The Last Prussian

by Messenger, Charles;

  In the midst of this Gerd’s health broke down once more and he was evacuated sick with both lung and heart trouble,11 probably brought about by the combination of weather and strain. His divisional commander, General von Wernitz, was clearly sorry to see him go and praised his clear judgement and willingness to work. Significantly, though, von Gallwitz added the rider that Gerd had to develop a ‘more lively’ character, an indication that his health was troubling him for some time before he actually reported sick.12

  While Gerd was away recovering, the Russians eventually decided to withdraw from the Warsaw salient and fell back to a line which left virtually the whole of Poland in German hands. Warsaw was entered on 5 August and a military government set up under General von Beseler. It was to this that Gerd was now posted on 5 September. While it would have made sense to give him the post of Chief of Operations (1a), in view of his experience, this was already filled by an officer junior to him. He therefore had to make do with the 1b position which gave him responsibility for administration and logistics. While this may not have been wholly to his taste, he must have realised that the experience would have been good for his long term development as a staff officer and also that it would have done him little good to have returned to a combat formation before he was fully recovered. Indeed, it may well be that while at Antwerp he had agitated for such a job and been given it before he was fully fit and hence the second breakdown in his health. As it was, he impressed both von Beseler and his chief of staff. The latter noted in particular his clear judgement and enthusiasm for his work. These qualities were echoed by von Beseler, who also commented on his sincerity and humour – an indication that Gerd had overcome the depression that had plagued him during summer 1915.13

  Von Beseler gave Gerd a strong recommendation for the post of chief of staff to an army corps. On 1 November 1916 he was appointed as 1a to HQ XXV Reserve Corps in the Carpathians, but within days of his arrival the chief of staff departed on leave for a month, leaving Gerd in charge. Apparently, the corps commander was not popular with the staff and since he had praised von Rundstedt before his arrival, the staff feared that Gerd would be like the general and were cool towards him at first. A few evenings later, however, one young officer said to him: ‘Really, Major, you are quite nice!’, and the ice was broken.14

  During the summer the Central Powers had been on the defensive on the Eastern Front and had had to fight hard to contain Brusilov’s offensive, which made spectacular gains from the Pripet marshes in the North to the Rumanian border in the South before it began to run out of momentum. Then, at the end of August, Rumania declared war on the Central Powers. A month later Austro-German forces invaded her and the Russians were forced to deploy increasing numbers of troops in a vain effort to prop up their new ally. In order to try and divert his enemies, Brusilov mounted a number of diversionary attacks elsewhere along the front. Von Rundstedt had to cope with one of these at the end of November and received high praise for his efforts from Freiherr von Richthofen, his corps commander, for his performance, as well as another strong recommendation for the post of corps chief of staff.15 He was, however, to remain as 1a to XXV Reserve Corps until autumn 1917. As such he took part in the repulsion of Kerensky’s ill-fated July 1917 offensive astride the Dniester, the last gasp of the old Russian Army, as part of Graf von Bothmer’s Südarmee, which was a mixed Austro-German formation, but which also included two Turkish divisions and it was their presence which brought about the award to von Rundstedt of the Turkish Iron Crescent. When the Central Powers’ counter-offensive began on 19 July von Rundstedt again distinguished himself and his efforts were rewarded when on 1 October he was appointed Chief of Staff of LIII Corps. This was part of Army Detachment D, which was commanded by the King of Saxony, and was located in the northern part of the Eastern Front.

  MAP 3. The Eastern Front 1915–1917.

  The hostilities on the Eastern Front were now virtually at an end. On 7 November 1917 the Bolsheviks seized power in Petrograd and then announced their intention to bring Russia’s part in the war to an end. Negotiations were opened with Germany and these eventually led to the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, which was signed on 3 March 1918. The terms were swingeing, with the Russians renouncing all rights to Poland, Courland and Lithuania and agreeing to evacuate Finland, Estonia and Livonia, as well as recognising Ukraine’s right to independence. The path of negotiation was by no means smooth, however, and in February the Germans reopened hostilities and pushed forward eastwards into the Ukraine and elsewhere. During this renewed burst of fighting, von Rundstedt added further to his reputation. On 3 March, the day the Treaty was signed, his commander, General Siebourg, recommended him for Prussia’s highest decoration, the Pour Le Mérite. He praised Gerd’s ‘sound judgement and pertinent grasp of the situation’ which ‘led to the daringly executed raids’ which brought the Germans up to Lake Peipus, which lies today on the Estonian-Russian border, and brought about ‘outstanding successes consequent in the enormous bounty of liberated territories which were overrun’. The citation also cited Gerd’s performance during the July 1917 fighting.16 The Chief of Staff of Army Detachment D, in another report written two weeks later, also wrote that he ‘proved himself in an excellent way in the execution of the attack’ through his ‘quick grasp of the situation and his energy’. Colonel von Kleist, the King of Saxony’s aide, endorsed this, recalling that in Galicia in summer 1917 he was ‘an outstandingly able 1a with my neighbouring corps’ and that Gerd was ‘an outstanding personality’.17 After Brest-Litovsk, however, Gerd’s duties were mainly concerned with the policing of the newly seized territories and there is no doubt that his experience at Antwerp and Warsaw was now put to good use. As Siebourg later wrote: ‘During the occupation and administration of the conquered territories, Major v. Rundstedt displayed a good organisational talent and impact in economic, police and political respects.’18 In spite of all this high praise, Gerd did not receive the Pour Le Mérite, possibly, one sus-pects, because the citation, as it stood, was not strongly enough written up and indicated that his performance was little more than would be expected of an experienced member of the Grosse Generalstab.

  If the Germans, by spring 1918, appeared victorious in the East, it was to be a different matter on the Western Front. During the period March-July 1918 they launched no less than five desperate attacks on the Allies with a view to gaining a decisive victory. The first three made significant inroads into the Allied defences, but did not break them. Finally, after the failure of the final drive against the French Fourth and Fifth Armies in the Reims area in mid-July, Ludendorff was forced to recognise that he had shot his bolt. The initiative passed to the Allies and, within weeks, they had begun to attack. It was now that von Rundstedt returned to the Western Front, assuming the appointment of Chief of Staff of XV Corps, the same corps in which he had served as a company commander just before the war, in von Bothmer’s Nineteenth Army on 1 August 1918. A week later the British attacked with tanks at Amiens in what Ludendorff later called ‘the Black Day of the German Army’. It was the beginning of the end.

  These last few months were probably the most frustrating that von Rundstedt suffered during the whole of the First World War. Nineteenth Army was in Alsace and, in spite of careful preparation, it would not face any major Allied attack. All it could do as a helpless bystander was watch the remorseless progress of the Allied armies to the north. Yet, von Rundstedt seems to have been an inspiration to all with whom he served. The Chief of Staff of Nineteenth Army, Colonel von Hemmler, wrote of him:

  ‘He is as a chief should be: clear thinking, balanced, positive in decision and judgement, remarkably practical and trained in an excellent way for General Staff duty. He stands out in any situation, even the most difficult, and he does not shy away from problems. He is a shining ideal for the whole staff, which he has led with all his powers to a most excellent performance. A complete man, of distinguished mien, of as fine a nobility in his beliefs and way of thinking, as
you could wish for in this period of deepest misery.’

  This was endorsed by von Bothmer, who described him as ‘a wholly excellent staff officer and aimiable comrade’.19 This ‘time of misery’ for the prewar regular officers of the German armies, especially those of the Grosse Generalstab, was just that. Not only were the Allied attacks unceasingly successful, but as the autumn wore on, so the cracks in the infrastructure of Germany itself grew wider. Then, at the end of October, came the mutiny of the Grand Fleet at Kiel. Simultaneously came the setting up of Soldiers’ Councils in more and more units in the West. It must have seemed to Gerd, with his recent experience in the East, that the tide of Bolshevism had broken through the shield of German forces and was now engulfing the whole of Germany. The abdication of the Kaiser on 9 November would have served to confirm this, as well as knocking away, at one blow, the foundation stone on which Gerd and his brother officers based their modus vivendi of Duty, Loyalty and Honour. Yet, whatever he thought, he kept to himself and still strove to maintain order amid the growing chaos. This was so much so that, a month after the guns had finally ceased firing in the West, his corps commander cited him yet again for the Pour Le Mérite.

  ‘It was mainly due to him alone that an effective defence was established despite enormous obstructions and difficulties and that the planned enemy attacks were not executed. I consider Major v. Rundstedt’s merits during the war as that high and important for the Army and Fatherland … It would be regretted to the highest degree if the events of 9 November and the sad end of the war would rob Major v. Rundstedt of his hard earned decoration. It would also be an injustice of the greatest kind if awards, which were earned during the long war, were extinguished at one blow.’20

  Sadly for von Rundstedt, this is exactly what had happened. The old régime was dead and Germans, both military and civilian, faced an uncertain future.

  3

  The Weimar Years

  AFTER THE Armistice, Gerd’s corps withdrew back across the Rhine with the rest of German forces in France and Belgium. It was a very dispiriting time, especially with the unrest that was sweeping the troops. The influence of the Soldiers’ Councils over Friedrich Ebert’s Majority Socialist government in Berlin, and unrest in Bavaria, where an independent republic was set up, bore all the hallmarks of the Russian Revolution. The only comfort that Gerd could take at this troubled and doom-laden time was that he and all his brothers had survived the war (although Udo had lost an eye) and that he would be reunited with his wife and son.

  The pre-1914 XV Corps area was, of course, Alsace, but there was no question of it returning here in 1918 and it is not certain where the corps headquarters did eventually come to rest. Once across the German border, the old Army quickly disintegrated amid the anarchy of defeat and it is probable that the corps headquarters was quickly disbanded.

  On 11 December 1918, troops lately returned from the Western Front paraded under General Arnold von Lequis in Berlin. It was to be the last flourish of the Royal Prussian Army. In some ways they appeared not as a defeated army, but one that had triumphed. The officers wore all their decorations and many of the soldiers bore crowns of oakleaves, as did their heavy weapons. This impression was reinforced by Ebert, who addressed the parading troops at the Brandenburg Gate: ‘I salute you, you whom no enemy has defeated on the battlefields.’1 On the other hand, they did not bear the old Imperial banners. Instead, they carried simple brown flags. The unsmiling expressions on the soldiers’ faces did not display any feeling of victory, and the modest crowds of bystanders were muted in their applause. Some, especially members of the People’s Naval Division, were merely sullen. For the next two days, nine divisions’ worth of soldiers trooped through Berlin. From there they went to their depots and were disbanded.

  Ebert, pressured as he was by left wing and liberal elements in the government, felt forced to remove the army’s teeth and, apart from von Lequis’s troops would not allow it back into Berlin. Instead, he formed a citizens’ militia to counter the increasing provocations of the mutinous bands of sailors and soldiers in the Prussian capital. The Supreme Command (OHL) under von Hindenburg and Groener came to rest at Wilhelmshöhe outside Kassel, but pledged its support to Ebert. He, however, was now forced to pass on demands by the workers’ and soldiers’ councils for the ‘demilitarisation’ of the army. This included the removal of all rank insignia, election of officers by their soldiers, and the eventual disbandment of the army in favour of a nationwide citizens’ militia (Volkswehr). Von Hindenburg and Groener could not possibly accept these terms. In the meantime, with anarchy growing in Berlin and elsewhere, some officers called for volunteers from among the few still loyal soldiers. These became the early Freikorps and it was on them alone that the Supreme Command came to rely in its efforts to prevent Germany being swamped by red revolution.

  According to the Militärarchiv at Freiburg, Gerd was posted to the Grosse Generalstab in December 1918.2 It is probable that he was actually assigned to the OHL, which would have suited him, bearing in mind its location. It is also possible that Groener may have summoned Gerd in person, since, having been chief of staff to the army of occupation in Russia, he probably knew him. No evidence survives of what Gerd felt or how he reacted to the chaos of those last weeks of 1918 and first of 1919. It would have been in his character that, whatever his private feelings, he maintained his loyalty to von Hindenburg and hence to Ebert.

  In January some of the embryo Freikorps were allowed into Berlin, thanks largely to Ebert’s defence minister, Gustav Noske, and began to clean out the Spartacists, as the left wing revolutionaries called themselves. Berlin was cleared of them within a week. Other Freikorps moved to deal with similar uprisings in Northern Germany, while others still were battling with Polish irregulars determined to grab as much territory from Germany as possible in order to present the Allied peacemakers in Paris with a fait accompli with regard to Poland’s borders. In order to insulate himself from further unrest which might take place in the capital, Ebert then moved the seat of government to Weimar, 150 miles south-west of Berlin, and held elections for the National Assembly. These returned his Majority Socialists as the largest party and gave him a firm mandate to remain in office.

  Ebert could now devote attention to drawing up a charter for the German Armed Forces of the future within the democratic republic that Germany now was. Much of this was done in consultation, but not without much debate with the Supreme Headquarters, which had now moved to Kolberg in Pomerania in order to be closer to the fighting on Germany’s eastern borders. The result was the Law on the Provisional Reichswehr, which came into force at the beginning of March 1919. This restored badges of rank, albeit new designs from those of the old army, but officers would no longer be permitted to wear their epaulettes, which angered some. There would be no conscription, but six to nine years’ voluntary engagements, and soldiers were to be entitled to vote. Saluting was upheld and units would elect soldiers’ councils, although these would merely concern themselves with welfare. In the meantime further left wing revolts were put down by the Freikorps, culminating in the overthrow of the month-old revolutionary government of Bavaria in May. By this time, they and the elements of the standing army numbered some 400,000 men. All were to be organised into brigades, one to each of the 25 corps areas of the pre-1914 German armies. In the midst of this reorganisation a bombshell struck.

  On 7 May, the Allies presented Germany with the terms to which she must accede if she was to achieve formal peace with her late enemies. Among the surrenders of territory, those parts given to the newly independent state of Poland were especially resented by many Prussian officers. Not only would East Prussia now be isolated from the remainder of Germany by the Polish Corridor, but a significant portion of industrially rich Silesia was to be handed over to the Poles. The Army itself was to be reduced, after a transitionary period, to 100,000 men on long-term engagements, with strictly limited armaments – no tanks, no guns above 105 mm calibre, no aircraft. In
addition, the Grosse Generalstab was to be disbanded. Worse, apart from crippling reparation payments, Germany had to acknowledge that she had started the war and to hand over anyone whom the Allies suspected of having committed war crimes. These demands became known as the ‘paragraphs of shame’. A movement led by Colonel Walther Rein-hardt, then the Prussian War Minister, but later to be Gerd’s chief, advocated acceptance of the terms in the West, but not in the East, arguing that before the Poles were properly organised the Army could snatch back at least some of the about-to-be-lost regions. They also demanded that the ‘paragraphs of shame’ be removed. The terms were debated at a meeting of senior army officers held at Weimar on 19 June. The majority followed Groener, who argued that Germany was militarily and economically ill-equipped to resist the Allies should they decide to implement the terms by force. The Government felt the same and on 28 June the Treaty of Versailles was signed. This must have been hard for Gerd, but he would undoubtedly have followed Groener’s line. Others, however, would continue to harbour a canker of resentment, although this was removed to some extent when the Allies later agreed that Germany could try her own war criminals and the Weimar Government permitted the reintroduction of the officer’s epaulette.

  Versailles laid down that the Provisional Reichswehr must be reduced to 200,000 men by 1 October 1919, and that the 100,000 man Army was to come into being by 31 March 1920. It was to consist of, and this was strictly laid down by the Treaty, seven infantry and three cavalry divisions, with no more than two higher formation headquarters. To accommodate this, two Gruppenkommando (Group Commands) were to be created, and each infantry divisional headquarters would also command a geographic military district (Wehrkreis). At the top of the command pyramid a Heeresleitung (Army Leadership) was created, which, together with the Marineleitung (Navy Leadership), was directly subordinated to Noske as defence minister. After Versailles had been signed, von Hindenburg and Groener felt themselves duty bound to resign and appointed as to head the Heeresleitung was none other than Reinhardt. Under him was the Truppenamt (Troop Office), which substituted for the Grosse Generalstab and would, in fact, act as a camouflage for it. To run this, General Hans von Seeckt was appointed, a man who was to have almost complete control on the shaping of the truncated German Army during its formative years.