‘He wanted to inspect cavalry soldiers while I was occupied with the first trials of motorised troops. He condemned my endeavours because he did not want to believe in their implementation. But when I said, in an attempt to defend myself, “What else is a cavalry division today but an enormous baggage train with insufficient escort?” he became very serious and replied: “Perhaps you are right”.’25
Guderian and von Rundstedt were fellow believers in the value of radio in modern war; indeed, von Rundstedt, when he was chief of staff of 3rd Cavalry Division, might well have drawn on Guderian’s firsthand World War I experience in this field. But the tank was something which von Rundstedt not only saw as a threat to his beloved horse, but more seriously as upsetting the combined arms balance if used in the way that Guderian and others were advocating. Yet Guderian clearly felt an affinity to a man who was very much his senior, in that he was able to speak so frankly to him and it says much for von Rundstedt that he recognised that there were two sides to the coin.
Of more immediate relevance to von Rundstedt’s new command was Groener’s policy of dealing with the Polish threat. He was opposed to von Seeckt’s ‘penny packeting’ of the forces allocated to guard Germany’s Eastern borders. While this might have reassured the local civilian population it made little military sense since the units based on the border would be quickly overrun. He therefore withdrew them and, to a degree, concentrated them to the rear. Thus, von Rundstedt’s five regiments, which had formerly occupied no less than 15 garrisons were, at the time he arrived in Breslau, being reduced to 11. Groener also believed that fortifications would help the defence of the Eastern borders. In this he followed von Seeckt’s view, and also agreed with him that, while in themselves they would not be decisive, they would help to deter the Poles, especially since their artillery was in a poor state. Hence, one of von Rundstedt’s responsibilities was to create fortifications in the frontier districts of Silesia. This had to be done with discretion in order not to openly infringe the Versailles terms and, initially, the defences consisted merely of a skeleton lay-out of infantry weapon positions. Allied to this was the forming of covert border units to man them. Local responsibility for these and defence construction rested with District Leaders (Kreisleiter), appointed after screening by local landowners and industrialists. Von Rundstedt himself liaised with the Oberpräsident of Breslau and Oppeln, who headed the local government of Silesia, while, at a lower level, command posts in the garrison towns oversaw the defences and occasionally held map exercises. Inevitably, perhaps, the border units attracted several National Socialist members. Eventually, this became a very real problem when they declared in 1932, that they would only serve with fellow Nazis.26
Von Rundstedt continued to be highly thought of and this was reflected in his promotion to Lieutenant General on 1 March 1929. His cup was thus full at this time, or at least nearly so. There was, however, one aspect which caused him personal difficulties and created what was probably the only rift that he and Bila had during their otherwise long and happy marriage. In July 1930, Bila, Gerd and possibly Hans Gerd as well, spent a holiday, probably in Switzerland. It should be said here, that von Runstedt, like many of his kind, was not a great traveller and that Switzerland was the only foreign country which he visited in peacetime, apart from one official visit to England (see Page 68). At the end of the holiday, von Rundstedt went directly to rejoin his division on the Altergrabow manoeuvre area in East Prussia, where it was to carry out work-up exercises for the Reichswehr autumn manoeuvres, the largest to be held since the end of the war. Unhappily, the holiday itself was not as successful as it might have been, as von Runstedt indicated in a letter to Bila, written shortly after his arrival at Altergrabow.27 He had noticed that Bila had been lost in deep thought and had cried all night, and knew what the reason was. He had struck up a friendship with a woman very much younger than himself. They both met in person and regularly exchanged letters. He refers to her as ‘E.K.’ and indicated that she lived in ‘BL’ (he always abbreviated place names in his letters), which he promised he would not visit while he was at Altergrabow. ‘BL’ itself probably refers to Berlin, where the headquarters of Wehrkreis III, von Rundstedt’s superior headquarters, was situated. Von Rundstedt assured his wife that he was not in love with ‘E.K.’ and denied that the relationship reflected any diminishing of the love he had for Bila. He was, on the other hand, not prepared to give up writing letters to ‘E.K.’ and reassured Bila that ‘there can be no lack of faithfulness or dallying because of a liking for “young girls”’. It is most unlikely that there was a sexual aspect to the relationship and ‘E.K.’ may possibly have reflected the daughter that von Rundstedt never had, besides reflecting the liking for young people that had been indicated in the reports on him when he commanded the 18th Infantry Regiment. He signed the letter ‘Your faithful Gerd’ and he seems to have maintained this form of ending his letters to Bila for the rest of their life together – certainly the letters that survive indicate this.
The 1930 autumn manoeuvres took place in the area of Bad Kissingen, north of Schweinfurt. For the first time, all the Reichswehr divisions were involved. The setting was an attack by a large Red force (France) across the Rhine followed by a withdrawal by the inferior Blue (German) forces into the centre of Germany. All the foreign military attachés, apart from the Belgian, French and Polish, were invited to attend and were most impressed by the professionalism of the troops and the degree of modernisation of the equipment, especially in terms of motorisation. A report in the Berlin newspaper Tempo especially noted significant changes in the cavalry, which had now finally given up its lances:
‘There exists no parade formation proper in the modern cavalry. But a parade is nowadays one of the few occasions where one can really ride. In lieu of the line of lances of former times straight as a chalk line, one now sees a pace of riding past the reviewing stand which takes the breath away. In about twenty minutes, six cavalry regiments and two horse artilliery battalions have dashed past, and the parade is over.’28
Also taking part in the manoeuvres was the 3rd (Prussian) Motor Transport Battalion. Commanded by Heinz Guderian, this had a company of dummy tanks and one of dummy anti-tank guns, as well as real armoured cars and a motor-cycle company.
At the beginning of 1932, von Rundstedt received further promotion. He was appointed to command Wehrkreis III and formally assumed his new post on 1 February, handing over 2nd Cavalry Division to Ewald von Kleist. He was now based in Berlin and controlled not only his former command, but also 1st Cavalry Division (headquarters Frankfurt-am-Oder) and 3rd Infantry Division (Berlin). The last-named controlled the Berlin garrison and meant that von Rundstedt could not help but become involved in the political battles then raging.
He arrived just in time for the presidential elections. Held in March, the first ballot gave von Hindenburg victory, with just under 50 per cent of the vote, but the runner up was Adolf Hitler with 30 per cent. Because von Hindenburg had not secured the necessary outright majority there was a re-run the following month. This time, with the Nationalist Colonel Dusterberg having dropped out, it was a three-cornered fight. Von Hindenburg was successful, but Hitler significantly increased his vote, while the communist Ernst Thälmann was a poor third. This marked an enormous leap forward for the Nazis from the 1928 Reichstag elections, when they had only secured 12 out of 491 seats. Much of the reason for this was Germany’s economic situation, which had been gravely affected by the 1929 Wall Street Crash – unemployment would reach six million by the beginning of 1932. The centrist parties believed that retrenchment was the only answer, but the Socialists would have none of it. In despair, the Chancellor, Hermann Müller, resigned in March 1930. In his place von Hindenburg had apponted Heinrich Brüning, a man on the right of the centre parties, promising him emergency powers if he could not obtain Reichstag support for his policies. These he quickly needed for the Reichstag refused to back his austerity measures and hence he dissolved it, ruling by
presidential decree. His efforts to restore Germany’s economic fortunes were by and large a failure and he began to lose the support of the middle classes. In consequence von Hindenburg dismissed him in May 1932.
Brü;ning’s successor was Franz von Papen, a former member of the Grosse Generalstab and a right wing Roman Catholic. His selection was by no means unilateral; von Hindenburg had been heavily influenced by General Kurt von Schleicher, the eminence grise of the last Weimar years. Having been commissioned into von Hindenburg’s old regiment, von Schleicher had served at the Supreme Headquarters during 1914–18 and was well known to the President. Groener had appointed him to head the Ministeramt, which he had created to act as a bridge between himself and the Reichswehr, so as to penetrate the insulation with which von Seeckt had covered it. Von Schleicher believed that the Reichswehr should be the supreme force in Germany and saw von Papen as an ideal tool to achieve this. Von Schleicher himself now took over as Minister of Defence, and the addition of Konstantin Freiherr von Neurath as Foreign Minister and Count Schwerin von Krosigk as Finance Minister, gave the von Papen administration such a Junker character that it quickly became known as the ‘barons cabinet’.
What von Rundstedt thought of all this is not recorded, although he did comment to Liddell Hart in a postwar interview that, even though he knew von Schleicher well, they were not friends because von Schleicher was not especially interested in military matters. He accepted, though, that von Schleicher was politically clever.29 On the other hand, Blumentritt asserted that von Schleicher and von Rundstedt were on ‘good terms’.30 Given his antecedents, von Rundstedt would have probably supported von Papen in preference to Brüning, but it is most unlikely that he would have worn his political convictions on his sleeve and would have tried to concentrate solely on the organisation and training of the troops under his command. Berlin, too, benefited him domestically. Hans Gerd had gone against the family tradition and had become an academic. This does not seem to have disappointed his father, who thought that he would have been a ‘lousy soldier’.31 By now Hans Gerd had successfully achieved a doctorate and was an archivist at the University of Berlin, which meant that he could and did live at home, which would have delighted his parents.
In 1934 a book was published in Britain entitled The Berlin Diaries. The editor was Dr Helmut Klotz, a German emigre who had recently settled in Paris. The sub-title was ‘The private journals of a General in the German War Ministry revealing the secrete intrigue and political barratry of 1932–33’. As to who the General was is a mystery. At the time it was thought that it might be von Schleicher himself, who was murdered, together with his wife, during the Night of the Long Knives, or his successor in the Ministeramt, General Ferdinand von Bredow, another victim of 30 June 1934. Klotz, while he accepted that he had had close contact with von Schleicher up to mid-February 1932, denied that either was the author.32 Klotz’s Foreword and Introduction give the impression that the diary entries might have been compiled from an amalgam of individuals, but it is possible that they may have been the work of the Commander-in-Chief of the time, Kurt Freiherr von Hammerstein-Equord. Junior, in terms of length of service and age, to von Rundstedt, it will be remembered that they had been promoted Lieutenant Colonel on the same day in 1920. Von Hammerstein-Equord’s father-in-law was the ill-fated von Lüttwitz of Kapp fame, but his son-in-law refused to side with him and became a protegée of both Groener and von Schleicher. He had succeeded Heye in 1930 and was convinced that the Reichswehr should drop its policy of isolation and establish links with the mass of the German population. As a result, some sectors of the defence ministry viewed him as a ‘red general’, and could use the fact that his three daughters were communists to support their case.33 In fact, he was equally opposed to the Left and the Right and abhorred Hitler – his reluctance to support him would eventually bring about his dismissal in February 1934. Because it cannot be proved that he was the author of the Diary, or even the leading light in its compilation, the author(s) will be referred to as ‘General X’. This is important, because during summer 1932, von Rundstedt’s name flits across its pages.
Von Schleicher believed that the only way to tame Hitler and his followers was to allow them a share of the government. One of the first olive branches that he and von Papen offered the Nazis was to lift the ban on the SA, Hitler’s political shock troops, a ban which had been imposed by Brüning in April 1932, because of the SA’s violent activities. Hitler, however, expected more than this. He wanted the SA to become more involved with the Reichswehr, especially with regard to military training. General X recalled meeting Hitler at the house of a Berlin financier on 11 June. Hitler proposed that SA officers should attend military manoeuvres. General X was vehemently opposed to this – ‘I have little inclination to throw the Army open to a gang of fellows like Captain Roehm [SA Chief of Staff]’ – but could not very well say this to Hitler. ‘General Rundstedt relieved me from my disagreeable embarrassment. Rundstedt’s opinion of the “Leader” is exactly the same as my own. The two of them don’t seem to be exactly the best of friends!’34 It is hardly surprising that von Rundstedt thought little of Hitler, but what is interesting is that he told Liddell Hart after the war that he did not meet Hitler until after he had been installed as Chancellor at the end of January 1933.33 Given, however, von Rundstedt’s position in Berlin, it would have been most surprising if he had not come across Hitler during 1932. A month later, though, von Rundstedt was drawn further into the political arena. On 12 July von Papen gave a dinner at the Herren Klub, the most prestigious of Berlin’s gentlemen’s clubs. Present at it were General X, von Schleicher, von Hammerstein-Equord, von Blomberg, von Seeckt and, among others, von Rundstedt. The object was to ensure that the Reichswehr gave von Papen full support for a plan which he had to remove the Prussian State Government.
The Prussian Government itself had been Social Democrat since 1923 and had increasingly become a thorn in the flesh for both Brüning and von Papen. The final straw was the Government’s refusal to lift the ban on paramilitary organisations, which placed von Papen in an invidious position. He also wanted to woo the Nationalist vote away from Hitler and believed that this could be achieved through the forcible dissolution of the Prussian Government, using the ‘catch all’ Article 48 of the Weimar Constitution. This was particularly urgent since Reichstag elections were to be held at the end of July. According to General X, von Papen’s plan met with stunned silence on the part of the Generals, except for von Schleicher, who warned of the danger of civil war, but was overridden. After the dinner General X walked a short distance with von Rundstedt. ‘Unlike myself, he is filled with admiration for the plan and for Papen. The whole business seems strange to me. I have a feeling that things have already gone farther than Papen admits, and that von Rundstedt himself knows more than he considers it expedient to say.’36 This was probably so, for von Rundstedt was to be the instrument for removing the Prussian Government and had been briefed before the dinner took place. Thus, on 14 July he requested the use, if need be, of cavalry units in Wehrkreis II and was told that he could contact those in Pomerania and Mecklenburg, but could not use them without permission of the defence ministry.37 While he planned to secure all strategic points in Berlin, in case of both civil unrest and resistance by the Prussian Police, von Rundstedt intended to employ the principle of minimum force when it actually came to arresting the Prussian ministers.
On July 1932, von Papen informed the Prussian Cabinet that he had been appointed Reichskommissar of Prussia by President von Hindenburg, who was using Article 48. Von Papen declared a state of emergency. The Ministerpräsident, Otto Braun, and his interior minister, Karl Severing, refused to be cowed by this and declared that force would be required to remove them from office. Von Rundstedt sent a lieutenant and 12 soldiers from the 9th Infantry Regiment to remove them and, with this symbolic gesture of force, Braun and Severing and others stepped down.38 Von Rundstedt himself was appointed Holder of Plenipotentiary Powers for t
he Region of Greater Berlin and Brandenburg Province, but, although the operation had gone like clockwork and there had been no violence, he did not enjoy his new political status. The next day he visited General X ‘imploring me to try to get his provisional commission withdrawn again as soon as possible’.39 Von Schleicher, too, was unhappy and purposely distanced himself from the affair. By the 25th, however, apparently aware of von Rundstedt’s feelings on the matter, he was agitating for martial law to be lifted.40 Von Papen duly acceded to this on the following day, and, as General X noted, von Rundstedt was ‘at peace again’.41
As it happened, the removal of the Prussian Government gained von Papen nothing. In the elections held on 31 July, Hitler’s NDSAP became the largest party in the Reichstag and was now in a position to demand that the reins of power be handed over to him. Von Papen tried to compromise, but Hitler would have none of it, and the Reichstag was dissolved. The events of July 1932 had also done little for the Army. It had forced it into the political arena and, while officers like von Rundstedt wanted strong government, they did not want to be seen as the tool used to enforce it.
It was therefore probably with much relief that von Rundstedt could turn his attention to the main autumn manoeuvres, which took place in the Küstrin – Frankfurt-am-Oder area. He commanded Blue forces, consisting of 3rd Infantry Division, while Fedor von Bock, with 1st and 2nd Cavalry Divisions, was the Red Commander. The aims were to trial new cavalry and infantry organisations, which reflected a very much higher degree of motorisation than heretofore, and to practise river crossings. The scenario painted was of a Red attack out of the Poznan salient. Blue had to prevent Red crossing the Oder. In the event, von Bock did succeed in making crossings, but then came under threat from Blue’s reserves. Among the guests at the ma-noeuvres was Mikhail Tuchachevsky, the Russian Chief of Staff, then developing the concept of Deep Battle,42 who would have been especially interested in the use by both sides of bypassing and threatening flanks, as well as the rapidity of movement. Indeed some cavalry units covered as much as 100 kilometres per day for three days without any noticeable strain. While von Hammerstein-Equord was not impressed by the handling of the river crossings, which were delayed by ‘many hours’, he was especially pleased with the motorised units: ‘The dash of the newly formed motorised units, even though the tactical conception was sometimes wrong, is deserving of commendation.’43 Here lay the foundations of Blitzkrieg.
The Last Prussian Page 8