Countdown to D-Day

by Peter Margaritis

  The sailors have never been so wanted.

  1At least one source claims (without stating much foundation) that this was a personal trip, and that a discussion of possible options to change the current government were discussed. If this is true, perhaps Ruge might have met the field marshal there.

  Controversial military authority David Irving in his biography Trail of the Fox wrote that Rommel also traveled during this leave time to Brussels, and also called on General von Falkenhausen.Irving (perhaps with a slight slant) wrote, “When he met General Alexander von Falkenhausen, the aristocratic military governor of Belgium, in Brussels a few days later, he infuriated that elderly gentleman, an anti-Nazi, with his cheery confidence that he was going to inflict a big defeat on the enemy when they hit the beaches. Besides, field marshals whose whole military reputation is staked on forthcoming victory are unlikely to lend their names to a coup d’état.” Could this be the meeting that Ruge referenced in his Reminiscences? See footnote for March 23.

  2Lit. “material slaughter.” A war of attrition, where large forces of fresh men and material come in on each side and leave the battlefield either dead or wounded on the other; an analogy, no doubt, to the meat-grinder-like butchery of the battles in the trenches during World War I.

  Friday, March 3

  His leave over, Generalfeldmarschall Rommel leaves Herrlingen early for his return to France. Accompanied by his chief engineer, Meise, and his Ia operations officer von Tempelhoff (who has traveled from his home in Munich to meet them in Herrlingen), he drives to the Württemberg airport and they take off in Rommel’s converted He-111. The aircraft arrives over Paris in the afternoon, flying into a snowstorm.

  As the plane touches down, the passengers are harshly jolted when one of the aircraft’s tires suddenly suffers a blowout. The startled officers hold their breaths and brace themselves for a ghastly crash as the bomber starts bumping along the runway, lurching to the side, rubber screeching. But the field marshal’s luck once again holds as the momentarily surprised pilot manages to keep the plane from crashing and brings the Heinkel to a safe stop. Fortunately as it turns out, the aircraft has not suffered any serious damage, and the passengers, shaken up by the experience, hastily gather their gear and exit the plane.

  Rommel is no doubt thinking that, between the Allied fighters, bad weather, and now flat tires—enough of this endangering-your-life-in-the-air crap. Next time, he will go home by car.

  They ride off to Fontainebleau in heavy snow.

  ***

  Today, Generalfeldmarschall von Rundstedt is again mad, his anger rising from once again being insulted. He is the third generation in a family that has served the Fatherland for nearly sixty years, and yet his solid Prussian loyalty is being questioned. Army adjutant Rudolf Schmundt wants him to sign an oath of allegiance to the Führer.

  Schmundt’s actions are a culmination of developments that all stem from the fall of Stalingrad over a year ago. When von Paulus’ Sixth Army surrendered on February 2, 1943, among the prisoners taken by the Russians were nearly two dozen German generals, including corps commander General Seydlitz-Kurzbach, captured on January 30.1 Pressured by the Russians and no doubt upset by Hitler’s seemingly cold abandonment of their army, he and several other captured generals and colonels decided to cooperate with the enemy and participated in an anti-Nazi propaganda undertaking.

  Starting in the summer of 1943, they began to write a number of letters to senior German army generals serving on the Eastern Front, exhorting their compatriots to stop making this terrible war upon the Soviet Union, renounce the Nazi government, and join the “National Committee to Free Germany” movement (Nationalkomitee Freies Deutschland) that they were helping to create out of Moscow. Seydlitz-Kurzbach actually spoke of creating a German force of POWs to help liberate Nazi Germany.

  When Hitler was later informed that Field Marshal von Paulus himself had joined this “League of German Officers,” he was enraged.2

  Naturally, the generals in the Reich receiving these letters first considered them to be a hoax, or at least that the officers writing them were being forced to do so. But soon, most senior officers became convinced that Seydlitz’s campaign was genuine. And it was confirmed that Seydlitz’s signature was authentic.

  Recently, his group had broadcast their message a number of times to German units trapped in the Cherkassy pocket along the Dnieper River. Before the units’ breakout in mid-February, several league officers had tried to coerce the 54,000 embattled troops into surrendering. Some of these traitors to Germany had actually disguised themselves and infiltrated their lines, committing acts of sabotage and delivering notes to corps commanders about giving up.

  Hitler, for years paranoid about the loyalty of the senior German military strata, became quite upset over the whole thing. The demons in his head active, he began to wonder if he could trust any member of the Heeres officer corps.3 To allay his fears, Schmundt has finally decided to take action (based on recommendations from Goebbels). In early February, he drew up a written oath of allegiance to the Führer, and promised to get the signatures of the seven most critical army field marshals on it.

  So, flying in to Paris today, Schmundt has gone directly to the Hôtel Georges V in the heavy blizzard and has presented von Rundstedt with the purpose of his visit and the letter. After some grumbling and a number of choice resentful comments, von Rundstedt signs the document.

  Knowing that his welcome has worn out, Schmundt quickly takes his leave and heads down to Fontainebleau for Rommel’s signature. General Gause, who happens to be in Paris talking to OB West staff members about matters of unit deployment and transportation, meets Schmundt and tells him that Rommel has been on leave for the last ten days, but is due back to his headquarters. So he takes Schmundt back with him southeastward through the snowy streets of Paris to Fontainebleau, 80km away.

  Rommel has not yet shown up when they arrive, but arrives shortly thereafter in the late afternoon. He stomps the snow from his boots as he steps through the main entrance where Schmundt awaits him. He welcomes Schmundt to his headquarters, and the two of them go into Rommel’s study to talk.

  The army adjutant tonight wisely avoids mentioning the issue of the oath signature. That evening, they enjoy a happy, sumptuous dinner. At one point, Rommel pushes the conversation a bit when he remarks that “certain people” were once again making problems. His staff hope fervently that he is not talking about the high command in Schmundt’s presence.

  Later, Rommel calls home to let Lucie know that he made it safely. He asks her how Ajax is doing. He has left the dog in Herrlingen with her to keep her company, and so that she might perhaps better train him. Ajax had shown a wild streak in him, which at times drove the field marshal crazy. This last time that he had been on leave, he had decided to do some skiing, and thought to take Ajax with him. That had turned out to be a mistake. Each time the Rommel had started down the slopes, the dog had taken off after him, barking and going for his skis. He finally had to tie Ajax up, after which the dog would bark, struggle, and then howl as Rommel went down the slope.

  Lucie though, tells him his training of the dog is starting to pay off, because Ajax for the most part is minding her. He tells her about the plane’s flat tire, and she admonishes him to be more careful.

  Before turning in, he writes to his son:

  I was delighted to see your attitude to duty and everything else in life. Keep it up and do the name of Rommel proud…

  Only the man who has learned to obey—even against his better instincts and convictions—will make a capable officer, and learn how to master the supreme art of leading other men.

  Things have gone well today. Now, if only the Allies would cooperate…

  1Fifty-five-year-old General der Artillerie Walther von Seydlitz-Kurzbach, a World War I veteran, had served since 1939 on both fronts. He commanded the 12th Infantry Division in the 1940 French campaign. Taking part in the initial invasion of Russia in 1941, still comm
anding the 12th, he was awarded the Knight’s Cross the next spring when he broke his division out of the Russian Demyansk pocket. Promoted, he eventually took command of Sixth Army’s 51st Corps.

  At Stalingrad, arguing unsuccessfully for weeks that the trapped Germans should either try to break out or surrender, he was finally relieved of his command on January 25. Disgusted, he and several other officers deserted over to the enemy lines and were subsequently captured a few days later, less than a week before the Sixth Army itself surrendered.

  2His breach of faith was later scorned by the Germans, the affair being tantamount to their version of America’s Robert E. Lee, descendant of Richard Henry Lee (who first proposed and then later signed the Declaration of Independence), seceding with the South against the Union.

  3This was a repeat flare-up of a tirade that came back on January 31, when first Hitler found out that von Paulus was in the process of surrendering the entire Sixth Army. In a desperate attempt to get the general to hold out, Hitler had the day before promoted him to the rank of field marshal, in hopes that since no field marshal in German modern history had ever surrendered, von Paulus would not be the first. But the ploy had not worked and, furious over the subsequent surrender, Hitler had von Paulus sentenced to death in abstentia and bitterly swore that he would never promote another general to the rank of field marshal, because none of his generals could be trusted. Of course, he later changed his mind, and before the end of the war, he promoted twomore Army generals to the rank: Walter Model (March 1, 1944) and Ferdinand Schörner (April 5, 1945). In addition, he appointed two Luftwaffe generals to the rank: Wolfram Freiherr von Richthofen (February 16, 1943), and just before Hitler committed suicide, Robert Ritter von Greim (April 25, 1945).

  Saturday, March 4

  At the Berghof, planning continues for Unternehmen Margarethe I—the German occupation of Hungary. Though expected for some time now, it is now a sure thing that, because the occupational forces will have to be mobile units, a large part of them will have to come from the West (though some units will also be drawn from the Italian Front). Slated to be transferred over are the newly formed Panzer Lehr division and a number of mobile units from several infantry divisions. Hitler confers with Jodl and Keitel on the details.

  Later on, at the daily war conference, in response to reports of Allied preparations for the invasion in the West, Hitler repeats that he has a hunch that the main enemy thrust will be Normandy and Brittany, mostly because they are good areas to establish a beachhead.1 Jodl makes note of this in his diary:

  The Führer does not believe the Allies will make cross-Channel attacks at many points. For this their forces are not large enough. As particularly threatened he names Normandy and Brittany, both suitable for establishing bridgeheads. Garrisons of important strongpoints are to be strengthened.

  A message to that effect goes out to OB West and Heeresgruppe B later that afternoon.

  Though no one dares tell him, the Führer appears exhausted, no doubt from worrying about the East and Italy, as well as the normal matters of state. Deep lines are etching into his forehead, and he is having eye problems, induced he has been told, by stress. His doctor tells him to rest more. Would that he could…

  ***

  Generalfeldmarschall von Rundstedt enjoys a nice weekend in his Hotel suite, even though it is in downtown Paris. He knows that most German officers would give plenty to have their duty station in the French capital. But not him. He cannot wait for spring to come, so that he can move back to the outer suburb of St.-Germain-en-Laye. He is not captivated by the Parisian charm, especially during the holidays.

  Today, after taking care of business—a cursory look at the latest status reports—he sends a nice “care package” home to his wife, Bila.2 He then sits down to read a good book.

  ***

  It is a lovely day in central France, and spring is in the air. Just after breakfast, visiting General Rudolf Schmundt confers privately with Generalfeldmarschall Rommel in his study.

  The straightforward adjutant and Rommel had been friends for years, even more so since the early days of North Africa.3 The only threat to their relationship had come near the end of the Polish campaign in 1939. Schmundt had become upset with Rommel (actually, it was more like jealousy) because it seemed to Schmundt that Hitler was becoming closer to this new general than he was his own army adjutant. Indeed, several at Supreme Headquarters had felt that way. But that had been straightened out once Rommel had been assigned a combat command in France, and they had stayed good friends ever since.4

  The years have made their mark upon Schmundt’s appearance. Lines of age and stress are clear on his face. The affable, big-eared adjutant had once considered his job the supreme point in his life. Now though, with the war failing, and having slowly realized that his idol had feet of lead, he has suffered more and more bouts of depression. Rumor has it that his binges with alcohol have increased significantly.

  Schmundt now explains to Rommel the real purpose of his visit—the Seydlitz affair.

  “The Führer is furious at the treachery of certain generals who have been captured by the enemy, or deserted to them, at Stalingrad,” Schmundt says. He details the traitorous letters Seydlitz had sent to the many senior army generals. He reveals, “Since the battle of Cherkassy, we now have proof that Seydlitz’s signature on them is authentic.”

  Rommel comments that the Führer must be upset over this.

  Schmundt stresses, “What matters now is for the Führer to be sure he can trust his field marshals—to know you all stand loyally behind him.” Here he produces the oath of loyalty document, a joint statement from the field marshals disavowing any connection with these turncoats, and swearing undying fidelity to the Führer. Would the field marshal be so good as to sign the document?

  Scowling, the field marshal reads it and then pens his signature with a flourish, just below von Rundstedt’s fancy scrawl.

  Schmundt soon leaves—to get similar signatures from army field marshals Model, von Kleist, Busch, Weichs, and von Manstein.5

  Unsettled over the letter thing, Rommel and a few staff members go hunting for wild boar that afternoon, using two French sympathizers and their hunting dogs to flush their game for them. They scare up a couple of animals, but the boars manage to get past a few “somewhat inferior” hunters of their party.

  That evening, at the invitation of Naval Group West, Rommel and Ruge attend a special dinner soirée at Krancke’s lavish quarters in Evry.6 Also attending is Krancke’s superior, none other than GroβAdmiral Karl Dönitz, now Commander-in-Chief of the Kriegsmarine. Surrounded by a host of naval officers, he and Rommel feel each other out over an excellent dinner, and the two leaders afterwards have a stimulating conversation about the general defensive strategies for the coast.

  1The “hunch” was partially based upon the information microfilmed by a spy in Ankara, Turkey, code name “Cicero.” Hitler though, had at first been skeptical of the information, growling, “Why on earth did the British find it necessary to tell their ambassador in Turkey that?!?”

  2He usually referred to his wife by her middle name, and not her first name—Luise.

  3Back on February 12, 1941, Schmundt, initially (but temporarily) attachéd to Rommel’s staff, had accompanied him on his first flight down to North Africa, when Rommel had assumed command of the newly arriving German contingent there. Their friendship deepened appreciably in the next few weeks.

  4Schmundt had gone on to become Hitler’s chief of army personnel and a loyal follower, as well as being his military adjutant.

  5The often-cantankerous von Manstein was the last to sign what he called this “rather curious document.” In fact, he was so upset with Hitler at that time over the failed Russian campaign, that he actually considered not endorsing this ludicrous oath of allegiance. In the end, the only reason he actually did sign it was because his name was the last on the list, and he would have looked like a fool if he had refused. But he did tell Schmundt
that, all the same, he thought the document was not needed, certainly not from the point of view of the professional German officer. Weichs later wrote in his own diary, “Such a reaffirmation of our oath of allegiance seems unmilitary to me. An officer’s loyalty ought to be taken for granted.”

  6Evry is located roughly between Paris and Fontainebleau to the southeast. While Krancke and his staff stayed at Evry, they worked during the day in their Paris building on the Bois de Boulogne.

  Sunday, March 5

  At the Berghof, an enthusiastic Air Inspector-General Milch and Armaments Director Saur report on production of new weapon technology. Their estimates are openly optimistic, despite the pounding German cities have recently been taking by British bombers at night and American bombers during the day. The Führer gives them permission to give fighter production top priority. He further instructs them to make sure that two new underground aircraft assembly factories nearing completion have enough space to include all the facilities needed to completely construct the aircraft underground. To support this, he orders over five dozen miners recently working on his new underground bunkers at the Berghof to be turned over to Saur. Then he orders the hapless armaments director to come up with at least ten thousand more. Germany’s war industry, he declares, will be relocated entirely underground, so that enemy bombers will not affect production.

  Milch reports to him that of course, V-1 production is already being conducted underground. In an excited tone, he also suggests that they unleash the first wave against England on the Führer’s birthday, April 20. Then follow in the next ten days with 1,500 more, and then all the rest that are assembled by the end of the next month. Hitler agrees.