Stupid Wars : A Citizen's Guide to Botched Putsches, Failed Coups, Inane Invasions, and Ridiculous Revolutions

by Ed Strosser

  Even the British got into the action. They attacked Ploesti four times in 1944, lighting up the dark sky and adding to the slow devastation of the oil fields. Spaatz’s plan was work­ing. Oil production was cut in half from March to April 1944, and halved again by June.

  The attacks culminated with the nearly seven-hundred-plane raid on July 15. By this time Ploesti was getting plas­tered once or twice a week. The German army was frequently abandoning their beloved Panzers and trucks for lack of fuel. Big Oil was having big impact.

  Finally, the last bomber dropped its load on August 19 to rattle the dust a little more. Ploesti was dead. When the Russians captured the area on August 30, they told the Ameri­cans the place had been totally destroyed. In all, the Allies ran twenty-four missions against Ploesti involving almost 6,000 bombers. While it cost the Americans 230 bombers and their crews, the results were spectacular. The Germans completely ran out of oil in late 1944. The dividend paid off during the Battle of the Bulge that December, when the Ger­mans abandoned their Panzers with empty gas tanks and walked away.

  Too slowly it had dawned on Antonescu that he was losing. While spending the majority of his time conducating the retreat on the Russian front and pretending to be an ef­fective general, the Germans were running his country while fighting off the growing storm of bombers over Ploesti. Ion had installed the baby-faced son of King Carol, Mihai, as a symbolic ruler in 1940 when he had thrown King Carol out. From his palace in Bucharest, Mihai knew the end was near and teamed up with officers loyal to him and political lead­ers who opposed Ion to overthrow the Conducător.

  Mihai’s plan was to quit the war and ask the British and Americans to occupy key parts of the country to prevent Russian occupation. Mihai realized that the Russians might be somewhat miffed at Romania’s role in the devastating in­vasion, but he believed the Allies would want to help keep the Russians at bay. The small problem with the plan was that the Allies had no intention of occupying Romania and had already slotted Hitler’s Stalingrad buddy into the Soviet sphere of control.

  Mihai’s plan was further complicated by the fact that the German troops in Bucharest were actually running the coun­try and could easily eliminate the few Romanian soldiers stationed in the capital.

  On August 23, Antonescu came to Bucharest and agreed to swing by for a visit to the young Mihai, who was now determined to act. Ion, undoubtedly surprised that the useless young king was suddenly stepping forward to vent his com­pletely irrelevant feelings, walked into the meeting blindly confident and without a weapon or guards. King Mihai de­manded he quit. Ion laughed him off. Then King Mihai simply arrested Ion and proceeded to take command of the country, appointing his fellow conspirators to lead the gov­ernment.

  Once word got out, the Germans never flinched but simply added Romania to their growing target list. The ever-practi­cal Germans used the same air bases they shared with the Romanians in attacking the Russians to now attack the Ro­manians. The Romanians and Germans suddenly found themselves fighting each other from the same air base. It was like a time-share for air forces. The Germans pounded Bu­charest without the slightest hint of nostalgia for their former ally. Meanwhile, the Russians watched all of this with glee. In a horrifically clumsy diplomatic sleight of hand, Romania had turned a friend into an enemy but neglected to turn an enemy into a friend. The Germans conducted a fighting re­treat to the west while the Russians swept in from the east. Romania had managed to briefly turn World War II into a three-way affair: the Allies and the Axis versus Romania.

  Happy to be able to start working out the kinks of their postwar plans, after weeks of confused fighting the Soviets occupied Romania, retook the disputed territories, and placed their Communist thugs into the government. In Sep­tember 1944 Mihai’s delegation traveled to Moscow to naïvely negotiate terms of a peace treaty. Negotiations quickly turned Soviet-style as Foreign Minister Molotov handed the Romanians his terms: namely, take it or leave it. When they protested, he responded by sarcastically asking what the Ro­manians had been looking for in Stalingrad. Ouch! The pain was just starting. To wrap things up the Russians grabbed all the gold the Romanians had earned selling their oil to the Nazis.

  B-24 BOMBER

  Ploesti met its doom primarily from the bomb bay of the B-24 bomber, the Liberator, the most produced of any bomber in the war. The U.S. Army in 1939, realizing that long-range bombing would play a key role in any future war, looked to upgrade from its B-17 bomber force. The Liberator was a flawed machine — difficult to fly with fuel and hydraulic systems that often malfunctioned. It smelled of jet fuel, was bitterly cold at even medium altitude, unpressurized, possessed not a shred of comfort, and required its crew to pee down a tube. But it carried lots of bombs, flew long distances, and destroyed pretty much all of Europe. In warfare, this qualifies as a raging success.

  The war was still not over for the Romanians, however. The Soviets forced their new “friend” to reform its punch-drunk army and form up alongside their new allies to fight the Germans in Hungary. In all, about 210,000 Romanian soldiers fought in Hungary, suffering 47,000 casualties. The high casualty rate stemmed from the Russian tactic of “al­lowing” their new “friends” the “honor” of leading risky at­tacks.

  After dispatching Hungary, the fun continued in Czecho­slovakia when, in early 1945, the Russians prodded the Ro­manians into invading their third country of the war. They fought hard and suffered harder, again taking more than their share of casualties from the retreating but still formida­ble German ex-friends.

  Romania’s sorry postwar fate was sealed at the Yalta Con­ference on February 4, 1945. Roosevelt and Churchill traded away nothing in exchange for allowing Russia to control the country after the war. They didn’t even ask for a province to be named later. It’s safe to say that this was the last time the Western leaders thought about Romania for more than forty years.

  In the years 1943 and 1944 Romania ranked second to Germany as an Axis power. In 1944 and 1945 Romania suf­fered the third highest Allied casualty rate. In less than a year, the Romanians contributed 540,000 troops to the Allied cause, behind only that of the United States, the USSR, and Britain. They suffered 167,000 casualties, more than the British in Northern Europe in that same period. For this effort, the Soviets bestowed a medal on King Mihai, and Ro­mania got blackholed by the West.

  WHAT HAPPENED AFTER

  As might be expected of anyone who leads an army into Russia, the Soviet-backed Romanian government took Ion out behind a prison and shot him on June 1, 1946. It didn’t go smoothly. The first volley merely wounded the Marshal, who was smartly dressed in a double-breasted suit and his hat raised high in his right hand, just before being pumped with bullets. Still believing he was in charge he ordered one more death; his own. The soldiers quickly finished their work. An officer then shot him in the head a few more times because he could. The Conducător’s Aryan blue eyes would lovingly gaze into Adolf’s no more.

  As for the young king Mihai, surrounded by Soviet-di­rected Romanian puppet troops, he abdicated in 1947 and fled the country. Mihai spent the next forty years or so in Switzerland, working in the airline industry. He finally was able to return to Romania in the mid-1990s. He is the last World War II head of state still alive.

  General Spaatz went from triumph to triumph; after having helped turn Europe into rubble, he went on to drop two atomic bombs on Japan. He retired in 1948 with a chest full of ribbons. Upon his death in 1974 he was buried on the grounds of the U.S. Air Force Academy.

  The Romanians, after feeding oil to Hitler’s war machine, eagerly participating in the Holocaust, fighting the Soviets for three years, absorbing the pounding of the vast American air force, seeing their only national asset of any great value destroyed, getting robbed and overrun by the Reds, taking on the Germans, invading Hungary and Czechoslovakia, and getting treated like a crazy uncle by everyone involved, were completely ignored by the entire world for two generations. All with a little help from their f
riends.

  It turns out Antonescu did find a way to get Transylvania back. It simply required fighting every major combatant in World War II on both sides of the war and enduring a Soviet occupation.

  His beloved Transylvania has been a happy part of Roma­nia since 1947.

  ELEVEN.

  THE GENERALS’ COUP AGAINST HITLER: 1944

  Apparently, Adolf Hitler made many enemies.

  It might strike some as hard to believe that the madman who killed millions and started the most devastating war in history did not make friends as easily as Jimmy Stewart or Elmo. But people seemed genuinely angry at the Der Führer.

  This select group was not limited to Russians, French, Czechs, Jews, Poles… you know the list. Most Germans who dared publicly express their dislike for Hitler — and even some who expressed these feelings only in private — were locked away and executed. But a few with actual power and the ability to strike back at Hitler did exist. Surprisingly, many were leaders of the German army. These officers were the descendants of the master warfare technicians of the vaunted Prussian General Staff, which had reordered Europe for nearly two hundred years. These plotters gathered, talked, and planned ways to kill Hitler, the despised former lance corporal and HQ messenger.

  After numerous close calls that required evading Hitler’s body armor of SS and Gestapo, the plotting climaxed in one last great thrust at Adolf. On July 20, 1944, as the German military desperately fought off the growing weight of Allied forces, this small group took their boldest step. They planted a bomb practically under Hitler’s feet at his headquarters in the East Prussian forest. With Adolf blown up, the plotters planned to seize control of Germany in a swift coup d’état. The generals would then immediately appeal to the Allies for peace terms and bring the horrible war to a close.

  But this effort, like their numerous prior attempts, failed. The plotters’ abject failures over many years stemmed from fighting a twentieth-century dictator with a nineteenth-century mind-set. The dwindling number of plotters, steeped in the ways of the Prussian military tradition of noble combat, clung to their outmoded beliefs in the sanctity of honor and follow­ing orders, despite Hitler’s use of their revolutionary blitzkrieg tactics, which he used to brutally carve up Europe. Hitler and his gang were radicals who believed in total war and killing anyone who got in the way. This clash of principles, in many ways a clash of centuries, doomed the plotters to failure.

  THE PLAYERS

  General Ludwig Beck — The old wise man of the German army, Beck held the post of chief of the German General Staff, the top staff officer in the entire army, and achieved renown in Germany for deftly handling the humiliating retreat of ninety divisions from the western front at the end of World War I.

  Skinny — Between the wars he authored the seminal work on mili­tary tactics.

  Props — In a rage of Prussian honor, he resigned in 1938 to protest Hitler’s aggressive maneuvering against Czechoslovakia. It was a parade of one.

  Pros — Ringleader of the anti-Hitler cadre.

  Cons — Looked like the mean old man down the street who always scared children.

  Colonel Klaus Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg — He descended from a long line of military leaders, meaning his ancestors invaded virtu­ally every country in Europe, while also holding the title of Schenk (meaning “Cup-bearer,” and yes, this was an important title). The young colonel, who was the chief of staff of the Replacement Army, despised Hitler and was the one who actually set off the bomb on July 20.

  Skinny — Tall and noble, he was one of the most famous soldiers in Germany.

  Props — Heavily decorated war hero, Stauffenberg lost an eye, an arm, and two fingers in battle in North Africa under Rommel.

  Pros — Motivated to kill Hitler on moral grounds.

  Cons — Don’t bet on three-fingered assassins.

  General Friedrich Fromm — The rotund general held the sleepy post of commander of the Replacement Army, which put him in control of the troops in and around Berlin that would take over the city once Hitler was killed.

  Skinny — Supported the coup, then didn’t, ate more schnitzel, flip-flopped again, then couldn’t decide. Backbone was not his middle name.

  Props — The corpulent commander believed he was a big deal be­cause he was defending Germany from unsightly, undernourished foreign workers.

  Pros — At least he carried a weapon to the office.

  Cons — Cowardly executed the conspirators to save his own skin.

  THE GENERAL SITUATION

  Hitler and his generals had a tense relationship. On one hand, the army did his bidding and conquered most of Europe, expanding Hitler’s murderous empire. On the other, the army hated Hitler and tried to thwart his ambition at virtually every stage. Many of the generals saw Hitler as an upstart corporal, his rank during World War I. In turn, Hitler distrusted the army and was so afraid of an assassination at­tempt by them that he virtually refused to meet with any of its leaders.

  To further cement dominance over the military establish­ment, Hitler built his own separate command structure, the OKW, with himself as the leader, which he erected over the army’s command, the OKH. Hitler now directly controlled the military.

  Hitler and his generals lived like a warring couple forced to share the same house. Since at least the time of Frederick the Great, the army had been the backbone of the modern German state. It’s leaders came almost exclusively from no­bility, Junker families with large estates where son followed father into the army.

  After their humiliating defeat in World War I, the army, besides having to watch the French preen as victors, was re­duced to the size of a police force. The old Prussians were determined to keep the army alive, and many supported Hit­ler’s mesmerizing vision of using the army to rebuild Ger­many to its former glory. Survival of the army was paramount. The army was the state, and whatever it took to ensure its survival, including striking a deal with the odious Nazi ideology, was acceptable. In 1934 Hitler required every member of the armed forces to declare undying loyalty to him personally by swearing to the Fahneneid, the blood oath of the Teutonic knights. The deal was struck. The army could not resist sacrificing their honor for the chance to ride Hit­ler’s coattails to world domination. Stymied by their oath, they were incapable of resisting Hitler’s Nazification of the army.

  A few key generals, however, spoke out bravely against Hitler. The leaders of this group were General Baron Werner Freiherr von Fritsch, the commander in chief of the army and his chief of staff, Gen. Ludwig Beck. Hitler knew of their opposition and quickly moved to isolate them. But Hitler, being Hitler, overreached and succeeded. The moment took place in early 1938 when Hitler accused Fritsch of homosexuality. Fritsch resigned in a pique of honor, hewing to the old rules of his caste. Unfortunately for history, the other army leaders failed to take up arms in Fritsch’s defense at this critical time. Hitler gambled that if the army remained silent when he hu­miliated their leader, they would never have the balls to oppose him in anything else.

  A few officers, however, joined forces in a secret society designed to overthrow Hitler, the Schwarze Kapelle — the “Black Orchestra.” Over the next few years, the Schwarze Kapelle was led by General Beck, who plotted from his armchair while suffering from cancer in his suburban Berlin home. Rear Admiral Wilhelm Franz Canaris, the crafty head of the army’s intelligence wing, the Abwehr, was his co-plotter. Twice the conspirators came mighty close to achieving their coup against Hitler. First, in 1938, as Ger­many made plans to attack Czechoslovakia, the plotters stationed troops to pounce on the SS and Gestapo, and seize power from Hitler. All they waited for was some sign that Great Britain would oppose Hitler’s takeover. As negotia­tions strung out, the plotters’ hopes rose and fell. At one point they were sure the British would reject any agreement and fight for the Czechs. Then British prime minister Nev­ille Chamberlain caved in to Hitler’s demands at Munich and agreed to carve up Czechoslovakia, dashing their hopes as well
as teeing up World War II very nicely for Adolf. The plans were burned.

  In March 1943 the plotmates struck again. Two bombs, disguised as liquor, were placed on Hitler’s private airplane by giving them to one of Hitler’s unwitting aides, Col. Heinz Brandt. The fuses were set, and the plotters waited in Berlin for word of the führer’s death. But the bomb failed to detonate: the explosives had frozen at the plane’s high altitude. One of the plotters was then forced to retrieve the frozen bomb from Brandt’s office the next day where Brandt joshingly tossed the package in the air at the plotmate who ner­vously hustled it away. Hitler’s amazing luck had held again. The plotmates were stymied yet again and retreated to wait for their next chance.

  But the Schwarze Kapelle did not give up. Plot after plot was either canceled or failed through some last-second change in plans by Hitler. In 1943 the group welcomed Col. Claus von Stauffenberg as a new leader. Despite his valiant efforts to kill Allied soldiers, he held deep personal opposi­tion to the Nazis. He was disgusted at Nazi war crimes, which offended his dainty sense of Prussian honor and the deeply held belief that his country (and the world) should be ruled by Prussians like himself, not some poorly mustachioed watercolorist and ex-corporal from Austria.

  WHAT HAPPENED: OPERATION “ARMY OF NONE”

  Throughout the fall of 1943 and spring of 1944 the plotters met in their regular how-do-we-blow-up-Hitler-and-get-away-with-it meetings but failed to come up with any new juicy ideas. In the late spring of 1944, in a stroke of luck, Stauffenberg was given a job that provided him with rare direct access to Hitler.