The Last Prussian

by Messenger, Charles;

  On 1 October 1919, the new Provisional Reichswehr came into being. A ceiling of 4,000 officers had been imposed on it and this inevitably meant that many had to be retired. Among them were Udo and Joachim, Gerd’s brothers, who retired with ranks of Major and Colonel respectively. Both went to live in Ratzeburg near Kiel, where their now widowed mother resided. Eberhard, having held a reserve commission during the war, had already been demobilised. Gerd himself had received another strong recommendation in April, from his former corps commander in France, that he should be retained.3 Indeed, with his proven experience as a high class staff officer, he was exactly the material which von Seeckt was seeking in order to create the right foundations for the Army of the future. Accordingly, on 1 October 1919 Gerd was appointed to the staff of Wehrkreis V, based at Stuttgart. This, though, proved to be merely a transitional appointment while the second phase of the drastic manpower reduction was carried out, an operation which was to cause severe ructions and threaten the whole fabric of the infant republic.

  The spark that lit the flame of what came to be known as the Kapp Putsch was the status of two Freikorps naval brigades, Ehrhardt and von Loewenfeld. Reinhardt and von Seeckt feared the independence of some of the Freikorps (not all of whom, by any means, had been properly assimilated into the Provisional Reichswehr) and wanted to use the mandatory strength reductions to disband them. The Inter-Allied Military Control Commission, responsible for seeing that the Versailles military clauses were honoured, insisted that these two brigades should be considered part of the German Navy, now to be reduced to 15,000 men. An obstacle stood in the way of this, General Walter Freiherr von Lüttwitz, who headed Gruppenkommando 1 in Berlin. The brigades were at the time under his command and, not only did he not want to lose them, but he also vehemently resisted any reductions in strength, doing his best to thwart all orders to this effect. The order to disband the two brigades was promulgated on 29 February 1920, but on the following day von Lüttwitz told the Ehrhardt Brigade that he would not allow this to happen. Ten days later, probably in an attempt to calm the situation, Noske ordered that the brigades should be transferred to the Navy. Von Lüttwitz’s reaction was to go and see Ebert. He not only demanded that the brigades remain under his command, but that Reinhardt should be sacked and fresh national elections called. He was supported in this by Dr Walther Kapp, a right wing politician. Noske then relieved von Lüttwitz of his command, but he refused to go. At the same time, Noske was made aware that a mutiny was brewing. However, attempts to arrest some of the ringleaders failed. On 12 March, the Ehrhardt Brigade, which was based at Döberitz, just outside Berlin, announced its intention to march to Berlin and the garrison at Potsdam sided with it. Reinhardt was prepared to meet force with force, but many officers in Berlin, notably von Seeckt, who offered his resignation, were not prepared to see soldiers fire on soldiers. The Government therefore decided to leave Berlin for Dresden and ordered the troops there to remain in their barracks, thus enabling the Ehrhardt Brigade and its supporters to enter the capital unopposed.

  The effects of the events in Berlin split the Reichswehr down the middle. The eastern Wehrkreise, which were under Gruppenkommando 1, generally indicated their support for von Lüttwitz. In the west of the country it was different. Significantly, Gerd’s commander in Wehrkreis V, General Walter von Bergmann, immediately declared in favour of the government.4 He would have undoubtedly consulted his staff and Gerd probably said to him, as he did before the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg in 1946 when questioned about the Putsch: ‘It is a very ancient Prussian tradition that an officer does not concern himself with politics.’5 The other two Gruppenkommando 2 Wehrkreise commanders, at Münster and Munich, preferred to await developments and took a neutral stance. Kapp tried to set up a government, but the immediate reaction to this was a General Strike. On 17 March, realising that he did not have popular support, Kapp fled, leaving von Lüttwitz to pick up the pieces. The Putsch was over. Von Rundstedt’s verdict on it was: ‘Kapp was a failure and a very stupid one at that, a very stupid putsch which could never succeed.’6

  In the aftermath of the Kapp Putsch, Noske resigned, having lost much support from the electorate. Reinhardt stepped down as chief of the Heeresleitung, feeling that he could no longer remain in post when so few officers had supported his preparedness to use force to crush the rebels. He was replaced by von Seeckt. In the words of Joachim von Stülpnagel, who was to work closely with von Seeckt: ‘He entered office with the clear intention of forming an army, loyal to the constitution, well disciplined, faithful to the Prussian tradition, and devoted to himself.’7 He moved quickly to achieve this, making the two group commanders directly subordinate to him instead of to the defence minister, as they had previously been, and placing all the various army departments in Berlin firmly under his control. Within a year, he had banned soldiers from taking part in any political activity and managed to create a situation where the Army was, in his words, ‘the first instrument of the power of the Reich’.8 Nevertheless, he kept it at arm’s length from the Weimar Republic. Even though von Seeckt was cold and distant in character, his policy coincided with the beliefs of von Rundstedt and many others and they came to regard him rather than the President as the figurehead of the state.

  In May 1920, von Rundstedt was made Chief of Staff of 3rd Cavalry Division, which had its headquarters at Weimar. Having been unable to join the cavalry as a young man, this was a posting which must have given him much pleasure. It was also a step up the rung of the career ladder and a sign that he continued to be highly regarded by his peers. This was reinforced, when, on 1 October 1920, he and four other majors were promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. His fellow promotees were Werner von Blomberg, Fedor von Bock, Kurt Freiherr von Hammerstein-Equord and Wilhelm von Leeb. All were to reach high rank and make their mark on the German Army during the next twenty years. Von Seeckt was not merely grappling with the present, but was also looking to the future and wanted to groom selected officers whom he could trust to maintain the Army in the character in which he was shaping it.

  MAP 4. Wehrkreis Boundaries 1921–1935.

  Gerd shone as a cavalry chief of staff. His commander, General Elzborn, reporting on him in November 1921, wrote that he ‘could not wish for better’. In spite of not being a cavalryman, von Rundstedt had ‘fully grasped the essence of cavalry training’. Elzborn also drew attention to Gerd’s ‘organisational talent, which became obvious during the war’. He also commented on the ‘unusual respect’ and simpatico which he enjoyed with both his contemporaries and subordi-nates. The report also made mention of the ‘spartan simplicity’ of Gerd’s life style.9 During the winter of 1921–22, the divisional commander personally ran an equitation course, which Gerd attended and ‘prepared his horse in a model way’. Significantly, too, his commander paid tribute to Gerd’s emphasis during exercises on all arms cooperation and the use of radio.10 This certainly indicated a man whose mind was not set in the past and who was prepared to apply modern technology. On the other hand, ‘W E Hart’, the supposed pseudonym for an officer who was believed to have served in the Reichswehr before fleeing from Germany in the 1930s, claimed that von Rundstedt spent the years 1920–23 writing an in-depth analysis of Germany’s defeat in the late war. Other historians have echoed this.11 When asked about this by Basil Liddell Hart at the beginning of 1946, von Rundstedt categorically denied it, saying, at another point in the interview, ‘I can hardly write my own name!’12 Furthermore, if he had written such a report one would have expected it to have been mentioned in the confidential reports on him over this period.

  Likewise, W E Hart accused von Rundstedt of being personally responsible for putting down the 1923 Communist uprising in Thuringia with great ruthlessness and subsequently organising an election there in such a way as to ensure that deputies to the Reichstag were untainted by Socialism and would act to protect the interests of the Reichsheer.13 The facts, however, do not support this. Von Rundstedt, who had been promoted
Colonel on 1 March 1923, ahead of those who had been promoted Lieutenant Colonel with him, took up a new appointment on 1 October that year, as Chief of Staff of Wehrkreis II and 2nd Infantry Division in Pomerania. He was not, in fact, very happy about this since he had been promised command of a cavalry regiment. This, however, had been changed because growing unrest in Munich, created by Hitler and his National Socialists, had unsettled the staff of Wehrkreis VII there and it was decided that von Leeb, who was a Bavarian, should be sent there and that von Rundstedt was to take his place in Stettin.14 In any event, the Army was not called in to deal with the left-inspired Thuringian unrest until October, by which time von Rundstedt was already in his new post. Before he did so, he received another glowing report from his divisional commander. He described Gerd as a ‘successful racehorse jockey and daring cross-country rider’, who rode his horse with ‘youthful exuberance’. He was especially complimentary on the way that Gerd handled his subordinates – ‘he gave them the maximum possible independence but nevertheless guided them with a firm hand’. Furthermore, ‘with his noble, honest character, his endless work for the wellbeing of the command, and his friendliness, he enjoys an extraordinary popularity everywhere’.15

  Versailles had severely weakened Germany’s eastern borders. Not only was East Prussia now an island separated by the Polish Corridor from the remainder of Germany, but the loss of the province of Posen, now called Poznan by the Poles, left a large Polish salient in German territory pointing ominously towards Berlin. The Poznan salient also made Silesia much more vulnerable and this was further aggravated by the new state of Czechoslovakia in the south. Polish attempts to grab Upper Silesia in 1921 and the fact that Poland’s standing army was 250,000 strong gave von Seeckt great cause for concern. In consequence, half the strength of the Reichsheer was allocated to defence of the East. The sensible, purely military, solution for deploying these comparatively meagre forces would have been to have kept them concentrated in order to provide an effective defence of the key areas, especially Berlin. Politically, though, this was not so satisfactory. Germans living close to the Eastern borders were understandably nervous about the Poles and it was seen as important to reassure them. Also, the presence of German forces in every area, however thinly spread, would at least be some form of deterrent to what was seen as Polish adventurism. Hence von Seeckt dispersed his forces. One division was based in East Prussia, a cavalry division in Silesia, and a further infantry and a cavalry division in the Berlin area. Von Rundstedt’s division, 2nd Infantry, which had its headquarters at Stettin, was responsible for Pomerania. This was not seen to be as severely threatened as the other areas. Even so, it had its problems. While its main task was to prevent an enemy thrust on Stettin itself, the division also had the Baltic coast to look after. The snag here was that Versailles did not permit any fresh fortifications to be constructed. These, in themselves, would have been a force multiplier, but, as it was, half the division had to cover the coast. The creation of realistic defence plans for the region must therefore have been a worthy challenge for von Rundstedt and one that he eagerly grasped in a way that impressed both his superiors and subordinates. Heinz Guderian, the future leading light of the Panzer force, was also serving in 2nd Division at this time and later wrote: ‘He already convinced through the clarity of his thoughts and the self-confidence with which he put them across’.16

  Gerd was to remain for only some 18 months at Stettin. On 1 May 1925, he was appointed to command 18th Infantry Regiment at Paderborn. W E Hart wrote that he had been given this command because he had been too overtly political in his attitude while in Stettin and it was thought better if he cooled his heels for a while.17 Von Rundstedt himself said that he asked for a regiment because he felt that he had been on the staff for too long.18 This was certainly so, and it made sense for him to prove himself as a regimental commander if he was to reach the highest ranks of the Army. Contrary to Hart’s further accusation that he cared little for his regiment, he quickly displayed the wholehearted commitment with which he had approached all his previous jobs. His divisional commander heaped high praise on him after he had been in command for six months and noted especially his relationship with the young ‘for whose activities he has warm sympathy and understanding’. This was endorsed by General Wilhelm Reinhardt, now commanding Gruppenkommando 2: ‘He has a firm grip of the reins of command of the regiment and promises to command it well.’19

  Again, von Rundstedt was not destined to enjoy his command for long. The Truppenamt were grooming him hard for higher things and on 1 October 1926 he was placed on the next logical rung of the ladder, Chief of Staff of Gruppenkommando 2. Clearly, Reinhardt had something to do with this, since it was for him that von Rundstedt was to work. Although he would have been sad to leave his regiment, the prospect of a return to Kassel must have pleased both Bila and himself. Reinhardt had no cause to regret his choice. Within six weeks of von Rundstedt taking up his post, he was writing that he promised well as chief of staff and, an indication that Reinhardt personally liked him, a year later: ‘… he is a witty, intelligent entertainer within a familiar circle.’ Indeed, he was by now ‘an excellent chief of staff’ who promised to become ‘an able commander of our highest formations’.20 In that same year of 1927, though, he had a bad riding accident, which resulted in a fractured hip joint and a permanent reminder in the form of a scar on his lower left cheek.21 Compensation for this came towards the end of the year when on 1 November he was promoted Major General.

  His riding accident does not, however, seen to have curtailed von Rundstedt’s equestrian activities. He had not given up the ambition to command a cavalry formation, even if circumstances had prevented him from commanding a cavalry regiment, and Reinhardt pushed his candidacy for a cavalry division. This was rewarded when he was appointed to command 2nd Cavalry Division, with headquarters in Breslau, with effect from 1 October 1928. By now von Seeckt had been retired and his place taken by General Wilhelm Heye. Von Seeckt had done much to give the Army back its self respect and to provide it with the basis for becoming an effective modern army once the shackles of Versailles could be thrown off. Indeed, one of the major planks in his policy was the setting up of secret but close military ties with Russia, whereby, in return for technical advice for their own arms industry, the Russians provided the facilities for secret German arms factories to be set up and for selected German officers to be given training in the weapons denied to the Reichswehr by the Allies. He had, however, increasingly pursued his own foreign policy line and the Army had become what Philipp Schiedemann, a Social Democrat politician and 1919 Chancellor, called ‘a state within a state’.22 It was clearly not a situation that the government could endure and eventually they managed to get rid of von Seeckt in October 1926 on the grounds that he had allowed the eldest son of the Crown Prince Wilhelm to take part in manoeuvres in uniform. Von Seeckt was not, however, as missed by the Army as he might have been. For a start, Heye was his own selection to succeed him. More important, in May 1925 von Hindenburg had been made President of the German Republic. In terms of prestige he far outshone von Seeckt and gave the Army not merely a military figurehead, but a Head of State up to whom it could look with pride. Germany’s overall position had also improved. 1923 had been the worst year since the anarchy of 1919–20. Galloping inflation, Hitler’s attempted putsch in Munich, unrest in Thuringia, the Ruhr and other areas had all combined to reveal the weaknesses of Weimar Republic. Allied realisation, through the 1924 Dawes Plan, that Germany could not pay the reparations at the rate demanded, and agreement in 1926 that she should be invited to join the League of Nations, helped to restore her self respect.

  Von Rundstedt took up his new command in Silesia at an interesting time. Wilhelm Groener had taken over as Defence Minister in early 1928, having pursued a political career after retiring from the Army in 1919. While von Seeckt had been a great believer in mobility as the only means by which the small Reichswehr had any chance of defending Germany’s
borders, he was somewhat conservative in his thinking when it came to the means of achieving this mobility. He considered that motorisation rather than mechanisation was the way forward, believing that it would be many years before the tank, regardless of its prohibition in Germany, was technically developed enough to become a decisive weapon. He also retained faith in the horse and even rejected a proposal that the German cavalryman give up his lance in order to increase his firepower.23 Groener, on the other hand, was convinced that the shape of land warfare in the future would be dominated by the tank. He made this plain in an article on the development of war which he wrote late in 1928. Nevertheless, he did agree with von Seeckt that the cavalry was still an important arm, but it needed to be brought up to date: ‘We need “modern Hussars”, which I picture as a sort of machine gun corps.’ Even so, the degree to which the cavalry should be motorised was something which would not become clear until ‘the next decade’.24 It would have been most surprising if von Rundstedt, as the commander of a cavalry division, did not read this. While he would have been reassured by Groener’s continued belief in cavalry, he was not convinced by the potential dominance of the tank thesis, although he was prepared to listen to those who were. Guderian recalled meeting him on a training area in 1931: