This, of course, was in advance of Hitler’s infamous Commando Order of October 1942. Two points should, however, be made. First, given the airborne threat which existed at the time, it made sense to spell out the difference between organised bodies of troops and agents of the Special Operations Executive being dropped to assist the Resistance. Secondly, von Rundstedt’s brief did not cover internal security and it was logical that agents, whose purpose was to organise espionage and unrest among the civil population, should be handed over to the competent authority for disposal. Where the order was legally more questionable was over the handing over of uniformed personnel operating behind the lines, in spite of the implication that this was in the context of stirring up the civil population.
Meanwhile, the troops in the West continued to wait. On 15 August von Rundstedt was considering an attack to be even more likely, ‘especially after Churchill’s visit to Moscow’,20 where he had been to inform Stalin that there would be no Second Front in 1942. Four days later, Operation JUBILEE, as the raid on Dieppe was now called, finally took place. The disaster that befell the Canadians has been recounted many times and it is not necessary to go into it again. Suffice to say that 10th Panzer Division was correctly positioned and able to react quickly and few of the attackers got off the beach. It seems that von Rundstedt had been planning a trip somewhere, but had to cancel it because of the raid and was ‘pretty busy from early to late’.21 Zeitzler visited Dieppe the following day and reported that ‘it looked incredible, mountains of dead Englishmen, sunken ships, etc’. Two days later, von Rundstedt himself visited and handed out Iron Crosses, noting that the battlefield was ‘very impressive’. He was, however, surprised to receive a congratulatory telegram from Marshal Pétain, with whom he had had no contact until now, and to which he was allowed to reply. ‘Funny, isn’t it?’, he commented to Bila.22
No sooner had the dust settled over Dieppe than von Rundstedt began to worry about Bila’s safety. This was with justification, since on the night 27/28 August Kassel was attacked by over 300 bombers, which caused widespread damage. Writing to his wife next day, von Rundstedt considered that things would probably become ‘lively’ now that ‘Churchill the swine is back in London’.23 Two weeks later, he reported to Bila that the British had ‘got cheeky again’.24 He was probably referring to a raid made by one of the crack British Commando units, the small Scale Raiding Force (SSRF), Operation AQUATINT, on the Normandy coast just east of what in June 1944 would be Omaha Beach. It went disastrously wrong with all the landing party being killed or captured, apart from one officer. The graves of the three who were killed are in a churchyard of the village of St Laurent. That of the commander, Major Gus March-Phillipps, records that he was killed in action on 12 September, but the other two indicate that his companions were shot on the following day. The exact circumstances are difficult to establish, but it is possible that they may have been shot in pursuance of von Rundstedt’s Parachutist order. If this was so or not, in October 1942 Hitler issued his secret Commando Order. This had been triggered by another SSRF raid, this time on Sark in the Channel Islands on the night of 3/4 October. During the course of it, the Commandos bound some German soldiers they had captured in order to make it easier to get them back to the waiting boat. Some had to be abandoned and hence the Germans discovered what had happened. German propaganda held this up as just the latest atrocity practised by the Commandos and ordered the fettering of almost 1400 British POWs in retaliation. Hitler resolved to retaliate in kind, and hence the Commando Order dated 18 October 1942. The most significant part of it read:
‘From now on, all men operating against German troops in so-called Commando raids in Europe or in Africa, are to be annihilated to the last man. This is to be carried out whether they be soldiers in uniform, or saboteurs, with or without arms; and whether fighting or seeking to escape; and it is equally immaterial whether they come into action from ships and aircraft, or whether they land by parachute. Even if these individuals on discovery make obvious their intention of giving themselves up as prisoners, no pardon is on any account to be given.’25
The first victims of this order were captured members of No 2 Commando who had taken part in an abortive operation against a power station at Glomfjord in northern Norway in September. In December, however, came Operation FRANKTON, an ambitious and successful raid against German blockade-runners at Bordeaux. It was carried out by ten canoeists, led by Major ‘Blondie’ Hasler, who paddled their way ninety miles up the Gironde to reach their target. Two members of the team were drowned, and two, including Hasler himself, eventually got back to England, by courtesy of the French Resistance. The other six were captured and shot. After the war the Allies used this as a basis of another of the charges against von Rundstedt, in that it was evidence that he had been responsible for the execution of the Commando Order. It would appear, however, that it was the German Navy who had captured and shot these men. Although Admiral Doenitz testified that von Rundstedt had authority over tactical operations on land by the Navy, no evidence exists that he ordered the executions and, bearing in mind his very restricted authority over Navy Group West, it is likely that the Navy carried out the executions on its own accord.26 At Nuremberg von Rundstedt himself declared that not a single man had lost his life in the West as a result of the order. When asked why, in that case, he had, in 1944, informed OKW that the Commando Order had been carried out, von Rundstedt replied that the words that he actually used were ‘the Order has been followed’. If he had openly refused to obey it he would have been dismissed and hence he had tried to evade the issue by using the word ‘followed’ rather than ‘carried out’.27
During this time von Rundstedt had become occupied in a new development, which significantly affected his area of responsibility. On 8 November 1942 the Allies landed in French North Africa and the Vichy regime in Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia, after little more than a gesture of resistance, went over to the Allied side. Apart from rushing reinforcements across the Mediterranean to Tunisia, Hitler ordered von Rundstedt to put into a effect a contingency plan for which the German forces in the West had been prepared since 1940. This was Operation ANTON, the military occupation of Vichy France. On the 11th, German troops moved in. Von Rundstedt himself went by train to Vichy to give Pétain formal notification of the occupation. They met in the Hotel du Parc, von Rundstedt accompanied by the German minister to Vichy, Krug von Nedda, and Hitler’s personal liaison officer to the Vichy Government, von Renthe-Fink. Pétain then read out a note of protest:
‘I have during this night received a letter from the Führer, in which he informs me that the military necessities force him to take measures which have the effect of destroying the content and basis of the [June 1940] armistice agreement. I solemnly protest against decisions which are incompatible with the armistice conventions.’28
With that he handed the note to von Rundstedt, who did not reply, but, according to Jean Perré, Director-General of the Republican Guard who was present, ‘stated his readiness to receive it, folded it in four, tucked it into the cuff of the sleeve of his uniform. The two diplomats who accompanied Marshal von Rundstedt and who realised the significance of this note tried to indicate that he must refuse it, but were too late.’29 Von Rundstedt then returned to his train, while Pétain arranged for the text of the note to be broadcast on Vichy radio. Plunged as he was into unfamiliar waters, the incident had starkly revealed von Rundstedt’s political naivety. Worse, though, was in store for the Vichy French. Hitler now ordered Pétain to disband what was left of the French Army on the grounds that the German occupation of the rest of France had disaffected it. On 10 December, the Marshal had an interview with von Rundstedt in order to make a protest. Martin Du Gard, a Toulouse journalist based at Vichy, described in his diary what took place. Pétain warned that the dissolution of the Army would create anarchy and was ‘an absurd vengeance, unworthy of the German Army’. France had been defeated, but Germany also now risked losing the war. All Pét
ain had wanted to achieve was for his country to live with Germany without it becoming a tragedy for France. Above all he wanted their two countries to be reconciled. Von Rundstedt appears to have said little if anything and the interview lasted just fifteen minutes and was in French, which von Rundstedt understood ‘well’, although, according to Du Gard, he did not speak it very fluently. The Field Marshal then left the room ‘with his eyes watering’.30 Von Rundstedt held Pétain ‘in the highest regard’ and believed that if he had not taken charge in 1940, ‘Hitler would have certainly robbed France of all independence and made a kind of “protectorate” of her’.31 Thus he had the utmost sympathy for Pétain’s position and was very taken by the dignity with which he pleaded his case. The two men now began to develop a very special relationship, the cement that bound it being their mutual respect for one another as soldiers. Not only would von Rundstedt do his utmost to ensure that France did retain some form of army, but he also tried to persuade Hitler to give a guarantee that France would be accorded a special position in the New Europe which Hitler planned to create after the victorious end to the war.
Von Rundstedt was not, however, prepared to become involved in French politics. General Alexander Freiherr von Neubronn had been appointed as his liaison officer to Vichy after ANTON. Pétain was desperately keen to get rid of his prime minister, Pierre Laval, whom he had already sacked in December 1940, but who had been reinstated at German insistence in April 1942. The grounds for this were Laval’s general unpopularity. Pétain explained this to von Neubronn and asked him to enlist the Commander-in-Chief’s help. Von Rundstedt, however, refused to have anything to do with it, saying that the matter would have to go through the German Embassy. He told von Neubronn that in future he was to concern himself solely with military matters. Even so, the Embassy got to hear of von Neubronn’s ‘meddling’ and complained to von Rundstedt, who successfully protected his emissary from trouble. The Field Marshal also, according to von Neubronn, shut his ears to the growing complaints over executive power in France increasingly being handed over to the SS, Gestapo and Party organisations.32
The military occupation of Vichy France also produced another complication, this time with the Italians. The area east of the River Rhône was their sphere of influence, but the Germans were naturally concerned about the defence of the French Riviera against amphibious assault. Delicate negotiations were carried out between Berlin and Rome and it was agreed that the Italian Fourth Army, which covered the coast from the frontier to just east of Marseilles, should be placed under von Rundstedt’s operational command for coastal defence only. To this end, an Italian liaison team under General Marazzini, who had commanded the Celere Motorised Division in Russia and was known to the Field Marshal, was attached to his headquarters. General Vercellino, commanding the Fourth Army, made an early visit to Paris and, on his return, his chief of staff wrote to von Rundstedt’s chief of staff saying that Vercellino had described the German High Command in Paris as ‘a splendid binomial – the highest character, on the one part; the most lucid intelligence, on the other’.33 The first compliment referred to von Rundstedt, the second to Günther Blumentritt.
The reason for Blumentritt being so praised was that he had now taken over from Zeitzler as Chief of Staff. The cause of this was Halder’s growing disillusionment with the way that the war on the Eastern Front was being conducted by Hitler. By September 1942, Hitler had become mesmerised by Stalingrad and an increasing number of troops were being diverted from what had been the main aim for 1942, the overrunning of the Caucasus, in order to support the drive by Sixth Army, now commanded by Paulus, on Stalingrad itself. Halder increasingly objected to this and so Hitler cast around for someone whom he thought would be more pliable. Just before or on 20 September, Schmundt had visited von Rundstedt ‘in the name of the Obersten [highest – Hitler]’ and told him that he was to lose Zeitzler. ‘Very sad’, wrote von Rundstedt to his wife. ‘On the other hand, I am thankful that old Blumentritt was sent to me.’34 Halder, in fact, resigned on 24 September, four days after von Rundstedt had written to Bila and it would seem that if he had not done so he would have been sacked. Zeitzler replaced him, holding down the post amid ever more mounting frustrations until July 1944. As for Blumentritt, since leaving von Rundstedt’s staff in Autumn 1940, he had been Chief of Staff Fourth Army on the Eastern Front and then, from January 1942, headed the Operations branch of OKH. He was now to forge an intimate relationship with von Rundstedt which would last right up to the latter’s death.
By the beginning of 1943, the tide was on the turn for the Axis. Rommel had been driven out of Libya and the Axis forces in North Africa were now facing the Allies on two fronts in Tunisia. Bad weather was restricing the U-boats in the Atlantic and the remorseless build-up of American forces in Britain continued. At Casablanca, Churchill and Roosevelt had declared their policy of unconditional surrender. It was on the Eastern Front, however, that the news was grimmest. The German Sixth Army was fighting for its life in the Stalingrad pocket, a life that was to be finally extinguished on 2 February. Bodo Zimmermann, von Rundstedt’s chief of operations, recalled how the Field Marshal reacted to the news:
‘… the Field Marshal, when I entered his office, was as spruce and youthful as ever. No matter what the circumstances, Rundstedt always managed to look as neat as a new pin. But this morning his manner was one of deep depression. His first words told me why: “Stalingrad,” he said, “has fallen. Now what?”’35
What it did do was to rekindle the smouldering embers of resistance to Hitler, and it was natural that those so involved should again try to bring von Rundstedt actively on to their side. While Sixth Army was still fighting, Helmut Groscurth of the Abwehr, who was in the pocket, persuaded a friend of his, Major Count Alfred von Waldersee, to fly to Berlin and to ask Ludwig Beck to visit von Rundstedt. He himself would write to von Manstein to help get Hitler deposed so that Paulus’s men could be saved. Apparently, both von Manstein and von Rundstedt refused to act.36 Then, in February 1943, von Manstein rowed with Hitler over the latter’s insistence that he should hold on to the Donets basin, now an exposed salient, as a result of the Russian post-Stalingrad counter-offensive. This moved Engel, still Hitler’s Army Adjutant, to visit von Rundstedt, whom he knew well, having been his orderly officer on several occasions.
‘In a frank way I reported everything which has recently taken place and said that his intervention and demands were expected. I declared that Führer would give in if HE [sic] made himself the spokesman of all the Field Marshals. Result is shattering. Von Rundstedt rejects everything, and resignedly says literally: “Why always silly old me? Just let von Manstein and von Kluge do it.” He said he was too old and had had enough. The only thing he still wanted was to die in harness.’37
A few days later, Goebbels noted in his diary: ‘We must certainly be on our guard about the old Wehrmacht and Reichswehr generals. We have very few good friends among them. They are trying to play us off one against the other.’38 Perhaps, therefore, von Rundstedt may have been right not to display overt support for the plotters at this stage. Even so, according to an Italian naval officer interrogated by the British in September 1943 and who had visited von Rundstedt’s headquarters before it moved back to St Germain, the Engel visit was openly discussed among his staff and von Rundstedt made no secret of his own attitude. Indeed, he allowed his staff to openly criticise the régime, although he himself was careful of his own utterances.
Von Rundstedt had other problems on his mind at this time. The question of how to smooth Pétain’s ruffled feathers continued to bother him. On 10 January, he had had a meeting with the Marshal and expressed his sympathy for the latter’s desire to keep the ‘armistice army’ in being. Indeed, he agreed to handing back training centres in southern France to the French, and tried to make more modern arms available in the hope that this new army would help the Germans guard the coasts of France. He also agreed that the Milice, the Vichy police force which had already ach
ieved a notorious reputation for its pursuit of those French people who were determined to resist the occupying forces, as well as its growing persecution of the Jews, should be allowed to form small units for the protection of the Vichy Government. He would not, however, allow them to be equipped with weapons from the disbanded French Army.40
Of greater concern was his primary task, that of defending occupied Western Europe against Allied invasion. Von Rundstedt believed from the outset that the only way to counter an amphibious invasion would be to defeat it on the beaches. This required mobile reserves so deployed as to be able to react with sufficient speed, as 10th Panzer Division had at Dieppe. However, Hausser’s reserve of seasoned SS mechanised divisions, had returned to the Eastern Front at the beginning of 1943. 10th Panzer Division, too, had been taken from him, sent to Tunisia to hold back the Anglo-American forces there. In return, OKH had agreed, in autumn 1942, to the formation of two motorised divisions in France, but both were low calibre. The only other mobile troops available to the C-in-C West were two SS Panzer Grenadier divisions, 9th and 10th, which also began to form in France in the early spring. It would be some while before these could be considered ready for action. In the meantime, von Rundstedt was left with no viable reserve to cover the lengthy coastlines. A further problem was that, in the aftermath of the Stalingrad débâcle, Hitler, who loathed to have any formation struck off the order of battle, ordered that the divisions lost there be reformed. Von Rundstedt received a total of two Panzer, three Panzer Grenadier and six infantry divisions. This looked impressive on paper, but they arrived as just skeleton cadres and, having been brought back up to strength, were all posted away by the autumn. Another aggravation was that some of his better battalions were also transferred piecemeal and all he received in return were low-grade elements of ‘Eastern volunteers’, a motley collection consisting largely of former prisoners of war, Russians and others.
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