Countdown to D-Day

by Peter Margaritis

  That night, Rommel writes another letter to Lucie:

  Yesterday I returned from the west. Everything went well and according to plan…

  The weather is still cold and it’s raining at last. The British will have to be patient for a bit. I am curious whether I can spare a few days in June to get away from here. Right now it’s out of the question.

  Generalfeldmarschall von Rundstedt today sends a detailed report on his panzers to OKW. The 1st SS Panzer Division’s roster is back up to some 20,000 men. He also lists the 2nd SS Panzer, headquarters in Toulouse, with some 55 PzKw IVs (46 still on order) and 37 PzKw Vs (another 62 to be shipped). Other details are listed.2

  That evening, he visits French Marshal Pétain at his headquarters, château Voison, near Rambouillet.3 Pétain, a hero of Verdun, had taken over the controversial position of Prime Minister after the fall of France and the 1940 Armistice. Since then, Pétain has headed the Vichy government.

  Von Rundstedt knows that Pétain’s relationship with Berlin has been shaky at best. After the fall of France, he had wanted to create an economic alliance with Germany. Most Nazi officials though, especially those at the top, did not favor one. To them, France was a vanquished enemy, just like the others. Hitler, who had fought there in World War I, saw it as just a satellite of the Reich, to be plundered for its raw materials and economy. After all, France had been the first country to declare war against them in 1939.

  Deeper than that though, was a continuing feeling of smug revenge—fair vengeance for the defeat of 1918 and the cruel peace treaty that had been forced upon Germany. And so, despite Pétain’s efforts, the Führer had kept France in her place. He does not care about making France an ally, or even converting it into an independent fascist partner. France is merely a defeated country, justly occupied and a part of the Reich.

  Besides, to the top German officials, the French could not be trusted. They have had for years an active and rather effective resistance group. And in 1942, when the Americans had landed in North Africa, thousands of Frenchmen had hastily gone over to their side. Seeing a serious threat here, the Germans had felt compelled to occupy Vichy France. Hitler had at that time sent Pétain a long letter of explanation for the occupation, ending with:

  If Marechal, you have any wishes or anxieties, refer them to Field Marshal von Rundstedt.

  As the months had gone by, the two field marshals, who in two wars now had been enemies, had conferred a number of times over various internal matters, including the shortage of vital goods, violence conducted by the Maquis, and the rebel gangs that prey upon road traffic, particularly to and from Southern France.4

  Now von Rundstedt is visiting again, enjoying Pétain’s company. He also wants to show him some of the defensive measures that have been constructed along the coast. So as they sit down together for some refreshments, the Prussian invites Pétain to accompany him and Rommel on a tour of the Atlantic Wall this coming Sunday. There is little danger of invasion at this time, and they will be able to find time to discuss various details that they observe along the coast. Naturally curious about how construction is going, Pétain accepts the invitation.

  Von Rundstedt leaves the château satisfied, and instructs Blumentritt to notify Rommel’s headquarters of the trip.

  Later that day, Pétain, who himself has recently toured several towns in France, broaches the decision to Jean Tracou, the Directeur du Cabinet. Tracou pauses and then asks if he has considered the ramifications of such a trip. He points out le grand jour that Goebbels’ propaganda ministry will make in the German media of this visit. They will gloat over images of the French prime minister and the German senior commanders touring defenses designed to thwart the invasion that in many eyes, would liberate France. Such images will no doubt infuriate the expatriates, as well as send a mixed signal to Pétain’s own supporters.

  Pétain, already in trouble with the Allies over his dealings with the Germans, begins to realize that the West and his countrymen will view this tour as a reaffirmation of his own support for the Nazis. Everyone knows that the invasion is coming, and to be in the spotlight now, seen at the side of the German commanders in France, seems foolhardy—especially if the Allies win, which currently seems very likely. Pétain is certainly no fool, and he now realizes the error of agreeing to the public inspection. He has to notify von Rundstedt that he will not be able to make the trip. His office will instead publicly emphasize the dangers of any bombardment of the coastal communities.

  He asks Tracou to make the phone call.

  Von Rundstedt, back in his villa, is notified about Pétain’s change of heart a short time later and is of course saddened by the news. After all, he had only wanted to point out the defensive features of the Atlantic Wall and just “talk shop.” Still, having no political agenda himself, he accepts the cancellation graciously and decides not to pursue the matter.5

  1The Commando Order was a highly confidential directive decreed by Hitler in 1942 after a series of escalating Allied raids, culminated by the Dieppe sortie and the Sark Island Raid in August. An operational order taken across the Channel by a British general and later captured stated among other things that German prisoners were to be bound. Angered by this, Hitler ordered Berlin to announce in early October that some 1,400 Allied prisoners (most of whom were Canadians that had been captured from the raids) would now be shackled. Hitler himself wrote in the Wehrmacht daily communiqué: “In the future, all terror and sabotage troops of the British and their accomplices, who do not act like soldiers but rather like bandits, will be treated as such by the German troops and will be ruthlessly eliminated in battle, wherever they appear.”

  England responded by shackling many German prisoners in Canada. Further enraged upon hearing this, Hitler discussed what to do about the matter with his senior staff advisers. On October 18, Keitel issued the Führer’s top secret Kommandobefehl. It stated that “From now on all men operating against German troops in so-called commando raids, even if they are in uniform, whether armed or unarmed, in battle or in flight, are to be annihilated to the last man… Even if these individuals on discovery … give themselves up as prisoners, no pardon is on any account to be given.” The order also claimed that British commandos had been ordered to kill German prisoners (which was of course a lie). Only a dozen copies were distributed by Jodl the next day, with a special attachéd appendix dictating that the order was “intended for commanders only and must not under any circumstances fall into enemy hands.”

  2The report, sent as an Ultra message, was intercepted by the Allies, and a translated copy would soon be in the hands of their intelligence analysts. They would note the updates, including a correction of an earlier mistaken identity: it was the 11th Panzer that was in southern France, not the 10th Panzer, as they had earlier thought.

  3A hunting château, located some 51km southwest of Paris.

  4After the war, von Rundstedt himself testified at Nuremberg, “I can only say that I did everything to help Marshal Pétain, with whom I was on terms of great confidence. I asked Hitler to define at last what position France was to have in the future Europe. I assisted Marshal Pétain to raise his Guards and tried to create a new French Army for him, though it did not grow into more than a regiment. I succeeded in obtaining more rations for the fine French railroad men who managed all our transports, and I tried to have their relatives who were prisoners of war returned to them, in the same way in which Hitler had approved after the Dieppe raid that the relatives of those in Dieppe, could return. We did what we could to supply the great city of Paris with coal and food, though the transport situation for the German Army was almost unbearably poor.”

  5Pétain, who later fled before the Allied advance into Germany, eventually was returned to France after the war to stand trial for treason. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. In 1946, General de Gaulle commuted the sentence to life imprisonment. Pétain, lonely and now more or less a man without a country, eventually died on July 23, 1951 on th
e island of Ile d’Yeu off the coast of Brittany.

  Saturday, May 20

  Air activity over the English Channel has been heavy this week. The coastal batteries at Le Havre were hit yesterday. The 100mm battery at Merville was also bombed. The main gun emplacements survived the attack well enough, but the commanding officer, Hauptmann Wolter, was killed in his quarters.1

  This morning at La Roche-Guyon, the staff is occupied with a “diversionary action” entitled Landgraf, with Military District 6.2 During the exercise, the air raid sirens go off a number of times, but the château is not targeted. Just as well. Rommel is spending a good deal of his time there. After all, the invasion could come at any time, and he knows he cannot at present go home. But when Speidel requests a few days of leave over Pentecost, he readily consents. They can survive without their chief of staff for a while, and who knows when he will be able to see his family again. Speidel will leave in a few days, on the 23rd.

  That morning, Rommel has a phone conversation with State Party Leader Karl Kaufmann, the Gauleiter for the Hamburg area.3 Rommel wants to set up a conference to discuss improving shipping volume on the French inland canals to increase the volume of supplies. They set the conference for Tuesday, May 23.

  At lunch, the field marshal and his staff are graced with the company of their superior officer. The grizzled old Prussian has brought along with him as a guest, his visiting son, Hans Gerd von Rundstedt, a medical lieutenant in the reserves, currently posted at The Hague. Also along are Blumentritt and Korvettekapitän Eduard Becker.

  Together, they all enjoy a formal meal. Naturally, they discuss details of the invasion as they dine. Rommel expresses his puzzlement over the fact the Allies have not invaded as yet. Von Rundstedt growls in reply that he is in no hurry.

  Von Rundstedt then tells them that Marshal Pétain has turned down his invitation to accompany them on the inspection tour for Sunday. His decision is understandable, although disappointing. They discuss the internal policies of the French and how they interact with German occupational rule.

  Since Pétain is not going with them, the Prussian has now lost his interest in a full inspection of the coastal positions. He is though going to look at some of them with his son today. Rommel offers to go with him, but the old man tells him it is not necessary. Actually, von Rundstedt prefers that Rommel not go (though he does not say so). This way, the old Prussian can spend the time alone with his son.

  Von Rundstedt states that this evening, Hans plans on going out to explore the Parisian nightlife with some fellow officers.4 Von Rundstedt of course will not go, growling that he is far too old for that kind of thing. He will instead spend the evening sipping brandy, smoking cigarettes, and reading a good Karl May book or a detective story.

  That afternoon, after OB West has departed, an army staff car drives up to the château courtyard. Two British prisoners, their khaki uniforms wrinkled and dirty, climb out, blindfolded and tired from a long, tense 240km drive. Their blindfolds are soon removed by their two escorts, and they are led away to a holding cell. They are given some sandwiches and tea, while a growling, vicious dog stands guard outside.

  These prisoners are the two British commandos that Rommel was told about yesterday, caught snooping around the Somme estuary. Rommel’s staff managed to keep them out of the hands of the Sicherheitsdienst5 and take them into their custody, Rommel not only did not want them to get executed, but was curious about British commandos. Now they are here.

  Staubwasser, Rommel’s Ic, goes down to the cells and questions them. They are obviously commandos; the way they were caught and their physical build give them away. And even though the insignias have been torn off their blouses, the clean outlines of the Combined Operations emblem and the Special Services shoulder patch can be discerned. They are both lieutenants.

  Although the two are relieved to be where they are, one prisoner, Lieutenant Roy Woodridge, refuses point blank to say anything else besides his name and rank. After that, he remains silent. In the other cell, the other prisoner, claiming to be a Lieutenant George Lane, 6 speaks a bit to his interrogator. He talks about mundane things and jokes with his captor; obviously a more promising subject.

  Staubwasser finally tells Lane that he is being taken to another office for questioning. He and a guard take the prisoner to the army group operations officer. VonTempelhoff, seeing Lane nervous, turns on the charm and tries to put him at ease. He begins conversing with him in English, which at first surprises the man, until von Tempelhoff tells him that his wife is English.

  Von Tempelhoff tells Lane that, since the commando team was picked up at the Somme estuary, it is a good sign to him that the invasion will come there. (It is also one of the target areas popular with Rommel.) Lane just shrugs his shoulders and replies that he believes that area and the coastline north of it is too fortified for any kind of landing.

  Staubwasser sighs. At any rate, could Herr Leutnant Lane tell him if “such commando spy missions are really necessary, if the invasion is imminent?”

  Lane’s eyes widen. He looks up at the two German officers and exclaims heartily, “The invasion is not imminent at all. You just overestimate our enterprising spirit!”

  Von Tempelhoff smiles as Staubwasser grunts in reply. As the questioning continues, Speidel informs Rommel of the prisoners’ arrival and that one seems pleasant enough to talk with. Rommel smiles and asks Speidel to bring the man to his study whenever Staubwasser and von Tempelhoff finish with him.

  Speidel informs an aide to send word to the two staff officers. He then turns back to the field marshal and fills him in on their capture. Sometime around the evening of the 18th, the two had evidently been dropped off the coast by a British MTB, and had come ashore to investigate the construction of some of the obstacles that had been positioned along the shorelines of the Somme estuary. Perhaps they wanted to take apart a mine as well. When a patrol had discovered them, a second was dispatched as starshells began to illuminate the area.

  The two commandos somehow slipped away from the searchers and circled back around to where they had hidden their dinghy on the beach. Paddling furiously, they hurriedly pulled it through the surf and put to sea. However, they found to their dismay that the launch that was their ride home had vanished. They were stranded in the dark off the enemy coast, and in pouring rain.

  With the local Kriegsmarine contingent now alerted to their presence, their fate was sealed. Sure enough, a while later, as they struggled to row out into the main Channel, they were picked up by a patrol boat.7 Speidel adds that, on the way over to the château, one of them had commented that the first thing their jailers had bluntly told them was that they were going to be shot as spies. “With that in his mind, Herr Feldmarschall,” the chief of staff concludes, “this prisoner might try anything.”

  Rommel shakes his head. He replies reassuringly, “I doubt it, Speidel. Not to me. He doesn’t have the authority, for one thing. Besides, I’m going to help them.” He smiles. A little chat with an Englishman will be interesting. Yes, indeed.

  So after questioning Lane, Staubwasser advises him with a serious face, “Please try to clean yourself up a little. In a bit, you are going to meet a very important person.” When the prisoner looks up suspiciously and asks who, Staubwasser shakes his head and replies, “You will see.” He starts out of the cell.

  Lane stands up. “Please tell me,” he presses. He is clearly worried. The Gestapo?

  Staubwasser, near the door, turns around. Relenting, he replies, “Somebody very important. Very important indeed. Field Marshal Rommel.” He then leaves the commando standing with a stunned look on his face. Let him think about that

  In due course, the now clean but still suspicious British prisoner is brought blindfolded into Rommel’s study. He is accompanied by an interpreter, Staubwasser, von Tempelhoff, and, just to keep things friendly, two armed guards. The field marshal, sitting at his desk in the corner of the room and gazing out the French windows at his terrace, rises to c
ome around and greet the Englishman.

  The blindfold is removed, and Lane blinks his eyes, adjusting to the light and to the incredible scene around him. Rommel examines the man. Lane is a solid rugged fellow, about 1.8 meters tall, with a broad forehead, a prominent nose, and large wide-open eyes, which are now staring at the field marshal. One of the benefits of fame.

  Rommel notes that the prisoner, though standing at attention, begins taking in the lavish furnishings of the room—the historic tapestries on the wall, the exquisite wooden floor and plush carpets, the historic porcelain along the walls. Then his eyes return to the field marshal, looking again into his eyes, then to his Pour le Merite, then back to his eyes again. Rommel smiles, shakes his hand, and motions them all over to the squat round table near the windows. There a kitchen attendant has set up priceless bone china and two teapots.

  They all sit down, and the field marshal begins the conversation, the interpreter following him closely. “So... You’re one of those commando gangsters, ja?”

  Lane, although nervous, shrugs his shoulders. “Well, I’m a commando, and proud of it. But I’m not a gangster. None of us are.”

  Rommel furls his brow. “Well, perhaps you aren’t a gangster; but we’ve had some nasty experiences with you commandos. They haven’t, shall we say, behaved as impeccably as they should.”

  Lane stays silent, on his guard now. Rommel turns his head and looks out one of his terrace windows, thinking about how to phrase the next sentence. He does not want to overtly threaten the man, but he wants him to realize that they have him over a barrel. He barely notices Staubwasser motioning for an aide to pour the tea.

  “You know,” Rommel observes, “you’re in a bit of a spot. You do know what we do with saboteurs…”

  Lane turns to the interpreter and replies, “If your field marshal thinks I’m a saboteur, he wouldn’t have invited me here.”