Field Marshal: The Life and Death of Erwin Rommel
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FIELD MARSHAL
FIELD
MARSHAL
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF
ERWIN ROMMEL
DANIEL ALLEN BUTLER
CASEMATE
Philadelphia & Oxford
Published in the United States of America and Great Britain in 2015 by
CASEMATE PUBLISHERS
908 Darby Road, Havertown, PA 19083
and
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Copyright 2015 © Daniel Allen Butler
ISBN 978-1-61200-297-2
Digital Edition: ISBN 978-1-61200-298-9
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CONTENTS
AUTHOR’S NOTE
PROLOGUE A Fox in the Desert
One
The Birth of a Soldier
Two
The Great War
Three
An Officer of the Reichswehr
Four
The Third Reich
Five
Blitzkrieg
Six
Afrika Korps
Seven
Tobruk
Eight
Crusader
Nine
Der Hexenkessel
Ten
African Apogee
Eleven
El Alamein
Twelve
African Perigee
Thirteen
The Atlantic Wall
Fourteen
Invasion and Conspiracy
Fifteen
The Death of a Field Marshal
EPILOGUE The Legend of the Desert Fox
APPENDIX: Rommel—A Timeline
ENDNOTES
SOURCES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX
ALSO BY DANIEL ALLEN BUTLER
“Unsinkable”—The Full Story
of RMS Titanic
The Lusitania: The Life, Loss, and Legacy
of an Ocean Legend
Warrior Queens—the Queen Mary and
Queen Elizabeth in World War Two
The Age of Cunard—A Transatlantic History, 1939–2003
Distant Victory: The Battle of Jutland
and the Allied Triumph in the First World War
The First Jihad: The Battle for Khartoum
and the Dawn of Militant Islam
The Other Side of the Night:
The Carpathia, the Californian, and
the Night the Titanic was Lost
The Burden of Guilt—
How Germany Shattered the Last Days of Peace,
Summer 1914
Shadow of the Sultan’s Realm:
The Destruction of the Ottoman Empire
and the Creation of the Modern Middle East
To
Robert C. Lendt
who is the exemplar
of all that a teacher should be . . .
and who helped me to understand
that wars are ultimately decided by men,
not merely by the numbers of their tanks and guns. . . .
AUTHOR’S NOTE
FIELD MARSHAL ROMMEL.
Those three words instantly conjure up images of tanks, half-tracks, and armored cars jockeying their way across a desert landscape, while footsore infantry slogs its way into defensive positions and hidden antitank guns suddenly reveal themselves in furious bursts of fire. The name invokes the memory and reputation of the German Afrika Korps and its nemesis, the British Eighth Army.
Erwin Rommel was a complex man: a born leader, a brilliant soldier, a devoted husband, a proud father; intelligent, instinctive, brave, compassionate, vain, egotistical, and arrogant. In France in 1940, then for two years in North Africa, then finally back in France once again, in Normandy in 1944, he proved himself a master of armored warfare, running rings around a succession of Allied generals who never got his measure and could only resort to overwhelming numbers to bring about his defeat. And yet he was also naive, a man who could admire Adolf Hitler at the same time that he despised the Nazis, dazzled by a Führer whose successes blinded him to the true nature of the Third Reich. Above all, though, he was the quintessential German patriot, who ultimately would refuse to abandon his moral compass, so that on one pivotal day in June 1944, he came to understand that he had willingly served an evil man and an evil cause. He would still fight for Germany even as he abandoned his oath of allegiance to the Führer, when he came to realize that Adolf Hitler had morphed into nothing more than an agent of death and destruction, and in that moment he chose to speak Truth to Power. In the end Erwin Rommel was forced to die by his own hand, not because, as some would claim, he had dabbled in a tyrannicidal conspiracy, but because he had committed a far greater crime—he dared to tell Adolf Hitler the truth.
This was the man who has beguiled me for almost my entire life, initially as the dashing, daring leader of the Afrika Korps whose exploits in Libya seemed to be a curious admixture of German martial prowess, British doggedness, and anachronistic chivalry, with a dash of Beau Geste thrown in for good measure. Then, as I matured and my study—and comprehension—of warfare simultaneously broadened and deepened from adolescent fascination with the tools and weapons of war to developing insights into how and why men fight wars, I sought to understand why someone as essentially decent and honorable as Erwin Rommel would willingly, even enthusiastically, offer the services of his sword to the likes of Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich. It was not until the twenty-first century dawned and the distinctions between nationalism and patriotism began to crystallize as they had never done before that I felt I had found the key that would unlock that mystery. The end result was Field Marshal—The Life and Death of Erwin Rommel.
The title suggested itself almost instantly: I discovered that when asked what was the first name to come to mind when they heard the words “Field Marshal” people who would have been hard-pressed to name a single general from any of the warring nations of the Second World War—aside from, perhaps, George S. Patton, Jr.—would blurt out “Rommel!” This was a phenomenon I encountered in locales as geographically and culturally diverse and distant as Los Angeles, California, rural Minnesota, South Florida, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, suburban Grand Rapids, Michigan—even Ottawa, Ontario, Canada and Belfast, Northern Ireland. It was then that I realized that the time had come to create a biography of Erwin Rommel that was at once a military history and an honest portrait of the man who bore that name.
Unlike many biographies of great or famous soldiers, Field Marshal is not simply a military history onto which a biography has been grafted. It is an examination and exploration of the life of a fascinating soldier and a remarkable man. A plethora of fuller, far more detailed accounts of military operations in the Second World War in Europe are available to someone seeking out such works. I have made a deliberate effort to limit the intrusion of events outside of
the immediate experience or knowledge of Erwin Rommel in both the First and Second World Wars, especially those away from the front or theater where Rommel was serving, save where the presentation of such events is necessary for context or perspective or where they will have significant, though not always direct, impact or consequences for Rommel. This is not an attempt to marginalize those events, but rather a conscious decision of perspective. I have also striven to, whenever possible, allow Rommel to speak for himself. This, then, is Erwin Rommel’s story, as he lived and died, no more, no less.
HAVING MADE THE decision to write a biography of Rommel, I had to confront the embarrassment of riches in available sources about his life and times. The simultaneous starting points for anyone intent on more than the most superficial introduction to the man are two books written by Rommel himself, Infanterie Greift an, and Krieg ohne Hass, along with a collection of his letters and memoirs edited by Basil Liddell-Hart and titled The Rommel Papers. Unlike the majority of soldiers throughout history, Rommel was a lively and engaging writer, and rarely can the immediacy of his words be improved upon, so whenever possible, Rommel should be allowed to speak for himself.
There are extensive official German, British, and American archives on Rommel. The single most important collection is found in the National Archives in Washington DC: primary Rommel material; the war diaries of the Führer’s headquarters, the German General Staff, and the Oberkommando des Wehrmacht (O.K.W.); the diaries of Col-Gen. Alfred Jodl, the Chief of Operations for the O.K.W.; and the war diaries of the German forces in Africa, from Afrika Korps to Heeresgruppe Afrika, along with the war diaries and files of various units and formations in France with which Rommel was at one level or another associated. (The war diary of Army Group B in France in 1944 is part of the Rommel files themselves.)
At the Bundesarchiv in the Federal German Republic, specifically the Militararchiv at Freiburg-am-Breisgau, there can be found Rommel’s personnel file, and a collection of unpublished manuscripts by officers who served with or under Rommel. Most of the primary documents held by the Imperial War Museum are, in fact, exact copies of files in the possession of either the National Archives or the Bundesarchiv. Nonetheless, the Museum is a priceless resource for anyone studying the Desert Fox, as it can provide a near-inexhaustible supply of information about the 1940 campaign in France, the war in North Africa, and the invasion of France in 1944, especially biographical information on the Allied generals who had, for the most part, the misfortune to cross swords with Rommel. Likewise the Museum and its staff are a fountain of knowledge about the details of day-to-day living in and dying in France or Libya, which any author worth his salt will draw upon in order to add immediacy and authenticity to his narrative.
A fourth archive, the microfilm collection of EP Microfilm Ltd., in Wakefield, Yorkshire, England, is particularly useful in that its contents fill in significant gaps in the documentary records of other archives. A word about this collection is necessary here, however: it was assembled by the historical writer David Irving, a figure of considerable controversy due to his opinions regarding the nature of the National Socialist regime, the character and deeds of the man who created and led it, and reality of the Holocaust, as well as questions about the accuracy of the content of some of his writings. Irving is a polarizing figure and can be a source of discomfort to historians who wish to make use of his research but desire to distance themselves from the man and his opinions. (An uneasy parallel can be drawn to the data collected during the medical experiments conducted by the SS—the information is there, but is it hopelessly tainted because of who collected it?) I will say this much in regard to this dilemma: Irving has proven to be a tireless researcher, and as such has been of immense value to the historical community that studies and writes about the Second World War in Europe. None of the original documents he has discovered has ever been impeached, and thus their reliability can be accepted. As for his opinions regarding the truth about the Holocaust, the nature of the Third Reich, and the character of Adolf Hitler, however, I am in utter and total disagreement with them: the utility of his research does not lend automatic confirmation to his conclusions. And as for the body of Irving’s work as a whole, well, let’s just say caveat emptor and leave it at that.
The experience of visiting The Tank Museum in Bovington, Dorset, England, as a researcher is one without parallel, for not only does the Museum possess the single largest collection of the tanks, half-tracks, armored cars and miscellaneous vehicles that fought on both sides in France and North Africa, but the staff is possessed of a detailed knowledge of these vehicles which is staggering, priceless to a dedicated and determined author. Just as important is the simple experience of standing alongside, sometimes touching, these vehicles, from the tiny Panzer I to the behemoth of the Panzer VIa, the Tiger I. Being so close to such vehicles, or even better, having an opportunity to clamber inside one, imparts an understanding of that intoxicating mix of power and vulnerability which makes these vehicles so fascinating, something that can never be adequately conveyed through the written word.
These four institutions were at the heart of the research done for Field Marshal—The Life and Death of Erwin Rommel. Other sources were used, of course, but they merely added to the foundation laid at Freiburg, Washington, London, and Bovington. The only flaw inherent in conducting research in such institutions is the infinite variety of distractions and digressions offered by the sheer volume of information immediately to hand about so many diverse and fascinating subjects. A pity, that: so many archives, so little time. . . .
TURNING TO STRICTLY personal concerns, once again my heartfelt gratitude goes out to David Farnsworth, president of Casemate Publishing, for having confidence in yet another of my projects; Steven Smith, my long-suffering managing editor, for his patience and encouragement as he oversaw the development of the manuscript; Ruth Sheppard, whose perception, insight, and meticulous attention to detail allowed her to perform an outstanding job editing the manuscript; and Tara Lichterman, executive assistant at Casemate and the person who really keeps all of their ducks in a row.
The ever-reliable Trish Eachus-Crabtree once again took on the task of being one of my first readers, along with her husband, Leonard Crabtree, USMC (ret.); Trish also did her usual yeoman service as my proofreader. And she notched up another engagement in her never-ending battle with my run-on sentences. The woman has the patience of a saint.
Scott and Wendi Bragg provided technical, moral, and intellectual support. Wendi in particular deserves mention for helping me unravel an exceptionally thorny moral problem regarding Erwin Rommel: dissecting the ethical process by which Rommel finally came to conclude that breaking faith with Hitler was not merely the right thing to do, it was the only choice he had if he were to remain true to himself. It was Wendi who pointed out that to a truly moral individual, an oath like the Fahneneid was binding only so long as both parties lived. By 1944 it was evident to all that Adolf Hitler no longer “lived,” in that he was not at all the same man to whom Erwin Rommel had sworn his personal loyalty 10 years earlier. The oath had been dissolved by Hitler himself, in his descent into madness. It was a moment of epiphany when she laid this out for me, as it made so much of Rommel’s thoughts and actions in late 1943 and 1944 far more comprehensible and purposed.
A few more of the Usual Suspects deserve thanks for showing up: Maureen Haley for periodically bending my ear—and letting me bend hers in turn—when I needed a break from the Libyan desert or the Normandy beaches to return for an hour or two to the real world. Captain Michael Guardia, United States Army, for encouragement, lively discussion and debate, and the insight of a serving tank officer into the nuts and bolts of tank operations. Mike is also an accomplished military author in his own right—like me, he’s published through Casemate, you can find his books in their online catalog: http://www.casematepublishing.com. My first readers deserve a tip of the hat: once again Trish and Len Crabtree, along with Michael Guardia; also Tom Ly
nskey and David Weber. My friends from LHS and Hope College—you know who you are—who check in periodically if only to say hello and encourage me to keep on keeping on: it always means so much more than many of you probably realize. Thank you!
And finally, the last word of gratitude goes out to the man to whom this book is dedicated: Robert C. Lendt. As a high-school teacher (he’s now retired), Bob first introduced me to Erwin Rommel as a man, not simply some semi-mythical figure of television and film. It was he who spurred my interest in the Afrika Korps, showing me how to see it as more than just a bunch of spiffy tanks running around in the desert, and then using it as an introduction to a much wider world of history. It was Bob Lendt and another teacher, George Beecher, now long deceased, who in all of my public school days had the most profound effect on me and my willingness to embrace my vocation. “Thank you” just isn’t sufficient, but it will have to do.
For all of these people and institutions, “gratitude” seems to be a somewhat inadequate word; however, mine is deep and abiding, and very genuine. If this book has become greater than the sum of its parts—and I fervently hope it has—it is because of the selflessness with which so many of those parts were provided by the people mentioned here. Whatever information, support, or encouragement they offered me, they did so without any qualification whatsoever. So while it is my name only which appears on the cover, I can never hope to claim sole credit for bringing this work into existence.
What I can and will do, however, is own all of the content and conclusions, especially in light of the fact that many of those conclusions will fly in the face of conventional wisdom and long-accepted historical explanation. To paraphrase from David Lloyd George, my friends will not be allowed to let themselves be converted into an air-raid shelter to keep the splinters from hitting me. The conclusions—there are many—and the errors—if there be any—are mine and mine alone. That’s the way it is, because, as always, I wouldn’t have it any other way.