by Gee, Colin
In response to his General’s question, Hood continued.
“As you are aware, the French offered to take responsibility for all of our SS prisoners. They are already moving them into the interior of their country in large numbers, relieving our troops who were guarding them and freeing up even more bodies for our units.”
“So they are doing what needs to be done for the Allied cause, and quite right too Thomas.”
“I understand that General, but it is being done at a pace which is unusual for our allies plus…”
“Plus?”
“Plus it is being done against a back drop of total compliance with every request we have made and every order we have issued. With one exception only.”
“I take it this is the bit that isn’t in your report Colonel Hood?”
Eisenhower adopted a more formal tone, fencing with his trusted staff officer, indulging him as he enjoyed the moment.
“Yes Sir. As you know we are all presently re-arming the German ex-POW’s with captured weapons stockpiled since the capitulation in Africa. Even the Brits, who are not known for their swiftness, have started to ship captured weapons from Rommel’s Army to the continent, through Gibraltar, some of which are intended for the Spanish but much is marked for German Formations that are to be formed in Southern France. Despite a tentative start, they are fully onboard with the arming of German soldiers now.”
A new cigarette lit, Eisenhower was still none the wiser on where Hood was going.
“So out with it Thomas.”
“Our French Allies have not handed over one single bullet from the stocks they control. One of the first duties their FFI units took over as they returned to France was to relieve allied forces guarding enemy stores and munitions dumps.”
Eisenhower took a second to think on that.
“Strange I agree. Nothing handed over at all?”
“Nothing Sir, except at Tilly where some of our engineers were building running German tanks out of all the damaged stock. Our troops were attached to their work and refused to give them up. But that is it.”
Hood ploughed further on.
“It is also the fact that they have handed weapons to our new Spanish allies as was agreed. Those weapons do contain some German rifles but are mainly old French stocks from Vichy supplies, pre-1940. No machine-guns or assault rifles, no mortars, or artillery pieces, save old French stocks or equipment we have supplied to their FFI units.”
“So what are they playing at Thomas? What does this mean?”
The moment of truth had arrived, and Colonel Hood checked that no one was within earshot.
“I overheard a conversation in their headquarters. I was indisposed at the time and two officers came in and didn’t realise I was in the stall.”
Again the conspiratorial check of surroundings.
“The French intend to make a full military contribution to this war at last, with new French divisions within a powerful Corps, filled with experienced troops, tasked with attacking, defeating and throwing back the Red Hordes.”
Ike’s silence drew him forward.
“They retain the weapons and stores to arm their own private army of experienced soldiers, which will be organised into French units and carry the flag of France in combat.”
Eisenhower’s eyes narrowed, searching for treachery. He was unprepared for the truth.
“At this time plans exist and are in motion for the forming of a French Foreign Legion Corps, with one Tank, two Motorised infantry Divisions and numerous smaller formations, all consisting of German ex-prisoners, fighting under the banner of France.”
The General lit another cigarette from the stub, exhaling deeply as he conjured with the thoughts.
“I can’t see that. Why would the Germans do that when they can fight under their own German Republic Flag in German units?”
Hood coughed politely.
“They will do so because our politicians prevented them from fighting under that German Flag and in their own national divisions.”
Someone switched the light on in Eisenhower’s brain.
“The French can’t do that? I mean, they wouldn’t do that, would they?”
Hood looked his General steadfastly in the eye.
“They can and they are, Sir. It all makes sense when you look at the whole picture. They are pragmatists for sure, and something carrying the Tricoleur will be French, and that’s the way it will be painted.”
Eisenhower inadvertently lit yet another cigarette and smoked each in equal measure.
Automatically, he stated the default position.
“I think this is one for our political masters to sort out Colonel.”
“Yes Sir.”
Hood extracted an envelope from his inside jacket pocket, sealed and unmarked, nothing to betray its contents.
“So Sir, do you want me to give you an official written report or do I say nothing.”
The brain was working hard at that. The French were not the only pragmatists about.
“If I have a report then I must act, and we could have a political meltdown. I’m sure the Germans would be the least of our worries. It would be the Poles and the Brits who would make the most noise.”
The brain was nearly at its point of decision.
“If I don’t have a report then I can just plead ignorance. That will also mean that the French plan will succeed.”
Hood continued the thought in his own words.
“In which case I have no doubt that they will present SHAEF with a large field force of experienced and capable soldiers under the guise of the French Foreign Legion with nice new French Flags in abundance. Soldiers who would be an asset to the Allied efforts.”
Eisenhower nodded emphatically, putting his decision into words.
“I won’t burden you with unnecessary report writing Thomas. Keep an eye on the situation and report verbally to me on anything I might find of interest.”
Hood grinned widely.
“Yes Sir, it will be my honour Sir.”
Hood stood, saluted, and left, all in one slick flowing movement, leaving Eisenhower seated alone, with his cigarettes, coffee and thoughts, the sudden flare of burning paper on the log fire noted by his peripheral vision.
Only the Europeans would have a fire burning brightly in the hearth on hot summer’s afternoon. Apparently it added ambience.
‘French Foreign Legion? Jesus.’
Eisenhower had to hand it to them; it was quite elegant in its simplicity, although the duplicity of his French Allies was there for all to see.
The French even had an agreed protocol that they could recruit Germans into the Legion, including Waffen-SS, a protocol agreed amongst the Western Allies solely for the purpose of fighting Communist Guerrillas in Indo-China. Wracking his memory, he could not recall the exact wording. He challenged himself with a bet.
‘Care to speculate on whether they have that bit of paper ready to quote when tackled, and that it doesn’t prohibit recruitment for other areas?’
A moment’s pause.
‘No takers on that one General.’
None the less, politically acceptable to his masters or not, extra experienced soldiers would be most welcome.
“Jesus.”
Speaking aloud as he stood he drew the attention of the passing Rossiter.
“May I help Sir?”
Thinking quickly, Ike excused his language by complaining of a twinge in his back.
Rossiter moved away.
This time, ensuring he kept his thoughts to himself, Eisenhower picked up his cigarette pack and headed to the telephone for his regular chat with his senior commanders.
‘Goddamn, the SS are going to go back to war.’
"When men find they must inevitably perish, they willingly resolve to die with their comrades and with their arms in their hands"
-Flavius Vegetius Renatus
CHAPTER 53 – THE RATHAUS
0437 hrs Sunday 12th August 1945, ‘Haus der Zufr
iedenheit’, Baltische Straße, Metgethen, East Prussia.
Less than four months ago, it would have been the fear of the Gestapo that would have troubled the woman all the way from her bed to the door.
Now the heavy insistent knocking summoned up images of the NKVD, who had similar habits to the GeheimeStaatsPolizei, with pretty much the same end result.
People went missing.
It had been difficult for the residents of Metgethen. Occupied by the Red Army, retaken by the Wehrmacht and then reoccupied once more. There had been atrocities visited upon the German populace. Unspeakable atrocities that had become world knowledge, although in truth, many who heard them merely shrugged and mentally balanced the reports against the actions of German and other axis soldiers in many faraway places.
A number of visitors from the International Red Cross had been and gone, and with their departure the enthusiasm of the world’s press waned, and so the village was settling back into a life of obscurity once more.
However, insistent loud knocking on a door at half four in the morning is never a good thing, but more especially if it is your door.
A match was struck and a candle lit, throwing its eerie light on the hallway.
“Open up,” came a voice used to instant obedience, “Open up or I will break the door down.”
She reached the front door, calling out her approach, reaching down to slide back the bottom bolt, the noise of which confirmed her presence to those outside.
Undoing the top bolt, she opened the door.
There were the local policeman and an NKVD soldier, side by side, illuminated by the headlights of the car behind them.
“What on earth do you want at this time in the morning Karl?” she said, asserting her strong community position and addressing the policeman.
There was no reply.
The two folded back as if hinged like double doors, opening up to reveal a black silhouette.
“Guten Morgen gnädige Frau.”
Some voices carry venom and hate no matter what is said and this voice, speaking a cultured yet clinical German, was such a voice.
“I am Major Savitch, gnädige Frau, Major of NKVD. You and your family have five minutes to dress. Then you will all come with me.”
“On what charge?” rallied the woman.
The NKVD officer laughed dismissively.
“No charge whatsoever. Come now, you are wasting time,” and he clapped his hands, trying to chivvy the confused woman along.
“No charge? If there is no charge, why must I come with you? To be interrogated? I know nothing.” The woman’s two daughters were now visible on the stairs and she gestured at them, “We know nothing.”
Again Savitch laughed, this time in real amusement.
“I do know that gnädige Frau. It is not what you know but who you know that interests us.”
He made a great play of checking his watch.
“Three minutes now.”
Confused by the early awakening, the lack of sleep, the car headlights and the threat to self and family, the woman swept up her children and grabbed what she could.
The three men waited in silence on the porch, two smoking American cigarettes, the policeman hoping above hope to be offered one from the pack of either of the NKVD officer’s,
Savitch allowed her an extra five minutes, which he considered extremely generous.
Knocking on the doorframe, he waited for her to appear.
The silence from inside was deafening and he exchanged looks with his subordinate.
His growing anxiety was soon assuaged as an NKVD Serzhant marched round the corner, heading a party consisting of four troopers surrounding the mother and her two daughters. A swift explanation from the Serzhant detailed how they had apprehended the family sneaking out the back door.
He stood there, legs apart and hands on hips, looking down on the family.
“Now, now, gnädige Frau, why do you run away from us. We just want to talk.”
The woman brought herself up to her full height, defiance apparent in her gaze, fear present in her words.
“Herr Major, I do not know anyone or anything of interest to you. We keep ourselves to ourselves.”
Savitch stepped down to ground level and shepherded the group towards a large Mercedes, the back door of which stood open ready to accept them.
The girls both slipped inside easily but the woman was a more reluctant entrant.
“Please,” he encouraged her to enter, “You and your family will come to no harm. We just wish to ask a few questions and to have you somewhere that we can ensure your safety Frau Knocke.”
She reluctantly took her seat.
With the door shut, the car and occupants moved slowly away, never to return.
1439 hrs Sunday 12th August 1945, Altona, Hamburg, Germany.
Soviet Forces – 215th Rifle Regiment and 259th Rifle Regiment [less 1st Battalion] and 619th Artillery Regiment, all of 179th Rifle Division, and 938th Rifle Regiment and 3rd Btn, 992nd Rifle Regiment both of 306th Rifle Division, both of 1st Rifle Corps, and 2nd Btn, 39th Guards Tank Brigade and 2nd Btn 28th Engineer-Sapper Brigade, all of 43rd Army, and 283rd Howitzer Artillery Regt and 376th Howitzer Artillery Regiment, both of 64th Gun Artillery Brigade of 21st Breakthrough Artillery Division,, and 10th Guards Mortar Battalion and 1st Coy, 106th Pontoon Bridge Battalion and 134th Knapsack Flamethrower Company, all of 1st Baltic Front.
Allied Forces [Llewellyn Force] – A, C and D Coys, 4th Royal Welch Fusiliers of 71st Infantry Brigade, and B Coy, 1st Manchester Regiment [MG] and C Battery, 71st Anti-Tank Regiment R.A. and 83rd Field Regiment, R.A. and Ad-hoc section, remnants of 555th Field Company, R.E., all of 53rd Welch Division, and B Coy, 7th Black Watch of 154th Infantry Brigade of 51st Highland Division, and C Sqdn, East Riding of Yorkshire Yeomanry of 33rd Armoured Brigade, all of British XXX Corps of British 21st Army Group, and 4th Hamburg Defence Unit, also known as Fallschirm Batallione Perlmann [formerly III Btn/22nd Fallschirmjager Regiment, 8th Fallschirmjager Division.]
1439 hrs Sunday 12th August 1945, St Georg Krankenhaus, Hamburg, Germany.
Lieutenant-General Afanasii Pawlantevich Beloborodov was a worried man, and not without justification.
He had seen a great deal of action during his time, not the least of which was the bitter fighting around Memel the previous year through to January 1945, but this action was proving to be his most difficult yet.
Getting to Hamburg had been far easier than moving through it, and far less costly, save for the loss of the man he had replaced as commander of 43rd Army.
Beloborodov had started the assault with three Rifle Corps under his command. Two, the 1st and 92nd were roughly at 90% strength, the third one at about 50%, that being the 60th Rifle Corps.
The last few days of hammering against the defences of this huge German city had altered all that.
Fig#26 - Hamburg street plan
G- Gro²eBleichen. A- Alsterarkaden. R- Reesendamm
Z- Adolphesplatz H- Hermannstra²e. B- Bergstra²e.
M- Mönckebergstra²e. P- Pelzerstra²e.
S- Schauenbergerstra²e. K- Börsenbrücke.
92nd Rifles were out of the fight temporarily, losses in Officers and command facilities making the unit combat ineffective. The 60th had all but ceased to exist, having bravely thrown itself onto the English defences, albeit in vain, and died in their hundreds.
Beloborodov’s problem was manoeuvre, or rather the inability to do so.
Hamburg is a city of canals that run alongside streets, separating city blocks and neighbourhoods, almost parcelling them into individual islands.
He was sure that in peacetime it was a beautiful place but in time of war it was a military nightmare to move through, especially if the enemy removed the bridges as they retreated, destroying option after option for the attacking forces.
He pored over the map with his C.O.S., the leadership of 1st Rifle Corps and his Army Artillery Commander, looking for something that had be
en missed, willing himself to find an alternate route, but knowing there was none.
43rd Army was just about dead on its feet, its offensive capability all committed to this one last throw of the dice.
“There is no choice, we must breakthrough here Comrades.”
His finger striking the map on the point of the last slaughter, ended just after 12pm by his order, withdrawing the bloodied remnants of the 60th’s 235th Rifle Division and the tanks of 39th Guards Tank Brigade.
“Marshall Bagramyan has promised me the 22nd Guards Rifle Corps to replace our casualties, but only if we can break the English here, now, today.”
Looking up from the map, he addressed the trio from 1st Rifle Corps.
“You will take the Rathaus and unlock this sector Comrades. The Rathaus is the key.”
The Army Artillery Commander was next.
“64th Artillery Brigade and 10th Guards Mortar’s will both be dedicated to this attack. Use them wisely Comrade.”
Used to his General’s style, the Artilleryman merely nodded and remained silent.
The Colonel commanding 39th Guards Tanks was next.
“Your tankers have performed superbly these last two days, Comrade Colonel Zorin, but I must ask more. Your remaining full company must support the 1st’s attack, closely, very closely.”
Beloborodov said that as much for the 1st’s officers as for the exhausted young Colonel of tank troops, who had less than half the unit he had entered Hamburg with three days before.
Fig#27 - Hamburg - Soviet positions
“Right then Comrades, this is how we will get this done.”
Leaning back over the map once more, he used a pencil to describe the intended movement, marking crosses or circling stop points, rally points or targets. “1st will bring themselves up to the same start line used by the 60th, here.” He looked up at the relevant officers to make sure they had understood.
“Artillery and Mortars will fire on this line of buildings until the attack starts. At that time they will shift to the other line here,” he ran the pencil along the building lines in DüstenStraße and WexStraße, two watercourses removed from the Rathaus.