,236 tons damaged, some of them badly. Thereupon Churchill issued direct orders that in future all convoys were to be given a standing patrol of six fighters. These were reinforced as soon as a German formation was reported approaching.
The periphery combats that ensued have been called by historians the "contact phase" of the Battle of Britain, with the conflict proper still ahead. With nine-tenths of the Luftwaffe resting on the ground, the few aircrews operating constantly asked themselves what the object of their exercise was. Were they supposed to knock out England by themselves?
Why did the Luftwaffe not strike in full force while Britain lay paralysed after Dunkirk, and why was it virtually still grounded even three weeks later when France had been prostrated? The answer, in retrospect, has been that after the wear and tear of the "blitz" campaign against the West, its units were in urgent need of rest. They had to recoup their strength and move forward to new bases. Supply lines had to be organised and a whole lot of new machinery set in motion before the Luftwaffe could launch a heavy assault on Britain with any prospect of success.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:36 PM
By Dr. Peter W. Becker
The United States is faced with an acute energy problem. Our dependence on imported petroleum, which accounts for half of the country's consumption, has caused rising balance of payments deficits that weaken the dollar and contribute to inflation. More worrisome in the long run for the future of this country is the realization that eventually most oil deposits, both foreign and domestic, will be depleted. This grim specter is accompanied by a lack of control over foreign supplies, leaving us dependent on the goodwill and mercy of the oil-producing states.
There are, of course, other sources from which energy can be derived, sources such as nuclear fission, nuclear fusion, solar and thermal power, and the like. But for the foreseeable future they either present many environmental threats or are not yet sufficiently developed to replace our dependence on foreign oil supplies. A sensible energy policy for the time being no doubt would rely on many different sources of energy until a more efficient, effective, and safe method has emerged. Such an approach will include the production of synthetic fuel derived from coal. This method was first effectively used by the Germans during World War II, so an examination of Germany's situation at that time could be instructive.
As a highly developed industrial state, Germany was dependent even in peacetime on external sources for an adequate supply of oil. Even though Germany's 1938 oil consumption of little more than 44 million barrels was considerably less than Great Britain's 76 million barrels, Russia's 183 million barrels, and the one billion barrels used by the United States, in wartime Germany's needs for an adequate supply of liquid fuel would be absolutely essential for successful military operations on the ground and, even more so, in the air.1 For Germany, it was precisely the outbreak of the war in 1939 and the concurrent termination of overseas imports that most endangered its ability to conduct mobile warfare.
German oil supplies came from three different sources: imports of crude and finished petroleum products from abroad, production by domestic oil fields, and syntheses of petroleum products from coal.
In 1938, of the total consumption of 44 million barrels, imports from overseas accounted for 28 million barrels or roughly 60 percent of the total supply. An additional 3.8 million barrels were imported overland from European sources (2.8 million barrels came from Romania alone), and another 3.8 million barrels were derived from domestic oil production. The remainder of the total, 9 million barrels, were produced synthetically. Although the total overseas imports were even higher in 1939 before the onset of the blockade in September (33 million barrels), this high proportion of overseas imports only indicated how precarious the fuel situation would become should Germany be cut off from them.2
At the outbreak of the war, Germany's stockpiles of fuel consisted of a total of 15 million barrels. The campaigns in Norway, Holland, Belgium, and France added another 5 million barrels in booty, and imports from the Soviet Union accounted for 4 million barrels in 1940 and 1.6 million barrels in the first half of 1941. Yet a High Command study in May of 1941 noted that with monthly military requirements for 7.25 million barrels and imports and home production of only 5.35 million barrels, German stocks would be exhausted by August 1941. The 26 percent shortfall could only be made up with petroleum from Russia. The need to provide the lacking 1.9 million barrels per month and the urgency to gain possession of the Russian oil fields in the Caucasus mountains, together with Ukrainian grain and Donets coal, were thus prime elements in the German decision to invade the Soviet Union in June 1941.3
The smallest of the Russian oil fields at Maikop was captured in August 1942, and it was expected that the two remaining fields and refineries in Grozny and Baku also would fall into German hands. Had the German forces been able to capture these fields and hold them, Germany's petroleum worries would have been over. Prior to the Russian campaign, Maikop produced 19 million barrels annually, Grozny 32 million barrels, and Baku 170 million barrels.4
Grozny and Baku, however, were never captured, and only Maikop yielded to German exploitation. As was the case in all areas of Russian production, the retreating forces had done a thorough job of destroying or dismantling the usable installations; consequently, the Germans had to start from scratch. In view of past experience with this type of Russian policy, such destruction was expected, and Field Marshal Hermann Göring's staff had begun making the necessary preparations in advance. But a shortage of transport that was competing with military requirements, a shortage of drill equipment as well as drillers, and the absence of refining capacity at Maikop created such difficulties that when the German forces were compelled to withdraw from Maikop in January 1943 in order to avoid being cut off after the fall of Stalingrad, Germany had failed to obtain a single drop of Caucasian oil. Nevertheless, the Germans were able to extract about 4.7 million barrels from the Soviet Union, a quantity that they would have received anyway under the provisions of the friendship treaty of 1939.5
Even before the Russian prospects had come to naught, Romania had developed into Germany's chief overland supplier of oil. From 2.8 million barrels in 1938, Romania's exports to Germany increased to 13 million barrels by 1941,6 a level that was essentially maintained through 1942 and 1943.7 Although the exports were almost half of Romania's total production, they were considerably less than the Germans expected. One reason for the shortfall was that the Romanian fields were being depleted. There were other reasons as well why the Romanians failed to increase their shipments. Foremost among these was Germany's inability to make all of its promised deliveries of coal and other products to Romania. Furthermore, although Romania was allied with Germany, the Romanians wished to husband their country's most valuable resources.8 Finally, the air raids on the Ploesti oil fields and refineries in August 1943 destroyed 50 percent of the Romanian refinery capacity. Aerial mining of the Danube River constituted an additional serious transportation impediment. Even so, Romanian deliveries amounted to 7 million barrels in the first half of 1944 and were not halted until additional raids on Ploesti had been flown in the late spring and summer of 1944.9
Even with the addition of the Romanian deliveries, overland oil imports after 1939 could not make up for the loss of overseas shipments. In order to become less dependent on outside sources, the Germans undertook a sizable expansion program of their own meager domestic oil pumping. Before the annexation of Austria in 1938, oil fields in Germany were concentrated in northwestern Germany. After 1938, the Austrian oil fields were available also, and the expansion of crude oil output was chiefly effected there. Primarily as a result of this expansion, Germany's domestic output of crude oil increased from approximately 3.8 million barrels in 1938 to almost 12 million barrels in 1944.10 Yet the production of domestic crude oil never equaled in any way the levels attained by Germany's other major supplier of oil, the synthetic fuel plants.
Inasmuch as natural oil deposits in Germany were so few, long before the war efforts had been made to discover synthetic methods of producing gasoline and oil. In view of the country's wealth of coal, it was logical to look in this direction for a solution. Both coal and petroleum are mixtures of hydrocarbons, and the problem was how best and most efficiently to isolate these elements from the coal and transmute them into oil. By the time Hitler became chancellor in 1933, four methods of achieving this were either available or in early stages of perfection.
The first process produced benzol, a byproduct of coking. Benzol was used as a fuel in admixture with gasoline. The drawback to increased production of benzol was the fact that it was tied to the quantities of coke that were needed at any given time, and these in turn were determined by the production limits of crude iron.
The second method produced a distillate from lignite coal. Brown or soft coal was gently heated, and the tars and oil were then extracted and distilled into fuel. The end product was of such low quality, however, that only 10 percent could be used as gasoline, with the remaining 90 percent useful only as heating oil and diesel fuel.
A third formula, the Fischer-Tropsch process, was, at that time, still in the research and testing stage. Under this system, coal is compressed into gas which is mixed with hydrogen. By placing this mixture in contact ovens and adding certain catalysts, oil molecules are formed. Further treatment of this primary substance generates fuel, chiefly diesel oil.
Coking and distillation extracted oils and tars from coal, and additional cracking refined them into gasoline. The Fischer-Tropsch process and a fourth method, the hydrogenation process, changed coal directly into gasoline. As coal is a hydrocarbon containing little hydrogen and gasoline is a hydrocarbon with a high hydrogen content, the problem consisted of attaching hydrogen molecules to coal, thereby liquefying it. This was the basis of the hydrogenation process, which required high temperatures and high pressures. By 1933, this method had been thoroughly tested and was ready for large-scale practical application. The advantage of the hydrogenation method was that as primary material it could use the tars from the distillation of both lignite and bituminous coal (although the distillation of the latter was not possible on a large scale until 1943) as well as lignite and bituminous coal directly.11
When the Germans in the 1920s first began considering other sources of fuel, they did so for three reasons. First, the blockade during World War I had taught them how dependent they were on imports of a myriad of essential raw materials and how vulnerable this dependence made them. Second, because of the lost war and the ensuing economic difficulties, Germany was short of hard foreign exchange required for the purchase of foreign oil. And third, rumors were rampant in the world that proven reserves were about to run out. This last worry disappeared with new finds, but the second motive in particular, shortage of foreign exchange, remained and grew under Hitler. It was also Hitler's determination to make Germany independent from outside sources.12 Furthermore, Germany's leadership increasingly was concerned with the requirements of a war economy, and after 1938 these concerns occupied a substantial position. Prior to this time, five hydrogenation plants had been constructed, one of which was based on bituminous coal treatment. This plant, Scholven, was located in the Ruhr area; the other four plants at Leuna, Böhlen, Magdeburg, and Zeitz were located in central Germany, adjacent to lignite deposits. The total output of the plants in 1937 was 4.8 million barrels of various grades of petroleum fuels.13
In October 1936, the first of several plans for increased oil production was formulated. It envisioned a production of 36 million barrels of petroleum fuels by October 1938.14 The plan was twice revised, in May and again in December 1937, but the changes did not involve an increase in projected production. They were concerned chiefly with changes in the output mix, allowing for a hefty quantity of aviation fuel, with other types of fuel being reduced.15
To accommodate this increased production, the plants at Scholven and Zeitz were to be expanded, and four new hydrogenation plants were to be erected at Gelsenkirchen, Welheim, and Wesseling in the Ruhr and at Pölitz near Stettin on the Baltic Sea. The scheduled construction time for these projects was 18 months, a goal that turned out to be rather unrealistic. Even more unrealistic were the completion dates assigned to twelve Fischer-Tropsch plants with relatively low production goals; they were to be finished by 1 April 1938. By 1945 only nine of them were operational; they reached their maximum capacity in 1943 with less than 2.8 million barrels.16
Production goals were altered again in the summer of 1938 when Göring set up a new program whose completion was to coincide with the completion of rearmament in 1942-43, in keeping with the plans revealed by Hitler in his November 1937 conference. Greater armaments required larger amounts of fuel, and the so-called Revised Economic Production Plan of 1938 reflected the new needs. Göring called for the production in 1942-43 of almost 88 million barrels of various types of fuels and lubricants. But it was not long before it was realized that a program of such dimensions would require construction steel quantities that simply were not available in an already straitened economy. After several further revisions, the final one of January 1939 called for a production in 1943 of 68 million barrels. The quantities for all fuels were reduced except aviation gasoline, which was to be produced at 100 percent of the amounts provided in Göring's plan of 1938.17
It was aviation gasoline that played the crucial role in the hydrogenation plant construction program. By the early 1930s, automobile gasoline had an octane reading of 40 and aviation gasoline of 75-80. Aviation gasoline with such high octane numbers could only be refined through a process of distillation of high-grade petroleum. Germany's domestic oil was not of this quality. Only the lead additive tetraethyl could raise the octane to a maximum of 87. The license for the production of this additive was acquired in 1935 from the American holder of the patents, but without high-grade oil even this additive was not very effective.
Hydrogenation promised a way out. It allowed a gasoline with an octane reading of 60 to 72, and thus high antiknock properties, to be manufactured. With the aid of lead tetraethyl, the octane reading could be raised to 87. High octane gasoline was important, as its antiknock characteristics determined the compression ratio of an engine that used the fuel, and the compression ratio in turn determined the engine's power.18
A breakthrough in gasoline production occurred in the United States in 1935 when it became technically possible to produce isooctane with a reading of 100 in large quantities. By 1939, both the American and English air forces had begun to use the improved gasoline, and their planes could then be equipped with correspondingly stronger engines. In Germany, also, a method had been discovered to manufacture such a high-test gasoline, but the process was much more complex, cumbersome, and expensive than the American method, which used different primary materials. Due to these difficulties in production, the Luftwaffe until the end of 1938 neglected to insist on the production of high-octane fuel. For this reason until 1945 the German Air Force had no fuel equal to that available in the English-speaking countries.19
How important the new aviation fuel was is demonstrated by the improved performance it made possible: 15 percent higher speed, a 1500-mile longer range for bombers, and an increased altitude of 10,000 feet. Göring attempted to make amends for the past neglect at the end of 1938 when he demanded that the 19 million barrels of aviation fuel included in the Revised Economic Production Plan be manufactured as high-test gasoline equivalent to the quality of isooctane.20
As it was, only two small test plants were in operation when the war broke out in 1939 with a total production of 63,000 barrels per year. The shortage of both steel and manpower had delayed the completion of the full construction program of hydrogenation plants. At the beginning of the war, seven plants were in operation, three were in advanced stages of construction, and two others were barely begun. With the exception of four plants for the production of high-octane aviation fuel, no other plants were established after September 1939.21
Even the completion of the plants under construction was not pushed as much as might have been possible. The delay resulted from the competition for essential raw materials, many of which needed to be channeled directly into armaments, and the optimistic forecasts by the High Command. With respect to the first reason, Germany's armaments blanket was simply too thin when the war broke out and instead of broadening Germany's armaments base it became necessary to supply the existing plants so that they could produce arms at an optimal rate.22 The second reason was based on Germany's initial successes in the war. Estimated requirements for warfare proved to be highly inflated, and the booty acquired from the conquered countries caused stockpiles to be accumulated which, barring unforeseen circumstances, were regarded by the Armed Forces Economic Office as satisfactory through 1941.23 But the operations in Soviet Russia in 1941 and 1942 reduced stockpiles radically, and after the summer of 1942 the German armed forces and the German economy had to draw almost solely from direct production.24
When it was suggested that one of the meetings of the Central Planning Board be devoted to the fuel situation, Albert Speer cut the discussion short by stating: "We need only a very limited briefing. We know how bad the situation is."25 In fact, Speer was partially responsible for the grave fuel situation; soon after his appointment in February 1942 he had curtailed the overall construction program, including that of the hydrogenation plants. It seemed to him that because of the raw material shortages it was not practical to build plants that would be in operation only several years hence. Immediate needs had priority. Only toward the end of 1943 was an effort made once more to force the expansion of hydrogenation plants.26
Still, between 1938 and 1943, synthetic fuel output underwent a respectable growth from 10 million barrels to 36 million. The percentage of synthetic fuels compared to the yield from all sources grew from 22 percent to more than 50 percent by 1943. The total oil supplies available from all sources for the same period rose from 45 million barrels in 1938 to 71 million barrels in 1943.27
In spite of shortages and other difficulties, production and supply, although never reaching the amounts contemplated by Göring, presented no serious problems until the spring of 1944.28 This was accomplished by giving no claimant, including the armed forces, all of the fuel that he needed. A good example is the ruthless reduction in the allocation for civilian passenger cars. The only people permitted to operate a motor vehicle were doctors, midwives, policemen, and high government and party officials. Their total allocation was only 450,000 barrels per year. German agriculture was allotted 1.7 million barrels of fuel per year for 1941 and 1942. The farmers actually required more fuel in 1942 than in 1941 because so many horses had been requisitioned for the armed forces that it was necessary to operate more tractors.
In the spring of 1942, the Agency for Generators was established to effectuate the conversion of vehicles from liquid to solid fuels.29 A conversion to such fuels as wood chips, anthracite coal, lignite coal, coke, gas, and peat moss was expected to yield substantial savings in gasoline. During 1942, the saving amounted to 5 million barrels, and in 1943 it reached 8.2 million barrels.30 Thousands of cars and trucks were converted and equipped with devices shaped like water heaters, which graced trunks and truck beds.
Yet however great the savings were, they were insufficient in themselves to alter the perennial fuel shortage. In the autumn of 1942 there appeared to be only two ways in which fuel production could be enlarged. One was to secure the Russian oil fields, but as we have seen that expectation quickly evaporated; the other was to increase the number and output of hydrogenation plants. Such a plan was devised late in 1942, projecting an annual production of synthetic fuel of 60 million barrels by 1946.31 Yet when the effort was finally made toward the end of 1943, it was decidedly too late for any improvements. The onset of Allied air attacks on the hydrogenation plants in May 1944 foiled all expectations and sounded the death knell For the German war machine.
The first massive raid was flown on 12 May 1944 and directed against five plants. Other raids followed successively and continued into the spring of 1945. The severity of the raids was immediately recognized by the Germans. Between 30 June 1944 and 19 January 1945, Albert Speer directed five memoranda to Hitler which left no doubt about the increasingly serious situation. Speer pointed out that the attacks in May and June had reduced the output of aviation fuel by 90 percent. It would require six to eight weeks to make minimal repairs to resume production, but unless the refineries were protected by all possible means, coverage of the most urgent requirements of the armed forces could no longer be assured. An unbridgeable gap would be opened that must perforce have tragic consequences.32 Continued attacks also negatively influenced the output of automotive gasoline, diesel fuel, Buna, and methanol, the last an essential ingredient in the production of powder and explosives. If, Speer warned, the attacks were sustained, production would sink further, the last remaining reserve stocks would be consumed, and the essential materials for the prosecution of a modern technological war would be lacking in the most important areas.33
In his final report, Speer noted that the undisturbed repair and operation of the plants were essential prerequisites for further supply, but the experience of recent months had shown that this was impossible under existing conditions.34 Behind Speer's warnings was his awareness that once production of fuels was substantially curtailed, once reserves and the fuel in the distribution system were depleted, the Germans would be finished and the end could be predicted with almost mathematical accuracy.35 In a way, Speer was merely echoing the prophetic utterance of Field Marshal Erhard Milch from the summer of 1943:
The hydrogenation plants are our most vulnerable spots; with them stands and falls our entire ability to wage war. Not only will planes no longer fly, but tanks and submarines also will stop running if the hydrogenation plants should actually be attacked.36
A perfect example of this was the amount of aviation fuel allotted to the training of pilots. Toward the last nine months of the war, they were sent into combat with only one-third of the training hours actually required.37
What was left of the hydrogenation plants after the war barely survived for a few more years, if only for the mundane purpose of refining imported crude oil. By 1964, the oil boom in full swing, the plants ceased to be competitive. The technological lead once enjoyed by Germany was assumed by South Africa. Determined not to be at the mercy of unfriendly oil-producing states, the South African government decided to rely on conversion of coal to gasoline. In April 1980 the Republic of South Africa began to operate the second of three Fischer-Tropsch plants. They are the largest and only commercial oil-from-coal refineries in the world, and by 1985 they will supply half of the country's fuel needs.38
The Germans also are back in the game. A pilot plant for the liquefaction of coal is being constructed in the Ruhr, and on becoming operational in the spring of 1981 it will have a capacity for converting 75,000 tons of coal annually into 157,000 barrels of light and medium oil and liquid gas. Early in 1980 the West German government approved an ambitious program involving the construction of 14 large plants for the liquefaction and gasification of coal, requiring the investment of $7 billion by 1993. By 1986 the Germans expect to satisfy 10 percent of their current gasoline needs in this fashion.39
This, of course, is a hopeful sign for the United States. With respect to foreign exchange, dependence on others, and more than adequate coal deposits at home, there exist some remarkable similarities between the United States today and the Germany of the 1930s and 1940s when it comes to synthetic fuel production.
It was the dearth of foreign exchange after World War I that motivated the Germans to search for alternative supplies of fuels; the current annual expenditure by the United States of $90 billion which alone creates our gigantic balance-of-payments deficit is a parallel phenomenon. While the dollar is still recognized and accepted as a principal currency-unlike the German mark after 1918-our huge payments for imported petroleum constitute a devastating hemorrhage of national substance, glut the foreign money markets with increasingly devalued dollars, and create inflation at home and indebtedness overseas. Just as Germany then and now was dependent on outside sources for its supply of liquid energy, so the United States today is forced to rely on foreign suppliers for approximately half its fuel needs. This dependence jeopardizes America's ability to act free from intimidation and circumscription in matters of foreign policy. Economically, the latitude of OPEC to raise oil prices at will has immediate and, in the long run, intolerable implications for this country.
However, the vast coal deposits in the United States afford this country an incomparably better opportunity to become largely energy-independent than Germany with its coal, beds had in the 1930s and 1940s or even now. In contrast to this country, Germany's coal reserves are virtually depleted, and what is left is difficult and costly to extract. The price of a ton of coal in Germany currently is $100, compared to $25 per ton in the United States.40
Different methods need to be applied in producing synthetic fuels, depending on the type of raw material used and the end-product desired. Whatever scientific-technical approach will ultimately be deemed preferable, there is no doubt that from a purely technological point of view this country can assure itself of adequate supplies of fuel in relatively short order.41 The actual problem is not one of technology so much as one of political responsibility, courage, will, and wisdom on the part of the administration and the United States Congress. The approval of a $20 billion synthetic fuel program by the United States Congress is a first, cautious step in the right direction. Anyone who might be appalled at the sums which need to be invested-the $20 billion is only part of a total of $88 billion to be expended for this purpose-need only remind himself, however, that at the present time we spend more than that total amount every year for imported petroleum.
A word of caution, though. The magnitude of the problem facing this country has another dimension that should not be underestimated. At the peak of their synthetic fuel production in 1943, when half of their economy and their armed forces ran on synthetic fuel, the Germans produced 36,212,400 barrels of fuel a year. At current rates of imported fuel alone, that quantity in this country would last all of four and one-half days!
University of South Carolina
Notes
1. United States Strategic Bombing Survey, The Effects of Strategic Bombing on the German War Economy (Washington, 1945), p. 73. Hereafter cited as USSBS.
2. Ibid., pp. 73-74.
3. W. Tomberg. "Wehrwirtschaftliche Erkenntnisse von 5 Kriegsjahren," (November 1944), pp. 58, 61; see also Speer's remarks in Imperial War Museum, FDC 1, Interrogation of Albert Speer, 5th Session, May 30, 1945, p. 3.
4. Remarks by Professor Hettlage, economic adviser to Speer, on the condition of the war economy, November 7, 1942.
5. Dieter Petzina, Autarkiepolitik im Dritten Reich: Der nationalsozialistische Vierjahresplan (Stuttgart, 1968), pp. 143-44.
6. USSBS, p. 74.
7. Zentrale Planung, 20th Meeting, October 29, 1942, pp. 15, 7; Tomberg, p. 59.
8. Zentrale Planung, 37th Meeting, April 22, 1943, p. 45.
9. USSBS, p. 75.
10. Wolfgang Birkenfeld, Der synthetishe Treibstoff 1933-1945 (Göttingen, 1964), p. 217. It is interesting to note that without Austria, West Germany's crude oil production after a brief hiatus in 1945 and 1946 began to rise again in 1947 and by 1959 had reached 32 million barrels, a figure which doubtless would have appeared astronomical to Hitler and Speer.
11. Ibid., pp. 12-16.
12. Petzina, p. 36.
13. Birkenfeld, p. 225.
14. Ibid., p. 82.
15. Ibid., p. 230.
16. Ibid., pp. 197-210.
17. Ibid., pp. 113-14, 120-25, 231,
18. Ibid., pp. 60-64.
19. Ibid., pp. 70-74.
20. Ibid., pp. 121-25.
21. Ibid., pp. 138-40.
22. Aide-memoire by General Georg Thomas, July 6, 1942.
23.Georg Thomas, Geshichte der deutschen Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft (1918-1943/45), edited by Wolfgang Birkenfeld, Schriften
des Bundesarchivs, Nr. 14 (Boppard am Rhein, 1966), pp. 179, 250, 253.
24. Birkenfeld, Treibstoff, p. 156.
25. Zentrale Planung, 20th Meeting, October 29, 1942, p. 8.
26. Zentrale Planung, Ergebnisse der 56. Sitzung der Zentraien Planung, April 5, 1944, p. 3.
27. USSBS, p. 74.
28. Tomberg, p. 61.
29. Zentrale Planung, 20th Meeting, October 29, 1942, pp. 10-14.
30. Ibid., pp. 17-18.
31. Ibid., p. 51.
32. Albert Speer, "Erste Hydrier-Denkschrift vom 30.Juni 1944."
33. Albert Speer, "Dritte Hydrier-Denkschrift vom 30. August 1944."
34. Albert Speer, "Fünfte Hydrier-Denkschrift vom 19, Januar 1945."
35. Imperial War Museum, FDC 1, Report 26, Interrogation of Albert Speer; The Effects of the Allied Bombing of Germany, July 18, 1945.
36. Zentrale Planung, 37th Meeting, April 22, 1943, p. 42.
37. USSBS, Over-all Report (European War), Washington, September 30, 1945, p. 21.
38. Der Spiegel, March 17, 1980, pp. 169-72.
39. Chicago Tribune,April 21, 1980, Section 5, p. 7.
40. Ibid.
41. A team of scholars at Texas A&M University is currently studying the surviving records of the German synthetic fuel processes with a view toward determining which aspects can be utilized for American purposes.
Author's note: All documents come from the German Federal Archives, Koblenz, with the exception of those labeled Imperial War Museum (IWM), London.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:35 PM
The north Italian campaign of 1859
The Battle of Magenta 1859
136 French Imperial Guardsman, Chasseurs-a-cheval, 135 Austrian Lieutenant, Jaczygier Volunteer Hussars, 136 French Imperial Guardsman, Grenadier a Pied, 136 Austrian Infantry Private, Regiment 'Grossherzog von Hessian' nr. 14.
138 Tuscany Infantryman, 139 Dragoon from Modena, 141 Field Artillery Officer, Parma, 141 Sapper from the Papal States.
1858, July 20
Secret Meeting of Napoleon III and Piedmont Premier Count Camillo Benso di Cavour at Plombières. Spurred by Orsini's assassination attempt, Napoleon III agreed to join Piedmont in a war on Austria if it could be provoked in a manner that would justify it in French and European opinion (formalized by treaty, Dec. 10). After the defeat of Austria, Italy would be organized as a federation of four states with the pope as president-(1) an upper Italian kingdom of Piedmont, Lombardy, Venetia, Parma, Modena, and the Papal Legations; (2) a central kingdom of Tuscany with Umbria and the Marches; (3) Rome; (4) the kingdom of Naples. France would receive Savoy and Nice, and Princess Clotilde, Victor Emmanuel's daughter, would marry Napoleon III's cousin, Prince Joseph Charles Bonaparte.
1859, March 8
Piedmontese reserves were called up, including volunteers.
April 19
Austrian ultimatum to Piedmont demanded that the latter demobilize in three days, which supplied Cavour with the provocation he needed.
April 29
The Austrians invaded Sardinia under Gen. Franz Gyulai, but the French had already arrived by this time.
May
Peaceful revolutions in Tuscany, Modena, and Parma.
May 30
Piedmontese victory at Palestro. Allies advanced into Lombardy and engaged the Austrians at the Battle of Magenta (June 4). After the indecisive Battle of Solferino (June 24), the Austrians withdrew to the Quadrilateral fortresses.
July 11
Meeting of Napoleon III and Emperor Francis Joseph at Villafranca resulted in peace terms, which Victor Emmanuel later agreed to as well. Lombardy (except Mantua and Peschiera) would be ceded to France who could then cede it to Piedmont. Venetia would remain Austrian. Cavour resigned. The agreement was finalized in the Treaty of Zürich (Nov. 10).
The hopes of military glory which Napoleon III had nursed had scarcely come to his regime from the costly war in the Crimea but three years after its end he saw another opportunity of gaining laurels over country where almost every place name was redolent of the triumphs of his uncle. As has been seen the Kingdom of Sardinia (better known as Piedmont) had sent troops to the Crimea and that country's prime minister, Camillo Cavour, was anxious to exploit his French alliance to further his overriding ambition, to secure for Piedmont the hegemony of Italy. To achieve this, he had to defeat the Hapsburg Empire, which held Lombardy and Venetia, and. a preliminary foray in 1848, when the Austrians under Marshal Radetzky had won an almost Napoleonic triumph, showed clearly that the Piedmontese army had no chance of achieving this on their own. Cavour, therefore, cemented his alliance with France and set about provoking a war.
By massing the entire Piedmontese army, 74,000 men, on the border with Lombardy he extracted an Austrian ultimatum demanding a reduction -in Piedmont's armaments. This was rejected on 26 April 1859 by which date French troops were already crossing into Sardinian Savoy. Three days later a powerful Austrian force, 15,000 men apart from garrisons, crossed the Ticino River into Piedmont and began a tentative advance on Turin, tearing up the railway lines as they went forward. The Sardinians fell back on the river Dora Baltea where a fortified line had been prepared.
The Italian campaign of 1859 was the first in which men went to war by train. In the last ten days of April the railways of France carried either to the frontiers of the Sardinian kingdom or to the Mediterranean ports a daily average of 8,421 men and 512 horses and, as they proudly announced, this was achieved without interrupting their normal services. It was thus possible to bring men to the front in ten days, a journey that would have taken sixty days on the march. In consequence troops reached the front fresh and without either the necessity or the temptation to straggle. So short was the range for the artillery of the time that it was, given- convenient lines, possible to detrain regiments within sight of the enemy and march them straight into action.
Particularly on the Austrian side the railways were far from perfect. The Hapsburg lands in Italy were connected to the Austro-Hungarian homeland by two lines. That from the Tyrol was incomplete and the troops had to march from Innsbruck to Bozen (Bolzano). The other ran into Venetia from Camiola (Slovenia) and this had not been built between Udine and Trieste. On the Franco-Piedmontese side the Alpine tunnel had still to be constructed and the French had to detrain at St Jean de Maurienne, march over the snow-covered Mont Cenis pass, and join the train again at Susa, west of Turin. Consequently four of the six French corps were embarked at Marseilles and taken by ship to Genoa. Nevertheless the movement of French troops by either route went with great efficiency but their administrative services were poorly organised and operations were constantly delayed when stores of all kinds failed to arrive. It was little consolation that the Austrian supply situation was even more chaotic.
The initial French concentration on Genoa and their continuing dependence on that port for supplies meant that their first operations were based around Alessandria, near the battlefield of Marengo, and on 20 May they won a minor action in the vicinity at Montebello, site of Lannes' victory in 1800. Thereafter they were faced with the problem of crossing the broad Po in the face of the Austrian artillery. In 1796 Napoleon I had solved this problem by moving to his right and violating the neutrality of the Duchy of Parma. Napoleon III marched to his left, crossed the river at Casale within Piedmont and, basing himself at Vercelli, threatened the Austrian right. By doing so he left his vital rail link at the mercy of the Austrian guns at the point where the railway runs beside the Po at Valenza. Missing this opportunity, as they were to miss every other during the campaign, the Austrians withdrew and by 3 June the whole Franco-Sardinian striking force, 133,000 men, was near Novara with only the Ticino river and one Austrian corps between them and Milan.
Austrian troops were, however, on the move and on the following day 60,000 of them were deployed to defend the approach to the capital. Their main strength was around the village of Magenta near which the railway to Milan crossed the Ticino. This was a strong position for the river, which is multi-branched, is a formidable obstacle and unfordable. A combined road and rail bridge crossed the river and an Austrian attempt at demolition had done no more than cant the carriageway to one side leaving it passable to infantry and easily reparable for artillery. Under the impression that the demolition had succeeded the Austrians did not defend the bridge and they also failed to block the next bridge upstream, at Turbigo, 7 miles away.
On 4 June Napoleon planned to attack at Turbigo with the Voltigeur division of the Imperial Guard supported by MacMahon's corps and a Piedmontese division. As soon as this attack was heard to be in action a second column, led by the heavy division of the Guard and Canrobert's corps, was to strike up the line of the railway. The only electric telegraph used in this campaign were the permanent cables laid beside the railway so that communication between the two wings of Napoleon's attack depended on aides-de-camp riding from one to the other by way of Turbigo.
Unconcerned about the safety of the railway bridge, the Austrians concentrated the bulk of their strength against the Turbigo attack which they halted but the firing in this engagement was heavy enough to be the signal for the other French column. They crossed the bridge without incident but beyond stretched 1 1⁄2 miles of featureless plain, flat except where it was broken by watercourses. The plain ends in a steep irregular bank 60 feet high through which road and railway pass in deep cuttings. The Austrians had 136 guns available and these should have had no difficulty in massacring the Zouaves and Grenadiers of the Guard while they crossed the plain. Any survivors should have been easy targets for riflemen as they struggled up the steep bank. Moreover the French artillery could not pass the Ticino and was out of supporting range and Canrobert's corps was three hours late in reaching its start line. In the event only eighteen Austrian guns were brought into action and the Guard reached the top of the bank with little loss.
This, however, was not the end of their problem. Beyond the crest was a tableland across which ran a canal, the Naviglio Grande. On the maps available this appeared to be a negligible obstacle but it was found, on the ground, to have very steep sides covered with a thick growth of robiglia, a type of acacia with long hard thorns. On a front of 1 1⁄2 miles only four bridges gave a possibility of crossing and the Austrians succeeded in blowing two of them, although at one of them they managed to leave, on the French side, sufficient planks to fill the gap caused by the demolition. A dashing attack by Zouaves and Grenadiers succeeded in forcing a crossing and soon afterwards contact was established with the Turbigo column. Heavy fighting continued for some time but French reinforcements arrived in time to secure a victory. The Austrians withdrew, made a half-hearted attempt to renew the battle on the following day, but then abandoned Milan and set out on a long retreat to the east.
The battle cost the French 4,444 casualties. The Austrians lost rather more in battle and a further 4,000 deserters. These were Hungarians, Czechs, Slovenes, and Croats, disaffected to the empire. Their Italian battalions had already been sent away from the front so that the bulk of the fighting fell on German-speaking Austrians. These, however, were traditionally as staunch as any infantry in Europe and even the fact that they had had no rations for forty-eight hours cannot explain the deplorable defence they put up near the railway where 5,000 Guardsmen beat 15,000 defenders. The fault lay in the Austrian command. Field Marshal Count Gyulai, who was 61, had his headquarters in the village of Abbiate Grasso, 5 miles from the canal bridges, 12 from the Turbigo Bridge. Before 9.00 am he was warned that large French forces were coming from the Turbigo bridgehead but it was some hours before he took any action to counter them and when he did so he sent too many of his men to his right. He first visited Magenta village at 2.00 pm. He stayed there half an hour, during which time he sent a division to reinforce the canal bridges. Then he rode 3 miles to the rear to ensure that a corps of reinforcements took the right road, hardly a task for a commander-in-chief. He did not return to the front. With such an example of lethargy and indifference it is not surprising that his subordinates showed neither activity nor initiative.
Accompanied by the King of Sardinia, Napoleon rode in triumph into Milan on 8 June. The Austrians continued to retreat until, after 80 miles, they took up a very strong position with their right secured on Lake Garda and their left on the all-but impregnable fortress-city of Mantua, their front being covered by the Mincio River. The French and Sardinians followed, their slow advance being conditioned by the demolitions carried out at every riverline. They were not expecting the enemy to fight again before they reached the shelter of the Quadrilateral, the four fortresses - Mantua, Verona, Peschiera, and Legnano - which had defended northern Italy through the centuries. On 21 June the allies were beginning to cross the Chiese River, "the last before they reached the Mincio which was 1 5 miles further ahead.
The Austrians had fallen back on reinforcements and were now 13,000 strong and divided into eight corps. They had also been joined by the young Emperor Franz Joseph who assumed personal command. On the advice of his chief-of-staff, Major-General Hess, and contrary to the opinion of every other senior officer with the army, the Emperor decided to abandon a defensive strategy and attack while Napoleon's men, about 120,000 of them, were astride the Chiese. It was late on 23 June when he came to this decision and by that time the enemy were already mostly across the river. The fact was that the Austrians had no patrols out and had no idea where the .Franco-Sardinian army was. Nevertheless, seven corps were ordered forward and might well have brought on an encounter battle since Napoleon had also been negligent about reconnaissance' and was working on the assumption that the Austrians were going to stand on the Mincio. At this stage a new factor came on the scene. With the French army were the brothers Godard, who had invented a new type of captive balloon. This had been sent aloft two days earlier and had seen nothing but, before dusk on 23 June, it was flown from the village of Montechiaro on the Chiese. A skeptical commentator with the army remarked, 'The distance was too great to learn much, for the Austrians were 10 to 12 miles from Montechiaro and it requires a powerful glass, combined with favourable circumstances, to distinguish infantry from cavalry at 5miles; but the observers might, and probably did, perceive long columns of approaching dust. This would be enough to indicate that some movement of importance was taking place.' Napoleon did indeed realise that the enemy were advancing but concluded that it was a reconnaissance in strength being undertaken by '25 or 30,000 men).
This warning was sufficient to allow the French army to close up and in a bloody battle on the following day they won a victory which was enough to break the Austrian will to continue the war. Only on their extreme right, where Benedek's corps beat off a Piedmontese attack, did the Austrians succeed in holding their ground. In the centre Bazaine's corps, with the Imperial Guard in support, broke through to Solferino village while the Austrian left might well have been turned and their whole army cut off from Mantua had not Marshal Canrobert behaved with 'a caution amounting to timidity'. One Austrian general led sixteen squadrons of cavalry at a sharp trot towards Mantua as soon as the firing started, an act for which he was sentenced to ten years in a fortress prison. The victory cost the Franco-Sardinians 18,000 casualties. The Austrians lost 22,000 but of these 8,638 were listed as missing and were, for the most part, deserters.
The chief feature of this short war was the incompetence of the Austrian command which, at all levels, showed itself incapable of reacting to situations as they arose. There were two other significant features. The first was the élan and determination of the French infantry in the attack. This was no new phenomenon, the furia francese had been the rock on which the great Napoleon had built some of his greatest victories, but since Waterloo and especially in Algeria, French infantry had been trained in self-reliance and speed of manoeuvre, in the belief that the attaque brusque would sweep away even the most formidable opposition. At both Magenta and Solferino they also had the advantage that they had been fed and the Austrians had not. On both occasions the speed and confidence of their attacks were too much for the plodding if resolute minds of their opponents. The other revelation was the range and accuracy of the new French artillery which was brought into action for the first time at Solferino. These were muzzle-loading rifled 4-pounders cast in bronze which were reputed to be able to hit a man on a horse at 3,400 yards, at least twice the effective range of the Austrian field guns. Technical advance in the French army was also demonstrated by the presence in the baggage train of steam-driven gunboats which had been built in Paris and brought forward in sections to be assembled if it became necessary to use them on the Italian lakes. In the peace which followed the campaign Sardinia acquired Lombardy but, to Cavour's fury, Austria retained Venetia. A year later Napoleon III extracted his pound of flesh from Sardinia in the form of Savoy and Nice. He also acquired a spurious reputation as a field commander.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:34 PM
Pz. IIIM from Pz. Regt 11of the 6th Panzer Division.
Pz. IVH from Pz. Regt 3 of the 2nd Panzer Division.
A view of Kharkov's Red Square. This great prize was the second city of the Ukraine and the fourth largest in the Soviet Union, and its liberation was a major coup for the Red Army. However, Manstein's brilliant counteroffensive not only recaptured the city in March, it also meant that the Germans had regained the Donets-Mius line.
The liberation of Kharkov on 15 February 1943. The Soviet reoccupation lasted one month. Here, two T-34/76s drive through the city's central plaza's Red Square. The Germans had withdrawn swiftly, hence the relatively undamaged appearance of the buildings. The architecture is typical of the Soviet municipal style of the period.
On 15 November Army Group B had, on its order of battle, 76 divisions, but of these, 36 were allied (Romanian and Italian) formations that were low in infantry and antitank weapons. These allied troops were placed on the flanks of the Sixth Army following the orders contained in Directive 41. Unfortunately these divisions were occupying positions of great responsibility for which they were entirely ill-equipped. As the daily slaughter in Stalingrad continued and the weather deteriorated, the Soviets began to assemble their forces for a counterattack which was designed to trap the Sixth Army.
The Soviet counteroffensive was codenamed Uranus and was to be commanded by Marshal G.A. Zhukov. Its aim was simply to encircle all Axis forces within its grasp by a gigantic pincer movement. The first pincer was to be launched by the South-West and Don Fronts to the north of Stalingrad on 19 November. The second pincer, to the south of the city, was Colonel-General Eremenko's Stalingrad Front, which was to attack on 20 November.
The northern pincer struck the Romanian Third Army, which rapidly collapsed and thus allowed a Soviet cavalry corps to pour into the breach. A similar breakthrough took place on the following day as the southern pincer attacked. The next day Eremenko's cavalry cut the Novorossisk-Stalingrad railway line. So rapid were the movements of the Soviet pincers that they linked up at the village of Sovietskiy during the morning of 23 November. Paulus and his men were encircled. That afternoon Hitler ordered Paulus to "take up a hedgehog position and await help from outside." During the evening of 23 November Paulus requested permission to break out, as he reasoned that the "enemy has not yet succeeded in closing the gap to west and southwest. But his preparations for attack are becoming evident."
Convinced by Hermann Göring, commander of the Luftwaffe, that it was possible to airlift at least 508 tonnes (500 tons) of the 711 tonnes (700 tons) of supplies required daily by the Sixth Army, Hitler did not rescind his stand-fast orders, despite the protests of several of his senior officers. Following discussions with his staff, Paulus ordered his men to dig in, and the Stalingrad pocket - some 45km (37 miles) from the city to its western extremity and 30km (25 miles) from north to south - was created. Inside the pocket were some 250,000 Axis troops.
To deal with this crisis Hitler created Army Group Don, commanded by Field Marshal Erich von Manstein, specifically to drive through the Soviet lines and relieve the Sixth Army. On 12 December Manstein's attack went in, but its spearhead only reached to within 55km (40 miles) of Stalingrad and, to avoid encirclement, Army Group Don began to withdraw on Christmas Eve.
A further Soviet offensive, this time aimed at the Italian Eighth Army and the remnants of the Romanian Fifth Army, began on 16 December. Within 48 hours the Axis front had collapsed and again the Red Army poured in to exploit the breach. Moreover what little chance the Luftwaffe had had of supplying the Sixth Army was reduced even further by the loss of its forward airfields, and each transport plane's journey increased to a round trip of some 480km (300 miles) through increasingly effective Soviet air defences. The fate of the Sixth Army was sealed. Now it remained to be seen how long it could occupy the attention of the Red Army and allow Axis forces in the Caucasus time to escape as the Soviets prepared to drive farther to the west. Abandoning Krasnodar, Field Marshal Ewald von Kleists Army Group A withdrew into the Taman peninsula, situated opposite to the Crimea, nursing the hope of renewing their Caucasian ambitions at a later date.
Chuikov offered Paulus the opportunity to surrender but this was not taken, and on 22 January the final Soviet attack began. Inexorably, and in bitter weather, the Red Army advanced and the pocket became smaller. In a futile effort to prevent surrender, as no German field marshal had ever been taken prisoner, Hitler promoted Paulus to the rank of field marshal on 31 January, but on that day he was captured. Two days later the last German detachments in the city surrendered. To the west Manstein was desperately creating a defence line along the banks of the River Mius, having abandoned Rostov on 14 February.
Now the Soviets began to overreach themselves. Flushed with success, they launched Operation Gallop, commanded by General M.M. Popov, on 29 January. Gallop was a large-scale raid undertaken by several tank corps moving in different directions, with the objective of exploiting the empty spaces and confusion behind the Axis lines and keeping them off balance. Scraping together what little armour he could, Manstein succeeded in driving back Popov's main force and destroying another tank corps which had almost reached the River Dnieper at Zaporozhye, near Mansteins headquarters, during the last days of February 1943.
The Soviets opened a second improvised offensive, Operation Star, on 2 February, with the cities of Belgorod, Kursk and Kharkov as its objectives. Following the surrender of Stalingrad six Soviet armies were released for use elsewhere. These troops were to be deployed as part of an ambitious plan to encircle German forces in and around the city of Orel. When this had been achieved the next objective was to link up with other Soviet forces in a pincer movement and trap the Germans between Smolensk and Briansk. The ultimate goal of all these actions was to reach the River Dnieper by the middle of March and thus destroy the remains of Army Group Don, the southernmost part of Army Group South.
Colonel-General K.K. Rokossovsky was to command the Central Front, which was to be created from formations that had fought at Stalingrad. However, the difficulties in moving men and equipment some 200km (150 miles) along a single track railway led to Rokossovsky's participation in the offensive being postponed until 25 February. The Briansk and Western Fronts had attacked before Rokossovsky's arrival and ran into solid resistance. Rokossovsky's men, arriving and attacking piecemeal, broke through German and Hungarian units on 25 February allowing XI Tank Corps to exploit the gap. XI Tank Corps, operating with cavalry and partisans, penetrated over 200km (125 miles) into the German rear, reaching the River Desna on 7 March. By this time Rokossovsky's forces were spread out along the few serviceable roads, presenting a clear target for the counteroffensive that the Germans were developing from the south.
Manstein had concluded that the Red Army could be held and then driven back by adopting a mobile defensive strategy. This involved allowing the Soviets to advance until they had outrun their supply lines and then confronting them from prepared defensive positions. Inevitably this doctrine meant giving up ground, which was anathema to Hitler. However, Manstein felt confident that Hitler would find his ideas acceptable. The two met on 6 February and Hitler grudgingly gave his permission for a withdrawal to the line of the River Mius. Now Manstein could go ahead and assemble his forces in the western Donbass for a counteroffensive. German divisions, including SS Panzer Corps, which comprised the three SS Panzergrenadier Divisions, Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler, Das Reich and Totenkopf, had been moving to the Eastern Front from the west since early January. SS Panzer Corps had then been used to cover the retreat of Axis forces east of the River Donets before retiring in turn to take up positions in preparation for Manstein's counterblow.
In such a fluid situation the Germans formed short-lived battle groups from whatever forces were available to stem the Soviet advance. For their part the Red Army commanders viewed the Axis movements as the prelude to a wholesale withdrawal from the eastern Ukraine. Nothing suggested that Manstein was methodically regrouping his armoured forces. By the middle of February Kharkov was in imminent danger of falling to the Russians. Hitler issued yet another stand-fast older, directing SS Panzer Corps not to retire from the city. SS-Obergruppenfuhrer Paul Hausser, SS Panzer Corps' commander, decided that he must disobey his Führer and withdraw in order to save his men and their equipment. Kharkov was taken by the Russians on 15 February and SS Panzer Corps regrouped at Krasnograd.
With Hitler's agreement, Manstein proceeded with further regrouping and preparations for the counteroffensive, which was to consist of three clearly defined phases:
1. SS Panzer Corps was to regroup near Krasnograd, XL and LVII Panzer Corps near Krasnomeyskoye, and XLVIII Panzer Corps near Zaporozhye, from where they would converge against the right flank of South-Western Front and hurl it back over the northern River Donets.
2. They would then regroup south-west of Kharkov, and strike at Voronezh Front, pushing it back across the northern Donets before recapturing Kharkov and Belgorod.
3. The offensive would continue towards Kursk, and Second Panzer Army, from Army Group Centre, would collaborate by striking southwards from the Orel area to meet Manstein's troops coming up from the south.
The counteroffensive was to be under the control of the staff of the Fourth Panzer Army. The forces assembled included seven panzer divisions, the 5th SS Wiking Motorized Infantry Division, whose personnel were mainly Scandinavian and western European volunteers, and four army infantry divisions.
Manstein launched SS Panzer Corps at Kharkov on 6 March. The Soviet leadership was slow to realize the seriousness of their situation. Initially two of Rokossovsky's armies (Sixty-Second and Sixty-Fourth) were sent to reinforce the Voronezh and South-Western Fronts in the Kharkov region and along the Donets respectively.
New orders were issued to Rokossovsky to reduce the depth of the planned encirclement around Briansk. The Soviet attack began on 7 March, coinciding with the German Second Army's attack on the River Desna. On 17 March the Fourth Panzer Army and Second Army advanced on Belgorod, Kharkov having been taken by the SS on 15 March. By the end of March, the Voronezh Front was back on the eastern bank of the Donets.
Manstein's master stroke
On 14 Match Stalin, concerned by the deteriorating situation in the south, summoned Deputy Supreme Commander, Marshal of the Soviet Union G.K. Zhukov, to Moscow. Zhukov was despatched to the HQ of Voronezh Front to assess the situation. In his report to Stalin, Zhukov was blunt.
"We must move everything we can from the STAVKA [Soviet equivalent of combined chiefs of staff] Reserve and the reserves of the neighbouring Fronts at once, because if we do not the Germans will capture Belgorod and develop their offensive towards Kursk."
Within hours the Twenty-First and Sixty- Fourth Armies were moving towards Belgorod, but they were too late to prevent its capture. Belgorod fell on 18 March, confirming Zhukov's predictions. The Twenty-First and Sixty-Fourth Armies established strong defensive positions to the east of the city. The speed of the Soviet redeployment had frustrated one of Manstein's objectives: the move on Kursk.
However, Manstein had the bit between his teeth and did not care to surrender the initiative in the Kharkov-Kursk-Orel region. Although his men and machines were reaching the end of their capacities Manstein attempted to persuade Field Marshal Günther von Kluge, commander of Army Group Centre, to cooperate in an attack on Rokossovsky's forces in the newly formed Kursk salient. Kluge, insisting that his men were in no fit condition to do more, refused. Indeed Army Group Centre had been involved in its own operation, the withdrawal from the Rzhev salient in front of Moscow, which shortened the line by some 300km (200 miles). This area had been the focus of Zhukov's attention for several months and he had planned an operation, codenamed Mars, which was designed to emulate the success of Operation Uranus (the encirclement of Stalingrad). Operation Mars began on 25 November 1942. However, Army Group Centre was in far better shape than Army Group South and Mars was a failure that cost the Red Army some 300,000 men and 1400 tanks. On the Soviet side of the line, Rokossovsky's opportunity to advance on Orel passed as troops were diverted south and STAVKA cancelled all further offensives other than those of a purely local nature.
With the onset of the April thaw, both sides settled down to consider their next move. The Axis forces were back in almost the positions they had held before Operation Blau, but the Red Army had proven itself capable of inflicting a large-scale, unprecedented defeat on the once-invincible Wehrmacht. The ingredients were mixing that would give rise to what promised to be an interesting summer in Russia. As the troops of both sides drew breath, their commanders began to plan. Both STAVKA and OKH (Oberkommando des Heeres, the headquarters responsible for the Eastern Front) were aware that the summer campaign of 1943 would be decisive. The Germans had particular need to worry. It was essential that Germany kept a firm grip of the initiative on the Eastern Front to retain Nazi influence over the neutrals of Europe.
The defeat at Stalingrad had lost Germany the tungsten of Portugal and the chrome of Turkey, both vital elements in munitions production and thus a highly significant factor in Hitler's strategic thinking (which placed the possession of such raw materials at the top of his military agenda). Furthermore Sweden, a major supplier of iron ore which had until this point pursued a policy of "benevolent neutrality", now adopted a less compliant stance. Indeed, such was Hitler's concern in respect of Swedish raw materials that reinforcements were sent to Norway in case the situation should require the occupation of Sweden. Hitler had hoped that Turkey would invade the Soviet Union through the Caucasus. In the aftermath of Stalingrad, Germany's recovery notwithstanding, it became clear that this would not happen. The support of Germany's partners on the Eastern Front was also becoming less than wholehearted. Both Italian confidence in Germany's ability to win the war and Mussolini's faith in Hitler had been seriously eroded. Finland, regarding itself as Germany's ally more by chance than choice, was in need of peace and now made no secret of that fact. Romania, having sustained heavy casualties as a result of the Soviet breakthroughs around Stalingrad, requested that its remaining troops in Russia be withdrawn from the frontline. The Hungarian forces became less amenable to following German orders and their role was restricted to security duties in the rear.
Finally, Japan was now highly unlikely to violate the non-aggression pact with Stalin and move into the Soviet Far Eastern provinces and Siberia.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:33 PM
Lieutenant-Colonel Julius Schlegel
After he had led a mass in the basilica, attended by German soldiers and officers, and recorded by a German cameraman, Abbot Diamare formally presented a scroll for the general and two other scrolls to Schlegel and Becker. The scrolls were written on parchment in Lombard script with letters illuminated by Eusebio Grossetti, the artist monk. The text, signed by Abbot Diamare, praised the Germans in Latin-tribuno militum Julio Schlegel, and Maximiliano Becker medecinae doctori-for rescuing the monks and treasures of the Abbey of Monte Cassino.
The scene at the Abbey of Monte Cassino in those late October days was one of purposeful confusion. It looked more like a military construction site than a monastery. The cloisters rang with the tramping of military boots, and from the improvised carpentry shop was heard the whine of saws and the banging of hammers. The work force was an odd mixture of German soldiers, some still wearing tropical uniforms from the North African campaign; Benedictine monks in their black cowls; and raggedly dressed Italian men.
Each morning German army trucks-open-backed vehicles painted in camouflage colors and marked with the insignia of the Hermann Goering Division-drew up empty at the monastery gate. A steady stream of men carried crates through the cloisters and out the gate to the waiting trucks. Each evening the trucks left, loaded with people and treasures, on the road to Rome 80 miles away. Presiding over all this activity was Lieutenant-Colonel Julius Schlegel.
Schlegel seemed to be everywhere at once-in the archive with the monks and the carpenters, dashing through the cloisters, outside the gate where the trucks were being loaded, managing, ordering, cajoling. Schlegel was in his element. Transport was his business-in Vienna before the war, and now in the Hermann Goering Division-and by all accounts he was excellent at it.
For the monks the evacuation of their monastery was a shattering experience. On the evening of October 16, two days after Dr. Becker's first visit, Abbot Diamare had told them what was to happen. The monks were gathered in their most holy place, the crypt of Saint Benedict, a low-vaulted room under the basilica. The crypt was lit by candles; the electricity was no longer working. After they had sung the mass of Benedict and Scholastica, the old abbot told the monks that the family of Benedict would again be forced into exile. Again, because the Abbey of Monte Cassino had been destroyed and its inhabitants scattered three times over the centuries: by the Lombards, sometime between 577 and 589, in the first century of its existence; by the Saracens in 883; and by an earthquake in 1349. The fourth destruction was now in prospect, the abbot said.
Leaving Monte Cassino, for the monks, meant leaving the only home they had or ever)' expected to have. When a man chose the Benedictine vocation, he vowed himself for life to a single monastery. These men had exchanged the world outside, the world in which they were born, for the isolated, self-sufficient community of Monte Cassino. They had intended to live all their remaining days in the never-changing, minutely ordered cycle of work and prayer laid down by the Rule of Benedict. Their lives were utterly predictable, or so they had thought; change, then, was far more upsetting to the monks than to those who lived in the world outside the monastery's walls.
Now, the abbot had told the monks, they were to be uprooted and taken to Rome, all but the handful who would stay with him. The treasures of the archive in which many of them worked, the familiar objects of beauty that they saw every day, this too would be taken away. No one could know, the old abbot said, whether the monastery would survive or whether any of them would live to see their home on the holy mountain again. Dismayed and reluctant, most of the monks nonetheless agreed with their abbot, and all of them cooperated actively in the evacuation that was already disrupting the fixed cycle of their days.
By now the commander of the Hermann Goering Division, General Conrath, had given his approval to the removal of the treasures. With the general's backing, Schlegel had arranged to use trucks that, after delivering supplies to the front to the south, were returning empty to the division's supply depot at Spoleto, north of Rome. From the soft drink factory-near the front, but Schlegel got to it before the Allies-he got lumber, tools, and nails, the materials needed to crate the treasures of Monte Cassino. And he persuaded his fellow officers to assign to him a handful of skilled German carpenters from units that were not at the front.
Even with the soldiers and the monks, Schlegel needed more labor. He was racing the clock of war. The use of the trucks might be taken away by his superiors at any time, and neither Schlegel nor anyone else knew when the Allied forces might appear in the valley below Monte Cassino. Already, when the wind was right, the sound of the guns at the Volturno River, 40 miles to the south, could be heard at the abbey. In his search for more hands, Schlegel hit upon a stratagem that would meet his needs and also solve the abbey's most urgent problem.
The problem was the refugees, the Italian civilians who fled in waves to Monte Cassino each time the Allies bombed Cassino or the nearby villages in the plain below. About a thousand of them were now living in improvised shelters in the abbey's cloisters. They clustered in family groups around their few possessions, the women invariably in black, the children huddled close to them in the growing cold. Few able-bodied men were among them; the Germans had rounded up most such men and sent them to Germany as slave laborers. Nobody wanted these human leavings of the war. From the abbey's point of view, they were placing an intolerable strain on the supplies of food and water, and, living in filthy conditions, they were becoming a hazard to their own health and that of others. Yet the Rule of Benedict forbade the monks to deny hospitality to anyone who sought it. From Schlegel's point of view, the refugees were a mere nuisance; they and their improvised quarters were cluttering the passage from the archives to the trucks. He now saw a way to turn the liability of the refugees into an asset.
Schlegel had the refugees summoned to the central cloister and, through an interpreter, he told them they would either have to work on the evacuation or leave the abbey. Most of the refugees left, as he had anticipated-to the relief of the monks-but a few stayed on to work. Schlegel provided these workers with a daily ration of food and twenty cigarettes.
The massive job of evacuation centered on the library and archive, with their 70,000 documents. Many of these were hand-lettered parchment scrolls stored in large wooden drawers. They represented many centuries of careful labor by generations of monks. At the end of each scroll the monk recorded the date and his name and sometimes his further comments. One such notation read, in Latin: "The transcription of this volume was completed on May 19, 1676, by Father Bartholemeo. Inasmuch as Father Bartholemeo was promised absolution of one sin for each letter, he thanks God that the sum total of the letters exceeds the sum total of the sins, though by but a single unit."
The archive was presided over by Mauro Inguanez, a sharp-eyed bald monk in his fifties. From the beginning, both Becker and Schlegel had sensed this monk's hostility to them and to the idea of letting the Germans take away the treasures. Inguanez was Maltese, a British subject; his native island had been under German siege for three years. At the monks' emotional night meeting in the crypt, he argued against letting the treasures go. Still, once the majority of the monks had made the decision, Inguanez cooperated in the evacuation. Now he marked each drawer of scrolls with chalk as it was packed in a crate, which in turn was marked "M.C. Lib."
Another monk, Eusebio Grossetti, an artist, was assigned the responsibility for choosing those of the abbey's works of art that would be rescued. Schlegel noted with pleasure that the wooden Madonna he had admired in the abbot's waiting room was packed to be sent. Among the treasures that were rescued, Dr. Becker remembered some paintings by Italian old masters and a collection of gold and silver measuring devices inlaid with gems. When time and lumber were running short, they wrapped paintings and books in the abbey's equally valuable tapestries.
There was another aspect of the evacuation about which the Germans knew nothing. The Naples museum authorities were not the only ones to entrust their valuables to Monte Cassino. The numismatic museum of Syracuse had sent a crate containing its ancient coins, and the church of San Gennaro in Naples had sent three small lead-sealed wooden boxes. The monks had first become concerned about these valuables they were keeping when, in early September, Germans appeared at Monte Cassino to ask about the weather station that the Italian military had operated in the torretta, the tower that was the monastery's highest point, until Italy's surrender to the Allies. The three Italian airmen who ran the osservatorio went into hiding when the Germans came. The Germans left, but the monks feared they might return and take over the monastery for their purposes. Working at night, a small group of monks secreted parcels of coins and the three small boxes in the remote recesses of the monastery. Each monk knew only the location of what he had hidden. The only monk who knew all the hiding places was the abbot's secretary. Now, again at night, when the Germans were not in the abbey, the secretary was managing another covert operation. The monks were mixing the coins and the three boxes in with their personal property and smuggling them out on the trucks going to Rome.
The first trucks were ready to go less than a week from the day Becker and Schlegel first came to Monte Cassino. The nuns from Cassino and the orphans in their care climbed into a truck and settled themselves around the crates of the abbey's possessions. The Benedictine abbess, who was partially paralyzed, had to be lifted carefully onto the back of the truck. The trucks were parked under the trees, though most of the leaves had fallen so the trees did not offer much concealment from the air. Two monks would accompany each truck going to the Benedictine monasteries in Rome.
The whole community of Monte Cassino-the monks, joined by German soldiers and refugees-turned out to see off the first trucks carrying people. At their head, standing in the road outside the gate, was the squat, stooped figure of Abbot Diamare. Beside him, much taller, was a well-built 40-year-old monk with a prominent nose and close-cropped graying hair: Martino Matronola, the abbot's secretary and chief assistant. The abbot gave his blessing to those who were departing. The trucks were ready to go.
At that moment Allied fighter-bombers appeared screaming overhead. They were bombing Cassino town, just below the abbey. The sound of the exploding bombs, of the anti-aircraft fire, above all the shriek of the motors as the planes pulled out of a bombing run-all this terrified the refugees waiting in the trucks. Schlegel shouted at them to stay where they were, but many of them scattered from the trucks in search of shelter. The old abbot and his fellow monks knelt under the trees as if in prayer and remained still until the bombing was over.
No bombs had fallen on Monte Cassino. No one was injured. The only casualty was an earthenware jug filled with olive oil that was shattered during the moment of panic. The trucks left for Rome. "Saint Benedict had helped," the German monk wrote years later.
Two monks carried the abbey's most precious possession to Rome during the early days of the evacuation. These were two silk-covered boxes, the size of small suitcases, in which were reliquaries that contained tiny fragments of the bones of saints Benedict and Scholastica. The major bones of the saints remained buried in the monastery. Saint Benedict had been buried under what later became the basilica; the chronicler relates that he had died standing erect, his arms raised in prayer. Saint Scholastica, who founded a nunnery in the valley below Monte Cassino, had been buried beside her brother. This was not the first time that the mortal remains of the abbey's patron saints had been disturbed. In the late seventh century, after the first destruction, monks found the saints' bones in the ruins and took them to an abbey at Fleury, near Orleans. The monks at Fleury returned the bones-but not all of them-to Monte Cassino in the next century.
Abbot Diamare and his secretary, Matronola, had carried the two silk-covered cases of relics to the German truck and carefully placed them aboard. The old abbot kept his hands on the relics until the truck drove away. Schlegel saw tears in the abbot's eyes. Schlegel later recalled that he had heard the abbot did not sleep until he was informed, some time the next day, that the relics had safely arrived in Rome and were in the hands of Benedictines there.
Dr. Becker helped Inguanez, the Maltese archivist monk, to take another set of human relics to Rome. These were two oblong metal boxes containing original manuscripts by the English poets John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley. An Italian diplomat had brought the boxes to Monte Cassino for safekeeping from the Keats-Shelley house in Rome, the four-story memento-filled stucco building next to the Spanish Stairs. When the Germans came to Monte Cassino, Inguanez had hidden the two boxes among his personal possessions. Becker took the monk and the boxes to Rome in his little Fiat. Instead of the direct route to Rome, which was under frequent Allied air attack, Becker chose to drive on a back road that snaked up into the mountains of the Abruzzi in the rugged center of the Italian peninsula. Along the way he stopped so Inguanez could talk to the managers of abbey farm properties about the food supply for the swollen population of Monte Cassino.
They halted for a rest on the heights looking down to the hill town of Avezzano. It was, Becker recalled, a warm, sunny day and they saw a wild, beautiful mountain panorama as yet untouched by the war. The German doctor and the Maltese monk talked over their differences. Inguanez said he especially hoped that no harm would come to Monte Cassino because of the English. He told Becker that when the Italian state took possession of the Monte Cassino archive in the nineteenth century, it was William Gladstone, the English prime minister, who persuaded the Italians to leave the archive in the custody of the monks. It would be tragic, said Inguanez, if the English were now to be responsible for the abbey's destruction.
The monk asked Becker bluntly if he were a Nazi. Becker replied by telling him about the night in 1938 when he was beaten unconscious by a band of brown-shirted thugs. The young doctor then confided in the older man. He told him the source of his personal wartime torment, a secret unknown to any of his fellow officers: Becker was a British citizen. Born of an English mother and German father, he had grown up with dual citizenship. In 1939, with the storm clouds gathering, a British consular official in Berlin told Becker that if he was ever to leave, now was the time. Becker was almost through medical school, but the University of Edinburgh, to which he had applied, would not accept his German credits. Becker stayed, war came, and soon he was a soldier fighting his mother's people; fortunately she did not live to see that.
Now that he knew the young doctor was his fellow citizen, the monk Inguanez offered his help. Becker thought the monk was hinting that he could arrange through the Benedictines in Rome to smuggle the doctor across the lines. Becker was sorely tempted: a couple of days and he would be free of this dreadful war. But he had no way of knowing how the British would receive him. Would his dual citizenship make him a traitor in their eyes? Besides, his wife and daughter were in Berlin. Who knew what vengeance the Nazi state might take on the family of a deserter? Becker could not expose them to that risk. Reluctantly he refused the monk's offer. They got back in his little car and went on to Rome.
The evacuation of Monte Cassino was completed in the first days of November, less than three weeks after Dr. Becker's first visit to the abbot. Julius Schlegel, the bluff, hearty Nazi from Vienna, could be proud of the operation he had improvised with the men and materials he was able to find. More than a hundred truckloads had been carried to Rome or the supply depot at Spoleto and not a single one had been lost or even damaged on the way. The work force Schlegel had put together had moved all the treasures of the Naples museum, had crated and moved most of the archive and library of Monte Cassino, and had taken to Rome most of the monks and some of the refugees. In three weeks, in the middle of a losing war, in another country, it was quite a feat.
When the work was nearing its end, Dr. Becker suggested that the abbey might present a ceremonial scroll to General Conrath, commander of the Hermann Goering Division. After he had led a mass in the basilica, attended by German soldiers and officers, and recorded by a German cameraman, Abbot Diamare formally presented a scroll for the general and two other scrolls to Schlegel and Becker. The scrolls were written on parchment in Lombard script with letters illuminated by Eusebio Grossetti, the artist monk. The text, signed by Abbot Diamare, praised the Germans in Latin-tribuno militum Julio Schlegel, and Maximiliano Becker medecinae doctori-for rescuing the monks and treasures of the Abbey of Monte Cassino.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:33 PM
The take-off signal flashed in the darkness and the sound of aero-engines rose to a roar as the first three Ju 52s began to move across the airfield. They did so more sluggishly than usual, for each dragged a heavy burden-a second aircraft without engines: a glider!
As the tow-rope grew taut the latter jerked forward and jolted faster and faster down the runway. Then, as the towing craft left the ground, the glider pilot drew the stick carefully towards him, and the rumbling of his under- carriage grew suddenly silent. Seconds later the glider was sweeping noiselessly over hedges and fences and gaining height behind its Ju 52. The difficult towed take-off had been accomplished.
The time was 04.30 on May 10, 1940. From Cologne's two airfields, Ostheim on the right bank of the Rhine, Butzweilerhof on the left, sections of three Ju 52s were taking off at thirty second intervals, each towing a glider. Becoming airborne, they steered for a point above the green belt to the south of the city, there to thread themselves to a string of lights that stretched towards Aachen. Within a few minutes forty-one Ju 52s and forty-one gliders were on their way.
The die had been cast for one of the most audacious enterprises in the annals of war: the assault on the Belgian frontier fortress of Eben Emael, and the three bridges to the north-west leading over the deep Albert Canal-the keypoints of the Belgian defence system to the east.
In each of the forty-one gliders a team of parachutists sat astride the central beam. According to their appointed task their number varied between eight and twelve, equipped with weapons and explosives. Every soldier knew exactly what his job was once the target was reached. They had been rehearsing the operation, initially with boxes of sand and models, since November 1939.
They belonged to "Assault Detachment Koch". Ever since this unit had reached its training base at Hildesheim, it had been hermetically sealed off from the outside world. No leave or exeats had been granted, their mail was strictly censored, speech with members of other units forbidden.
Each soldier had signed a declaration : "I am aware that I shall risk sentence of death should I, by intent or carelessness, make known to another person by spoken word, text or illustration anything concerning the base at which I am serving."
Two men were, in fact, sentenced to death for quite trifling lapses, and only reprieved after the operation had succeeded. Obviously its success, and there- by the lives of the paratroops, depended on the adversary having no inkling of its imminence. Secrecy was carried so far that while the men knew the details of each other's roles by heart, they only discovered each other's names when all was over.
Theory was succeeded by practical exercises by day, by night, and in every kind of weather. Around Christmas time the operation was rehearsed against the Czech fortified emplacements in the Altvater district of the Sudetenland.
"We developed a healthy respect for what lay ahead of us," reported First-Lieutenant Rudolf Witzig, leader of the parachute sapper platoon which was due to take on the Eben Emael fortifications single-handed. "But after a while our confidence reached the stage where we, the attackers, believed our position outside on the breastworks safer than that of the defenders inside."
Outside on the breastworks . . . but now did they propose to get that far?
The construction of the fortress, like that of the Albert Canal itself, dated from the early 'thirties. Forming the northern bastion of the Lüttich (Liège) defences, it was situated just three miles south of Maastricht, in a salient hard by the Belgian-Dutch frontier. In that position it dominated the Canal, the strategic importance of which was plain: any aggressor advancing along the line Aachen-Maastricht-Brussels would have to cross it. The defence had made preparations so that all its bridges could be blown at a moment's notice.
The fortifications themselves were embedded in a hilly plateau, and ex- tended for 900 yards north and south, 700 yards east and west. The individual emplacements were scattered, seemingly at random, over a five-cornered area (see plate following page 96). In fact, with their artillery casemates, armoured rotating cupolas carrying 75-mm and 120-mm guns, plus anti-aircraft, anti- tank and heavy machine-gun positions, they constituted a shrewdly planned defence system. The different sectors of the complex were connected by underground tunnels totalling nearly three miles in length.
The fortress seemed all but impregnable. On its long north-eastern flank was an almost sheer drop of 120 feet down to the Canal. The same applied to the north-west, with a similar drop to a canal cut. To the south it was protected artificially-by wide anti-tank ditches and a twenty-foot-high wall. On all sides it was additionally protected by concrete pillboxes let into the sides of the walls or cuttings, which bristled with searchlights, 60-mm anti- tank guns and heavy machine-guns. Any enemy attempt to get into the place seemed doomed to failure.
The Belgians had foreseen every possibility but one: that the enemy might drop out of the sky right amongst the casemates and gun turrets. Now this enemy was already on his way. By 04.35 all the forty-one Ju 52s were air- borne. Despite the darkness and the heavily laden gliders behind them there had not been a single hitch.
Captain Koch had divided his assault force into four detachments, as follows:
1. "Granite" under First-Lieutenant Witzig, eighty-five men with small arms and two and a half tons of explosives embarked in eleven gliders. Target: Eben Emael fortifications. Mission: to put outer elements out of action and hold till relieved by Army Sapper Battalion 51.
2. "Concrete" under Lieutenant Schacht. Ninety-six men and command staff embarked in eleven gliders. Target : high concrete bridge over Albert Canal at Vroenhoven. Mission: to prevent bridge being blown, form and secure bridgeheads pending arrival of army troops.
3. "Steel" under First-Lieutenant Altmann. Ninety-two men embarked in nine gliders. Target: steel bridge of Veldwezelt, 33⁄4 miles NW of Eben Emael. Mission: as for "Concrete".
4. "Iron" under Lieutenant Schächter. Ninety men embarked in ten gliders. Target: bridge at Kanne. Mission : again as for "Concrete".
Rendezvous was duly made between the two groups of aircraft, and all set course for the west, following the line of beacons. The first was a fire kindled at a crossroads near Efferen, the second a searchlight three miles further on at Frechen. As the aircraft approached one beacon, the next, and often the next but one, became visible ahead. Navigation, despite the dark night, was there- fore no problem at least as far as the pre-ordained unhitching point at Aachen. Yet for one aircraft-the one towing the last glider of the "Granite" detachment-things went wrong while still south of Cologne.
Just ahead and to starboard its pilot suddenly noticed the blue exhaust flames of another machine on a collision course. There was only one thing to do: push his Ju 52 into a dive. But he had, of course, a glider in tow! The latter's pilot, Corporal Pilz, tried frantically to equalise the strain, but within seconds his cockpit was lashed as with a whip as the towing cable parted. As Pilz pulled out of the dive the sound of their mother aircraft died rapidly away and suddenly all was strangely silent.
The seven occupants then glided back to Cologne-one of them the very man who was supposed to lead the assault on the Eben Emael fortress, First- Lieutenant Witzig. Pilz just managed to clear the Rhine, then set the glider softly down in a meadow. What now?
Climbing out, Witzig at once ordered his men to convert the meadow into an airstrip by clearing all fences and other obstacles. "I will try to get hold of another towing plane," he said.
Running to the nearest road he stopped a car and within twenty minutes was once again at Cologne-Ostheim airfield. But not a single Ju 52 was left. He had to get on the 'phone and ask for one from Gutersloh. It would take time. Looking at his watch he saw it was 05.05. In twenty minutes his detachment was due to land on the fortress plateau. Meanwhile the Ju 52 squadrons, with their gliders behind them, droned westwards, climbing steadily. Every detail of their flight had been worked out in advance. The line of beacons to the German frontier at Aachen was forty-five miles long. By then the aircraft were scheduled to reach a height of 8,500 feet: a flight of thirty-one minutes, assuming the wind had been correctly estimated.
Squatting in their gliders, the men of detachment "Granite" had no idea that their leader had already dropped out of the procession. For the moment it was not all that important. Each section had its own special job to do, and each glider pilot knew at exactly which point of the elongated plateau he had to land: behind which emplacement, beside which gun turret, within a margin of ten to twenty yards.
It would moreover have been bad planning if the loss of individual gliders had not been provided for. As it was, each section leader's orders included directions as to what additional tasks his team would have to perform in the event of neighbouring sections failing to land.
Nor was Witzig's glider the only one to drop out. Some twenty minutes later that carrying No. 2 Section had just passed the beacon at Luchenberg when the Ju 52 in front waggled its wings. The glider pilot, Corporal Brendenbeck, thought he was "seeing things", especially when the plane also blinked its position lights. It was the signal to unhitch! Seconds later the glider had done so-all thanks to a stupid misunderstanding. It was only half way to its target, and with an altitude of less than 5,000 feet there was no longer a hope of reaching the frontier.
The glider put down in a field near Düren. Springing out, its men requisitioned cars and in the first light of day sped towards the frontier, which the Army at this time was due to cross.
That left "Granite" with only nine gliders still flying. Sooner than expected the searchlight marking the end of the line of beacons came into view ahead. Situated on the Vetschauer Berg north-west of Aachen-Laurensberg, it also marked the point at which the gliders were to unhitch. After that they would reach the Maastricht salient in a glide, their approach unbetrayed by the noise of the towing aircraft's engines.
But in fact they were ten minutes too early. The following wind had proved stronger than the Met. men had predicted, and for this reason they had also not reached the pre-ordained height of 8,500 feet, which would enable them to fly direct to their target at a gliding angle of one in twelve. Now they were some 1,500 feet too low. Lieutenant Schacht, leader of "Concrete" detachment, wrote in his operations report: "For some undisclosed reason the towing squadron brought us further on over Dutch territory. Only when we were some way between the frontier and Maastricht did we unhitch."
Obviously the idea was to bring the gliders up to something like the de- creed altitude. But if this move contributed to the security of the force in one way, it certainly hazarded it in another. For now the droning of the Junkers engines alerted the Dutch and Belgian defence.
The time was shortly after 05.00 hours-nearly half an hour still before Hitler's main offensive against the West was due to open. Though eight to ten minutes ahead of time, owing to the wind, the gliders needed, in fact, another twelve to fourteen to bring them over the target. At five minutes before zero hour these silent birds of prey were to swoop down amongst the pill- boxes of the Canal bridges and the fortress... before any other shot was fired. But now the element of surprise seemed to have been lost.
At last the gliders were set free, and the noise of their mother aircraft died away in the distance. But the Dutch flak was now on its toes, and opened fire on the gliders before they reached Maastricht. The little red balls came up like toys, amongst which the pilots dodged about in avoiding action, happy that they had sufficient height to do so. None was hit, but the long and care- fully guarded secret of their existence was now irrevocably exposed.
As long ago as 1932 the Rhön-Rossitten-Gesellschaft had constructed a wide wing-span glider designed for making meteorological measurements at high altitude. The following year, taken over by the newly established German Institute for Gliding Research (DFS) at Darmstadt-Griesheim, this flying observatory-known as "Obs"-was used for the first gliding courses under Peter Riedel, Will Hubert, and Heini Dittmar. It was tested for the first time in tow by Hanna Reitsch, later to become one of the world's best known women pilots, behind a Ju 52.
Ernst Udet soon got wind of the project and went to inspect the "Obs" at Darmstadt. He at once recognised a possible military application. Could not large gliders like this be used for bringing up supplies to the front line, or in support of a unit that had become surrounded? Perhaps it could even operate as a kind of modern Trojan horse by landing soldiers unnoticed be- hind the enemy's back.
Udet, in 1933, was still a civilian, and not yet a member of the new camouflaged Luftwaffe. 'But he informed his comrade of World War I, Ritter von Greim, about the "Obs", and shortly afterwards the Institute received a con- tract to build a military version. The prototype, under the designation DFS 230, duly emerged under the direction of engineer Hans Jacobs. The "assault glider" of World War II fame was thus already born.
Series production started in 1937 at the Gothaer vehicle factory. Its wings were high-set and braced, its box-shaped fuselage was of steel covered with canvas, and its undercarriage jettisonable: the landing was made on a stout central skid. This was another mark of Udet's influence: as early as the twenties he had made some venturesome landings on Alpine glaciers with a ski- undercarriage.
The unladen weight of the assault glider was only 16 cwt, and nearly 18 cwt could be loaded-equivalent often men plus their weapons.
By autumn 1938 Major-General Student's top-secret airborne force included a small glider-assault commando under Lieutenant Kiess. Tests had shown that such a method of surprise attack on a well-defended point had a better chance of success than parachute troops. In the latter case not only was surprise betrayed by the noise of the transport aircraft's engines, but even if the troops jumped from the minimum height of three hundred feet they still swayed defenselessly in the air for fifteen seconds. Further, even the minimum time of seven seconds to get clear of the aircraft spread them out on the ground over a distance of about 300 yards. Precious minutes were then lost freeing themselves of their parachutes, reassembling, and finding their weapon containers.
With gliders, on the other hand, surprise was complete thanks to their uncannily silent approach. Well-trained pilots could put them down within twenty yards of any point. The men were out in no time through the broad hatch at the side, complete with weapons, and formed a compact combat group from the start. The only restrictions were that the landing had to await first light, and the area had to be known in advance.
It was this dictate of time that nearly caused the whole Albert Canal and Eben Emael operations to miscarry. For the Army supreme commander proposed to launch the opening attack of the western campaign at 03.00 hours, in darkness. Against this Koch argued that his detachment must make its own assault at least simultaneously with the main one, and preferably a few minutes earlier. And before dawn this was impossible.
At that point Hitler himself intervened and fixed zero hour at "sunrise minus 30 minutes". Numerous test flights had shown that to be the earliest moment at which the glider pilots would have enough visibility.
So it was that the whole German Army had to take its time from a handful of "adventurers" who had the presumption to suppose that they could subdue one of the world's most impregnable fortresses from the air.
At 03.10 hours on May 10th the field telephone jangled at the command post of Major Jottrand, who was in charge of the Eben Emael fortifications. The 7th Belgian Infantry Division, holding the Albert Canal sector, imposed an increased state of alert. Jottrand ordered his 1,200-strong garrison to action stations. Sourly, for the umpteenth time, men stared out from the gun turrets into the night, watching once again for the German advance.
For two hours all remained still. But then, as the new day dawned, there came from the direction of Maastricht in Holland the sound of concentrated anti-aircraft fire. On Position No. 29, on the south-east boundary of the fortress, the Belgian bombardiers raised their own anti-aircraft weapons. Were the German bombers on the way? Was the fortress their objective? Listen as they might, the men could hear no sound of engines.
Suddenly from the east great silent phantoms were swooping down. Low already, they seemed to be about to land: three, six, nine of them. Lowering the barrels of their guns, the Belgians let fly. But next moment one of the "great bats" was immediately over them-no, right amongst them!
Corporal Lange set his glider down right on the enemy position, severing a machine-gun with one wing and dragging it along. With a tearing crunch the glider came to rest. As the door flew open, Sergeant Haug, in command of Section 5, loosed off a burst from his machine-pistol, and hand-grenades pelted into the position. The Belgians held up their hands.
Three men of Haug's section scampered across the intervening hundred yards towards Position 23, an armoured gun turret. Within one minute all the remaining nine gliders had landed at their appointed spots in the face of machine-gun fire from every quarter, and the men had sprung out to fulfill their appointed duties.
Section 4's glider struck the ground hard about 100 yards from Position 19, an anti-tank and machine-gun emplacement with embrasures facing north and south. Noting that the latter were closed, Sergeant Wenzel ran directly up to them and flung a 2-lb. charge through the periscope aperture in the turret. The Belgian machine-guns chattered blindly into the void. Thereupon Wenzel's men fixed their secret weapon, a 100-lb. hollow charge, on the observation turret and ignited it. But the armour was too thick for the charge to penetrate: the turret merely became seamed with small cracks, as in dry earth. Finally they blew an entry through the embrasures, finding all weapons destroyed and the gunners dead.
Eighty yards farther to the north Sections 6 and 7 under Corporals Harlos and Heinemann had been "sold a dummy". Positions 15 and 16-especially strong ones according to the air pictures-just did not exist. Their "15-foot armoured cupolas" were made of tin. These sections would have been much more useful further south. There all hell had broken loose at Position 25, which was merely an old tool shed used as quarters. The Belgians within it rose to the occasion better than those behind armour, spraying the Germans all round with machine-gun fire. One casualty was Corporal Unger, leader of Section 8, which had already blown up the twin-gun cupola of Position 31.
Sections 1 and 3, under N.C.O.s Niedermeier and Arent, put out of action the six guns of artillery casements 12 and 18. Within ten minutes of "Granite" detachment's landing ten positions had been destroyed or badly crippled. But though the fortress had lost most of its artillery, it had not yet fallen. The pillboxes set deep in the boundary walls and cuttings could not be got at from above. Observing correctly that there were only some seventy Germans on the whole plateau, the Belgian commander, Major Jottrand, ordered adjoining artillery batteries to open fire on his own fort.
As a result the Germans had themselves to seek cover in the positions they had already subdued. Going over to defence, they had to hold on till the German Army arrived. At 08.30 there was an unexpected occurrence when an additional glider swooped down and landed hard by Position 19, in which Sergeant Wenzel had set up the detachment command post. Out sprang First-Lieutenant Witzig. The replacement Ju 52 he had ordered had succeeded in towing his glider off the meadow near Cologne, and now he could belatedly take charge.
There was still plenty to do. Recouping their supplies of explosives from containers now dropped by Heinkel 111s, the men turned again to the gun positions which had not previously been fully dealt with. 2-lb. charges now tore the barrels apart. Sappers penetrated deep inside the positions and blew up the connecting tunnels. Others tried to reach the vital Position 17, set in the 120-foot wall commanding the canal, by suspending charges on cords.
Meanwhile hours passed, as the detachment waited in vain for the Army relief force, Engineer Battalion 51. Witzig was in radio contact both with its leader, Lieutenant-Colonel Mikosch, and with his own chief, Captain Koch at the Vroenhoven bridgehead. Mikosch could only make slow progress. The enemy had successfully blown the Maastricht bridges and indeed the one over the Albert Canal at Kanne-the direct connection between Maastricht and Eben Emael. It had collapsed at the very moment "Iron" detachment's gliders approached to land.
On the other hand the landings at Vroenhoven and Veldwezelt had succeeded, and both bridges were intact in the hands of the "Concrete" and "Steel" detachments. Throughout the day all three bridgeheads were under heavy Belgian fire. But they held-not least thanks to the covering fire provided by the 88-mm batteries of Flak Battalion "Aldinger" and constant attacks by the old Henschel Hs 123s of II/LG 2 and Ju 87s of StG 2.
In the course of the afternoon these three detachments were at last relieved by forward elements of the German Army. Only "Granite" at Eben Emael had still to hang on right through the night. By 07.00 the following morning an assault party of the engineer battalion had fought its way through and was greeted with loud rejoicing. At noon the remaining fortified positions were assaulted, then at 13.15 the notes of a trumpet rose above the din. It came from Position 3 at the entrance gate to the west. An officer with a flag of truce appeared, intimating that the commander, Major Jottrand, now wished to surrender.
Eben Emael had fallen. 1,200 Belgian soldiers emerged into the light of day from the underground passages and gave themselves up. In the surface positions they had lost twenty men. The casualties of "Granite" detachment numbered six dead and twenty wounded.
One story remains to be told. The Ju 52s, having shed the gliders of "Assault Detachment Koch", returned to Germany and dropped their towing cables at a prearranged collection point. Then they turned once more westwards to carry out their second mission. Passing high over the battle- field of Eben Emael they flew on deep into Belgium. Then, twenty-five miles west of the Albert Canal they descended. Their doors opened and 200 white mushrooms went sailing down from the sky. As soon as they reached the ground, the sound of battle could be heard. For better or worse the Belgians had turned to confront the new enemy in their rear.
But for once the Germans did not attack. On reaching them the Belgians discovered the reason: the "paratroops" lay still entangled in their 'chutes. They were not men at all, but straw dummies in German uniform armed with self-igniting charges of explosive to imitate the sound of firing. As a decoy raid, it certainly contributed to the enemy's confusion.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:32 PM
A map of Paris showing the fall of projectiles and casualties: killing 256 (corrected figure) and wounding 620.
The forest of Crepy-Fourdrain concealed sinister secrets. Deep inside the primeval woods was a naked concrete command post next to a man-made clearing. Its stark, cold walls, dripping with dew from an early morning fog, contrasted garishly with the greenery and chirping of springtime. Uniformed men entered and walked to a map table, then peered outside at their colossal charge. Clinking and clanking as it cranked to higher degrees of elevation, a monstrous metallic tube seemed to rise out of the misty forest floor. Over 100 feet long and weighing 200 tons, the creature waited for sustenance. Cranes hoisted a brass-tipped projectile! "Toi, toi, toi-do your job, Jeanette!" said one artilleryman affectionately, as the shell disappeared into one end.
Inside the bunker a phone rang. It was the OHL, ordering the giant gun to fire on Paris, 128 kilometers to the southwest. The order to shoot passed down the line. Thirty heavy artillery batteries stood ready to fire their guns simultaneously to provide a camouflage of sorts to prevent immediate counter-battery fire. At 7:09 a.m. on 23 March 1918, the salvo went skyward with a roar. One shell left the others far below, rocketing into the icy stratosphere at 2 kilometers per second. After 21/2 minutes it reappeared in the skies high above Paris. Thirty seconds later it plummeted into the City of Light.
The gargantuan "Paris gun" shot 320 shells at the French capital that spring and summer, most exploding in the inner city. Its mission was to break enemy morale as German shock divisions broke through allied lines and drove on Paris. The very existence of this hideous, high-tech cannon was a cruel mockery of the outmoded military world that had practiced its prescriptions for victory on the plains of Konitz 37 years earlier. But it was also a sign and symbol of the German Army's rapid adjustment to the brave new world spawned by Plevna, as well as by the Great War. Would it be enough?
Germany had some success with ultra-long-range artillery during World War I, notably with the so-called 'Paris Gun'. The Imperial German Navy, which constructed and manned them, called them the 'Kaiser Wilhelm Gesch端tz', and they were used sporadically from March to July 1918 during the massive and so nearly effective German counter-attack in Picardy to bombard the French capital from the region north of Soissons over 100km (60 miles) away. They were 38cm (15in) naval guns, as mounted aboard the battleships of the day, sleeved down to 21cm (8.25in) with liners whose rifling consisted of deep grooves within which lugs on the shell located, a method first adopted in the early days of the development of the rifled gun in the 1840s. This same method was to be employed in the very long-range artillery pieces developed in Germany for use in World War II - the K5 battlefield weapons and the 'strategic' K12, built to fire on England from the French coast - though the shells of these guns were rather more sophisticated. Heavily over-charged, they projected their shell into the stratosphere where, meeting little air resistance, it could extend its trajectory considerably. The use of a far heavier charge than the gun had ever been designed to employ soon caused the barrel to wear out - it seems that 25cm (10in) of rifling was destroyed with every round fired, and that a barrel's life was just 50 rounds in consequence - and it then had to be rebored or relined. The Paris Guns, with three mountings and seven barrels, which were employed serially, fired just 303 rounds towards Paris, slightly more than half of which (183) actually landed within its boundaries, killing 256 and wounding 620. These results made the entire project highly cost-ineffective, except in propaganda terms. Though these first-generation ultra-long-range guns were to enjoy only limited success, they did, albeit imperfectly, solve the problem of how to bombard high-value area targets with relative impunity from outside the range of counter-battery fire. In more modern times they would be sickeningly vulnerable to air attack, since they presented big targets, were hard to conceal, and impossible to move at very short notice, but in 1918, despite a huge campaign to locate them, they were never found. By the time the Allies overran the Forest of Crepy, where they were located, there was no sign of them left save their concrete emplacements. Another problem - and many said a more pressing one - remained: how to subdue organised defensive positions like the modern fortresses of the Maginot Line, which ran down the French-German border, in the shortest possible time. For this, a task which was to be undertaken at shorter range, an approach which can almost be characterised as 'brute force and ignorance' was all that was necessary, and the guns in question were no more than straightforward developments of the siege guns which were some of the first weapons deployed in 1914.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:31 PM
By SAMUEL R. WILLIAMSON, JR.
At his desk in his summer hunting lodge at Bad Ischl, in the peaceful serenity of the Salzkammergut, Emperor Franz Joseph on July 28, 1914 signed - without enthusiasm - a declaration of war against the neighboring kingdom of Serbia. With that act, the Habsburg monarchy of more than fifty million persons launched a war against 4.4 million Serbs living in Serbia. This declaration came exactly one month after the assassination in Sarajevo, Bosnia, by a Bosnian Serb student of the monarch's nephew and heir, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and his wife Sophie. Spurred by the Balkan Wars and then by Serbia's incitement of South Slavs inside the Habsburg realm against the monarchy, Franz Joseph's signature brought to an end almost two years of continuous diplomatic tension between Vienna and Belgrade. Within ten days of his decision, all of Europe's Great Powers (save Italy) would be at war. Four years later four empires had disappeared, more than nine million combatants had died, and Europe's place in the world irrevocably reduced. In the summer of 1914, a series of decisions and trends converged to create a perfect storm. In that summer a group of experienced, senior statesmen took their countries to war with disastrous results, none more so than for the Habsburg monarchy led by the 83-year-old emperor.1
On July 1, 1911, the German government sent a gunboat into the Moroccan port of Agadir in a blatant attempt to thwart the French seizure of all of Morocco. Germany's aggressive response triggered a crisis that preoccupied Europe for the next four months. When it ended, the French had gotten all of Morocco and the disappointed Germans a part of the French Congo. But Agadir's ramifications were just beginning to unfold. First, the French government considered itself victorious, and so did French opinion. In the midst of the crisis the government of Joseph Caillaux appointed General Joseph Joffre as chief of the French General Staff with enhanced powers. Joffre immediately began to develop an offensive war plan against Germany. Within months Raymond Poincaré, whose Lorraine homeland had been seized by the Germans in 1871, became first the French premier and then, in 1913, president of France. In the months before July 1914, Poincaré and his colleagues strengthened their alliance with Russia, made the entente relationship with Britain more explicit, and expanded the size of the French standing army with the three year- service law.2 France's southern neighbor, Italy, utilized the tensions over Morocco to launch an invasion of Libya and wrest it from the Ottoman Empire. This September-October 1911 military adventure did not go well for the Italians: a substantial part of the Italian army was still there in July 1914. But the Italian campaign revealed the extreme vulnerability of the Ottoman holdings, not least in the Balkan territory known as Macedonia and in Albania, which the Turks still controlled. With this almost irresistible temptation before them, the covetous Balkan states, encouraged by an increasingly confident Russian foreign minister, Sergei Sazonov, negotiated a secret Balkan League in the spring of 1912. At some point the group would attack the Ottoman Empire. With this step, the Russian government embarked on a foreign policy that became increasingly assertive over the next two years.
For its part the German government also drew lessons from the Moroccan debacle, chiefly the belief that the German army required an immediate increase in troops to offset the perceived dangers posed by the Franco-Russian alliance. Berlin would slow down, though not end, its provocative naval race with Great Britain. But now its main attention centered on the army, as Germany added 136,000 troops over the next two years, an increase that nearly matched the entire size of the British army. Not surprisingly, the French and the Russians moved to counter the increase and thus escalated the armaments race even further.3
In Vienna the Habsburg leadership also pressed for an increase in military manpower. In the summer of 1912, for the first time since 1889, the number of recruits coming into the Habsburg army actually increased. At the same time, Habsburg Foreign Minister Count Leopold Berchtold learned of the Balkan League among Serbia, Greece, Montenegro, and Bulgaria, an alignment he recognized as certain to challenge the Ottoman possession of Macedonia and Albania. He was not wrong.
On October 8, 1912, tiny Montenegro launched an attack on Turkish positions in Kosovo; its allies soon joined the fighting. To the surprise of all, the League won a series of rapid-fire victories over the Turks and by early December had nearly pushed the Ottoman Empire out of Europe. At this point, the warring parties, pressured by the Great Powers, reluctantly agreed to a ceasefire and diplomatic talks in London.
The sudden Serb victories confronted Berchtold with a set of dangerous challenges. He wished to limit Serbian expansion, especially to prevent Serbia's direct access to the Adriatic Sea where it might pose an additional strategic threat to Habsburg holdings. But he also had an unprecedented strategic calculation to consider, for Russia had retained an extra 220,000 troops on active duty along the northern edge of the Habsburg territories. Any military confrontation with Serbia would almost certainly trigger an Austro-Russian war. Still, Berchtold could not ignore the threat posed by a Serbia bent on its own expansion. To thwart this possibility he managed to get the European powers to agree to the creation of the new state of Albania, thus blocking Serbia from the sea.4
Even with this diplomatic victory Vienna worried about Serbia. In December 1912, the senior Habsburg leadership, goaded by General Conrad von Hötzendorf, chief of Austro- Hungarian General Staff, seriously considered war with Serbia. But Franz Joseph, Berchtold, and Franz Ferdinand rebuffed the idea, as did their German ally. In late February 1913, the Russian and Habsburg diplomats negotiated a mutual reduction in troop strength along their common frontiers. A crisis had passed, or so it seemed.
In late April, however, Vienna nearly went to war again, this time with tiny Montenegro over its failure to respect Albania's new borders. Indeed, the senior decision-makers in Vienna, including Franz Joseph but not the heir apparent Franz Ferdinand, were prepared to attack Montenegro. But King Nikita, the wily monarch of this isolated kingdom, took a bribe and evacuated Albanian territory. Another crisis had been averted.
Then came the Second Balkan War of June- July 1913. The fighting saw the former Balkan League allies, joined by Romania, turn and rapidly defeat their rapacious former ally, Bulgaria. Once more Serbian prestige soared. This victory emboldened Belgrade to attempt anew in October 1913 to infringe on Albania's borders. Once more Vienna responded, this time with a seven-day ultimatum to Belgrade to vacate the territory assigned to Albania or face military consequences. Serbia complied and the fourth Habsburg war- peace crisis in a year eased. From the perspective of Vienna, militant diplomacy worked.
But Vienna's leadership also faced internal issues. The German-Austrian/Magyar dominance of the multiethnic monarchy faced serious domestic challenges, not least from the Czechs in Bohemia, the Romanians in Transylvania, and the South Slavs in Bosnia-Herzegovina. These domestic issues had international dimensions, whether with Italy, Russia, Romania, or Serbia. Coupled with the emperor's age and a possibly climatic showdown for political primacy between Archduke Franz Ferdinand and the Hungarians when he ascended to the throne, these ethnic challenges left the monarchy's future an open question.
To complicate matters further, Vienna's alliance with Germany and Italy, and silent partner Romania, also showed signs of disarray. New friction flared with Italy over who would dominate Albania, despite efforts at a high-level summit between Berchtold and Italian Foreign Minister Antonino di San Giuliani in April 1914 to calm it. Still more ominously, St. Petersburg became increasingly successful in wooing Bucharest away from its secret commitment to the Triple Alliance. Not only did Romania's possible defection create a new strategic threat to Austria-Hungary, it meant also that the Romanian government had little interest in continuing to see three million Romanians live in Transylvania under the Magyars. The Magyar elite, led by Premier István Tisza, faced a serious domestic challenge.
Vienna's closest ally, Germany, faced its own problems. With a new focus on land armaments after 1912, the Anglo-German naval race eased somewhat. Moreover, in 1914 London and Berlin negotiated a "vulture-like" agreement over the possible future division of Portuguese territory in Angola. But if Berlin's relations with London improved, those with Russia deteriorated sharply during late 1913 and the opening months of 1914. In the fall of 1913, St. Petersburg objected to German General Liman von Sanders's appointment as adviser to the Ottoman military forces, an assignment that gave him effective command of Turkish troops. Eventually Berlin yielded to Russian pressure, only to see the military journalists in both countries begin a heated set of exchanges. The verbal volleys centered in part on German anxiety about Russia's proposed military expansion, in part from fear that the Russian military might actually become more effective, and in part because enhanced Franco-Russian military cooperation sharply increased Germany's vulnerability in any two-front war. For his part, General Helmuth von Moltke, chief of Prussian General Staff, began to talk of a preemptive war and German Kaiser Wilhelm II echoed these views from time to time.5
Nor could Berlin be comfortable with intelligence reports that suggested, correctly, that the Anglo-French military and naval conversations continued despite Sir Edward Grey's public denials. More worrisome still, in the spring of 1914 the British government agreed to naval talks with St. Petersburg, talks that Grey denied in the House of Commons but which German Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg knew from secret intelligence sources to be true. In Berlin there was mounting frustration, even pessimism, about Germany's long-term international position, a growing anxiety that Germany was in fact being "encircled."
Within the Triple Entente of Britain, France, and Russia there were indeed efforts to strengthen the military and naval cooperation among the partners. Poincaré and Joffre for the French, Grey, General Henry Wilson, and Winston Churchill for the British, and Sazonov and his military colleagues for the Russians did seek to make their entente relationship less ambiguous. These efforts translated not surprisingly into a more confident stance vis-à-vis Germany and Austria-Hungary, one that could only be seen as threatening by Vienna and Berlin.
But the Triple Entente members had their own domestic problems. In the spring and summer of 1914 the Irish question flared so sharply in Britain that civil war seemed a real possibility. A veritable army mutiny in March followed by gunrunning and increasingly vitriolic domestic rhetoric made Britain appear an uncertain entente colleague. In France the May elections saw the socialists win more seats and influence the shape of the new government headed by René Viviani, a former socialist. Support for the three-year-service law appeared in jeopardy. In the east, increasing labor unrest and strikes plagued the Russians, with consequent new tensions within the Russian political system. Europe on the eve of Sarajevo was far less tranquil than subsequent memories of the glorious summer suggest.
If the great powers had domestic problems in May-June 1914, the counterpart problems in Serbia were far more potentially lethal and, ultimately for Europe, more consequential. For in Belgrade the Balkan War victories prompted the emergence of new clashes between military and civilian authorities, this time over who would administer the lands of new Serbia, almost equal in size and population to old Serbia. The government of Nikola Pašic ́ wanted to control the territory; the military disagreed. Among those who disagreed was Colonel Dragutin Dimitrijevic ́ (nicknamed Apis), the head of Serbian military intelligence. A key founder of the Crna Ruka (the secret terrorist organization, the Black Hand, dedicated to the creation of a Greater Serbia by any means) and one of the chief conspirators behind the 1903 murders of King Alexander and his mistress/queen, Apis had become by 1914 a veritable government within the government.
In the midst of this tension Apis got an unexpected opportunity to challenge his own government and to push the case against Habsburg rule in Bosnia-Herzegovina when three Bosnian Serb students in Belgrade indicated that they wanted to kill Archduke Franz Ferdinand when he visited Sarajevo in late June. Apis did not hesitate. He had Gavrilo Princip, Trifko Grabez, and Nedeljko Cabrinovic ́ trained with Browning revolvers, equipped with money and bombs (as well as cyanide), and smuggled back into Bosnia in late May through his Black Hand network. The assassins then made their way to Sarajevo, where they gained additional recruits.
In early June information about the conspirators reached the civilian authorities in Belgrade. An alarmed minister of the interior, Stefan Protic ́, asked Premier Pašic ́ if he had known of this group and warned that their activities could lead to very dangerous consequences for Serbia. While it is not absolutely certain that Pašic ́ shared this information with the entire Serbian cabinet, he certainly discussed it with some ministers. Moreover, he authorized Protic ́ to stop any further movement and demanded an explanation from the army, and thus Apis, about the matter. When the colonel responded, Apis objected to any interference with his intelligence operations and lied about the movement of the conspirators. Nevertheless, on the very eve of Sarajevo, some senior officials in the Serbian government were aware of the plot. Whether the Russian military attaché, Victor A. Artamonov, a close confidant of Apis, knew is less certain. Nor is there any hard evidence that Serbia formally tried to warn Vienna about a possible attack on the archduke. In any event, a compromised Serbian government had to be uncomfortable with the situation when the archduke and his wife embarked on the trip to Bosnia-Herzegovina, with Franz Ferdinand scheduled first to participate in the summer army maneuvers, then make an official state visit to Sarajevo.6
The army exercises went off without incident. And on Saturday, June 27, the royal couple happily visited the markets in Sarajevo, making a series of purchases for their young children. That evening at dinner at a nearby resort, there was some talk about the risks of a journey to the town center the next day, but the archduke brushed this aside. No one in the group disagreed enough to force a reconsideration, though a more imaginative group might have remembered that the Serbs commemorated their 1389 defeat in Kosovo by the Turks on June 28 in St. Vitus Day celebrations. That historic day was about to be eclipsed.
The royal couple traveled in an open touring car along the long Apel Quai that paralleled the River Miljac ́ka on one side with stores and buildings on the other. At mid-point one of the conspirators threw a bomb, which hit the royal car but bounced off and exploded, with minor injuries to two of the archduke's accompanying military officers. The entourage proceeded to the City Hall, the Konak, for an awkward reception. For security reasons, and because Franz Ferdinand wanted to check on the wounded officers, the officials agreed to avoid the planned route through many of Sarajevo's narrowest streets. New orders were given to the drivers of the cars in the procession. But General Oskar Potiorek, the governor general of Sarajevo and the official host, forgot to tell the driver of the car in which he and the royal couple were traveling. Thus, when their driver turned to follow the original route, the general told him to stop, reverse, and go back down the Quai. As he did, Gavrilo Princip stepped forward, and at very close range fired two shots into Franz Ferdinand and Sophie. They were dead within minutes. Because of their deaths, a war would come that eventually claimed 9.5 million more combatants' lives. A simple command failure brought disaster.
As the July crisis unfolded over the next five weeks, there was a series of successive, distinct stages. Although some overlapped, each had its own special character. The first phase went from the murders on June 28 through July 7 with Vienna's decision to punish Serbia for the attack. The second phase began on July 8 and continued until July 18, ten days in which Vienna and Berlin attempted to lull Europe into complacency though with only limited success. The next, short phase, four days long, ran from July 19 to July 23, culminating with the delivery of the ultimatum. During this period there was renewed public speculation about possible Habsburg action, even as the long-planned French state visit to Russia proceeded. The presentation of the ultimatum on July 23 opened the penultimate phase, one that continued until Vienna's declaration of war on July 28 and the exchange of gunfire that evening near Belgrade. The final stage to a general European war began on July 28-9 and moved relentlessly to August 4 and British entry into the expanding conflagration.
By late afternoon, Sunday, June 28, news of the Sarajevo assassinations had swept across Europe. Shock, dismay, fear characterized some reactions, though not in Italy, Hungary, or Serbia where Franz Ferdinand was unloved and there was public rejoicing. The murders, of course, immediately put the Serbian government at risk, for Pašic ́ realized that Serbia would be blamed. He offered condolences, put the Serbian flag at half-mast, even visited the Habsburg legation. But he made no effort to investigate the plot's connection to Belgrade. Nor, despite official efforts, could he muzzle the Serbian press that praised Princip, delighted in the disappearance of Franz Ferdinand, and called for unity among all South Slavs, including those in the Habsburg lands. And if Pašic ́ could not control the Serbian press, he could not ignore the fact that the authorities in Sarajevo had rounded up not only Princip but also almost all of the other conspirators, some of whom had recently been in Belgrade. The question soon became: what would they say that could implicate Serbia? "Official Serbia" now became vulnerable.7
The reaction to Sarajevo among the senior Habsburg leaders ranged from anger and sadness to an almost uniform desire to punish Serbia for the deed. But first Vienna had to deal with grief. The aged emperor, Franz Joseph, whose relations with his nephew were always formal to the point of coolness, signaled that he wanted the funeral low key and subdued. Vienna informed Berlin that it would be better if Kaiser Wilhelm II refrained from coming, in part because they feared another attack, in part because some worried that he would be too effusive about the archduke whom he had visited just two weeks earlier. In short, Vienna treated the tragic event in a very modest fashion.
But behind the scenes the Habsburg decision makers had by July 3 agreed that Serbia must be held accountable. For Generals Conrad and War Minister Alexander Krobatin, Austrian Premier Karl Stürgkh, and Finance Minister Leon Bilinski, this meant a military confrontation; for Hungarian Premier Tisza, this meant a diplomatic victory; and for Franz Joseph and Berchtold it meant the willingness to go beyond militant diplomacy to demands that could lead to a local war. Vienna reached this conclusion, it must be stressed, without any explicit pressure from Berlin and the Habsburg leadership never wavered from this view in the coming weeks. On the other hand, Vienna had to be sure that Germany, unlike its vacillation during the four earlier war-peace crises, would commit in advance to support a Habsburg decision. Berchtold clung to his hope that Berlin could deter Russian involvement in any local war. But this time he would seek German agreement before he moved forward, rather than later.
On July 4 Vienna notified Berlin that a special envoy, Count Alexander Hoyos, the chef de cabinet of the foreign ministry, would travel to Germany with a communication for Kaiser Wilhelm II. Hoyos arrived in the German capital on Sunday morning, July 5, with a handwritten letter from Franz Joseph to Wilhelm that left little doubt that Vienna wanted to settle with Serbia. He also brought a late June memorandum from the foreign ministry that outlined a new, aggressive Habsburg diplomatic policy in the Balkans, one designed to isolate Serbia. Duly briefed by Hoyos, Habsburg Ambassador Ladislaus Szögyény went to nearby Potsdam to see the German kaiser.
Wilhelm II's reception could only have pleased the Habsburg envoy. Wilhelm pledged support - the infamous "blank check" - and urged Vienna to move quickly. But he also said that he had to consult Bethmann Hollweg, the civilian head of the government, and he promised to do that later in the afternoon.
Historians have endlessly debated the kaiser's promise. Some see it as German pressure on Vienna, some see it as Germany finally agreeing to help an ally, and some see it as a pretext for a larger German effort to launch a preventive war. Almost certainly Wilhelm and Bethmann had discussed, before July 5, what Germany might do, even without knowing the details of any Habsburg request. But there is no evidence to suggest that they knew, in advance, exactly what Vienna might propose. However judged, the kaiser had made a monumental, fateful decision for Germany and for Europe, and he had left future decisions almost entirely in the hands of his Habsburg ally.
Later in the afternoon of July 5, the German monarch, his chancellor, his war minister, and senior aides again discussed the ruler's pledge of support. They agreed with Wilhelm's assurances, which Bethmann repeated again the next day to both Szögyény and Hoyos, who then telegraphed news of German support to Vienna even before Hoyos returned. Vienna could now move ahead to a showdown with Serbia. At the same time, however, War Minister Falkenhayn and others in Berlin had serious doubts that anything would happen. The German military and naval authorities checked the status of their war plans but took no further action; indeed, many of the senior German officials, including the foreign minister and the army chief of staff, remained on holiday.
On Hoyos's return to Vienna, he briefed the senior ministers who now had to make a decision. They did so in a very long session of the Common Ministerial Council on July 7, a meeting that saw a thorough examination of the pros and cons of a military showdown with Serbia. Among those present only Tisza resisted war, calling instead for a diplomatic confrontation first, with war a second possibility. While the group assumed that Franz Joseph favored war, the ministers also knew that he would do so only if they were united.
Despite's Tisza's resistance, the group heard General Conrad give a synopsis of his war plans and repeat his mantra that only war would resolve the monarchy's internal problems. Though his own memoranda were less confident, he assured his political colleagues that Austria-Hungary could handle Serbia - on the assumption that Berlin kept Russia out and thus the rest of Europe. At the meeting he almost certainly informed the ministers that no military action could start before July 21-2, since Habsburg troops were scattered across the monarchy on "harvest leave," a policy that Conrad had himself instituted to help farm families. This policy, ironically, now prevented quick military action, one that might have won more favor with the rest of Europe.8
This institutional delay gave Berchtold additional time to convince Tisza and Franz Joseph of the need for action. It also allowed Habsburg investigators more time to find direct evidence linking Belgrade to the murders, a task in which they were only partly successful. But the delay also meant that the French state visit to Russia would take place just when Vienna wanted to present its demands to Serbia, a situation that worried Berchtold and his associates. The delay further worried the Germans, who thought that Vienna ought to move to exploit European anger over the deaths before it was too late. A third consequence flowed from these two concerns: the two allies had to engage in a concerted effort to lull Europe about Vienna's eventual intentions. It is those efforts, only partly successful during the second stage of the crisis, that demand consideration, for their failure put the Russians, the Italians, and the Serbs on alert much earlier than Vienna desired.
The deliberate effort to lull Europe worked, at least at first. President Poincaré and Premier René Viviani departed by sea on their long scheduled visit to Russia, arriving in St. Petersburg on July 20. Businesses and investors appeared calmed as the Vienna stock market, after some wild gyrations, settled down, thanks to assurances from the foreign ministry. Franz Joseph remained at Bad Ischl, with Berchtold traveling to and fro, along with senior aides. Conrad conspicuously went on a hiking trip in the Tyrol. The ministers also sought to restrain the tone of the Vienna newspapers. Elsewhere Europe turned to other, apparently more pressing concerns. The French public awaited the trial of Madame Henriette Caillaux, wife of the former premier, for the murder of a newspaper editor. In Britain the threat of civil war over Ireland increased to the point that King George V desperately summoned a conference at Buckingham Palace to calm the situation. The German kaiser, for his part, continued his annual North Sea voyage, though he did not go as far north as usual.
But there were cracks in the edifice of calm. The German Foreign Office on July 11 cabled its ambassador to Italy, Hans von Flotow, with the gist of Vienna's plans for a confrontation with Serbia. Flotow, on vacation at the same spa with Italian Foreign Minister San Giuliano, informed him of the plans - with or without instructions from Berlin. The Italian leader wasted no time (July 14 and July 16) in sending two dispatches to his senior envoys abroad, including St. Petersburg, Berlin, Belgrade, and one to Vienna that contained a general picture of Habsburg plans. The codebreakers in Vienna, who easily broke the second telegram, in turn informed Berchtold by July 18 of the indiscretion. In the remaining days before the ultimatum was delivered, Berchtold shared very little with Berlin for fear of further leaks. For their part the Russians and Serbs knew well before July 23 about a possible ultimatum and were prepared for it, a point that Tisza's own indelicate speech on July 15 to the Hungarian parliament certainly reinforced. And Serbian Prime Minister Pašic ́, in dispatches to his envoys on July 18-19, stated that he would never accept any infringement of Serbian sovereignty, not least (though unstated) because such a step would reveal his own complicity in the Sarajevo events and put him at personal risk with the dangerous Apis.9
The third stage of the crisis started on July 19. By then, thanks to Flotow, Tisza, and loose talk in Vienna, even by Berchtold, the European political circles were aware of hints of a pending Habsburg action. In Berlin the North German Gazette on July 19 stated that it was not unreasonable to expect Vienna to make demands on Belgrade, suggesting that any ensuing tension should remain localized. In St. Petersburg a sharp exchange between Poincaré and Friedrich Szápáry, the Habsburg ambassador, at a diplomatic reception on July 21 reflected French knowledge of a possible move. In London, British Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey finally had a meeting with Habsburg Ambassador Count Albert Mensdorff on July 23, his first session with the envoy since early July. In their discussion Grey pointedly cautioned against hasty Habsburg action. No one was lulled into complacency any longer.
In Vienna, meanwhile, on July 19 the Common Ministerial Council met again, this time secretly at the private residence of Count Berchtold where they agreed on the final terms of the ultimatum. They also accepted Tisza's demand that there be only minor territorial adjustments after the war, a step taken to assure that no additional Slavs were added to the ethnically divided monarchy. After the meeting, Conrad contemptuously dismissed this self-limiting demand, noting that before the Balkan Wars there had been talk of no territorial changes and afterwards there had been plenty.
On July 20 the 48-hour Habsburg ultimatum was sent to Belgrade for transmittal to the Serbian government at 6 p.m. on July 23. Vienna had deliberately set the date and time to ensure that the French president had actually sailed from St. Petersburg on his way to Sweden. Slightly more than three weeks after Sarajevo, Vienna finally made its demands on Belgrade. These demands were framed to be rejected because Vienna wanted a military confrontation with Serbia.
Many historians now consider the next stage of the crisis, July 23-8, as the pivotal period, when the chances for peace essentially disappeared. The reasons for this perspective will soon become evident. When Austrian Minister Wladimir Giesl delivered the ultimatum, Pašic ́ was away from Belgrade on an election campaign. He soon returned. Over the next 30 hours he and his colleagues drafted a reply at once gracious and conciliatory, at once forthcoming and evasive, and on the central point - the demand for a joint investigation into the murders - completely unyielding. Without any Russian pressure to resist, indeed St. Petersburg sent confusing signals to the Serbian government, Belgrade refused to concede on the key point. When Giesl received the reply at 6 p.m. on July 25, he promptly declared it unacceptable, broke diplomatic relations, and fled the capital to Habsburg territory at Zemun just across the Danube-Sava Rivers. The Serbs moved to mobilize their army.
Confirmation of news of the ultimatum reached St. Petersburg during the night of July 23-4. When informed, Foreign Minister Sazonov immediately called for a meeting of the Council of Ministers that afternoon, while spending the morning exploring possible military options with the senior military leaders. From the start Sazonov determined to support Serbia, including a limited mobilization, a step that the other ministers accepted without knowing the military had no such plan. Nevertheless, at 4 p.m. that afternoon, as new documentation reveals, the military command center telegraphed four key military districts - Odessa, Moscow, Kiev, and Kazan - to take steps to recall troops. These measures did not long escape the notice of German intelligence.
The next day, July 25, the tsar joined the discussions. Once more the ministers agreed to support Serbia, to order further preparatory steps for a partial mobilization, and to press the British to declare their support for the Triple Entente. Meanwhile, public demonstrations of support for Serbia swept the Russian capital. The Russian military, while ordering additional steps, also moved to demand a full, not partial, mobilization. Not only was this easier, it also reflected their desire to help France by putting the Germans under pressure from the earliest possible moment. In that sense, alliance obligations clearly propelled the crisis forward. However judged, the Russians thus became the first Great Power, even before Vienna, to take military measures, measures which the German intelligence network quickly discerned.
In Berlin, reaction to the ultimatum's delivery at first changed little. The kaiser continued his cruise, though now more anxious; Moltke remained away; and Bethmann Hollweg stayed at his country estate. But by July 26 the German leaders were returning, worried in part by intelligence reports about the Russian measures, worried about British intentions, and worried (for some) that the Habsburgs might flinch. On July 27 the kaiser returned, which meant all of the key leaders were in Berlin before Vienna's declaration of war.10 By the next day the German military leaders had become increasingly anxious about the Russian steps, while Bethmann could not be comforted by the ambiguity with which Sir Edward Grey continued to respond to the situation. Nor could Berlin ignore the precautionary measures taken by the British navy to remain assembled after the annual fleet exercises had ended, a step that Churchill and Grey hoped would be noticed by the Germans. It was noticed but without the desired consequences.
In London, the Irish question continued to dominate all political considerations, whether the cabinet, the parliament, or the press. To be sure, news of the ultimatum had jolted the cabinet but not enough to displace Ireland. And Grey, while trying to broker some kind of mediation agreement in the Balkans, did not press ahead with much urgency. Indeed, his cautious approach has drawn critical comment from historians ever since.
Across the Channel, in Paris, the Caillaux murder trial still mesmerized the French public (she would be acquitted). With their leaders still en route home and essentially out of touch, the caretaker French regime took some precautionary military steps and awaited news, often much delayed, from St. Petersburg. The increasing militancy of the Russian actions did not prompt any cautions from Paris or the French ambassador to Russia, Maurice Paléologue, who strongly supported the Russian alliance. Indeed his failure to urge restraint on the Russians has also drawn much subsequent criticism.
In Vienna decisions were taken that deliberately escalated the crisis. On July 25 the emperor agreed to mobilize against Serbia with the understanding that a full mobilization would follow if Russia backed the Serbs. For the moment, Vienna continued to hope for a local war against Serbia. Yet Berchtold also had to weigh information coming from Berlin, information that suggested by July 26-7 that the German leaders were growing apprehensive about the turn of events and wished for more caution, perhaps even a commitment to halt in Belgrade once the fighting started. To confuse the situation further, even as the German foreign ministry talked of caution, Moltke pressed Conrad to move ahead with his plans. At one point this ambiguity prompted Berchtold to remark: "How odd! Who runs the government: Moltke or Bethmann?"11 For his part, Berchtold pressed for the war with Serbia, getting Conrad to agree to a war declaration on July 28, days before he had thought it necessary. That action effectively foreclosed the remaining chances for peace, though this would not be apparent immediately.
Then an incident on the night of July 28-9 irrevocably altered the situation. That evening Habsburg and Serb forces exchanged gunfire near Belgrade. Initial Serbian press reports denounced the Habsburgs for their attack, while wildly exaggerating the extent of the damage. Those reports, which reached St. Petersburg on July 29, galvanized Sazonov and the Russian generals to demand general mobilization. From that point the already dwindling chances to localize the crisis essentially vanished.
With the declaration of war and the shelling near Belgrade, the July crisis moved to its final stage, July 29-August 4. During these days the carefully developed war plans of the Great Powers became juxtaposed with desperate diplomatic efforts to slow the confrontation. For its part Austria-Hungary continued to act as if a local war remained possible. Conrad had carefully developed Plans B and R for war situations; now he moved to put Plan B (the Balkan plan) into effect even as intelligence reports indicated that he might also face Russia. Thus, on July 30, ahead of schedule, he began implementing Plan B, sending a key part of his offensive contingent southward. This key strategic mistake has never been adequately explained, for within days he had to cancel those orders and implement Plan R. For their part, the troops already on board trains had to continue southward, then detrain, and reboard for a tortuous trip to their locations along the Russian frontier. His initial decisions had given the monarchy the worst possible chances of eventual success.
In St. Petersburg news of the Belgrade shelling pushed Sazonov and the generals to seek the tsar's approval for mobilization, strongly preferring a general order to a partial one. Nevertheless, Tsar Nicholas II decided on July 29 to sign two mobilization orders - one partial, one general. Before either could be put into effect, he rescinded the orders after he received telegrams from his cousin, Kaiser Wilhelm II, pleading for mutual action to restrain the situation. But the next day, July 30, Sazonov and the military again pleaded with the tsar, insisting that the situation required general mobilization. This time the tsar yielded to Sazonov and signed the order at 4 p.m. With this order the Russians became the first Great Power to move to general mobilization, ahead of both the Habsburgs and the Germans. In doing so, the Russian decision created a crisis for the German high command, caught between the Franco- Russian allies, with the need to respond immediately, a step that guaranteed a European war once the German order went into effect. In that sense, the Russian general mobilization of July 30 not only culminated the aggressive Russian steps taken since July 24, it directly contributed to the escalation to general war.12
In Berlin, meanwhile, the intelligence reports about Russian military measures had multiplied since July 26. An increasingly worried Moltke and War Minister Falkenhayn wanted the chancellor to agree to a German military response. But Bethmann, now convinced that Britain would enter the war on the side of the Triple Entente, hesitated. Above all, he now wanted to portray the Russians as the aggressors, in the hope that this might sway London or at least ensure domestic support inside Germany. Thus the chancellor rebuffed the military demands, awaiting confirmation that Russia had actually ordered general mobilization, a confirmation that came on July 31. With that news, Berlin sent ultimatums to France and Russia that demanded that they cease their military preparations or face the consequences. The allies did not stop, and Germany's mobilization and war plans went into effect on August 1.
The much-analyzed Schlieffen-Moltke war plan, a product of years of careful and detailed staff planning, sought to overcome Germany's strategic vulnerability. Caught between two powerful allies, the German planners concluded that only a flanking attack through neutral Belgium would enable them to defeat the French, perhaps allowing them to reach Paris, and above all bringing a quick end to the war in the west. Once this had been achieved, they could turn and defeat the slower-moving Russian forces in the east. To achieve the prompt annihilation of the French forces required the immediate seizure of Liège, Belgium; there could be no delays once mobilization began.13 Even under the most optimistic calculations, the German plan demanded rigorous, perfect execution to succeed. No delays, no hesitation, no qualms could intrude. Because Russia had accelerated its mobilization schedules in early 1914, word of which reached both Berlin and Vienna that spring, there was an additional emphasis on speed. It was this war plan, carefully planned and based on excessive confidence in the fighting ability of the German soldier and studied disdain for their opponents, that became operational on the morning of August 2.
On July 29 the French public welcomed the belated return of Poincaré and Viviani. By the time of their arrival in Paris, the options for France and peace were severely limited. Russia was on the verge of declaring general mobilization, a step that Poincaré and others had hoped to delay or prevent but to no avail. The French leaders knew the Germans would respond. For them, ensuring British involvement in the war and domestic support for a war on behalf of Russia became their primary considerations. To achieve these twin goals French President Poincaré, usurping the role of the prime minister, ordered that no French troops approach within 10 kilometers of the German frontier. Despite Joffre's strong protests, this self-imposed restriction remained in effect until late Sunday, August 2. By then the news from London had become more favorable and the surge of French public support for the government reassuring. Poincaré had achieved his minimal goals of British assistance and public unity.
In London the debate within the British cabinet about the European situation had finally begun in earnest on July 29. Until that point the Irish issue had dominated. In the initial cabinet discussions, Grey, thoroughly committed to the Triple Entente and especially France, had been unable to get the cabinet to agree to any statement, either for France or for neutrality. On the other hand, the cabinet did not neglect purely British interests. They approved, after the fact, Churchill's actions to hold the British navy together. During the night of July 29-30, the British battle fleet had sailed, without lights, through the Channel to its North Sea stations, making it the first fleet to be ready for action. Also, the British army had by July 29 begun preparations for mobilization, though no orders were given until August 3. Throughout the mounting tension the French ambassador, Paul Cambon, repeatedly urged Grey to commit Britain to France and to allow the nearly decade-old secret military and naval arrangements between the two entente partners to come into effect. But Grey refused to make a public commitment, despite his own intention to resign if the cabinet finally deserted France.
Then on Saturday-Sunday, August 1-2, the momentum in the cabinet shifted. As the European armies moved to mobilize, the cabinet could no longer ignore the potential threat to British security interests. Prime Minister Henry Asquith, Grey, Lord Haldane, and Churchill favored action, while David Lloyd George, the chancellor of the exchequer, remained uncommitted, and the majority of the cabinet remained opposed to intervention. But the question of Belgian neutrality, which the German government had injected into the debate on July 29 when Berlin asked Grey to allow Germany to violate it, became paramount in the cabinet's deliberations. So also did pressure from the Conservative leaders who sent Asquith a letter on Sunday, August 2, declaring their support for France. The letter left no doubt that if the Asquith government fell over the issue of the Triple Entente, a new Conservative one would support France. These twin considerations - Belgium and Tory pressure - created the context for the two long cabinet meetings on Sunday, August 2.
By the end of the meetings, the cabinet agreed that Germany could not be allowed to operate against France's north coasts, an implicit recognition that secret naval conversations had created a strategic obligation in which France protected British naval interests in the Mediterranean and Britain those of France in the English Channel and the Atlantic. Second, the cabinet agreed that Britain would intervene to defend the neutrality of Belgium if there were a "substantial" violation of its neutrality. In the discussions Lloyd George had made Belgium the key issue. In this he was helped by the prospect of a Conservative government if the cabinet collapsed. In the final analysis, only two ministers quit over the question of war, a testimony both to the impact of the Belgian argument and to the prospect of losing power to a party that would certainly wreck any agreement over Ireland. In the final analysis, Belgium became the glue that ensured British participation in the spreading war.
Yet even on Monday, August 3, Grey, in speaking to the House of Commons, strongly suggested that Britain's main role in the war would be naval, an assurance he almost certainly knew to be false. In any event, the Germans substantially violated Belgian neutrality that day and rejected the British demand that they stop. By the time Britain officially declared war at 11 p.m. on August 4, plans were well under way to move the British Expeditionary Force, or most of it, to France in accordance with the long developed secret conversations with the French General Staff. Ultimately, the British Expeditionary Force of four infantry and one cavalry divisions would confront the might of two German armies when they clashed along the Franco-Belgian border.14
On Sunday, August 2, Italy declared its neutrality in the war. Although a member of the Triple Alliance since 1882, Italy's relations with Austria-Hungary had always been problematic. The Italian declaration came as no great surprise. During July the Italian foreign minister, San Giuliano, had relentlessly tried to exploit the situation by demanding that Vienna surrender Trentino in return for Italian participation in the war. In spite of German pressure, Berchtold refused to pay, offering only Valona in Albania to Rome. Indeed, given the attitude of Italian public opinion against Vienna, it is not clear that even the concession of Trentino could have gotten Italy into the fray. Thus by mid-August 1914, the Triple Alliance had become reduced to the Central Powers of Germany and Austria-Hungary. In April 1915 Italy did enter the war, since the Triple Entente powers were perfectly prepared to pledge Trentino and more to Rome for its decision. That commitment brought Italy's entrance into the war; it did not much change the strategic calculations. But it ensured the dismantling of Austria- Hungary should the entente win.
The peace treaties of 1919-20 blamed Germany and Austria-Hungary for the origins of the First World War. Almost immediately the German government and German historians challenged this verdict as one-sided and began to publish, selectively, German diplomatic records before 1914 to buttress their claims. This step in turn forced the other governments, including the Soviets but not Serbia, to publish collections of diplomatic documents. This new and unprecedented documentation allowed historians to study the July crisis in detail. Over the next eighty years it has become one of the most studied events in all of history.15
Those historians, prominent in the United States and Germany, who suggested that the July crisis involved more than just German and Austrian responsibility were often called "revisionists." Those who backed the Versailles verdict became the orthodox defenders, prominent in France, Britain, and a few in the United States. Later the prominent Italian journalist turned historian, Luigi Albertini, joined the group who supported the main thrust of the Versailles verdict while offering many nuanced interpretations of the events leading to the war. On the other hand, some writers, most notably Lloyd George, asserted that Europe had slithered into war and that no one government alone had been responsible. For those writers the First World War had been inadvertent. Still other historians suggested that profound, underlying forces, including the alliance/ entente structures, imperialism, nationalism, social Darwinism, unspoken assumptions, militarism, and the arms races, had created conditions which made a war inevitable, a context that no decision-maker and no government could singlehandedly overcome.
In the 1960s the debate on the origins of the war abruptly shifted, or seemed to shift, when the German historian Fritz Fischer broke ranks and became the first prominent German historian to assert that Germany had indeed caused the war. In fact, he even argued that it had been a preventive war, one possibly planned as early as December 1912, and that the conflict had grown out of Germany's increasingly tense domestic situation. In the decades since historians have considered and often rejected many of Fischer's assertions, while accepting his key point about the centrality of Germany's role. More recent studies make clear that each government in its own way helped to contribute to the eventual escalation. In this evaluation the German and Austro-Hungarian governments remain paramount for provoking the dynamics behind the crisis, but Serbia, Russia, and even France and Britain made decisions (or failed to make them) that reduced the chances for peace.
Historians have also come to accept that the contextual situation of the alliances and unspoken assumptions were important, as was the dialectic between domestic and international considerations country by country. More recently some writers have begun to study anew the individual decision-makers, suggesting that the monarchs, generals, admirals, or statesmen in positions of power were responsible for the decisions that led to war, not some autonomous forces.16 Historians now accept that the war was advertent, with the leaders in Vienna and Berlin and even St. Petersburg prepared to risk a land war rather than lose face in the crisis. Some have even asserted that the concept of "honor" came to dominate the thoughts of the leaders who could not bring themselves to renege on their earlier assurances, however horrible the consequences might be for their governments and for those who would fight.17 Historians also argue that individual leaders made decisions that could have been different, that each leader made his separate personal, professional, and political calculations and reached his own conclusions. As in the case of the United States in the spring of 2003, a small group of men concluded that war represented an acceptable policy option. In 1914 those separate conclusions converged to cause the First World War; the world has not yet seen the end of the consequences of that perfect storm.
NOTES
1 On the crisis, see Hew Strachan, The Outbreak of
the First World War (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2004); Samuel R. Williamson, Jr., and
Russel Van Wyk, July 1914: Soldiers, Statesmen, and
the Coming of the Great War: A Brief Documentary
History (Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2003).
2 J. F. V. Keiger, Raymond Poincaré (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 130-92.
3 David Stevenson, Armaments and the Coming of
the War: Europe, 1904-1914 (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1996), pp. 231-328.
4 Samuel R. Williamson, Jr., Austria-Hungary and
the Origins of the First World War (New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 1991), pp. 121-42.
5 Fritz Fischer, War of Illusions: German Policies
from 1911 to 1914, trans. Marian Jackson (New
York: W. W. Norton, 1975), pp. 330-88.
6 On the conspiracy, see David MacKenzie, Apis:
The Congenial Conspirator. The Life of Dragutin T.
Dimitrijevic ́ (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1989), pp. 105-37.
7 Mark Cornwall, "Serbia," in Decisions for War,
1914, ed. Keith Wilson (New York: St. Martin's,
1995), p. 67.
8 Williamson, Austria-Hungary, pp. 199-200.
9 Copies of these dispatches are in Williamson and
Van Wyk, July 1914, pp. 34-5, 160-1.
10 For contrasting views of the German reactions, see
Annika Mombauer, Helmuth von Moltke and the
Origins of the First World War (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2001), pp. 196-226; and
Mark Hewitson, Germany and the Causes of the
First World War (Oxford: Berg, 2004), pp. 203-
16.
11 Luigi Albertini, The Origins of the War of 1914,
trans. and ed. Isabella M. Massey (London:
Oxford University Press, 3 vols., 1952-7), vol. 2,
p. 674.
12 On the Russian decision, see Strachan, Outbreak
of the First World War, pp. 101-7, and Stevenson,
Coming of the War, pp. 379-87.
13 On the concept of annihilation as a feature of the
plans, see Isabel V. Hull, Absolute Destruction:
Military Culture and the Practices of War in Imperial
Germany (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 2005), pp. 165-78; on the plans themselves,
see the provocative study by Terence Zuber,
Inventing the Schlieffen Plan: German War Planning,
1871-1914 (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2003), pp. 220-304.
14 Zara S. Steiner and Keith Neilson, Britain and the
Origins of the First World War (New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2nd edn, 2003), pp. 245-57.
15 For two surveys of the controversy, see Annika
Mombauer, The Origins of the First World War:
Controversies and Consensus (London: Longman,
2002); and John W. Langdon, July 1914: The Long
Debate, 1918-1990 (New York: Berg, 1991).
16 For instance, Richard F. Hamilton and Holger H.
Herwig, eds., The Origins of World War I (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2003).
17 Avner Offer, "Going to War in 1914: A Matter of
Honor?" Politics and Society 23 (1995): 213-41.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:31 PM
10th May 1940
"Operation Niwi":
~ 400 men of the III.Btl./"Großdeutschland" are land with 98 Fieseler Fi 156 Storch planes in the area of Nives (11.Kp. under Hptm. Krüger) and Witry (10.Kp. under Obstlt. Garski).
The groups start at 05:20 at Bitburg and cross the Luxembourg border north of Wallendorf.
05:50 The groups fly over the Belgian border at Martelange.
06:00 the Fi.156 of Oberstlt. Garski lands at Witry. The groups also landed at different locations due to navigation errors and enemy fire.
The Nives group gets lost and lands at several different locations.
08:05 The second wave under Lt. Obermeier lands at Nives and cannot find the first wave. He decides to block the road Neufchateau - Bastogne without the first wave units. Here he rejects several enemy attacks during the day. In the evening a French tank-attack with infantry pushes the Germans back but they don ́t dare to attack a fake-barrier the Germans built.
After reassembling Witry is taken at 14:00 against the Belgian Chasseurs Ardennais. 19 losses on the German side. Shortly after that contact to elements of the 1.Pz.Div. (K.S.Btl.1) is established.
The elements at Nives establish contact with elements of 2.Pz.Div. the following morning.
It was a daring operation, but the air-landed units didn't meet much opposition, only their own navigational problems held them back. However, XIX A.K. units consolidated the area and moved westward so rapidly that the meager Belgian forces that might have threatened the south flank never really had a chance to have any impact.
The results of the operation were just opposite to the Germany's aims, so in that sense the operation was a fiasco. The Belgian units which lost contact to higher HQs because of the landings in their rear didn't withdraw, but on the contrary, because they didn't get their withdrawal orders, they kept their positions and hold up German panzer spearheads hours longer than there would have done without the Niwi.
The Belgian unit "Chasseurs Ardennais", was at the famous engagements at Bodange and Chabrehez.
The defence of Bodange
The stand of 5. Coy of Chasseurs Ardennais at Bodange ruined 1st PzD's timetable for 10th May and the combat at Bodange was one of the hardest if not the hardest for the 1st Pz during the May - June 1940 campaign. One plus for Germans of the Operation Niwi was that before the 2nd Battalion lost contact with 5. Coy it ordered it to send its only A/T weapon, the T-13 AFV, to help to clear the rear areas.
In the book: Fliegerhorst Crailsheim, you can read about the young pilots which had to do the job with the "Elite division Grossdeutschland" training on the Fi 156 Storch STOL aircraft. There was built the "Fi 156 Storchgeschwader" which did the operation NIWI. After Operation NIWI the Storchgeschwader was disbanded.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 09:28 PM
Peter Shaw's model of a Class 52 (Austerity class) Locomotive
The defeat of Nazi Germany in 1945 was perhaps the most significant event in modern history. From the defeat of Germany, evolved the world we know today. Significantly the freedom we have to express our opinions and to debate topics such as this are the direct result of the actions of millions of brave men and women who fought to defeat Hitler's regime. We owe a great debt to the many who paid the ultimate sacrifice for what we take for granted today.
As much as the defeat of Germany was achieved by force of arms from the Allied nations, defeat also came from within. Germany was not adequately prepared for war in 1939, and the early victories were achieved through the relatively new tactics of Blitzkrieg, modern equipment, superb training and leadership, ineptitude of the enemy and plain good luck.
Significantly Germany's ill preparedness for war manifested itself in the first months of war and by December 1940 was readily apparent in the German transport system which was buckling under the demands of the German armed forces. This was no more apparent than with the Reichbahn, the German railways, an amalgamation of the former state railway systems.
The Reichbahn was forced to absorb a vast network of railways in varying condition, and locomotives and rolling stock that were often incompatible. As there were few common designs the new railway system was burdened by operational problems, increased and often duplicated costs and a maintenance headache of mammoth proportions.
Much of the plant and equipment was built in the late nineteenth century and the early 1900's and had not been modernized because of the Great War, the chaos of the Weimar republic and the Depression. As much as a massive modernization programme was begun, with a view of upgrading track and other facilities, the construction of standardized locomotives and rolling stock, it was not complete by the beginning of war. This problem grew as the war progressed as they advanced deeper into the Soviet Union. Because of the restricted loading gauge and the increased demands of the German forces, the Reichbahn was forced into a never ending cycle of building more locomotives and rolling stock to achieve the task.
With the invasion of the Soviet Union the demands on the railways reached crippling proportions, culminating in the coal shortage of winter 1941/1942. There was no shortage of coal, but a lack of coal wagons which had been appropriated by the Wehrmacht and due to the chaotic conditions at the railheads behind the front these wagons were simply tipped off the tracks to allow space for the following trains.
Equally problematic for the Germans were the loss of over 100,000 trucks and 200,000 horses between the opening of Barbarossa and March 1942. These losses were to have an impact against the chances of success some six months later at Stalingrad.
It was clear such a situation could not continue otherwise the rail system would soon collapse. Albert Speer (Minister for Armaments and Munitions Production) and Erhard Milch (Director of Air Armament&state secretary in the Air Ministry) were charged with setting the railways right, and with brutal efficiency they cleared out the railway administration, sacking the incompetent heads of the railways and throwing out the rule book. To alleviate some of the operational problems, longer and heavier trains were run at faster speeds. An accelerated programme of converting the Russian broad gauge system to the German standard gauge system, the construction of longer passing loops and new railway yards was set in motion.
Short term measures alleviated the crisis, but only a massive construction programme would provide a permanent solution. The effects of the enforced intervention was highly visible in 1943 with the construction of over 4,500 locomotives and nearly 52,000 freight wagons. As formidable as these figures may seem they were never enough to resolve the crisis that engulfed the Deutsche Reichsbahn from 1939 to 1945.
Rheinmetal Borsig were charged with building a family of Austerity class locomotives, all based on standardized designs. One of these locomotives was so successful over ten thousand were built and many remained in service until the end of steam operations in Europe.
All these measures were only partially or such successful as the demands from the various fronts, in particular the Eastern Front, continued to place undue strain on a system that was not designed for such traffic. To transport a fully equipped panzer division could require up to three hundred trains. Multiply that out over the entire Eastern front, coupled with the normal supply demands and it is easy to see why the German railways could not keep up with the demands of war.
In addition the railways had to compete for labour, cope with the burden of transporting Jews, which coincidentally often had priority over trains heading for the front. Until the bombing campaign against the railways intensified in 1943 the system held together. Most aiming points for these raids were on the town centres, where the central railway stations and yards were situated, so as the bombing tempo increased, so did the damage and disruption.
As much as the emergency measures freed up the traffic to and from the Eastern front it was obvious the chain of patched up railway lines leading to the railhead on the river Chir over 100 kilometers west of Stalingrad were incapable of supporting German forces. The track was not well ballasted or in good condition, slowing trains considerably. The Luftwaffe used four trains per day, but this was not enough and many supplies, especially fuel were flown into German held airbases. Further compounding the problems were a rail yard too small to cope with the traffic and the resulting congestion placed great strain on the largely horse drawn vehicles supplying German troops in Stalingrad.
This situation was compounded in late October 1942 when it was obvious the Soviets were preparing an offensive against the flanks of the German forces. To reinforce the 3rd Romanian army, Hitler ordered the 6th Panzer division with two infantry divisions to transfer from France on the 4th November. Nearly one thousand train loads were required for this move east and it was nearly one month later these forces arrived, long after the Soviet offensive had surrounded Paulus' 6th army.
The situation was hardly better in the buildup for Operation Citadel, with lengthy delays of moving the troops and equipment forward. On a smaller scale the sheer difficulties in transporting the new Tiger tanks to the front caused delays, that were only resolved with a combination of ingenuity, skill and a lot of sweat.
By mid 1943 the Allied bomber offensive was causing very real disruption for the railways. Although damage could be repaired relatively quickly by experienced crews, damage was becoming cumulative in some areas where bombing was frequent. Of added concern were the rising casualties amongst train crews, mechanical and maintenance staff along with the various administrative branches that kept the trains running. While the personal strength reached over one and a half million by the end of 1943, the replacement of skilled personal was not easy, as a consequence the standard of maintenance gradually declined and the accident rate which had been on the rise since the beginning of the war, worsened.
This was compounded in early 1944 when after the defeat of the Jagdwaffe in February-March, American fighters after completing escort duties were allowed to attack targets of opportunity. They were so successful in shooting up anything that moved, the Deutsche Reichsbahn reported in June the daily average number of trains wrecked in May by marauding Allied fighters was over forty trains per day! This loss rate was outstripping German production of locomotives and rolling stock, already in decline to the increasing demands of the German armed forces. Now repair crews had to range far and wide over the German countryside, clearing train wrecks and repairing track. The destruction of railway bridges became a further dislocation as these were harder to repair. Another grave concern was the massive loss of experienced train crews, placing further strain on the overburdened system. A worse situation existed in the occupied countries, especially France where the railway system had been damaged beyond repair by Allied airpower in preparation for the D-Day landings. Without the railways the German army was forced to endure lengthy and dangerous road marches attempting to reach the battlefronts.
Fortunately for the Deutsche Reichsbahn Allied air support for the invading forces diverted much airpower away from German targets, however day and night bombing of German cities continued to pummel the railway system. Though the railways operated right till the collapse of the Third Reich, the ability to adequately supply German armed forces in the chaos of the collapse was no fault of the railway crews and staff who performed Herculean efforts to keep the trains running.
The German railways, like German industry was not prepared for war in 1939, and incompetence and poor planning led to the crisis of early 1942. The efforts to alleviate the situation, while tackled with vigour and considerable expense would never make up the shortfalls of the early war years, ensuring the German armed forces could never be adequately supplied to fight a protracted war.
A common factor soon appeared, especially on the Western front, where German armoured columns were forced to drive to the battlefronts because the railways were no longer operational.
By war's end the German railways were a barely functioning shambles, though some services were still operating remarkably efficiently. With the flow of spare parts, replacement troops, fuel, munitions and rations slowed to a trickle by the collapse of the railways the effectiveness of German forces decreased dramatically.
Six years earlier the German railways were hard pressed to supply Germany's war needs and they never were able to. Without an adequate supply chain, no nation can win a war.
The American railroad system
The American railroad system was blessed with a generous loading gauge and consequently with fewer train movements could move greater tonnage. Thus America won the tonnage per mile war, which was to be a critical factor in 1944.
Another factor was the wear and tear on track and equipment. All combatants during the war experienced a decline in the efficiency of their railway systems under the increased traffic demands, America included. By the end of the war, many US railroads were in a bad way from these demands. Consequently in the immediate post war period many railroads were forced to spend heavily on track and plant repairs, replacement of locomotives and rolling stock without any assistance from the US government which was spending its tax dollars on airports and highways.
Consequently some railroads went into insolvency or were forced to amalgamate with their competitors. The replacement of worn out engines was another problem and proved to be prohibitive. Companies were faced with replacing large numbers of steam locomotives, not a cheap option by any stretch of the imagination. Diesel locomotives were a cheap option and the railroads embarked on a massive dieselization programme. Unfortunately for the railroads a lot of the first generation diesels weren't much good and they were forced to replace them within ten years. This was an expense many companies could not afford, indirectly leading to more bankruptcies and forced amalgamation of some railroads.
In consequence the demands of America's war effort had large scale and long terms effects on the US railroads and that was without the dropping of one bomb on the US mainland.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 05:22 AM
Once the Low Countries and France had fallen in May-June 1940 and Germany took control of their ports on the coasts of the North Sea, English Channel and Atlantic, torpedo boats operated from the North Sea right down into the Bay of Biscay. They were often involved in fierce engagements with British warships; but the most significant single operation in which the torpedo boats took part was the famous 'Channel Dash', when the battlecruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen broke out from Brest and, thanks to a brilliantly executed plan of continuous sea and air support, sailed safely up the Channel to return to dockyard facilities in German ports. The belated and unsuccessful attempts by British naval and air forces to stop them were costly for the RN Fleet Air Arm and the RAF. This plate shows a torpedo boat of the escort force under attack from Spitfire fighter aircraft. The boat is sporting an interesting 'splinter'-style disruptive camouflage scheme in dark grey and medium blue-grey over her pre-war plain pale grey finish. During this operation the torpedo boat Jaguar suffered the highest casualties on the German side - just one man killed and one wounded. Fast and manoeuvrable even in heavy seas, this class of boat carried a 3.7cm flak gun and anything between two and 12 light 2cm flak guns. Their anti-aircraft armament was continuously upgraded throughout the war, and a torpedo boat at speed thus presented a target both difficult to hit and capable of putting up a robust defence
Posted on September 21 2009 at 05:21 AM
In the strict definition of the term, an operational deception pertains to one's actions and measures to deceive the enemy as to the time, place, and details of a planned major operation conducted as part of a maritime campaign or a major joint/combined operation with a limited strategic objective. A successful operational deception is aimed to protect the operational commander's intent from the enemy's intelligence-gathering sources and reinforce the enemy's expectations and preconceptions about one's force.
One's actions might surprise the enemy if the deceiver creates an impression of routine activities by gradually conditioning the enemy to a certain repetitive pattern of behavior. This method was used by the Germans in preparing the operational redeployment of two battle cruisers (Scharnhorst and Gneisenau) and one heavy cruiser (Prinz Eugen) from Brest through the English Channel in February 1942 (Operation Cerberus). The Germans increased the intensity of their radar jamming over time so that the British became acclimated to it and did not realize that it had become so intense that British radar was almost useless.
The sound application of the principles of objective and unity of effort was one of the main reasons for the successful redeployment of two German battle cruisers (Scharnhorst and Gneisenau) and one heavy cruiser (Prinz Eugen) from 140 The operational idea naval base Brest, Brittany, to Kiel through the English Channel in February 1942 (Operation Cerberus). The entire operation was brilliantly planned and executed. The Germans achieved a complete surprise by timing the passage of their ships though the Strait of Dover during daylight and not during the night as the British believed. The Germans calculated that transit though the strait during the day would increase chances of success because the German ships would be better prepared to defend themselves against the expected massed attacks by the British aircraft and light force by using shipboard AA defenses and having fighter cover by the Luftwaffe's aircraft. The alternative of passing the Strait of Dover during the night would require sailing out from Brest in the forenoon and steaming though the Channel during broad daylight and thereby giving ample warning time to the British. The Germans also maintained an extremely high degree of secrecy of the operation. Only Admiral Otto Ciliax, commander of the entire force, his chief of staff, all three commanding officers of the heavy ships and destroyer force commander knew about the details of the plan for the operation. They also used six code names for the operation to confuse British agents. The Kriegsmarine and the Luftwaffe cooperated smoothly and almost flawlessly. In contrast, the British overestimated the flexibility of their air power while underestimating the high effectiveness of the Luftwaffe. The Royal Navy virtually left the entire operation to the RAF, and the warships it provided were quite incapable of stopping the German ships. Moreover, cooperation among bomber, fighter, and coastal commands of the Royal Air Force (RAF) was quite poor.
Posted on September 21 2009 at 05:21 AM
Passage of the German battleships Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen through the English Channel from Brest, France, to Wilhelmshaven, Germany, in February 1942. In March 1941, the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau had arrived at Brest, on the French Atlantic coast, after a commerce-raiding voyage, and they were joined by the Prinz Eugen in June 1941. Though vulnerable to British bombing, the ships constituted a standing threat to Allied convoys in the Atlantic. However, by late 1941, Adolf Hitler was convinced that the British were planning to invade Norway, and against the advice of his naval commanders, he demanded that the Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, and Prinz Eugen return to Germany for deployment in Norwegian waters.
In early 1942, when British intelligence strongly suggested a possible German breakout and passage through the Straits of Dover, preparations for aerial and naval attacks, already under way for nearly a year, were accelerated. The British assumed that the German ships would transit the narrowest part of the Channel at night, but the Germans planned Operation CERBERUS to conceal the ships' departure from Brest and to run the straits in daylight, counting on surprise to prevent a timely British concentration of adequate resistance.
Exceptional cooperation between German naval and air commands combined with failures in British technology and communications to bring the Germans almost complete success. At 10:45 P.M. on 11 February, the three big ships and an escort of six destroyers, with Vice Admiral Otto Ciliax commanding, cleared Brest harbor. Not until 11:09 A.M. on 12 February, when the Germans were less than an hour from the straits and had been reinforced by torpedo boat squadrons from French ports, did the British identify the ships. By noon, the German vessels were in the Dover narrows, and although attacked by British coastal artillery, torpedo boats, and the Fleet Air Arm, they passed through unscathed. Later attacks along the Belgian and Dutch coasts by destroyers and by Royal Air Force fighters and bombers were no more successful. Although the Gneisenau struck one mine and the Scharnhorst hit two (the second one seriously slowing her and separating her from the rest of the flotilla), all the German ships were safely in the Elbe estuary by 10:30 A.M. on 13 February.
Amid German euphoria and British humiliation, thoughtful minds on both sides realized that this German tactical success in the Channel represented a self-inflicted strategic defeat in the Atlantic. Even the sense of victory was short-lived, for the mine damage to the Scharnhorst took six months to repair, the Prinz Eugen was torpedoed on 23 February by a British submarine in the North Sea, and the Gneisenau was irreparably damaged during air raids on Kiel on 26 and 27 February.
References
Barnett, Correlli. Engage the Enemy More Closely: The Royal Navy in the Second World War. New York: W. W. Norton, 1991.
Kemp, Peter. The Escape of the "Scharnhorst" and "Gneisenau." Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1975.
Robertson, Terence. Channel Dash. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1958.
Van der Vat, Dan. The Atlantic Campaign: World War II's Great Struggle at Sea. New York: Harper and Row, 1988.
Posted on September 18 2009 at 08:04 AM
On 1 January 1945 the Luftwaffe launched 'Bodenplatte', its all-out assault against Allied airfields in Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg. All three Gruppen of SG 4 took part but only the Stabsstaffel and a few other aircraft made the rendezvous. Those aircraft which pressed on encountered heavy flak over the front line and four of III/SG 4's aircraft were shot down, including that flown by the Geschwader Kommodore Obstlt. Alfred Druschel. Thereafter, the whole unit was transferred to the East to meet the Russian January offensive.
Peltz, Dietrich (1914-)
German major general; one of the most controversial commanders in the Luftwaffe. Peltz joined the German Army in 1934, transferred to the Luftwaffe in 1935, and was in command of a staffel (squadron) of Ju 87 dive-bombers during the Polish and French campaigns. He transferred to Ju 88 medium bombers during the Battle of Britain and won the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross for his bravery and skill. After leading bomber units on all fronts, he was promoted to colonel and named general of the bomber arm, a staff position within the Luftwaffe High Command, but returned to combat duty in March 1943 as Angriffsfuehrer England (Attack Leader England). The bombing campaign he led, called the "Baby Blitz" by the English, was ordered by Hitler in revenge for Allied air attacks on Germany. It was finally called off in early 1944 owing to its ineffectiveness and high German losses, but Peltz was held blameless; he was awarded the Oak Leaves with Swords to the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross and promoted at age 29 to brigadier general.
Peltz's career took a startling turn in October 1944, when he was named commander of II Jagdkorps (Fighter Corps), which contained all of the fighters on the Western Front. Peltz had no experience in fighters, and morale among the fighter-unit commanders plummeted. German fighter losses over the Ardennes were extremely high, and on 1 January 1945 Operation BASEPLATE (UNTERNEHMEN BODENPLATTE), which Peltz had planned, cost the Luftwaffe 214 fighter pilots, including 19 formation leaders, and destroyed the fighter force beyond any hope of rebuilding.
Peltz was next given command of IX Fliegerkorps (Jagd) (Air Corps [Fighters]), which contained all of the Luftwaffe's Me 262 fighters and, in March 1945, was promoted to command the Reichsluftverteidigung (Air Defense of Germany), the position he held at war's end. Postwar, his management skills were in great demand, and he had a very successful career in German industry.
Posted on September 18 2009 at 08:03 AM
The aftermath of Operation Bodenplatte for the Allies - the remains of a B-25 smoulders as a fire crew fights to dampen the flames at Melsbroek airfield on the outskirts of Brussels on 1 January 1945. This airfield was the target for a combined force from JG 27 and IV./JG 54, which succeeded in destroying some 50 Allied aircraft.
In the early hours of New Year's Day, 1945, in an attempt to strike a decisive blow against the Allied tactical air forces, the Luftwaffe had launched a surprise low-level attack against 21 enemy airfields in North West Europe. Codenamed Operation Bodenplatte, it had been conceived under great secrecy by Generalmajor Dietrich Peltz, a highly decorated former bomber pilot who had been appointed to direct II. ]agdkorps, the main fighter command operating on the Western Front. Peltz was assisted by an experienced staff comprising fighter veterans Oberst Walter Grabmann, Oberst Hans Trubenbach and Oberstleutnant Gotthardt Handrick.
The attack deployed 41 Gruppen drawn from ten ]agdgeschwader and one Schlachtgeschwader, as well as Me 262 and Ar 234 jet bombers from KG 51 and KG 76 - in all a force of more than 900 aircraft. It was a monumental effort for the Luftwaffe to mount such an operation at this stage of the war. To the planners' credit, it achieved significant surprise, and - for a brief period - probably served to lift the spirits of many a war-weary or doubting ]agdflieger. It is believed that 388 Allied aircraft were destroyed or damaged as a result of Bodenplatte. The effects on the German side, however, were at best questionable and at worst very grave.
A total of271 Bf 109s and Fw 190s were lost in the raid, with a further 65 damaged. Just under half of these fell to enemy anti-aircraft fire over frontline areas, while just under a quarter were shot down by Allied fighters. Those aircraft shot down, were, to a great extent, flown at low level by young, poorly-trained and inexperienced pilots who provided easy prey to Allied fighter pilots already airborne on early morning sorties. In many cases, however, the German formations failed even to find their allocated targets, as with Oberstleutnant Johann Kogler's JG 6 over Volkel, whilst elsewhere they became lost or collided, as happened to Major Gerhard Michalski's JG 4 over Le eulot. In the latter case, of the 75 aircraft sortied by the]agdgeschwader, only around 12-15 per cent of the strike force actually attacked their assigned target, but the unit suffered a 47 per cent loss rate during the operation. This is comparable to JG 53, which lost 30 Bf 109s out of 80 attacking, or 48 per cent. Some 143 pilots were killed or listed as missing, with a further 21 wounded and 70 captured.
These debilitating figures included no fewer than three experienced Geschwaderkommodore, five Gruppenkommandeur and 14 Stajfelkapitane. Obersdeutnant Johannes Kogler, the Kommodore of JG 6, confessed to American interrogators after being shot down on 1 January 1945, 'Whatever we did was too soon or too late. One almost felt ashamed to go out in Luftwaffe uniform at home'.
Posted on September 18 2009 at 08:02 AM
What amounted to the last throw of the Luftwaffe came at dawn on 1 January 1945, with Operation Bodenplatte. This was an all-out assault on Allied airfields on the continent by 800 or more fighters. While this destroyed almost 300 Allied aircraft, Jagdflieger losses were horrendous; many irreplaceable fighter leaders went down during this operation. The attack caused a hiatus in Allied fighter operations, the brunt of the air fighting for the next week or so being borne by the Tempests of 122 Wing, which had escaped the onslaught. The Jagdflieger never recovered. From this moment on they were encountered in the air only infrequently, though the fuel shortages meant that those met with were more than likely to be Experten. In spite of this, a handful of Allied fighter pilots managed to build up respectable scores, even though opportunities were few.
The Fighters Mounts
The Spitfire IX remained in the front line until the end; in fact, of the six RAF pilots to amass double figures in the final months of the war, five of them flew this model.
As the war progressed, performance took ever greater priority over manoeuvrability. This in turn demanded ever more powerful engines, and by now the Rolls-Royce Merlin had reached the limits of its potential. But this had long been foreseen, and the company had produced the far more potent Griffon, which powered the final Spitfire variant to see widespread service in the Second World War, the Mark XIV.
Tremendously fast, and with a sparkling rate of climb, the Spitfire XIV was not nearly so nice to handle as previous variants. In part this was due to increased weight, while diving speed was restricted by 'aileron float', which was never entirely cured. Nor did it have quite the same fine lines. Nose contours were revised to suit the lines of the new engine; fin and rudder area was increased, with a more pointed shape; the fuselage was lengthened; and the wing shape revised. However, in terms of sheer performance it outclassed both the FW 190A and the Bf 109G.
As a successor to the Hurricane, Hawkers had designed the Typhoon around the massive 24-cylinder Napier Sabre engine. The new fighter had a troubled gestation; engine and structural failures were all too frequent events. Although designed as a high-speed fighter, it lacked manoeuvrability, performance fell off with altitude, and at high speeds it became nose-heavy. In consequence, it was relegated to the close air support role.
The fighter requirement remained, and the Typhoon was extensively redesigned to fill this. The fuselage was cleaned up aerodynamically and lengthened, a much thinner wing with an elliptical plan form was adopted, giving increased area, and the fin and rudder were redesigned. Four 20mm cannon in the wings gave more than adequate hitting power. The result was the Tempest V, a superb fighter at low and medium altitudes, which entered service shortly before the invasion of Normandy.
The Allied tactical fighters of the immediate post-invasion period were opposed mainly by the Messerschmitt Bf 109G and Focke-Wulf FW 190A. The final variant of the former was the Bf 109K, but this barely began to enter service before the war ended; the latter began to be replaced by the FW 190D from the autumn of 1944. Known to the Jagdflieger as the Dora, and to the Allies as the 'long-nose', the FW 190D was powered by a liquid-cooled Junkers Jumo 213A, the annular radiator of which gave the appearance of a radial engine. Slightly larger overall, it was faster, and climbed and dived better, than its predecessor. Turn rate was about the same, although roll rate was slower, and it was comparatively sluggish in pitch. This aside, it was treated with great respect by Allied fighter pilots. A high-altitude variant, the Ta 152, entered service during the last few weeks of the war, but had little impact on events.
Posted on September 17 2009 at 09:39 AM
For the assault upon Sevastopol, the Eleventh Army assembled the largest collection of artillery pieces under a single command by the German Army in World War II. The 306th Army Artillery Command (Harko 306) under General der Artillerie Johannes Zuckertort directed the Eleventh Army artillery assets, as well as those of the LIV Corps and their subordinate divisions. The 110th Army Artillery Command (Harko 110) under General der Artillerie Robert Martinek directed the much smaller XXX Corps artillery. Together, the 110th and 306th Army Artillery Commands controlled about 785 German and 112 Romanian medium and heavy guns, of which most supported the main effort, that of LIV Corps.
Much of the attention about Axis artillery at Sevastopol has focused on two 'celebrity' weapons - the Karl 600mm heavy mortars and the 800mm railway gun 'Dora'. The 833rd Heavy Mortar Battery under Major Freiherr Riidt von Collenberg with two 600mm Karl mortars - dubbed 'Thor' and 'Odin' arrived by rail near Sevastopol and were in their firing positions by 20 May.2 Although the 2.4-ton concrete-piercing shells were capable of smashing any fortifications they could hit, the Karl had a number of weaknesses that made it less than ideal as a battlefield support weapon. The entire Karl tracked weapon system weighed 124 tons, which made it rather clumsy and, even worse, the weapon had a range of only 4,000m which made it vulnerable to Soviet counterbattery fire. The single 800mm railway gun 'Dora' belonging to the 672nd Artillery Battalion was even more impractical since it required days of engineer work to both assemble the weapon and construct a firing position. 'Dora', the largest artillery piece ever built, could fire a 7.1-ton concrete-piercing shell out to 37km or a 4.8-ton high explosive shell out to 47km. While the size of both the Karl mortars and 'Dora' were superficially impressive, neither weapon was particularly accurate and their rate of fire was very slow. Furthermore, only 122 rounds of 600mm and 48 rounds of 800mm were stockpiled at the start of Storfang and both systems had expended most of their ammunition before the infantry assault had made much progress.
Somewhat more useful for the 306th Amy Artillery Command were the two 'Long Bruno' 283mm railroad guns of the 688th Railway Artillery Battery, the two 420mm howitzers of the 458th and 459th Heavy Artillery Batteries, and the two 355mm howitzers and four 305mm mortars of the 641st Artillery Battalion. Both of the 420mm howitzers were World War I era weapons that were powerful but short ranged and only provided with enough ammunition for the initial attacks. The nine 283mm howitzers in the 741st, 742nd, 743rd and 744th Artillery Battalions were all pre- World War I weapons and six of the weapons had burst barrels after two weeks' firing. In contrast, the 355mm M1 howitzers, 240mm H39 howitzers and 283mm 'Long Brunos' were capable of better range and accuracy. However, it is apparent that the Eleventh Army's heavy artillery was a rather hotchpotch collection of modern and obsolete, foreign-made and German-made weapons and this lack of standardization hindered both fire planning and resupply. Except for the Czech-made 305mm mortars and 240mm howitzers, none of the large-calibre weapons had an adequate ammunition supply for sustained operations.
Of course the bulk of fire support for Storfang was provided by the standard medium-calibre German corps and division-level artillery. The 306th Army Artillery Command controlled about 268 105mm l.FH 18 and 80 150mm s.FH 18 howitzers, as well as the 1st and 2nd Nebelwerfer Regiments with 126 multiple rocket launchers. While the medium artillery was generally less effective against concrete fortifications, it was fairly effective against trenches and earth bunkers. At the start of Storfang the 306th Army Artillery Command had stockpiled 183,750 rounds of 105mm and 47,300 rounds of 150mm ammunition, enough for 12 days' firing.
Posted on September 16 2009 at 12:59 AM
Reich minister of transportation from 1937 to 1945. A trained engineer who spent a decade between 1907 and 1917 with the Chinese state railroad system, Dorpm端ller returned to Germany at the end of the First World War. From 1926 to 1945 he was director-general of the German Reichsbahn. In 1933 he was named chairman of the commission overseeing the construction of the Autobahn. In 1937 Dorpm端ller became minister of transportation, succeeding Paul von Eltz-R端benach (1875-1943) who had held that position since his original appointment by Papen in 1932. Dorpm端ller died in early June 1945. As the leading German transportation official he bore formal responsibility for providing the means to transport millions of Jews to the extermination camps in the east.
Posted on September 16 2009 at 12:58 AM
SS engineer in the rank of lieutenant-colonel who sought to alert the world to the Holocaust. Trained as an engineer, Gerstein joined the Nazi Party in 1933 but remained an active member of the oppositional Confessing Church. He lost his civil service position, was twice briefly imprisoned, and was expelled from the party in 1938. Gerstein enrolled in medical school, but after the loss of his handicapped sister-in-law in the euthanasia program in 1940 he decided to join the Waffen-SS to find out what was going on in the euthanasia centers and in the concentration camps. In 1941 he succeeded in gaining an appointment with the Hygienic Institute of the Waffen-SS. His responsibilities included distribution of chemical disinfectants and supervision of their use. In August 1942 he was sent to the Operation Reinhard camps (Belzec, Treblinka, Sobib贸r, and Majdanek) to deliver shipments of Cyclon B to the SS officers in charge, Odilo Globocnik and Christian Wirth. At Belzec and Treblinka Gerstein was able to see the killing operations at first hand. He reported his findings to a Swedish diplomat and a member of the Dutch underground, as well as to the Protestant leader of the Confessing Church, Otto Dibelius (1880-1967), the Catholic bishop of Berlin Konrad von Preysing, and the papal envoy in Berlin, but none of them acted on the information they received (although after the war they acknowledged having received it). Gerstein gave a detailed written account of his experience in French captivity in May 1945. Shortly thereafter he was found hanged in his prison cell. The official verdict was suicide, but he may have been the victim of fellow prisoners from the SS. The accuracy of his report has been repeatedly confirmed in judicial proceedings against former SS guards.
Posted on September 16 2009 at 12:57 AM
Hitler's personal adjutant from 1934 to 1938. A professional soldier, Hossbach served as an officer in the First World War and was retained in the Reichswehr after the war. He was appointed adjutant of the Wehrmacht to the FĂźhrer and Reich chancellor in August 1934, achieving the rank of colonel in 1937. It was in this capacity that he transcribed the minutes of Hitler's November 1937 meeting with Foreign Minister Neurath, War Minister Blomberg, and the commanders of the three branches of the armed services, Fritsch, GĂśring, and Raeder, in what became known as the Hossbach Memorandum, a document submitted as evidence of Hitler's aggressive war plans at the Nuremberg trials. Hossbach lost his position as Hitler's adjutant after the dismissal of Fritsch as army commander in February 1938, but continued his military career as a staff officer, division commander, and finally as commanding general of the German Fourth Army in 1944.
Posted on September 16 2009 at 12:56 AM
Chief of the General Army Office of the Army High Command (OKH) in 1940, head of the Troop Replacement Office of the High Command of the Armed Forces (OKW) in 1943, and leading organizer of the 20 July military conspiracy against Hitler. A general staff officer in the First World War, Olbricht became chief of the Foreign Armies department in the Reichswehr ministry in 1926. From 1933 to 1939 Olbricht held several troop commands, receiving a decoration for his command of an infantry division in the rank of major general in the campaign against Poland. Increasingly disenchanted with the Nazi regime after 1941, Olbricht used his post as chief of the General Army Office (responsible for the replacement of troops and matĂŠriel for all ground forces) to organize the military resistance, maintain contacts with civilian resistance leaders Beck and Goerdeler, and to recruit sympathetic officers for the cause, including Claus von Stauffenberg as his chief of staff in 1943. With Stauffenberg he reworked the plans for Operation Valkyrie, originally intended to enable the reserve army to suppress an internal revolt, in order to serve as a cover for an attempt to overthrow the Nazi government. This was the plan put into operation on 20 July 1944. Implementation of the plan was fatally delayed by several hours, however, as Olbricht waited to hear whether Stauffenberg's assassination attempt had succeeded before putting the plan into action. Five days earlier Olbricht had barely managed to disguise an abruptly canceled coup attempt as merely a military exercise. On 20 July the operation did not commence until Stauffenberg had returned to Berlin more than three hours after his assassination attempt. When word of Hitler's survival was received in Berlin, Olbricht was unable to persuade his immediate superior Friedrich Fromm (1888- 1945), commander of the reserve army, to continue to support the coup. After the collapse of the coup attempt Olbricht, Stauffenberg, and their fellow officers Albrecht Mertz von Quirnheim (1905- 1944) and Werner von Haeften (1908- 1944) were shot by a hastily assembled firing squad in the courtyard of army headquarters in Berlin in the night of 20-21 July.
Posted on September 16 2009 at 12:54 AM
SS general and plenipotentiary for the mobilization of labor from 1942 to 1945. A prisoner of war in France during the First World War, Sauckel joined the Nazi Party in 1923 after the banning of the Vรถlkisch Defense and Protection League (DSTB) as a result of the assassination of Foreign Minister Walter Rathenau (1867-1922). In 1927 Sauckel became Gauleiter of the state of Thuringia, a Nazi deputy in the Thuringian parliament, and after Nazi electoral gains in July 1932 minister of the interior in the Thuringian state government. After Hitler's accession to power he became Reichsstatthalter (governor) of Thuringia. His unshakable personal loyalty to Hitler may have been a factor in his appointment to head the ruthless recruitment of forced labor for German industry in 1942. More than five million foreign workers were deported from occupied territories to Germany during the war. If concentration camp workers and prisoners of war are included, the number of slave laborers in Germany reached a total of well over seven million in 1944. Housed in over 22,000 labor camps, they were forced to work under often brutal conditions. At least 500,000 forced workers died during the course of the war. For these crimes Sauckel was sentenced to death and executed at Nuremberg. Ironically, his better-educated and more articulate superior Albert Speer, who established the labor quotas that Sauckel had to meet, escaped the death penalty.
Posted on September 16 2009 at 12:53 AM
SS general and highest-ranking German military official in Mussolini's republic of Salò from 1943 to 1945. Decorated for courage in combat in the closing stages of the First World War, Wolff headed a Free Corps in the state of Hesse before opening his own advertising firm in Munich in 1925. Wolff joined the Nazi Party and the SS in 1931, rapidly rising in the officer ranks. From 1933 he advanced from Himmler's personal adjutant to chief of Himmler's personal staff in 1936 to Himmler's liaison officer with Hitler in 1939. After Italy concluded an armistice with the West in September 1943 Wolff became German military governor of occupied northern Italy and plenipotentiary to Mussolini's puppet government at Salò. Without authorization from either Hitler or Himmler, Wolff negotiated the early surrender of German forces in Italy with Allen Dulles (1893-1969), the head of the American Office of Strategic Services in Switzerland. As a result he was not indicted at Nuremberg as originally planned, but appeared instead in SS uniform as a witness for the prosecution. A German court subsequently sentenced him to four years in prison, but he was released in 1949. A successful business career enabled him to build a lavish villa on the banks of the Starnberger See in Bavaria in the 1950s. In 1962, as more information about his war-time activities came to light, he was tried again by a Munich court for his role in the deportation of Jews to Treblinka. Sentenced to a ten-year term in 1964, he was again released in 1971.
Posted on September 16 2009 at 12:30 AM
In pursuing the goal of eastward expansion and continental hegemony Hitler and his war planners overestimated German capabilities, although this was certainly not apparent at the start of the war. The Germans lost the war because they underestimated the willingness and ability of Britain, Russia, and the United States to resist German military expansion. Perhaps Hitler's most fundamental misjudgement was to assume that Britain would eventually give Germany a free hand on the continent once the British became convinced that they had no chance to gain military victory at an acceptable cost. Hitler would have preferred to have come to some arrangement with Britain short of war, but he would not let British opposition deter him from his long-range goal. Years of British appeasement led him to assume that Britain would be unwilling to fight a long war that might put its world-wide empire at risk. This fundamental misjudgement meant that after launching the invasion of Poland Hitler would never again have full control of events. As Winston Churchill (1874-1965) acidly remarked at the time, Hitler had been free to start the war at a time of his choosing, but he was not free to choose the time for its end, except by surrender.
British refusal to come to terms after the German conquest of Poland in 1939 and after the fall of France in 1940 forced Hitler to revise his original plan of attacking the Soviet Union only after peace with Britain. His miscalculation of the Russians' willingness and capacity to fight for their country was Hitler's second egregious mistake. The unexpected failure of Operation Barbarossa, the invasion of the Soviet Union, in the autumn of 1941 in effect forced Hitler to play the "Japanese card" against the United States in the hope that Japan would prevent the US from tipping the balance against Germany in the European theater. Hitler's third and fatal misjudgement was to have underestimated the determination and resources that the United States would bring to the war. In late 1941 Germany sought to persuade its treaty partner Japan to enter the war by promising to declare war on the US in support of a Japanese attack. Three days after Pearl Harbor Hitler made good on this promise.
From the start of the war in 1939 to the end of the Battle of Stalingrad in early 1943 the German Wehrmacht was the strongest and technologically most advanced fighting force in the world. One of the reasons Hitler was determined to go to war in 1939 was to take advantage of Germany's relative lead in state-of-the-art weaponry and aircraft, as well as to exploit its perceived superiority in resolute leadership and the will to fight. As a relatively small country with limited natural resources, however, German plans were predicated on fighting short wars, isolating their opponents, and rapidly defeating them one at a time. This Blitzkrieg strategy worked to perfection against Poland, which found itself having to fight a two-front war when Soviet forces invaded from the east in accordance with the secret protocol of the Nazi-Soviet Pact. Poland was forced to surrender in early October 1939. In the West the Phony War that resulted from the reluctance of France or Great Britain to launch any offensive action in the hope that full-scale war might yet be avoided came to an end in May 1940 when the German armies overran Holland, Belgium, Luxemburg, and France within six weeks. The British managed to extricate their forces at Dunkirk in early June 1940, but were now reduced to preparing a desperate defense of their home island against a threatened invasion. Germany appeared to have won the war.
But Britain, now under the defiant leadership of Winston Churchill, a long-term foe of appeasement, refused to accept the German conquest of Poland or to accede to German domination of the continent. German failure to gain air supremacy in the Battle of Britain in the summer of 1940 forced the postponement and eventual cancellation of Operation Sea Lion, the plan to invade Britain across the English Channel. Instead, Hitler gave his long-range foreign policy goal, conquest of Lebensraum in the east, top priority. The time seemed right for the invasion of the Soviet Union, as Britain was in no position to contest a German campaign in the east, and the US, despite the unconcealed antipathy of President Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882-1945) to Hitler's regime, was badly divided on the wisdom of active American intervention in the war. Here was the window of opportunity to achieve what Hitler had always considered his primary mission: the destruction of the Soviet regime and the seizure of its territory for German colonization. Mutually reinforcing racial and ideological assumptions about the evil of "Jewish Bolshevism" lay behind the Nazis' contempt for the Soviet Union and their decision to violate their pledge of non-aggression a full eight years before it was scheduled to run out. Vast stretches of rich and fertile lands sparsely populated by what the Nazis defined as Untermenschen (subhumans) seemed ripe for Germany's taking. Defeat of the Soviet Union would also end the potential danger of a Soviet-British alliance and greatly strengthen Germany's position in the coming showdown for global primacy with the Anglo-American powers. A campaign against Communist Russia would enjoy the full support of Germany's allies and co-belligerents, Italy, Hungary, Romania, Finland, Vichy France, and Franco's Spain, who had always regarded the Nazi-Soviet Pact as a breach of fascist principles.
At the heart of the German decision to attack the Soviet Union lay the assumption of Soviet weakness. Stalinist purges in the late 1930s had not only sown fear and dissension in the Soviet population but had also decimated the ranks of the officer corps of the Red Army and the Soviet navy. The Red Army's poor performance in the 1939-1940 Winter War against Finland seemed to confirm its lack of fighting strength. Imperial Germany had soundly defeated the Russian forces in the First World War. The Nazis could not believe that the communists, the "peaceniks" of the First World War, could effectively rally the Russian population behind an egalitarian ideology that championed the interests of the "inferior" proletarian masses and restricted the enterprise of "superior" individuals. Soviet military technology and economic production lagged well behind German levels. German military leaders confidently expected Russian resistance to collapse within a matter of weeks. Although the Balkan Campaign to pacify Yugoslavia and Greece delayed the invasion of Russia until 22 June 1941, there was no reason to believe that Moscow would not be captured by the end of the year. And even if German forces were to take longer to conquer the USSR than expected, the possibility that they could be defeated by so backward and "primitive" an enemy seemed out of the question.
But Hitler and his paladins had miscalculated the strength of Soviet resistance. Informed by their intelligence sources that Japan, with whom the Soviets had signed a non-aggression treaty in April 1941, would not join the German attack on the USSR, the Soviets were able to mass some three million soldiers for the Battle of Moscow in December 1941. The overstretched German front, hampered by severe winter weather, was forced to retreat. The Germans now had to prepare for a much longer war than expected. The news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, however, lifted German morale. The Japanese entry into the war seemed to mark the successful culmination of Hitler's global strategy. On 11 December 1941 Hitler honored his commitment to Japan under the Tripartite Pact by declaring war on the US.
In retrospect this declaration of war appears to have been Hitler's greatest mistake. At the time, however, it represented the climactic realization of Hitler's plan of using Japan to tie down American and British forces in the Pacific. A Japanese-American settlement that would enable the US fully to engage its forces in Europe was the one eventuality that the Nazis sought to prevent at all costs. True, a Japanese attack on the US would have the effect of bringing the potentially formidable American foe fully into the war sooner than Hitler might have wished. But from the German perspective a formal declaration of war was a small price to pay for Japanese entry into the war, which promised to relieve the military threat to Germany from the US. The US was after all already fully engaged in the war in the Atlantic against the German navy, to whom the thankless task of preventing American supplies from reaching Britain and the USSR was assigned. German naval leaders pressured the Nazi government for a formal declaration of war against the US to give the navy the same legitimate claim to supplies and resources as the army that was fighting in Russia. A formal declaration of war against the US would also presumably give Japan a boost in morale and enable Germany to share in the credit for the expected Japanese victories.
The year 1942 was indeed one of Axis ascendancy as German Panzer units conquered the Ukraine and rolled through the southern Russian steppes on their way to the Volga River and the beckoning oilfields of the Caucasus. In the Pacific theater Japan conquered the Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaya, including the British fortress at Singapore, before losing its naval supremacy at the Battle of Midway in June 1942. The turn of the year 1942/1943 brought the turning of the tide in Europe. In the battle of El Alamein in November 1942 British forces turned back the German-Italian campaign under General Erwin Rommel to capture Egypt and the British possessions in the Middle East. That same month Anglo- American troops landed in the French colonies of Algeria and Morocco in an operation codenamed Torch. The most significant German defeat occurred at Stalingrad on the Volga River in the winter of 1942/1943. After some of the most savage fighting in the history of warfare, an entire German army was forced to surrender to the Soviets on 1 February 1943. The crushing of the last major German offensive in the east in the Battle of Kursk in July 1943 spelled the end of the German military initiative on the eastern front.
From 1943 on Germany fought a defensive war as its armies began the long drawn- out, more than 1,200-mile retreat from its forward positions in Russia that ended in the battle for Berlin in April 1945. The remnants of the German Africa Corps and the Italian troops in North Africa surrendered to the Allies at Tunis in May 1943. In July 1943, after the Allied capture of Sicily and the landing of Allied forces on the Italian mainland, Mussolini was deposed by the Fascist Grand Council. Italy formally joined the Allied side in October of that year. Allied naval supremacy forced German submarines on the defensive in the Atlantic as well. Increasing Allied superiority in aircraft and weaponry brought the air war home to the Reich, culminating in the devastating bombing of Dresden in February 1945 with the loss of thousands of civilian lives.
The long-anticipated D-Day landing of Allied forces in Normandy on 6 June 1944 (Operation Overlord) doomed the Nazi regime, which now had to fight for its very survival in Russia, Italy, and France. On each of these fronts the Allies mounted major offensives in the summer of 1944. The Allied forward thrust on the Western front was slowed but not stopped by an unexpected counterattack in the Ardennes in December 1944, known as the Battle of the Bulge. The hope that "wonder weapons" developed by German engineers might yet turn the tide in Germany's favor came to an end when Allied troops overran the launching sites of the V1 flying bombs and V2 long-range missiles aimed at London and Antwerp. Jet-powered aircraft, operational by early 1945, could not be used for lack of fuel.
With Soviet troops only a few city blocks away, Hitler committed suicide on 30 April 1945 in his fortified bunker under the ruined Reich Chancellery, constructed and dedicated with much fanfare in 1939. The European phase of the war officially ended on 8 May 1945 after the German government under Admiral Karl Dรถnitz, Hitler's successor, surrendered to the Allied and Soviet commands. In his last testament Hitler refused to recant Nazi principles and expressed no remorse for the untold suffering that Nazi aggression had brought upon the world.
The Nazis' supremacist ideology had led to German defeat by blinding Nazi leaders to the realities of power in the world and to the readiness of peoples threatened by German domination to defend their liberty and sovereignty. In retrospect, Germany was doomed by a hubris that could not help but lead to tactical and strategic misjudgements. Germany's defeat was not the result of any single mistake in military tactics, though undoubtedly there were a number of these. One such unsound tactical decision was Hitler's refusal to permit the German Sixth Army to break out of its encirclement at Stalingrad in late 1942. He could not bring himself to authorize a tactic that would contradict his oft proclaimed conceit that German soldiers never retreat. By the end of the war German forces had retreated some 2,000 miles from their positions on the Volga.
In what remains a classic example of historical justice, Nazi Germany fell victim to its own odious Social Darwinist conviction that military might was the only principle that counted in international relations. "I shall give a propagandist reason for starting the war, whether it is plausible or not," Hitler had told his military commanders in Berchtesgaden to overcome their skepticism on the eve of the war in August 1939. "The victor will not be asked afterwards whether he told the truth or not. When starting and waging a war it is not right that matters, but victory." Nazi militarism was based on the fascist conviction that stronger peoples have the right to rule over the weak. Their belief that their supposed cultural superiority was sufficient grounds for a war of colonial conquest left the Nazis with no moral or material resources for the defense of their own country against the Allies' superior strength at the end of the war. Nazism equated the power, the interests, and the welfare of the German nation and racial community with the highest moral good. It was a system of belief that allowed its adherents to commit the most horrible atrocities with good conscience.
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:11 AM
BERLIN, Germany (AP) -- Philipp Freiherr von Boeselager, believed to be the last surviving member of the inner circle of plotters who attempted to kill Adolf Hitler in 1944 with a briefcase bomb, died Thursday. He was 90.
The German military said in a statement Friday that the former army major had died but did not give a cause of death.
Von Boeselager was part of a group of officers who tried to kill Hitler on July 20, 1944, supplying explosives for the operation led by Col. Claus Graf Schenk von Stauffenberg.
Von Stauffenberg placed the bomb in a conference room where Hitler was meeting with his aides and military advisers. Hitler escaped harm when someone moved the briefcase next to a table leg, deflecting much of the bomb's explosive force.
Almost immediately afterward, von Stauffenberg and many of his cohorts were arrested and executed in an orgy of revenge killings that saw some hanged with piano wire.
Though many of those rounded up by Nazi officials were tortured in the hopes they would give up other conspirators, von Boeselager's name was never divulged, and he was never found out.
Still, he carried a cyanide capsule with him until the end of the war in case his secret was revealed.
The von Stauffenberg plot is the basis for the upcoming Tom Cruise film "Valkyrie," in which the American actor plays the aristocratic colonel.
Von Boeselager, who lived in Altenahr, near Bonn, was recruited by von Stauffenberg co-conspirator Maj. Gen. Henning von Tresckow in 1942, he told the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung in an interview three weeks ago that was published Friday.
He said he knew that Jews were being systematically killed and that Germany was waging a war of annihilation along the Eastern Front with Russia, and he said he never considered declining taking part in the plot.
By 1942, he said, "it was no longer about saving the country but about stopping the crimes," the newspaper quoted him as saying.
The plotters first arranged for von Boeselager, assigned to the army high command as an aide to Field Marshal Gunther von Kluge, to try to shoot both Hitler and SS chief Heinrich Himmler at a meeting in 1943.
Von Kluge, who committed suicide a month after the 1944 attempt on Hitler, called the assassination off at the last minute after learning that Himmler would not be at the meeting.
Von Boeselager followed von Kluge's orders but told the FAZ that the decision never ceased to haunt him.
"I always see Hitler from here to the fireplace in front of me and think, 'What would have happened if you had shot him?' " he told FAZ, describing a distance of about two feet with his hands.
He also recalled when he joined the von Stauffenberg plot: His brother called him in the spring of 1944, asking for his help in providing explosives.
Von Boeselager recommended English-made explosives as the best and, as part of his assignment to an explosives research team, was able to acquire them without drawing suspicion.
He delivered them to Maj. Gen. Helmuth Stieff, packed into a suitcase. Stieff was executed for his role in the plot, and von Boeselager's brother was killed in fighting on the Eastern Front.
Had the bombing succeeded, von Boeselager said, he was assigned to lead a 1,000-man unit into Berlin to secure the capital.
Von Boeselager told FAZ that in the years immediately after the war, he spoke with his wife, Rosa, about his role in the resistance but said little else.
"There was nobody one could talk with about it," he said. "They were all dead, and with others it would just have been bragging."
There was also the fact that immediately after World War II, the July 20 plotters were widely viewed as traitors, a label the Nazis gave them that stuck for years.
"For a long time, it was not believable to normal Germans that the government was criminal," he recalled. "And as soon as one thought they had pushed that out of the way, then people just didn't want to know."
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:11 AM
Operation Greif and Panzerbrigade 150 "Rabenhügel"
This operation of Otto Skorzeny is widely known. Even the massive Avalon Hills Fortress Europa boardgame contains a 150.PzBrig counter which has special abilities. In conjunction with 6 SS-Panzer Army this unit had the following missions in the Ardennes-Offensive: 1. capture the Meuse-bridges, and, 2. sabotage behind American lines. They all had to use American uniforms, Sherman tanks and other American armoured vehicles and trucks, in total 3300 men. Finally they only gathered 1 Sherman tank and had built 12 reshaped Panther, far less jeeps then the 247 ordered/required and as a general rule Germans are not as good with foreign languages.
...See the excellent book covering this operation in great detail by Michael Schadewitz "The Meuse and then Antwerp - Some Aspects of Hitler's Offensive in the Ardennes". It was originally done in German c.1994 but was revised and expanded for the English edition released by JJ Fedorowicz publishing in 1999 from which come the page numbers I'll quote below.
See firstly p.33 where Skorzeny recollects the situation prior to the battle taken from his memoirs:
"The worst thing was the uniforms we were supplied with. For obvious reasons we were particularly concerned about having suitable clothing. Inappropriate clothing would stick out like a sore thumb. We received one heap of unsorted pieces of clothing which turned out to be items of English uniforms. Another time we were sent coats which were practically useless. American front-line soldiers didn't wear coats. They wore so-called 'field-jackets'. Then we were supplied with a batch of these jackets by the Chef für Kriegesgefangenenwesen. We sent the delivery back immediately as we noticed that the jackets bore the triangular prisoner of war badge. Typical for the whole situation was the fact that I myself as Brigade commander was only equipped with an American army pullover."
Then p.47 which is a passage taken from Unteroffizer Georges' notebook on Nov.9 during training at Grafenwöhr:
"The men, who came from various sections of the armed forces, were given paratrooper clothing so they wouldn't all run around in different uniforms."
Also p.251 when it goes into the overall operational summaries and testimonies presented at the trial;
"On 15 or 16 December 1944, the members of the Kommandokompanie Panzerbrigade 150 were ordered by Major von Schrotter to remove their German uniforms, dress in their American uniforms, and wait for further instructions. Their German uniforms were stored in bags which were left at a forester's house. The men were instructed that their German parachute combination jackets were not to be discarded until enemy territory had been reached."
Further down the same page;
"The evidence includes testimony of numerous instances in which members of the (150th SS Panzer Brigade) (Panzerbrigade 150), including Von BEHR and KOCHERSCHEIDT, were wearing American uniforms and a German parachute combination jacket while engaged in combat operations."
So while it seems the initial plan was to keep their German uniforms beneath both the US and the paratroop "bonesack" and remove the layers as the situation demanded, it was obviously decided at some point to just wear the US uniform only under the paratroop smock and take their chances if caught without their German uniforms beneath as initially planned? Kitting out the troops doesn't appear to have been too complete though due to logistic shortages of uniforms - as mentioned Skorzeny himself only received a US jumper (p.33).
But on page 153: "...This was the reason that soldiers from the tank company of Kampfgruppe Z (III./150) wore up to three uniforms one on top of the other during the attack on 21.12.44. Firstly they were wearing the black tank uniform, on top of this the American trousers and shirts and on top of those the paratrooper suit which they had been supplied with in Grafenwöhr."
I think we can't apply the specific instance when portion of Pz Brigade 150 (not the tankers, but the Kommando units) were ordered to leave their German uniforms behind to all of Pz Brigade 150. As it was freezing cold, unless ordered otherwise any piece of clothing would be most welcome. Also the purpose of a "Trojan Horse" action was no longer in order. On the same page in Schadewitz' book we find that the US-signs even were covered with tarpaulin and also camouflaged with foliage for this "normal" attack. This is confirmed by a statement of Lt Peter Mandt, telling us that they put on their Fallschirmjäger-uniform and dropped tarpaulins over the vehicle markings (Kriegsschicksale 1944-1945, St. Vith, 1972).
The other possible distinguishing feature you may wish to incorporate is the use of coloured scarves. From p.230;
"Interrogation of PW reveals Germans in US uniforms would identify themselves to one another by tapping twice on helmet. Germans in US uniforms and using US vehicles would identify themselves by wearing pink or blue scarves. Overcoats or blouses would be opened or one button on top would be open. Tks (tanks) also are marked with "C" or "D" (XVIII Corps)."
Also the use of the letters "X", "Y", & "Z" were seen on helmets and softskins for the 3 KGs aiming at the bridges over the Meuse were in evidence early on, until discovered by US Intell (p.54). The Use of the "Z" was picked up by 82nd Airborne as the KG "Z" troops opposing them made for the Huy Bridge. G-2 then told troops to be on the lookout for it on road signs and on/or signs of it hastily removed from, windscreens and tails of softskins like trucks and jeeps in US First Army area (p.231).
Also the Germans placed undue importance on the significance of the vehicle serial numbers esp. on Jeeps thinking the US used these as ID marks at checkpoints and kept lists to log vehicles, so deliberately smeared mud over half the number on their captured vehicles to partially obliterate it to help avoid being caught out by MPs.
Most of the "Operation Grief" fleet of US vehicles were marked up as elements of either 5th or 8th Armoured Divisions (p.233), though one Jeep was reportedly carrying 29th Inf. Div. markings (p.215). All the staff cars used were Citroens painted OD and given US stars (p.233)
The 4 ersatz M10/Panthers used (of the 5 made) were marked up as "B4", "B5", "B7",&"B10" - ie. vehicles 4, 5, 7, & 10 from B-Co., 10th Tank Battalion, 5.Arm.Div. (eg. marking = "5triangle10B4")
The one sheet-metalled StuG IIIG (of the 5 made) seen in the pictures both before and after relocation by the US from the crossroad into the field was marked as vehicle C5 of 81 tank Battalion, 5 Arm. Div. (eg. "5triangle81C5").
In the end of the 600 volunteers only 120 were appointed as "speaker" with sufficient English speaking skills. The rest was only allowed to utter some appropriate noises. For their first action they were used in 2 batallions of the Jagdverbaende with some more 600 volunteers, altogether 2000 men. A further 3 Kampfgruppen, called X, Y and Z had to seize the 3 Meuse bridges. An attack on the vital Allied oil pipeline from Le Havre to Boulogne was also considered.
For the Germans in general Greif was a failure. Only 8 commandos really operated behind enemy lines, misleading enemy units and did what is well known and need not to be mentioned here in detail. One success was that there was a considerable paranoia behind enemy lines for some time. One team blew up a munitions depot.
------Pz.Brig. 150 Cover name: FEB/13. FSJ.Div. -
T314-1133, Fr. 602 & T311-18, Fr. 870.
{All information from Pallud, p. 65, & ETHINT 12}
------------Kdr.: SS-Obersturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny
------------Gefechtstand: Schmittheim - Elstob, p. 69.
------------Stab [from Pz.Brig. 108] & Nachr. Kp.
------------three small combat staffs [from Pz.Brign. 10 &
113]
------------two nachr. kpn. (H.Tr.) (200 men)
------------KG 200 [two Fallschirmjäger btle.] (800)
------------one kp. from Jagdverband Mitte (175)
------------two kpn. SS-FS.Btl. 600 (380)
------------two pz. kpn. (H.Tr.) (240)
------------two pz.gren. kpn. (350) [Pallud has only one, the 7.
Pz.Gr.Kp.(gep)]
------------two s.Gr.W. kpn. (H.Tr.) (200)
------------two pz.jg. kpn. (H.Tr.) (200)
------------one pi. kp. (100)
------------three Kraftfahrzeug-Instandsetzungs-Züge [vehicle
repair pltns] (75)
------------[Pallud also seems to indicate an aufklärungs
element crewed by personnel from 1./Pz.Aufkl.Abt. 190 (90.
Pz.Gren.Div.) & 1.//Pz.Aufkl.Abt. 2 (2.Pz.Div.) and 'gunners'
from I./40. (Art.Rgt.?) with weapons provided by
Führer-Gren.Brig. was also present. In addition, the brigade
used four American scout cars, an assortment of American trucks,
and about 30 jeeps {although some of these were probably utilized
by the Commandogruppe - see below}]
------------From the units above were formed three
Kampfgruppen:
------------------Kampfgruppe X [followed 1. SS-Pz.Div.
LSSAH]
------------------------Kdr.: SS-Obersturmbannführer Willi
Hardieck, then SS-hauptsturmführer Adrian von Foelkersam on
16.Dec., when Hardieck was killed by a mine. [Pallud, p.
118]
------------------------stab
------------------------pz. kp. [five Panthers modified to
resemble M-10 TDs and crewed by members of I./Pz.Rgt. 11/6.
Pz.Div.]
------------------------three inf. kpn. (120 - 150 men each
kp.)
------------------------------two kpn from FS-KG 200
------------------------------one kp from Jagdverband Mitte or
FS-Btl. 600
------------------------two pz.gren. züge
------------------------two pz.jg. züge
------------------------two s.Gr.W. züge
------------------------pi. zug
------------------------nachr. zug
------------------------vehicle repair group
------------------Kampfgruppe Y [followed 12. SS-Pz.Div.
HJ]
------------------------Kdr.: Hauptmann Scherff
------------------------stab
------------------------pz. kp. [five largely unmodified StuG
crewed by members of 1./s.Pz.Jg.Abt. 655]
------------------------three inf. kpn.
------------------------------two kpn from FS-KG 200
------------------------------one kp from Jagdverband Mitte or
FS-Btl. 600
------------------------two pz.gren. züge
------------------------two pz.jg. züge
------------------------two s.Gr.W. züge
------------------------pi. zug
------------------------nachr. zug
------------------------vehicle repair group
------------------Kampfgruppe Z [followed 12. VGD]
------------------------Kdr.: Oberstleutnant Wolf
------------------------------stab
------------------------three inf. kpn.
------------------------------two kpn from FS-KG 200
------------------------------one kp from Jagdverband Mitte or
FS-Btl. 600
------------------------two pz.gren. züge
------------------------two pz.jg. züge
------------------------two s.Gr.W. züge
------------------------pi. zug
------------------------nachr. zug
------------------------vehicle repair group
------Operation 'Greif' Commandogruppe
------------Kdr.: SS-Obersturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny
------------two Sprengkommando (demolition groups) sent out
------------four Aufklärungskommando (recon groups) sent
out
------------six Führungskommando (signals groups) sent out [one
each 'attached' to the 1. SS-Pz.Div., 12. SS-Pz.Div., a VGD
{possibly the 12. VGD?}, KG X, KG Y, & KG Z]
------------[Of a total of 44 men sent out, all but 8
returned.]
According to Danny S. Parker, the brigade fielded 5 Panthers (Which were painted to look like M-10's), 5 StuG's (No idea how they covered THOSE up!!) and 2 M-4 Shermans. In his memoirs (Skorzeny's Special Missions.) Skorzeny says that they did not get all the jeeps they wanted (No surprise there!) and that they made a basic mistake in fully manning them, with a driver and three passengers rather than one or two passengers as was standard practice in the US Army. He goes on to say that he believes this was one of the reasons why his force was rumbled earlier than they had hoped.
#
I do not believe 22 Panthers and 14 StuG IIIs were ever modified for 150.PzBrig. These were the authorized quantities only.
Only 5 Panthers were modified to appear as M10s Tank Destroyers and these were lost in fighting around Malmedy. The StuG IIIs were only painted with US markings and there were only 5 of these issued to the brigade. They were also lost in the fighting. The brigade had two Shermans but it appears that neither got into action. One was in long term repair and I believe the other was left behind due to mechanical problems. The brigade also had the following US equipment besides the two Shermans:
4x M8 armored cars
6x M3 Half tracked personnel carriers
10x US trucks
18x US motorcycles
1x motorcycle with sidecar
24x 4.2inch mortars
10x 3inch M5 anti-tank gun (towed)
10x 57mm M1 anti-tank gun (towed)
Deliveries ala RH 10/350:
5 Panthers, arrived on the 18.11.44
5 StuG III, shipped 25.11.44, arrival date not mentioned.
6 mSPW, shipped 27.11.44
6 sPSW, shipped 27.11.44
The 4 le SPWs were probably older models, as I couldn't find a delivery mentioned. At least the one photographed is an "alte" Version.
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:09 AM
Eisenhower knew by this time that the Allies had agreed on a zonal division of Germany which placed Berlin deep inside the Soviet zone -a plan developed by the British in the first place-he wanted to take advantage of the rapid successes of the American armies which had crossed the Rhine in force earlier and were now joined by the American 9th and French 1st Armies further south. With little faith in Montgomery's ability to exploit a breakthrough rapidly and drive to Berlin as the Field Marshal confidently expected, Eisenhower preferred to concentrate on crushing the remaining German forces in the West, letting the Russians pay the price in blood for the zone assigned to them, and having the British get as quickly as possible to the north German ports and the Baltic to seal off Denmark.
The British leaders were livid but could not budge Eisenhower; the extraordinary delays in Montgomery's subsequent advance would appear to justify the Supreme Commander's doubts. In spite of repeated urgings from Churchill as well as Eisenhower, Montgomery found ever new reasons for not advancing rapidly, eventually came to think of crossing the Elbe south of Hamburg in a huge operation similar to a crossing of the Rhine, and asked for and received additional American divisions to reach the Baltic and enter Wismar just ahead of the Russians. It may be that his dawdling in this instance was merely a repetition of his sulking at the southern end of Italy in September 1943 because of his dissatisfaction with the role assigned to him in that operation, and that he would have operated very differently had he been left in control of the American 9th Army, but that is pure speculation. The record of his control of that army when he did have it was all to the contrary; he had not allowed them to "bounce" the Rhine and there is nothing to indicate that he had any intention of "bouncing" the Elbe.
In accordance with earlier plans, the Canadian 1st Army on the northern flank drove into northern Holland and the adjacent portion of Germany, in the process cutting off a German garrison in western Holland, where they were left alone militarily because of their threat to flood the whole area. The Dutch population was already starving, and a whole variety of efforts was undertaken to arrange for them to be fed. Since this involved contacts with Germans who had no intention of surrendering, a Soviet representative was involved in the talks. The suffering in the cut-off area was reduced somewhat, but only the final surrender of the German forces in May ended the appalling ordeal of the Dutch.
To the south and east of the Canadians, the 2nd British Army headed for Bremen and Hamburg. As already mentioned, this advance did not go as rapidly as both Churchill and Eisenhower wanted. Churchill wrote on April 3: "When the cease-fire sounds in Germany, I hope Field Marshal Montgomery will be shaking hands with the Russians as far as possible East of the Elbe. Our zone is marked out and after salutations, which may be marked, we shall retire to its limits." Kicked and pushed from above, Montgomery's army took the important port city of Bremen, drew up to the Elbe River and then crossed it, dashing to the city of L端beck while American divisions moved toward the Baltic on the right flank of the advance. Hamburg surrendered on May 3, but by then the war in Europe had already reached its concluding stage.
At the northern end of the Western front, the 3rd Panzer and 21st Armies surrendered to the Americans (note map) as they were squeezed between the advancing Second Belorussian Front and 21st Army Group.
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:08 AM
The Jagdtiger was one of the heaviest; most heavily armored and most powerfully armed vehicles of World War II. Nevertheless, despite its 128mm cannon, machine guns, and 92mm mortar for smoke/anti-infantry defense, its great weight and consequent immobility made it basically a defensive unit.
The 512th schwere Panzerjaeger Abteilung (sPz.Jg.Abt.)was formed in late January 1945 at Sennelager, north of Paderborn. It was one of only two Abteilungen (the other being the 653rd) to be equipped with Jagdtigers.
On March 7th, 1945, the US Army took the bridge at Remagen intact. Also it collapsed 10 days later, the US forces now had a bridgehead on the east bank of the Rhine. On March 14th, 2nd Company of the 512th started traveling south (via rail), eventually reaching the Lauschied woods southeast of Eitorf on March 20th, 1945 (movement was very slow and only during the darkness). Three Jagdtigers were produced in March 1945 by Nibelungen Werk and had the following chassis numbers: 305075, 305076 and 305077. These three were delivered to schwere Panzer-Abteilung 512 with 1 being transported on 14 March and 2 transported on 26 March.
On March 24th, elements of the 512th Abteilung, together with the 506th schwere Panzerabteilung and 654th schwere Jagdpanzerabteilung formed Panzergruppe Hudel and attacked between Eitorf and Siegburg towards the southwest, with the intention to destroy the US bridgehead.
11 Jagdtigers (P) were delivered during August to October, 1944. Most of them (305006-305012) were issued to sPz.Jg.Abt.653 while the rest to test and training units. In addition, 6 Jagdtigers (H) (305013-305018) were delivered to the Abt.653 in October 1944. None of these Jagdtigers were lost before 1945.
Some Jagdtigers from the 653rd Hvy Pz.Jgt.Bn fought against the French 5e Division Blindee at a place called Klingenberg in Germany on 5.April 1945. There was very heavy fighting in the town of Klingenberg with the 5th French Tank Division. One Jagdtiger was destroyed on 5 April 1945 and on the same day in the afternoon a second Jagdtiger was blown up due to mechanical problems.
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:07 AM
The Waffen SS, the armed forces of the German Nazi party, filled the majority of their nearly forty combat divisions with non-Germans. Over half a million foreigners served in twenty-seven of these Waffen SS divisions (as well as in many smaller, independent units and as replacements for the horrendous losses SS divisions took). The radical racial purity message of the Nazi party got a bit garbled by the SS recruiters, as the largest single ethnic group enlisted was Slavic Ukrainians (100,000) followed by the "Aryan" Dutch (50,000). Three divisions were formed from among Bosnian Muslims and Croatian Christians and, like most non-German SS divisions, were used against partisans. So successful was this program that even the regular army regularly filled 20 percent of its divisions (after late 1943) with foreign "volunteers." These were usually Soviet prisoners of war who were given the choice between starving to death in PoW camps or serving as combat support troops in German infantry divisions. Most of these foreigners in German uniforms, especially the Soviets, were killed or imprisoned by their countrymen after the war.
Heinrich Himmler's Waffen SS was the first and most obvious example of this. Originally a relatively small contingent of Nazi party troops earmarked as Hitler's personal bodyguards and triggermen, the Waffen SS soon expanded into a self-contained army approaching 10 percent of Germany's military manpower by late 1944, but including fully 25 percent of the panzer and mechanized divisions. So desperate did Himmler become for manpower that he secured a monopoly on recruitment of the Volksdeutsch, the numerous German residents, in other nations, and then began to recruit from "Germanic non- Germans" such as Swedes, Danes, and Dutchmen, then from "Non- Germanic Aryans" such as Frenchmen, Belgians, Spaniards, and Italians, and finally from the very "Untermenchen" themselves, the allegedly inferior Slavic Croatians, Bosnians, and Ukrainians, and African, Asian, and Indian prisoners of war, not to mention Arab volunteers. In fact, about the only people not consciously used were Jews and Gypsies, although some of them got in anyway, disguising themselves as Germans in order to hide among their enemies.
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:05 AM
The project began in 1936 and was known as Projekt 4 by August 1937. Then it became known as Gerät 040 by November 1940 then Gerät-Karl by February 1941. The 54cm version was known as Gerät 041 by 1 July 1942 but by 22 July 1942 the name reversed to Karl-Gerät. An official list of cover names was released by OKH on 22 February 1943 with the 60cm Karl-Gerät named Gerät 040 and the 54cm version known as Gerät 041. If this is not already complicated the troops named each of the 6 guns as follows:
Karl-Gerät Nr. I as "ADAM" and "BALDUR"
Karl-Gerät Nr. II as "EVE"
Karl-Gerät Nr. III as "ODIN"
Karl-Gerät Nr. IV as "THOR"
Karl-Gerät Nr. V as "LOKI"
Karl-Gerät Nr. VI as "ZIU"
In a meeting on 9 March 1938 General Karl Becker [head of WaPrw 4] ordered the go ahead for 6 production weapon systems along with a trial weapon[Versuchsgerät]. (1) Initially Neubau Fahrzüg Nr. 1 was used to conduct driving trials in April 1938. In August 1938 a 1/10 remote controlled scale model was built for development of the suspension system. Parallel with this a test firing carriage was developed with the first test firing occurring from 23 to 25 June 1939. In October 1939 the design of a Munitionsschlepper was authorized. This resulted in the use of the PzKpw IV chassis.
In October 1939 work also began on developing a means of rail
transport for the weapon system. The first driving trials of a
full size weapon system chassis began in May 1940. The weight of
the actual weapon was simulated with special weights. In a
meeting on 12 November 1940 it was authorized that a special
trailer also be developed for road transport of the weapon
system. The trailer was known as the
Culemeyer-Strassenfahrzeugen. All of this information is to
indicate that an actual complete prototype of the Gerät 040 was
never built. Instead production of 6 systems began. The first
complete Gerät 040 or Nr. I was demonstrated to Wa Prüf 4 on 2
July 1940 and the first rounds were fired [10 in total] by 5
November 1940. The last unit, Nr. VI, test
fired 6 rounds on 28 August 1941. Firing dates for the
others are as follows:
Nr. II= 8 rounds by 7 November 1940
Nr. III=6 rounds on 20 February 1941
Nr. IV=6 rounds on 17 April 1941
Nr. V=10 rounds on 11 June 1941
A Gerät 040 Nr. VII was scheduled to be completed by May 1942
and was reported As being used by the Waffenamt to create firing
tables in September 1944. Not much else is known about this
unit.
Here is some additional data on the units:
Nr. I and Nr. II with 8 rubber roadwheels and 8 rubber return rollers and 133 links per side and 17 sprocket teeth and a Maybach 503A gasoline engine.
Nr. III, IV and Nr. V with 11 steel roadwheels and 6 rubber return rollers and 94 links per side and 12 sprocket teeth and a Maybach 507C diesel engine.
Nr. VI and maybe Nr. VII with 11 steel roadwheels and 6 rubber return rollers and 94 links per side and 12 sprocket teeth and a Maybach 503A gasoline engine.
In February 1941 Waffenamt was given an order to increase the range of the weapon system. This resulted in the development of a 54cm morser to be designated as Gerät 041. Nrs. I, IV and V were modified to take the 54cm gun. These were completed on 15 June, 7 July and 25 July 1944.
Operations
On 3 January 1941 Batterie 833 was established with KStN 501 at
Bergen training ground. It was ordered to be combat ready by 15
February 1941. On 2 April 1941, a larger unit, schwere
Artillerie-Abteilung 833 was established with a Stab, a Stab
battery and a 2. Batterie using KStNs 424, 580 and 502. At the
same time the originalbattery 833 was renamed as
1.Batterie of schwere Artillerie-Abteilung 833. On 14 May 1941
the 1. Batterie with two Gerät 040s [Nr. I and II]and 60 rounds
of ammo was assigned to the 17.Armee and the 2.Batterie two
Gerät 040s [Nr. III and IV] and 36 rounds of ammo was assigned
to the 4.Armee.
Little is known about the 1.Batterie in the area of Lemberg where
it was planning to engage the bunkers at Wielki Dzial. In several
reports it is indicated that the batterie was not used and do to
technical problems was non operational by 23 June 1941. The
2.Batterie was used to engage the Zitadelle of the city of Brest
and by 24 June they fired almost all of the 36 rounds
assigned.
By the end of June 1941 833 was sent home and they were converted
to a towed 21cm Mörser 18 on 6 August 1941. They returned to the
eastern front and left the Karl-Geräts behind in Germany.
On 18 February 1942 they were ordered to supply personnel to
create a battery of three Karl-Geräts in accordance with KStN
502. They were transported to the 11.Armee in Heeresgruppe Süd
to support the siege of Sevastopol. They were equipped with
72 heavy rounds and 50 light rounds of 60cm ammo. In a report
dated 20 May 1942 the battery fired at MaximGorki
and the Bastion. From 2 June to 6 June 1942 they fired 18 heavy
rounds and on 7 June 54 heavy round and from 8 June to 13 June 50
light rounds were fired. By the 13th of June they were without
ammo. After receipt of an additional 29 heavy and 50 light rounds
they fired 50 light on 30 June and 25 heavy rounds on 1 July
1942. On 19 July they were ordered back to Germany for
restoration.
On 7 July 1942 833 was ordered to establish a new batterie with
two guns. This was established on 15 August 1942 and designated
as Batterie 628(Karl). The unit was to go to the
Leningradarea to support the siege. They arrived on 1 and 2
September however the attack was called off do to a Russian
breakthrough. On 18 October 1942 OKH ordered Batterie 628 to
proceed to Leipzig ASAP. This was rescinded and the
batterie, with possible two additional Gerät 040 as reserve, was
to support further attacks and it was planned that they were to
fire 150 rounds. This was aborted because of Russian advances and
by 4 December Batterie 628 was ordered back to Germany.
The next action for the weapon was to crush revolts in Warsaw and Budapest.
After being inactive for over a year a single unit batterie was
ordered established on 13 August 1944 for immediate transport to
Warsaw. The batterie was designated as
Heeres-Artillerie-Batterie(bo) 638 and was equipped with a 60cm
weapon[Nr. VI]. On 26 August 1944 another batterie named
Heeres-Artillerie-Batterie(bo) 428 was established and it was
planned to send it to Paris. However on 6 September 1944 it was
transported to Warsaw. On 9 September another Gerät 040 was also
sent to Warsaw and added to unit 428.
On 25 September 1944 unit 638 was sent to Budapest without and
weapons, instead a single gun [Nr. V] was being sent to the unit
in Budapest.
Unit 428 was also sent to Budapest by rail leaving on 10/11
October 1944. On 19 October both units were ordered to return to
the Warsaw area
On 29 September 1944 here is the disposition of all guns:
Nr. I was with Batterie 428 and equipped as a 60cm gun.
Nr. II was being overhauled as a 60cm gun at Jüterbog,
Germany.
Nr. III was inoperable since during a test firing the gun tube
blew apart.
Nr. IV was with Batterie 428 as a 60cm gun.
Nr. V was with Batterie 628 in Budapest as a 60cm gun.
Nr. VI had just returned from Warsaw for restoration.
Nr. VII was with Waffenamt for test firing and obtaining firing
table data as a 54cm gun.
Other equipment was a follows:
Munitions-Schlepper: 13 in total with 6 with Batteries 428 and
638, 2 with Waffenamt as 60cm ammo carrier and 2 with Waffenamt
as 54cm carriers and 2 in the depot.
60cm Ammo: 264 rounds are immediately available with another 96
to be completed in a few days.
54cm ammo: 50 rounds being test fired others in production with
25 to be delivered by the end of September 1944.
Both 428 and 638 were sent to fight in the west. Nr. II[60cm] and
Nr. V[54cm] were captured by the Americans while still on their
railcar transporters sometime between 21 March and 11 April
1945.
On 22 March 1945 Nr. I was sent to the western front as a 54cm
gun and Nr. II as a 60cm gun also went west on 11 March 1945. Nr.
VI was returning to Germany because of engine damage. Nr. I was
at Jüterbog as a 60cm gun as was Nr. IV as a 54cm gun. Nrs. III
and VII were being rebuilt and would not be available for a long
period.
On 11 April 1948 Batterie 638 was ordered disbanded and the personnel were ordered to Batterie 428 which was being refitted. This unit probably was only involved in local defense as infantry since Jüterbog was overrun by the Russians on 20 April 1945.
Source for most of this data is the excellent publication by
Thomas Jentz published by Panzer Tracts
(1)All variants saw combat. His (Jentz) book also states that many of the seven produced (yes seven not six) had interchangeable barrels from 60 cm to 54 cm and back. They were more active than I thought with service in many battles, including against the Remagen bridge!
A Pz IV carrier and two full guns were captured and one set
brought to APG after the war, BUT SCRAPPED later! Oye!
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:04 AM
Desperate times breed desperate men, and both remaining arms of the Axis began to consider formalised suicide tactics, perhaps from as early as late 1943. The most famous of these was the Japanese Kamikaze (Divine Wind) campaign against ships of the Royal and US Navies from the time of the Battle of Leyte Gulf (23-26 October 1944), but Germany, too, made preparations for the use of such tactics, the most significant of those involving a manned version of the Fi 103 flying bomb. This was actually the first vehicle considered, but it was rejected in favour of a glider version of the Me 328, while a unit equipped with Fw 190s, known as 'Kommando Lange1, or the 'Staffel Leonidas', was formed to begin training for missions which involved the pilot placing his aircraft - carrying the maximum possible bombload - in a steep dive aimed at the target before baling out and taking to his parachute. Eventually, the Me 328 project lost momentum, and it became clear that the chances of penetrating anti-aircraft defences in a Fw 190 carrying a sufficient bombload to be effective were extremely slim.
Attention returned to the use of the Fi 103. Designs for four different versions were worked up by DPS, and Henschel converted four standard VI missiles. The operational codename for the project was 'Reichenberg', and the four versions of the aircraft received 'R' prefixes, I through to IV. The Fi 103 R-I was a single-seater with ballast in place of its warhead; it had skids and landing flaps, but no motor: it was constructed for the test programme. The R-II was similar, but with a second cockpit in the nose section. The R-III was designed for advanced training, and was essentially the R-I equipped with an engine. The R-IV was the operational model, with no landing aids but with ailerons, and with the warhead reinstated. There are suggestions that the warhead might have been replaced with a cannon and the aircraft used as an interceptor, too.
The test pilots for the development programme were Heinz Kensche and the ubiquitous Hanna Reitsch, and they reported favourably on the aircraft's performance in flight (though there were hair-raising moments, apparently) but were not so enthusiastic about landing it. Handling in the air was fairly straightforward but landing was extremely tricky owing to the rudimentary control provided and the very high landing speed. One can imagine that landing was hardly a consideration as these aircraft were never meant to be landed after use, except on training flights. The intention was for the pilot to aim the aircraft at its target and then bale out, but frankly, the arrangements made for him (or her) to exit the aircraft were somewhat cynical. The cockpit was located well aft - aft of the trailing edge of the wings - and almost underneath the motor's air intake, against which it jammed before it had been opened through the 45 degrees necessary to jettison it. Even if the pilot succeeded in freeing it, he would have had little chance of levering himself out of the cockpit in a steep dive at speeds in excess of 1000km/h (620 mph) without being seriously injured, if not killed. Although thousands volunteered for the Selbstopfermänner bomber programme and 70 were accepted for training, they were never asked to go into action, so in the final analysis, it is not important. Japanese pilots who flew the 'Ohka' flying bombs in the latter stages of the Kamikaze campaign were treated more honestly: they were sealed into their aircraft and knew they had no chance of getting out. The efficacy of the Japanese Kamikaze campaign gives some indication of the sort of results they were expected to achieve. Between 21 February and 15 August 1945, 17 ships were sunk and 198 damaged for the loss of 930 aircraft, both flying bombs and escorts.
BACHERN BA 349 NATTER
Among the ingenious expedients borne of desperation in Germany at the end of the war was the Bachern Ba 349 Natter (viper), a semi-expendable, vertically-launched, piloted missile. Designed under the leadership of Erich Bachern, the small aircraft was constructed mainly of bonded and screwed wooden components, and was powered by an internal Walter 109-509A-2 liquid fuel rocket (of the same type as in the Messerschmitt Me 163); for take-off boost four solid fuel Schmidding rockets provided a total thrust of 4800kg (10,582 lb) for 10 seconds before being jettisoned. It was intended to launch the Natter on approach of Allied bombers, the pilot selecting his target and then launching his weapon load of 24 RZ 73 'FĂśhn' 7.3cm or R4M "Orkan" 5.5cm unguided rockets contained in an array in the nose. He would then jettison the nose section of the aircraft and deploy his own parachute. The remainder of the aircraft would also descend by parachute for recovery and re-use. Gliding trials started in October 1944, followed in February 1945 by the first unmanned vertical launches. However, during the first piloted launch the same month, the cockpit canopy failed and the pilot, Lothar Siebert, was killed. About 20 Ba 349s were completed, and 10 were deployed at Kirchheim, but before any Allied bombers could be intercepted the sites were overrun by advancing American forces.
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:02 AM
The first Joint Operation of the Wehrmacht and the implications for success
by Korvettenkapitän Henning Faltin (GE N)
Abstract
'Weserübung Nord', the invasion of Norway by Germany during World War II, deserves special contemplation because it is the first jointly planned and conducted operation in modern warfare. This paper focuses on the command structure on the operational level and demonstrates its contribution to the success. Moreover it demonstrates the tremendous effort undertaken by the German troops on the tactical level. But despite the operational- and tactical-level success, fundamental problems existed on the strategic level regarding unified planning and direction. The German navy under Admiral Raeder heavily promoted and influenced the planning and conduct of 'Weserübung'. On the contrary, the heads of army and air force rejected the invasion in Norway and attempted to allocate only few forces in face of the upcoming invasion in France. Finally Hitler assumed for the first time direct control over the forces and his inability to conduct large-scale military operations became obvious. This paper shows that the overwhelming success of 'Weserübung' was only possible because the failures and rivalries on the strategic level were more than compensated by the performance on the operational level and the joint fight of the German troops.
When the first mountain troops in parachutes were dropped at Narvik, one soldier fell directly in the water. Asked how he ended up there he replied: With the help of the three branches of the 'Wehrmacht': The army sent me up here, the air force transported me, and the navy pulled me out of the water.
General Dietl, "Das Leben eines Soldaten"
Introduction
Operation 'Weserübung', the German invasion of Norway and Denmark in April 1940, was a very interesting campaign. Firstly, it was characterized by speed, focus, bold action and surprise and hereby represents a perfect example for the German Blitzkrieg philosophy; and secondly, it was the first German operation in modern warfare, which was planned and executed jointly by navy, army and air force. These facts are the reason that operation 'Weserübung' is one of the best-examined military episodes of World War II. The main focus of research however, emphasized the reasons for the campaign whereas the study on the aspects of the joint command structure and the resulting implications for the success of the invasion was only conducted with minor efforts. Only during the recent decade with the restructuring of NATO and the tendency towards joint headquarters on the operational level has the interest of military academics shifted to joint warfare. From this perspective, operation 'Weserübung' definitely warrants examination, because it was truly 'joint' in planning and conduct. But despite this fact it was overshadowed by serious rivalries and disputes among the strategic headquarters of air force, army and navy and the newly invented Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (high command) under Hitler's direct control.
'Weserübung' was the first test for this new command structure. The success of this operation was at risk during all of its three phases: the planning for an invasion in Norway from 1939 on; the invasion itself; and the consolidation against an allied counter-invasion. This paper will initially analyze new joint command structure of the Wehrmacht and will illustrate the different motivations for or against this operation demonstrate the degree of influence during the three phases.
'Weserübung Nord' was a strategic and military necessity in the eyes of the German high command. It was planned and conducted as a joint operation and was heralded as a success from this standpoint. However, analysis indicates that this was not a matter of course. With disputes and rivalries on the strategic level between the army, navy, air force and high command and with Hitler assuming strategic command of the forces for the first time, joint operations were severely hampered and a defeat could only be prevented because the efforts on the operational and tactical level made up for the weak strategic level.
This paper concentrates on the so-called 'Weserübung Nord', the invasion of Norway. The occupation of Denmark -or 'Weserübung Süd'- will not be reviewed because this part of the operation faced, due to the early capture and cooperation of the Danish king, little military resistance.
DISCUSSION
At the time operation 'Weserübung' was executed the German strategic command was in a transition [i]. Starting with the death of the then German president von Hindenburg in 1934, Hitler had fastened his grip on the Wehrmacht (armed forces) and intended to convert the politically independent general staff, capable of making and unmaking governments, into an instrument of his will [ii]. Until 1938 the Reichskriegsministerium (war ministry of the Reich) led the Wehrmacht, where Hitler had no direct influence. Within this ministry the three services were organized beside each other; a joint command structure did not exist. The operational command for each branch was the traditional general staff. Basic principles within this command structure were unity of command, mission tasking and delegation of authority. Regarding a possible war in the future the German general staff identified the need for transition towards a joint command, which should draw up a unified military strategy and should support the Commander in Chief (CinC) in the conduct of the common operations of the three branches of the armed forces (Gesamtkriegführung). It was supposed to be the coordination instrument between navy, army and air force. Hitler realized the chance that such an idea bore-centralized control of all branches of the armed forces. Consequently, in 1938 he dismissed the war ministry and created the new joint command, the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (OKW). It had no command authority over the three services and was not designed as a true joint operational staff. It rather gave Hitler the control over the German military. Irrespective of his lack of experience and capacity [iii] he announced himself as CinC of the armed forces and assumed command over the three services. Furthermore he gave up the general staff system in favour of a joint High Command, which had merely the function to advise Hitler and to mediate between him and the CinC's. Its command structure was designed according to the national-socialistic ideology, the Führerprinzip [iv], and enabled Hitler to assume overwhelming joint command.
This modification was a major failure and had disastrous impacts on the course of World War II. Hitler, now head of the state, political leader and CinC, was simply not able to fulfill the various duties involved. Additionally, his personality did just not allow delegation and relief. Permanently presuming conspiracy, Hitler preferred close control rather than trust, and always remained more "concerned with the unquestioning obedience of his disciples than with the capacity of his collaborators." [v] Through this new OKW Hitler generated the war machinery, which denied any possible opposition [vi]. The following graph illustrates the strategic command structure from 1938 on:
Control of
The operational level of command was embedded in this structure as Wehrmachtführungsstab (armed forces operational staff) under Jodl. The major problem here was that it proved itself as too small in the conduct of any large-scale operation. The navy for example was represented only by a handful of staff officers, which "suited the continental conceptions of Hitler himself" [vii]. The small size of the OKW would admittedly ensure the mobility and flexibility needed for the application of the Blitzkrieg strategy and would make certain that Hitler would not loose the overview. [viii] The manpower and experience especially for combat support requirements was not sufficient at all. "Jodl's staff was in any case too weak and too one-sided for conducting a global war." [ix] The general staffs of the branches had the adequate staffs at their disposal, but they remained reluctant to accept the OKW as superior command. [x] The refusal by the CinC's of the army, navy and air force thwarted a clear line of command on the operational level throughout the war. The high command on the other hand never became independent from Hitler and could not accomplish its role as superior command for the coordination of the three services.
This difficult command structure took away the operational command from the general staff and lifted it on the strategic level under the direct influence of Hitler. Hereby it also permitted the CinC's and the ideological leaders to interfere with operations. In fact, it was not a military tool towards more joint efficiency; it was merely Hitler's instrument to control the armed forces. For 'Weserübung' this bore a huge risk because the CinC's were not uniformly convinced about the necessity of an invasion in Norway but had divergent motives. The following paragraphs will demonstrate the problems among navy, air force, army and political party concerning 'Weserübung'.
The navy, under Admiral Raeder, initially drew the attention to the northern theatre of operation. The roots lay in the experiences of World War I. [xi]. During this war, the contribution of the navy, in comparison to the German army, remained marginal until its end. [xii]. Great Britain had, despite the fact of Norway's neutrality, closed the bottleneck between Scotland and Norway and hereby contained the German Hochseeflotte (Grand Fleet) in the North Sea. Raeder was determined to avoid the same situation and to secure a decisive role for the navy in World War II. Therefore Norway played a key role in his considerations. [xiii]
After the outbreak of World War II the Royal Navy tried again to enclose the German navy within its territorial waters, and this challenged the aim of Raeder's naval strategy - disruption of the British trade routes in the Atlantic mainly with surface ships. [xiv] But at first Norway remained strictly neutral and the British embargo failed to be effective. [xv] German warships and merchant ships could still enter the Atlantic via Norwegian territorial waters. Furthermore Germany's special concern, the flow of iron ore from the Swedish city Kiruna [xvi], remained unobstructed. [xvii] As long as Norway's neutrality was not violated by the allies, Germany had unlimited access to the Swedish iron ore and to the Atlantic. Therefore, Germany formally notified the Norwegian Government at the start of the war that Germany would respect its neutrality. [xviii]
For Great Britain the Norwegian neutrality was their Achilles heal. Winston Churchill, then First Sea Lord, was well aware of the possibilities of blockading Germany through Norway and of opening a northern front for Germany by landing troops, but under the given situation the Royal Navy could not control the leak of the Norwegian territorial waters, and especially the delivery of iron ore to Germany. [xix] Raeder became alerted when at the end of September 1939 Admiral Canaris, then Chef der Abwehr (Chief of Foreign and Counter Intelligence), informed him "that certain ominous signs pointed to Britain's intention to land forces in Norway." [xx]. On October 10, 1939 Raeder briefed Hitler about the latest intelligence and drew his attention onto a possible invasion of Norway by Great Britain. [xxi] Until that time Hitler had given no thought to this potential problem because "he was not very familiar with the conditions of naval warfare." [xxii] Hitler and Raeder came to the agreement that the neutrality of Norway was in Germany's best interest and that no imminent threat existed so far. But in November 1939 the issue was raised again when the Soviet Union invaded Finland. After all, this aggression gave Churchill a good opportunity to order preparation for an invasion in Norway, not only to land troops for the support of Finland, but furthermore in order to gain control over the iron ore resources around Kiruna and to threaten Germany from the North. Once more intelligence warned about an Allied intent to land in Norway in order to intervene in favour for Finland. It was confirmed in December 1939, when Vidkun Quisling, the leader of the Norwegian nationalists, met Hitler. [xxiii] As a result from this meeting Hitler ordered the OKW to deal with the Norway subject. The product of this planning, Studie Nord (Study North), was completed at the end of December and again came to the result that Norwegian neutrality was favoured; however, it was decided to start joint preparations for an invasion in Norway. [xxiv] Raeder realized that sea power is a product of the fleet and sufficient bases [xxv] and he recognized that he had to focus Hitler's attention to the operational need of bases outside of the German Bight in order to avoid containment of the navy by Britain. [xxvi] Furthermore, he saw the risk of a northern Allied front and the implications for the control of the Baltic Sea and the North German coastline. Finally, he realized the strategic necessity of the iron ore supply from Sweden to Germany via Norwegian territorial waters. His influence was the initial driving force for conduct of 'Weserübung'.
The position of the air force was different. Feldmarschall Göring endeavored to prove the decisive importance of the air force for modern warfare and especially for the Blitzkrieg strategy. Within the last few years they had developed capabilities that would be described today as revolutions in military affairs. For example, paratroops or strategic airlift that had huge significance during the later conduct of 'Weserübung'. Even Göring intended to increase the importance of the air force relative to the two other services. But Göring had concentrated his efforts on air-land war. The component for air-sea war consisted only of two groups comprising some sixty aircraft, which had previously belonged to the navy. [xxvii] It had been neglected because Hitler had positively assured him that any war with Britain before 1942 could be ruled out [xxviii]. Consequently, Göring focused on Fall Gelb, the invasion of France, and intended to concentrate his efforts. 'Weserübung' meant a distraction for him, and he was very reluctant to assign forces. He argued that the German offense in France would bind all allied forces. No Allied troops would be available for any operation in Norway, and all own forces should be employed in France. When he realized in January 1940 that 'Weserübung' was inevitable, Göring became over-confident, claimed that the German dive-bombers were able to drive the allied naval forces from the sea [xxix] and intended to take over the operational planning for 'Weserübung'. Hitler was aware about Göring's ambitions [xxx] but refused this approach because he regarded the air force general staff and in particular Göring himself as not qualified for the planning and conduct of joint operations and he was aware that the navy undertook the main effort. [xxxi] He even declined that the head of the planning staff within the OKW should be an air force officer. This embarrassed Göring and he became very averse to the support of 'Weserübung'. During the conduct he successfully insisted that all air force assets remained under his command throughout the operation.
Like the air force, the army was very reserved towards planning for an invasion in Norway. The attack on Poland was just finished and all planning efforts concentrated on the offensive in the west. The result was uncertain; nobody expected the later overwhelming success of the invasion of France. [xxxii] Norway had never been considered as a possible theatre of operations. Halder, then chief of the general staff of the army, rejected any operation in Norway because of the difficult terrain, poor transport lanes and too long logistic chains. [xxxiii] He argued that operations in Norway would be possible only with a concentration of the military industry for army purposes, and this was unacceptable for the other services. Another reason for the reluctance of 'Weserübung' was that the operational command for this operation was held within the OKW. Halder regarded the OKW as a strategic planning organ and had earlier warned Keitel to stay out of the conduct of operations. [xxxiv] With the assignment of 'Weserübung' to the OKW this command for the first time assumed responsibility for operational planning, which until then had been the general staff's alone. [xxxv] Halder concluded that this arrangement would usurp the role of the general staff. 'Weserübung' would reduce the role of the general staff and entail a huge aversion among the strategic level of the army towards this operation.
Finally, the Nazi party has to be taken into account. Rosenberg, the chief ideologist of the Nazi party and Hitler's advisor, promoted the invasion in Norway for two reasons. In his view the Scandinavian race was regarded as truly Arian, and Norway played a key role in the future Grossgermanisches Reich (Greater German Empire). Trondheim for example should be developed as one of the main German cities. [xxxvi] The second consideration was the access to heavy water. This material was necessary for the production of the atomic bomb, and the only company in Europe that produced it was located in Norway. Even though these thoughts were out of the focus of the military leaders, it probably motivated Hitler to agree on the invasion in Denmark and Norway.
On January 27, 1940 Hitler ordered, based on intelligence reports about increasing Allied activity in Norway, [xxxvii] to establish a special staff within the OKW, which should encompass one senior officer from each branch of the armed forces. He was aware that the navy held the main effort at the initial stages of 'Weserübung' and assigned the lead of the planning staff to a naval officer. [xxxviii] When this staff under the command of Kapitän zur See Krancke constituted on February 5, 1940 the representative of the air force was still missing due to Göring's protest. [xxxix] The staff developed a plan of operations for the invasion in Norway called 'Weserübung'. [xl] During the planning the operations staffs of all three services were excluded from participation. [xli] The army was especially embarrassed when the naval officer Krancke, who was not even a member of the general staff but the commanding officer of the cruiser Admiral Scheer, increased the earlier demand for one division of army troops up to corps size without even consulting the army headquarter and general staff.
'Weserübung' started off under these diverging motives. Despite the need for joint cooperation on the operational level intense rivals on the strategic level in fact had a huge influence and endangered the whole operation. The next section will show how the Hitler and the operational command dealt with this problem.
On February 16, 1940 the discussion about Norwegian neutrality reached a peak due to the Altmark incident [xlii]. The attack by the British destroyer HMS Cossack within Norwegian territorial waters and the inability of the Norwegian navy to prevent the border violation alerted the German military planners. Raeder stated, "This incident proved without a doubt that Norway was completely helpless to maintain its neutrality even if the Norwegian government wished to do so." [xliii] Hitler chose to intervene with military means [xliv] and ordered to establish a special joint staff (Sonderstab Gruppe XXI) under the direct command of the OKW. Instead of assigning the operation to the general staff of the army under General Halder, Hitler chose to appoint a relative junior officer at the lower corps command level, General der Infanterie von Falkenhorst [xlv], who accepted gladly [xlvi]. The army was not even officially informed and found out about this assignment only when the OKW bypassed the normal army channels and started assigning units to the operation. [xlvii]
By putting von Falkenhorst directly under his command Hitler deliberately excluded the army general staff and the staff of the air force from any active participation in the planning of 'Weserübung'. Hereby he neutralized the negative influence of both branches. But he had generated another problem: The OKW and the general staff became two parallel headquarters.
Von Falkenhorst's staff -Gruppe XXI- encompassed only fifteen officers, [xlviii] and suffered from the lack of manpower within the OKW. His group was simply too small to oversee all the associated functions such as logistics or intelligence and called upon the general staff for help. The general staff branches had to formulate large parts of the plan, "their efficiency suffered from having two sets of superiors simultaneously" [xlix], and this caused further friction between the army and OKW. [l]
The navy and the air force were not assigned under the command of this staff. Raeder and Göring had the political power to keep the OKW out of their spheres and both services remained independent from von Falkenhorst [li]. Another reason might have been that Hitler anticipated seniority problems between Raeder and Göring as CinC's on the one side and von Falkenhorst as Joint Task Force Commander on the other side. [lii] This entailed an organizational problem because the operational headquarters were not established in one location. Von Falkenhorst's Gruppe XXI planned to operate from Oslo, the air force general staff stayed in Hamburg, and the OKW and the navy remained in Berlin, and the operational planning staff had no joint structure.
The latter facts show that during the planning phase the concept of 'joint' was merely a phrase than reality. In fact, navy and air force conducted their planning for 'Weserübung' completely separate from von Falkenhorst's staff. 'Weserübung' lacked a single line of command at the operational level from the onset, and unity of command was not achieved. The following graphs demonstrate the intended and the actual command structure during operation 'Weserübung' and support this statement:
Intended structure
Actual structure
On March 1, 1940 Hitler issued his 'Directive for occupation of Denmark and Norway'. The mission statement is an early indication of the limited authority that von Falkenhorst had as joint commander over his naval and airborne assets:
"The task of group XXI: Capture by surprise of the most important places on the coast by sea and airborne operations. The navy will take over the preparation and carrying out of the transport by sea of the landing troops as well as the transport of the forces which will have to be brought to Oslo in a later stage of the operation. It will escort supplies and reserves on the way over by sea. The air force, after the occupation has been completed, will ensure air defense and will make use of Norwegian bases for air warfare against Britain." [liii]
General von Falkenhorst developed, based on Krancke's preparations, the operational plan [liv]. He knew that the operation depended on the navy and air force for solving the transport problem and probably expected difficulties with Raeder and Göring in the conduct of the operation. Therefore his operation order was very detailed and left no questions open. This bore a huge risk. He employed several new ideas like transport of infantry by combatant ships and airlift and he relied on forces like the paratroops, which had not yet proved their combat efficiency.
During the initial phase of the conduct, the transportation of the ground troops into theater, the main effort lay on the navy; and this phase remained under the command of Admiral Raeder. Several supply ships deployed towards Norway and waited for the main force to follow. Von Falkenhorst held command over all land forces. The initial landing was conducted on April 9, 1940 with small detachments [lv] at five cities along the Norwegian coastline between Narvik and Oslo. [lvi] The remaining army troops arrived via airlift and sealift during the following week. The parachute troops were tasked to seize airfields in order to enable close air support for the ground troops provided by the air force. The air force contributed some 1,000 aircraft with the initially tasks to suppress the Royal Navy and the Norwegian fortresses at the fjord entrances and to conduct strategic airlift. All movements were precisely timed and alternatives in case of failure were foreseen. The drop of paratroops at Oslo airport for example was ordered for 'Weserzeit' plus 185 minutes, and they were given twenty minutes to secure the landing area for the landings of infantry, which should occur from plus 205 minutes on.
Initially the plan worked out very well. The majority of the German navy ships avoided encounters with the Royal Navy and could transport the troops to all ports of debarkation as previously planned. Only in the Oslo Fjord Norwegian opposition delayed the landing for half a day. During this time the Norwegian king could escape, which led to a strong Norwegian resistance throughout the occupation of Norway. But in general the landing of ground troops was conducted as preplanned and shocked the Norwegian civilian and military authorities. The ground and parachute troops took the mobilization centers and the airfields and thereby paralyzed the Norwegian military and enabled employment of the air force against the Royal Navy. This allowed the rest of the German sealift echelons to land without hindrance.
Von Falkenhorst at first was favoured by fortune. All operational objectives were achieved without significant delay [lvii]. This was achieved firstly due to his detailed operation order, where all actions were coordinated upfront. Furthermore the operational component commanders worked closely together. Hitler had no direct influence on the assets of navy and air force, and therefore the high command had no chance to direct any action. Besides this, the initial invasion was victorious because the transport units of the navy and air force accepted to operate under a very high risk. The major surface ships deployed into the North Sea despite the superior Royal Navy and entered the Norwegian fjords in face of the coastal batteries. The paratroops suffered heavy losses but could achieve their mission and the air force transport groups landed their infantry battalions even before some of the airfields had been secured. [lviii] But during the following defense against an Allied counter-invasion and consolidation of German military power the successful and detailed plan showed its two major weaknesses: insufficient flexibility and the lack of the ability to quickly re-assess the developing situation because of the dispersed location of the operational staff. Fortunately, for Germany, the Wehrmacht suffered the majority of losses among units, which had already fulfilled their task for 'Weserübung'.
This confirms that the problems on the strategic level and the lack of joint structure on the operational level was compensated by a operation order, which left no room for discussion, by cooperation of the operational component commanders and by the bold actions of the formations on the tactical level.
The German navy endured the worst losses. Firstly, Hitler ordered the surface ships to remain in port after the landings in order to encourage the army troops. Hereby he enabled quick location and concentration for the Royal Navy. [lix] On April 13, 1940 a British destroyer group under command of Admiral Sir Forbes encountered a large group of German ships. A heavy fight started until the German ships ran out of fuel and were beached or sunk. At the end of the day Germany had lost half of its destroyers and the German surface fleet was severely crippled. [lx]
The German campaign ashore was more successful. The terrain of Norway did not allow mutual support between the different army contingents. They had to rely only on their organic resources and fought independent battles, only supported when air force or navy assets were available. The following two examples will display the tremendous efforts on the tactical level, which finally ensured the German victory. The Allies landed ground troops [lxi] from April 14, 1940 on near Andalsnes and Namsos in order to break the German hold on central and northern Norway. But during the next two weeks the numerically superior Allied forces (6:1) were defeated by the supremely confident German Group Trondheim under tactical command of General Woytasch and by the air force, which provided aggressive air support. [lxii] The situation in Narvik was less favourable for German troops. Cut of from reinforcements by British sea control and bare of air support due to weather limitations the 3rd Mountain Division under the command of General Dietl had to fight on their own. His Division included only 2,000 infantrymen and 2,600 disembarked sailors [lxiii]. At the beginning of May he faced an Allied strength of 24,500 troops. But Dietl did not resign: He was aware that Narvik was the most important port for the iron ore supply and fought aggressive delaying actions to maintain a foothold in this region. Hitler was not willing to give any reinforcements to this vital area and was willing to sacrifice his troops in the north of Norway. He did not see at that moment that all success of 'Weserübung' was dependent on one objective - the access to Narvik. On April 18, 1940, in a fit of nervousness he drafted an order for the force in northern Norway to withdraw into neutral Sweden and allow itself to be interned. [lxiv] Only the deliberate delay of Hitler's order by a relatively junior officer -and in the meantime a congratulatory telegram to the troops in Narvik by von Brauchitsch, army commander in chief- prevented that the order to withdraw was finally sent. [lxv] This first panic attack of Hitler and his inclination to coordinate and control down to the tactical level sent ripples of anxiety through the high command and von Brauchitsch, CinC army, raised the question "how they were going to manage in the coming offense in the west if the Führer was already losing his nerve in front of Narvik." [lxvi] Only on May 14, 1940 Hitler finally granted limited reinforcements. [lxvii] General Dietl, with his iron will and the confidence of his men could remain in the area until the Allies, in the face of the German invasion of France, which shifted priorities, gave up Narvik and evacuated on June 8, 1940. A regiment of infantry and a sprinkling of troops from other arms, supported by a crescendo of bombing by the air force, which, after capture of the airfields by paratroops and infantry, established air superiority over Norway, had held the north, and largely contributed to the swift German success. [lxviii] These two scenarios are excellent examples how strong-minded tactical commanders and confident troops fought the battles in Norway. It becomes especially evident how the sailors, infantrymen and airmen on the tactical level fought a joint war together despite the abuse on the strategic level. [lxix]
Conclusion
Operation 'Weserübung', as the first joint operation of the Wehrmacht, was from a German perspective certainly very successful in its execution. The reasons for the triumph were manifold: Of course, the invasion in France shifted the Allied focus from Scandinavia to Western Europe and led to the end of the Allied counter-invasion. [lxx] But the key factor was the personal effort of the tactical commanders to cooperate and to coordinate military action and the courage and will of the German troops to fight together.
On the contrary, the German triumph was not however the result of the newly established and highly insufficient joint command structure of the OKW. This structure undermined basic principles of the traditional German general staff system. Hitler assumed overall command for an operation for the first time, and he continuously intervened during the conduct of the operation down to the operational level and even to the tactical level and hereby contradicted the authority delegated to von Falkenhorst as joint task force commander. Moreover, the navy and the air force did not comply with the requirement for unity of command. Instead of being subordinated under the command of von Falkenhorst the participating forces remained under the command of the respective strategic and operational commanders. Göring and Raeder still had the possibility to interfere with von Falkenhorst's decisions throughout the operation. These problems in the command structure had several implications for the execution of the operation: The joint character of the operation was seriously hampered by a lack of understanding among the services on the strategic level. This led directly to possible friction between the services when it came to mutual support.
'Weserübung' bore the potential for several lessons learned. The new command structure of the OKW was, for the first time, responsible for the conduct of an operation. Hitler, for the first time assumed operational command. Finally, some new types of forces like the paratroops were employed for the first time. But the lessons were not learned, mainly due to the success of 'Weserübung'. Hitler did not see that it was not his leadership, but the operational and tactical level of command compensating his disability. Therefore the inadequate [lxxi] command structure was not changed. Furthermore, Hitler did not realize that he had an insufficient picture of the situation. Despite this fact, he incessantly tried to intervene even with tactical decisions. With his totalitarian command style, he did not learn throughout the war how to delegate and never allowed Keitel or Jodl to exercise any authority independently. [lxxii] In fact, Hitler dominated or even eliminated every competing individual personality like for example later Raeder. The German general staff kept their distance from Hitler as best as they could, but their sense of duty and their oath of loyalty made resistance impossible. Furthermore Hitler did not agree with Jodl to increase the size of the staff within the OKW because he favoured a staff, which was small enough to pack up and move on short notice.
This paper has explained the problems on the strategic level and it has exemplified the efforts on the operational and tactical level during the conduct of operation 'Weserübung'. It has proved that operation 'Weserübung' was not won by a superior joint command structure and a decisive strategic commander, Adolf Hitler. On the contrary it confirmed that the rivals on the strategic significantly hampered efficient joint operational planning and execution of 'Weserübung'. The German defeat was only prevented by a tremendous effort of cooperation between the operational component commanders and by the courageous joint fight of German soldiers at sea, in the air and on the ground. Because of that they were able to compensate for Hitler's inadequate military ability, the divided strategic level of command and the weak high command.
[i] "Oberkommando der Wehrmacht".
Internet: http://www.dhm.de/lemo/html/wk2/kriegsverlauf/oberkommando/index.html
[ii] Trevor-Roper, H. R.: "Hitler's war directives 1939-1945." London: Sidgwick and Jackson 1964, pg. xviii.
[iii] Ruge, Friedrich: "Sea Warfare." 1939-1945. A German viewpoint. London: Cassell and Company Ltd. 1957, pg. 42.
[iv] The 'Führerprinzip' encompassed the centralization of authority within one person. All subsequent levels of command became remotely controlled and had merely a coordinative function. It relied on a high degree of coordination and on command tasking (in opposition to mission tasking and delegation of authority).
[v] Ruge, pg. 42. This in fact was the reason why he chose Keitel as chief of the OKW, an officer with limited capabilities whose major traits were unconditional loyalty to Hitler and opportunism
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:01 AM
Germany's dominant state in the middle 1800s was Prussia, which had risen to prominence mainly through its military. Ever since its defeat at the hands of Napoleon in 1806-1807, the Prussian military had dedicated itself to becoming the best in the world, both to return to the glory days of Frederick the Great and to ensure that such embarrassment at the hands of the French was never repeated. Prussia developed the world's first General Staff, promoting excellence in all phases of military activity. The system proved itself in 1866 when Prussia easily defeated Austria in a border dispute; that war seemed almost a tune-up for a return match with France. Under the leadership of Chancellor Otto von Bismarck, Prussia gathered the lesser German states around it in a North German Confederation and aimed toward the unification of all Germanic principalities into one state. A war with France would serve as a focus for German nationalism.
After the revolution of 1848, Napoleon III of France reigned as head of state. The Second Empire was a shadow of the First Empire established by Napoleon Buonaparte, but France hoped to maintain a major role in world affairs, even if it could not reach the heights of grandeur of the beginning of the nineteenth century. During the war between Prussia and Austria, Napoleon III had given Prussia tacit support in return for generalized promises of reward. France hoped to gain border lands along the western Rhine after that war, but Bismarck refused to cede any such territory to non-Germans. He then stood in the way of a proposed French purchase of Luxembourg from Holland. When Napoleon hoped to gain some expansion at Belgium's expense through heavy French investment in that country's rail system, Bismarck reminded England of possible French control of the Channel coast, and English opposition halted French aims. In the face of these attempts by France, Bismarck convinced the southern German state of Bavaria to join in a defense pact.
The question of a new heir to the Spanish throne brought Franco-Prussian difficulties to a head. After Queen Isabella was deposed in 1868, the government reorganized itself as a constitutional monarchy, but the Spanish were in need of a monarch. They secretly appealed to Prince Leopold of the house of Hohenzollern, a distant cousin of Prussian king Wilhelm. Negotiations to offer the crown to Leopold were conducted between the Spanish government and the Prussian court. Wilhelm had little interest in the matter, and occasionally spoke against the scheme, but Bismarck pushed Leopold's cause. When the French learned of the negotiations, they feared being surrounded by Hohenzollerns; they had fought such possibilities since the Holy Roman Empire of Charles V and the War of the League of Augsburg. The French ambassador to Prussia met with Wilhelm in Holland and secured the withdrawal of Prussian support for Leopold, but then he pressed his luck by demanding that no future claimant would ever come from the Hohenzollern dynasty. When Bismarck received word of this demand in a telegram, he doctored the communication to make it appear that the French were rude to Wilhelm and that the kaiser had dismissed the ambassador. This provoked French public opinion to the point of war; Napoleon, frustrated by Prussia at every turn, complied.
The French army was not as prepared for war as was French public opinion. Despite minor improvements to the French military over the last two years, it was no match for the Prussians. Under the military leadership of Count Helmuth von Moltke, the German General Staff was prepared for almost every contingency, and they could field an army twice the size of the French. Moltke planned on drawing the French army into a trap, but aggressive action on the part of a Prussian general warned the French of the impending danger. The French slowed their advance to the frontier, but this did little but delay the inevitable. Napoleon divided most of his army into two sections, to be based around the cities of Sedan and Metz. Prussian forces outperformed the French in all phases of warfare, and both French armies found themselves surrounded. On 1 September 1870, French forces in Sedan under Marshal Maurice de MacMahon surrendered some 100,000 men, including Napoleon III himself. A month later, the fortress at Metz, under the command of Marshal Francois Bazaine, also surrendered. Meanwhile, Prussian forces drove across northern France toward Paris.
Hearing of Napoleon's capture, the government in Paris was overthrown; a revolutionary government under Leon Gambetta tried to rally the public to the French colors. The forces they raised could not compete with the crack Prussian troops, and Paris was soon surrounded. The siege of the Paris Commune lasted until January 1871. As Prussian forces besieged the city, Wilhelm was named kaiser, emperor of a united Germany. Bismarck had finally succeeded in unifying the German states, which had not been under one rule since the time of the early Holy Roman Empire under Charlemagne's grandsons.
The French defeat brought an end to the Second Empire, but more importantly for Europe, it brought the French a burning desire for vengeance. The rapid military defeat, the surrender of the head of state, and the forced payment of reparations totaling some $3 billion were embarrassing, and the French military and population began looking for the next war to return the humiliation. France created a General Staff along the lines of Prussia's and laid plans for a decisive attack sometime in the future. Plan XVII was 40 years in the making, and would prove ineffective when the time came for its implementation in August 1914. The French people and government also felt the humiliation, and Franco-German relations, never cordial, remained strained. The two nations struggled with each other diplomatically in the world of empire-building at the end of the nineteenth century, and their rivalry over Morocco almost brought about World War I in 1905. The alliance systems built up by each side laid the groundwork for the Great War of 1914-1918.
Weapons of Doctrine
Unlike the wars of Napoleon I, which had been fought by armies with very similar weapons to each other, this was also a war in which weapons technology made a major difference to the way that both sides fought. In 1870 the famed Dreyse needle gun, with an effective range of 600 m, was nearly obsolete. In 1868, as part of their reforms, the French Army was equipped with a rifle of the next generation, the excellent Chassepot breech-loader, with a range of 1,500 m. Smokeless powder for both rifles and artillery was more than a decade in the future, and the clouds of smoke plus the need for close formations on the battlefield provided mass targets easily visible at the Chassepot's maximum range.
If the French were a generation ahead in rifles, the Prussians had a similar advantage in artillery. After encountering the very good Austrian artillery in 1866, they had re-equipped with the latest Krupp-built steel rifled breech-loaders with percussion-fused shells that burst on impact. There were two main calibres of field artillery: the '4-pdr' field gun (actually of 9 lb or just under 80 mm calibre) which equipped both the field artillery and horse artillery, and the '6-pdr' field gun (15 lb or 90 mm calibre); the maximum range of the 6 lb piece was 4,600 m. In practice field guns on both sides seldom opened fire at above 3,000 m, which was their effective range. The impressive Prussian train of siege artillery, of up to 210 mm calibres with ranges of between 4,000 m and 8,000 m, was of a similar high quality. The French had not had the time or money to modernise their artillery. They still used muzzle-loading bronze cannon, chiefly the 1858 pattern rifled 4-pdr calibre field gun with an upper range of 3,300 m, and the 1839 pattern 12-pdr smoothbore siege gun converted to rifling (the '12 pounder Napoleon' of American Civil War fame), with a notional upper range of 5,600 m. As a further disadvantage, these had only time-fused shells that burst at restricted pre-set ranges. French factories did not produce sufficient percussion fuses until after the war's start, and not until November 1870 could French artillery hold its own against the Prussians. The French artillery also included batteries of the Mitrailleuse, an early machine gun mounted on wheels and treated as the equivalent of a field gun that could fire 125 rounds a minute out to about 2,500 m. Contrary to one common myth of the war this was a very effective weapon that the Prussians greatly respected.
The cavalry on both sides had serious problems: generals tended to underrate them, and they were badly used. For almost 20 years cavalry had been told that they were obsolete, since their horses could not survive the increases in firepower. But there was nothing that could replace cavalry in their two main functions of scouting for information, which with the new large armies was of increasingly greater importance, and making a mounted charge on the battlefield to scatter the enemy. Again after their experience in 1866 fighting superior Austrian cavalry, the Prussian cavalry were rather better than the French at scouting, but the difficulties in getting the information back was one reason why Moltke believed that detailed planning was impossible, and why the armies often marched blindly about the countryside.
These differences in weapons between the two sides meant that battles took the form either of Prussian infantry taking heavy casualties trying to close the gap between the range of the Chassepot rifle and the Dreyse, or of French infantry duelling at long range against Prussian artillery while the Prussian infantry hung back. In fact both sides' infantry were more reluctant to move to close range than their commanders liked, although not for lack of courage. Cavalry was still used to charge in battle, chiefly to disrupt enemy fire by presenting a second target in order to save infantry in trouble, rather than with any hope of a decisive effect. Again, the Prussians were better at choosing their moment than the French, who often threw away their cavalry in hopeless charges. Although some French and all Prussian cavalry carried breech-loading carbines (shortened rifles), neither had adopted the dismounted tactics combined with the charge seen in the later stages of the American Civil War.
Posted on September 09 2009 at 07:00 AM
"Professionals" have special knowledge in a particular field obtained through a demanding course of study regulated by senior members. They also have a high degree of autonomy and self-control in their jobs, tend to be regulated by codes of ethics, generally enjoy high social prestige, and have an ideology of serving the needs of the public.
However, ethics and ideals have not prevented professionals from playing important roles in the Holocaust and other genocides of the twentieth century.
Psychiatrist, Robert Jay Lifton, noted that "Genocidal projects require the active participation of educated professionals-physicians, scientists, military leaders, lawyers, clergy, university professors and other teachers-who combine to create not only the technology of genocide but much of its ideological rationale, moral climate, and organizational process."
Involvement in a genocide can assume many forms and degrees of complicity, ranging from failure to protest or resist through active participation in killing the victims. Following are some examples of how professionals tacitly or actively contributed to the Holocaust as bystanders, accomplices, and perpetrators.
Many German professionals were bystanders during the Holocaust. The proportion of Jews in most professions was greater than in the general population. As a result, non-Jewish professionals were especially likely to witness the persecution of their Jewish colleagues. Many academics and other professionals-although neither publicly advocating nor directly contributing to the genocide-nonetheless served it by their silence, demonstrating to the planners and perpetrators that Hitler's murderous vision would encounter no meaningful resistance. In this way, bystanders-particularly professionals who occupied positions of high prestige-played important roles in creating what Lifton called the "moral climate" conducive to genocide.
Beyond the tacit support of bystanders, genocidal projects require the participation of many accomplices, who never "get their hands dirty" or even witness the actual killing, but who nonetheless make indispensable contributions. For example, the German academic community played an integral role in the ideological rationalization of anti-Jewish measures during all stages of the Holocaust. Among specific academic disciplines, anthropologists played a particularly important role in promulgating the "scientific racism" that asserted that Jews were genetically inferior, and even dangerous, to the "Aryan" Germans. Eugenicists, likewise, contributed to the public acceptance of measures designed to segregate Jews from contact with non-Jewish Germans. Educators served as important accomplices to the Nazi ideological campaign against the Jews. Many university professors, through their lectures and publications, lent direct support to Hitler's unbridled racism and to the Nazi movement. The schools became important propaganda instruments, relentlessly inculcating students of all ages with the Nazi ideological principles of unquestioning obedience to authority and antisemitism. German doctors lent their prestige and expertise both to racist Nazi ideology and to policies designed to guarantee "racial purity." Throughout the Nazi regime, the members of the legal profession drafted law after law that robbed the Jews of their jobs, their business, and their homes. Similarly, the German business community served as an important accomplice by taking over enterprises that Jews were forced, by law, to relinquish. Architects drafted the detailed blueprints for the huge gas chamber-crematoria complexes at the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp.
Finally, the perpetrators of genocide are those involved in the actual killing process. Between 1939 and 1941, German physicians played key roles in the so-called "Euthanasia Program," in which as many as 100,000 mentally ill and retarded patients in German hospitals were murdered. Physicians who developed expertise in mass killing in the "Euthanasia Program" were utilized to set up the death camps where Jews and others were exterminated. Many officers of the Einsatzgruppen-the paramilitary "special duty groups" that followed the German Army into the Soviet Union in 1941 and 1942 and slaughtered nearly two million Jews-came from professional backgrounds. According to Hilberg, "The great majority of the officers of the Einsatzgruppen were professional men. They included a physician (Weinmann), a professional opera singer (Klinglehoeffer), and a large number of lawyers. These men were in no sense hoodlums, delinquents, common criminals, or sex maniacs. Most were intellectuals."
This entry has focused on ways in which professionals have contributed to genocidal projects. But it is important to note that professionals have often been targets of genocide, when the perpetrators attempt to reduce resistance by destroying the intelligensia of the victim group. Also, professionals have formed groups and organizations dedicated to resisting and preventing genocide and other massive violations of human rights.
References and Recommended Reading
Hilberg, Raul (1985). The Destruction of the European Jews. Three Volumes. Revised and Definitive Edition. New York: Holmes and Meier.
Lifton, Robert Jay (1986). The Nazi Doctors: Medical Killing and the Psychology of Genocide. New York: Basic Books.
Markusen, Eric (1991). Professions, professionals, and genocide. In Charny, Israel W. (Ed.), Genocide: A Critical Bibliographic Review. Volume 2. London: Mansell Publishing; and New York: Facts on File, pp. 264-298.
After it became clear, in late 1940, that it would be impossible to deport all the Jews to Madagascar, the idea began to take root that the solution would be to kill them. It seems that at first it was decided to murder the Jews in the Soviet territories. Preparations to that end were made in April and May 1941 with the training of four Einsatzgruppen (Action Groups). These followed hard on the heels of the German Army, which invaded the Soviet Union on June 22, 1941, killing at first Jewish males, and after a few weeks Jewish women and children as well. A large number of other units, police, SS, and others, also participated. Over one million, and some claim close to two million Jews were murdered within about eighteen months, by shooting, and in small part by exhaust gas pumped into trucks into which the victims were squeezed.
Mobile killing squads of the Einsatzgruppen eventually murdered over one million people guilty of nothing more than their religion; another 350,000 were probably killed by the army, antipartisan units, higher SS and police, in ghettos, or while fleeing.
Some 300,000 Jews were killed by Nazi Einsatzgruppen and Romanian troops in areas now constituting the republic of Moldova in 1941-1942.
In Romania, while most of the Jews in the northern parts of the country were killed, by Romanians as well as by Einsatzgruppen, the roughly 360,000 Jews of Central Romania (the Regat) were saved in August 1942, by a decision of the fascist regime that was motivated by diplomatic considerations and the military situation.
"Einsatzgruppen" (consisting of a mix of the SS, SD, Ordnungs and Schutzpolizei and foreign volunteers), which were responsible for the killing.
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I did my clinical masters look at the effects of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) in regard to the four Einsatzgruppe set up under Himmler's authority for the performance of the "Final Solution" on the Eastern Front. These units of German SS and police organization men, combined with foreign Auxiliaries, carried out mass executions of those of the Jewish faith, by the use of small arms and pits.
Within these units after they commenced their loathsome activities there was very quickly men who displayed acute signs of what we now call PTSD. In Einsatzgruppe A and B the men were allowed to carry out their executions, fortified with alcohol and drugs, and allowing the local gentile communities to actively participate.
The commander of Einsatzgruppe C, one Dr Otto Rasch (I'm sad to say a member of my trade) adopted different tactics. To quote from HONE Heinz. The Order of the Death's Head The Story of Hitlers SS. "In his view every man of the Einsatzgruppe must partake of its collective guilt; scenes of horror witness in common were to form the bond of comradeship holding the unit together, collective blood guild was to be its cement. Rasch insisted that every man of his Einsatzgruppe take part in executions (my note, this included the cooks, clerks, drivers and other admin or logistical personnel) the individual had to 'overcome himself" There was hardly a man in this Einsatzgruppe who did not suffer from the 'most horrible dreams', an eyewitness reported. Nevertheless, the aim was achieved-the camaraderie of guilt."
Ohlendort, the commander of Einsatzgruppe D, carried out his executions in military form. His unit was run on a strict disciplinary manner, no brutal activities carried out against its victims, everything done in calm and disciplined manners. To quote Hone "It was a macabre perversion of the military tradition, but the reasoning behind the policy was sound: the individual man of the Einsatzgruppe should have no contact with his victim, he should feel himself part of a unit acting as such and acting only on the orders of his superiors, thus eliminating any individual sense of guilt. No individual was allowed to do the shooting; moreover Ohlendorf took care to ensure that the victims remained calm up to the last minute, for many uproar carried with it the danger that the liquidators might start firing wildly into the crowd and running amok-and that prospect Ohlendorf feared more than a mass escape by the Jews." He also refused the use of gas vans, as it would have involved the contact of his men with their victims.
This most bizarre adoption of military order and discipline, Ohlendort maintained control of his unit, his strictly disciplined men received constant military retraining, his men retained their discipline and mental health(!!), on the disbandment of the unit in July 1942 the majority of its members went off to the Waffen SS divisions. Ohlendorf was executed 8 June 1951. The judges at Nuremberg described him as a Jekyll and Hyde whose actions were beyond the belief of normal men.
Gordon Angus Mackinlay
Posted on September 09 2009 at 06:58 AM
Found: the German raider Kormoran
Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has announced the discovery of the wreckage of the German raider Kormoran off the Western Australian coast.
The Finding Sydney Foundation has been searching for the vessel in the hope of finding the location of HMAS Sydney, which was sunk following a battle off the WA coast in November 1941.
The Sydney's entire crew of 645 went down with the ship in the Indian Ocean and its location has been a mystery for 66 years.
The foundation began a 30-day search earlier this month using sonar equipment on the ship Geosounder, about 200 nautical miles off the coast of Shark Bay.
The chairman of the Finding Sydney Foundation Ted Graham says the crew picked up the first sign of the wreckage on Friday evening and confirmed it was the Kormoran later that night.
He says the discovery significantly increases the chances of the Sydney being found.
"I'm very pleased. It gets us halfway to solving where the Sydney is," he said.
"Without finding the Kormoran our job would've been much harder. It's a fantastic step forward."
The crew plans to return to the Geraldton Port this week before going back to further examine the Kormoran.
Mr Rudd says it is a promising outcome which could lead to the discovery of HMAS Sydney.
"Finding the Kormoran is one big step forward," he said.
"Of course that does not mean that the search has yet found the Sydney itself but it does play one significant step closer.
"All of us concerned about this great ship and those of us who are concerned about what happened to the 645 brave souls who went down with her, have all these years been wondering where she lay and what in the end actually happened."
Ean McDonald, who was a Lieutenant Commander onboard HMAS Sydney in 1939, says it is fantastic news, although he is surprised the Kormoran was much further north than his research indicated.
He says the next challenge is to find HMAS Sydney, so the whole story of what happened that day can be pieced together.
"There's always been doubt about the whole action, how was Sydney surprised and sunk by the German raider," he said.
"There are many, many questions that would be presumably resolved when they find the ship and one can only congratulate the Sydney search people."
Federal Opposition Leader Brendan Nelson says the discovery of the Kormoran is significant.
"This is a very important part of Australia's history, not only our naval history but it's an important part of Australia's story of naval service," he said.
"There are many Australians whose lives and families were changed by this particular ship."
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