Chapter III: Part L
Chapter III: The Lion’s Den
Part L
December 10, 1936
Just after eleven o’clock in the morning, the Fieseler Storch carrying Oberst Fridolin von Senger und Etterlin and his adjutant touched down outside Harwich. The improvised aerodrome was choked with Ju-52s, and a snowplow was chuffing black smoke clearing another runway. Looking eastward, he could see more black smoke. Out to sea, a roiling plume stretched high into the sky before the cold North Sea winds leveled it off.
Their pilot saw where the panzer officer was looking. “One of the tankers carrying invasion fuel got hit by some old fisherman, they say, Herr Oberst. An old fisherman with a load of dynamite in his hold. Imagine that: running the corridor safely. No battleships, no cruisers, no submarines. Then boom! Some little suicide-boat blows them to heaven. They got most of the crew off, but the tanker’s just drifting. No one wants to go near it in case the rest of the fuel goes off at once, but no one has the heart to just torpedo the thing.”
“That’s my fuel,” von Senger said grimly. The crossing conditions had now been wholly reversed from earlier in the campaign. Invasion shipping crossed only during the day, with Luftwaffe escort. Woe betide the poor straggler that couldn’t put into port before dark. The Royal Navy owned the dark. U-boat losses had been mounting, and the Kriegsmarine’s surface fleet was fraying. Between the ranges of the coastal guns on both sides of the Channel, there was little help against the nighttime enemy.
von Senger and his adjutant climbed down into the bright cold morning, where a staff car was waiting. Ten minutes later, they rolled up to the Harwich town hall, where 2. Armee had its headquarters. Originally built as the Great Eastern Hotel, the town hall was a four-story Italianate edifice nestled garishly amidst the unassuming English seaside architecture of the past two centuries. Long swastika flags hung down in front of the doors. Gorgetted military police showed them in.
“Herr Oberst, the Oberleutnant is to wait here in the foyer.” The Major of Feldgendarmes held an upraised palm in warning.
“Major, you know Oberleutnant Kolter personally. He has accompanied me here before.”
“General von Bock’s orders, Herr Oberst.”
Sighing, von Senger gestured to his adjutant, who seated himself on a bench. The day before, three British assassins had appeared at the town hall dressed as German officers, asking to see Generalleutnant von Weichs. III Armeekorps’ commander was elsewhere in the city, so they were received by his deputy, Oberst Karl Burdach. Generalmajor von Heineccius had entered the room shortly afterward, and one of the assassins had mistaken him for von Weichs and drawn his gun. Burdach had cried out in surprise. When the shooting was over, von Heineccius, Burdach, and another colonel, Oberst Denecke, had all been shot dead. Four Feldgendarmes were killed, too, and all three assassins.
That night, 2. Armee’s commander, General von Infanterie Fedor von Bock, had arrived from France at last to take personal command of the mature beachhead. He had immediately instituted maximum security procedures, and the Great Eastern building now had the feel of an armed camp.
Feldgendarmes opened and searched von Senger’s briefcase from top to bottom. He was permitted to keep his sidearm, but his adjutant Kolter was forced to surrender his own Luger.
“This way, Herr Oberst.”
The Major led von Senger down a hallway, and knocked on a guarded door, announcing the presence of 6. Panzer-Regiment’s commander.
von Senger entered the large parlor. It had been Generalleutnant von Weichs’ office, but now he was seated in front of the desk, in deference to his superior, General von Bock. Both men’s faces were cold and grave. They both returned his salute mechanically, and von Bock paced out from behind the desk, and directed him to an empty metal folding chair.
Fedor von Bock was a force of nature. von Senger knew that his arrival had been ordained far in advance -- he was to arrive with the second wave of the invasion -- but his presence seemed to personify Berlin’s growing anxiety. He was a spare, sharp-featured, cheerless man -- a thoroughgoing Prussian of the old school. His head and eyes were ever darting and scanning -- like a falcon that had just had its hood removed, other officers sometimes said.
“Well,” von Bock said. “How did this happen?”
von Senger sighed deeply. “Herr General, the 6. Panzer moved aggressively and with swiftness into the interior. My aim was, as I stated to General von Rundstedt, to pass through the area of least resistance. Doing this would allow the bulk of the corps’ armored force to contact the weakest enemy units with minimal losses, penetrate as deeply as possible into the enemy’s rear, and cut lines of communication, supply and reinforcement to the ring around London. This would allow the --”
The Falcon held up a gloved hand. “I am familiar with the justifications, Oberst. I do not dispute the logic behind your move. I ask, rather, after the reason of the most recent failure.”
“Yes, certainly. As you know, we found success repeatedly during the thrust inland. The enemy forces we encountered at Marks Tey, Braintree, Bishop’s Stortford and elsewhere did not present a serious challenge once the regiment’s force came to bear, nor did the enemy significantly delay us. In this way, we were able to swiftly cut important rail lines and highways -- most notably the A10 and A1, two days ago. This encouraged me that a rapid push westward the following day might allow us to sever the A5 as well.”
von Bock’s eyes flickered to von Weichs, and he scowled. “And?”
“Yesterday morning, we began the advance before dawn, and proceeded about 10 kilometers southwest toward Luton. Two important rail lines run through Luton, and the Luftwaffe reported that both were still open, shuttling troops, supplies and matériel into London from the north during the night after track repairs.
“6. Panzer encountered no resistance until we contacted the enemy outside Luton at around 0930. The town was defended by a whole battalion, but because they were mostly volunteers, the regiment was able to capture the Luton in less than an hour. From there, it was a short way over open ground to reach the A5, which was the day’s objective.
“Because the advance had proceeded so swiftly, and there were several hours of daylight remaining, I decided to push on over the chalk downs to Aylesbury, in order to cut another active rail line there.”
German armor from 6. Panzer-Regiment rolls westward. Near Luton, December 9, 1936.
“What went wrong?” von Bock asked.
“The regiment proceeded southwest toward Aylesbury without notable enemy resistance. We could hear church bells ringing in the distance around us, and our forward units reported skirmishes with irregulars, but no serious resistance. Then, our first echelon of panzers reported that they were mired in mud. As we soon learned, the British had opened a reservoir into a wide stretch of low ground in anticipation of our advance. There had been snow in the night, and the danger was hidden beneath a thin layer of snow and ice.
“And so, I had no choice but to halt the advance, while sending out units to find a path to safe ground. Yet even as we tried to extricate the mired panzers, we learned that the higher, safe ground was mined. Unseen artillery opened fire on us, and very shortly, I received warning from reconnaissance planes of a large enemy force of mixed infantry and armor coming down on our position from the north.
“I considered ordering a retreat to ground better suited to armor, but -- I failed to recognize the seriousness of the situation, and did not want to abandon a dozen of my best machines in the mud.
“The enemy engaged us strongly shortly after noon. The ground was, as I said, downs, as they call them -- hills, with much forestation. This made it very difficult to use the panzers in combat. Our own infantry rallied to the defense, and was able to repel the initial assault.
“However, a passable road ran across the downs, and the concentrated British armor was able to move in force down that road.”
von Bock’s eyes flickered over a fine-scale map on which he was following the Oberst’s report. “What kind of armor did they have?”
“There were Vickers medium tanks, along with several heavier tanks of French origin. They outclassed ours, but our field guns were able to provide defensive support. Around 1230, the commander of my forward battalion informed me by radiotelephone that the British armor had succeeded in cutting him off.”
“And where were you at that time, Oberst?”
“I was observing with my staff from a high point along the Dunstable downs -- I believe they are on your map. A low cloud bank parted, and we could see more English armored forces coming out of the north over the snow-dusted fields. I decided that I had perhaps less than half an hour to extricate II. Bataillon from its encirclement before it fell into mortal danger.”
“He informed me of this by radio,” von Weichs volunteered. “Although not present, I concurred with his assessment of the tactical situation.”
von Senger continued: “I ordered an immediate assault against the armored column that had cut off II. Bataillon. Simultaneously, I ordered II. Bataillon to attempt a breakout toward the rest of 6. Panzer. The ground was rolling and unfavorable, though. The French tanks had guns heavy enough to disable even the Panzer IIs. Infantry fights broke out at close quarters in the woods, and the situation became confused.
“It quickly became clear that these were not emergency volunteers, but rather regulars of quality. Losses were significant, but at last, the trapped battalion was able to break out to the north, and we began to fall back toward the A5 highway.
“As the afternoon continued, I found that the enemy force was too large, and its attacks too vigorous, to hold the A5. I requested Luftwaffe support several times throughout this period, but foul weather along the coast made this impossible.
“Our forces were forced to engage in a fighting retreat toward Luton, as the country opened northeast of the highway. 6. Panzer was unable to find purchase on defensible ground until Luton itself, where our right flank was protected by two mined roads and broken, wooded country.”
“And you remain in possession of the city?” von Bock’s upper lip wrinkled uneasily.
“Yes.”
“What were your losses in these engagements?”
“12 panzerkampfwagen destroyed by enemy action. However, mobility damage, combined with difficult terrain during the retreat, dictated that an additional 47 panzers be abandoned. This leaves me with just 99 panzers fit for combat. Additionally, pressure on my supply line from the north has bled off at least a quarter of that number to protect my fuel and supplies. This has diluted my effective maneuver force to approximately 70 panzers.”
von Bock’s eyes bored into the map. “What is the present danger to your position around Luton?”
“Moderate, for the moment, but with the enemy massing in force to the north and west on defensible ground, 6. Panzer is no longer in a position to be an effective offensive force. Indeed, if my supply line is threatened more from the north in the next 24 hours, I will find myself wholly unable to carry out offensive battle.”
“I understand,” von Bock said, “but that is not an acceptable response. Your reverse has made Berlin exceedingly nervous. It appears the aim is to convert tactical gains into political leverage to force a favorable peace before we lose control of the Channel. This could be happening over a timeline of several days. If the British government gets to believe that our powder has been spent, so to speak, and that we are on the defensive, they will certainly rebuff negotiations in hopes of a long, grinding battle. Eventually, the Channel will close, and when that happens, everything shall be lost. I say this to impress upon you the urgency of sacrificing operational or strategic concerns for immediate material gain in a tactical sense.”
“I am not certain what you mean,” von Senger said, all too certain.
“I mean that you shouldn’t worry about the danger to your regiment a week from now. Pound forward, despite even heavy losses. We shall provide whatever support we can. If you can penetrate deeper behind London, the pressure on the capital will become unbearable.”
“If I may,” the courtly baron von Weichs coughed. “Substantial pressure could be applied if we were to draw back, and refocus on a frontal push toward London. At this point, we stand to face significant losses either way. The last thing we want, though, is to risk the armored mass being cut off and destroyed so far inland. Certainly Oberst von Senger’s engineers can ensure that the roads and rail lines he has cut so far are wrecked beyond any hope of repair.”
“Perhaps that is so. Perhaps that is so. But HKK is convinced of the need to threaten London by encirclement. Unless the city is cut off from the north, and the defenders far inland thrown into disarray -- as they have been -- the British government will surely see its chances of waiting out the Channel battle as favorable.”
von Senger sensed that the Falcon was interpreting Berlin’s instructions rather liberally, but there was nothing he could do. From Calais, Generaloberst von Rundstedt trusted the commander of his 2. Armee implicitly. Even if -- and the idea evaporated into impossibility even as he thought of it -- von Senger could go over von Bock’s head to protest, he would find his protests falling on unsympathetic ears.
Rising to his feet, von Senger saluted. “I shall renew my offensive as soon as my crews are ready. Until then, if I have satisfied your questions, I should return to the front at once.”
von Bock returned the salute crisply. “Your concern for your men is commendable, Oberst. But do not forget your concern for your men’s duty.”
Chapter III: The Lion’s Den
Part L
December 10, 1936
Just after eleven o’clock in the morning, the Fieseler Storch carrying Oberst Fridolin von Senger und Etterlin and his adjutant touched down outside Harwich. The improvised aerodrome was choked with Ju-52s, and a snowplow was chuffing black smoke clearing another runway. Looking eastward, he could see more black smoke. Out to sea, a roiling plume stretched high into the sky before the cold North Sea winds leveled it off.
Their pilot saw where the panzer officer was looking. “One of the tankers carrying invasion fuel got hit by some old fisherman, they say, Herr Oberst. An old fisherman with a load of dynamite in his hold. Imagine that: running the corridor safely. No battleships, no cruisers, no submarines. Then boom! Some little suicide-boat blows them to heaven. They got most of the crew off, but the tanker’s just drifting. No one wants to go near it in case the rest of the fuel goes off at once, but no one has the heart to just torpedo the thing.”
“That’s my fuel,” von Senger said grimly. The crossing conditions had now been wholly reversed from earlier in the campaign. Invasion shipping crossed only during the day, with Luftwaffe escort. Woe betide the poor straggler that couldn’t put into port before dark. The Royal Navy owned the dark. U-boat losses had been mounting, and the Kriegsmarine’s surface fleet was fraying. Between the ranges of the coastal guns on both sides of the Channel, there was little help against the nighttime enemy.
von Senger and his adjutant climbed down into the bright cold morning, where a staff car was waiting. Ten minutes later, they rolled up to the Harwich town hall, where 2. Armee had its headquarters. Originally built as the Great Eastern Hotel, the town hall was a four-story Italianate edifice nestled garishly amidst the unassuming English seaside architecture of the past two centuries. Long swastika flags hung down in front of the doors. Gorgetted military police showed them in.
“Herr Oberst, the Oberleutnant is to wait here in the foyer.” The Major of Feldgendarmes held an upraised palm in warning.
“Major, you know Oberleutnant Kolter personally. He has accompanied me here before.”
“General von Bock’s orders, Herr Oberst.”
Sighing, von Senger gestured to his adjutant, who seated himself on a bench. The day before, three British assassins had appeared at the town hall dressed as German officers, asking to see Generalleutnant von Weichs. III Armeekorps’ commander was elsewhere in the city, so they were received by his deputy, Oberst Karl Burdach. Generalmajor von Heineccius had entered the room shortly afterward, and one of the assassins had mistaken him for von Weichs and drawn his gun. Burdach had cried out in surprise. When the shooting was over, von Heineccius, Burdach, and another colonel, Oberst Denecke, had all been shot dead. Four Feldgendarmes were killed, too, and all three assassins.
That night, 2. Armee’s commander, General von Infanterie Fedor von Bock, had arrived from France at last to take personal command of the mature beachhead. He had immediately instituted maximum security procedures, and the Great Eastern building now had the feel of an armed camp.
Feldgendarmes opened and searched von Senger’s briefcase from top to bottom. He was permitted to keep his sidearm, but his adjutant Kolter was forced to surrender his own Luger.
“This way, Herr Oberst.”
The Major led von Senger down a hallway, and knocked on a guarded door, announcing the presence of 6. Panzer-Regiment’s commander.
von Senger entered the large parlor. It had been Generalleutnant von Weichs’ office, but now he was seated in front of the desk, in deference to his superior, General von Bock. Both men’s faces were cold and grave. They both returned his salute mechanically, and von Bock paced out from behind the desk, and directed him to an empty metal folding chair.
Fedor von Bock was a force of nature. von Senger knew that his arrival had been ordained far in advance -- he was to arrive with the second wave of the invasion -- but his presence seemed to personify Berlin’s growing anxiety. He was a spare, sharp-featured, cheerless man -- a thoroughgoing Prussian of the old school. His head and eyes were ever darting and scanning -- like a falcon that had just had its hood removed, other officers sometimes said.
“Well,” von Bock said. “How did this happen?”
von Senger sighed deeply. “Herr General, the 6. Panzer moved aggressively and with swiftness into the interior. My aim was, as I stated to General von Rundstedt, to pass through the area of least resistance. Doing this would allow the bulk of the corps’ armored force to contact the weakest enemy units with minimal losses, penetrate as deeply as possible into the enemy’s rear, and cut lines of communication, supply and reinforcement to the ring around London. This would allow the --”
The Falcon held up a gloved hand. “I am familiar with the justifications, Oberst. I do not dispute the logic behind your move. I ask, rather, after the reason of the most recent failure.”
“Yes, certainly. As you know, we found success repeatedly during the thrust inland. The enemy forces we encountered at Marks Tey, Braintree, Bishop’s Stortford and elsewhere did not present a serious challenge once the regiment’s force came to bear, nor did the enemy significantly delay us. In this way, we were able to swiftly cut important rail lines and highways -- most notably the A10 and A1, two days ago. This encouraged me that a rapid push westward the following day might allow us to sever the A5 as well.”
von Bock’s eyes flickered to von Weichs, and he scowled. “And?”
“Yesterday morning, we began the advance before dawn, and proceeded about 10 kilometers southwest toward Luton. Two important rail lines run through Luton, and the Luftwaffe reported that both were still open, shuttling troops, supplies and matériel into London from the north during the night after track repairs.
“6. Panzer encountered no resistance until we contacted the enemy outside Luton at around 0930. The town was defended by a whole battalion, but because they were mostly volunteers, the regiment was able to capture the Luton in less than an hour. From there, it was a short way over open ground to reach the A5, which was the day’s objective.
“Because the advance had proceeded so swiftly, and there were several hours of daylight remaining, I decided to push on over the chalk downs to Aylesbury, in order to cut another active rail line there.”
German armor from 6. Panzer-Regiment rolls westward. Near Luton, December 9, 1936.
“What went wrong?” von Bock asked.
“The regiment proceeded southwest toward Aylesbury without notable enemy resistance. We could hear church bells ringing in the distance around us, and our forward units reported skirmishes with irregulars, but no serious resistance. Then, our first echelon of panzers reported that they were mired in mud. As we soon learned, the British had opened a reservoir into a wide stretch of low ground in anticipation of our advance. There had been snow in the night, and the danger was hidden beneath a thin layer of snow and ice.
“And so, I had no choice but to halt the advance, while sending out units to find a path to safe ground. Yet even as we tried to extricate the mired panzers, we learned that the higher, safe ground was mined. Unseen artillery opened fire on us, and very shortly, I received warning from reconnaissance planes of a large enemy force of mixed infantry and armor coming down on our position from the north.
“I considered ordering a retreat to ground better suited to armor, but -- I failed to recognize the seriousness of the situation, and did not want to abandon a dozen of my best machines in the mud.
“The enemy engaged us strongly shortly after noon. The ground was, as I said, downs, as they call them -- hills, with much forestation. This made it very difficult to use the panzers in combat. Our own infantry rallied to the defense, and was able to repel the initial assault.
“However, a passable road ran across the downs, and the concentrated British armor was able to move in force down that road.”
von Bock’s eyes flickered over a fine-scale map on which he was following the Oberst’s report. “What kind of armor did they have?”
“There were Vickers medium tanks, along with several heavier tanks of French origin. They outclassed ours, but our field guns were able to provide defensive support. Around 1230, the commander of my forward battalion informed me by radiotelephone that the British armor had succeeded in cutting him off.”
“And where were you at that time, Oberst?”
“I was observing with my staff from a high point along the Dunstable downs -- I believe they are on your map. A low cloud bank parted, and we could see more English armored forces coming out of the north over the snow-dusted fields. I decided that I had perhaps less than half an hour to extricate II. Bataillon from its encirclement before it fell into mortal danger.”
“He informed me of this by radio,” von Weichs volunteered. “Although not present, I concurred with his assessment of the tactical situation.”
von Senger continued: “I ordered an immediate assault against the armored column that had cut off II. Bataillon. Simultaneously, I ordered II. Bataillon to attempt a breakout toward the rest of 6. Panzer. The ground was rolling and unfavorable, though. The French tanks had guns heavy enough to disable even the Panzer IIs. Infantry fights broke out at close quarters in the woods, and the situation became confused.
“It quickly became clear that these were not emergency volunteers, but rather regulars of quality. Losses were significant, but at last, the trapped battalion was able to break out to the north, and we began to fall back toward the A5 highway.
“As the afternoon continued, I found that the enemy force was too large, and its attacks too vigorous, to hold the A5. I requested Luftwaffe support several times throughout this period, but foul weather along the coast made this impossible.
“Our forces were forced to engage in a fighting retreat toward Luton, as the country opened northeast of the highway. 6. Panzer was unable to find purchase on defensible ground until Luton itself, where our right flank was protected by two mined roads and broken, wooded country.”
“And you remain in possession of the city?” von Bock’s upper lip wrinkled uneasily.
“Yes.”
“What were your losses in these engagements?”
“12 panzerkampfwagen destroyed by enemy action. However, mobility damage, combined with difficult terrain during the retreat, dictated that an additional 47 panzers be abandoned. This leaves me with just 99 panzers fit for combat. Additionally, pressure on my supply line from the north has bled off at least a quarter of that number to protect my fuel and supplies. This has diluted my effective maneuver force to approximately 70 panzers.”
von Bock’s eyes bored into the map. “What is the present danger to your position around Luton?”
“Moderate, for the moment, but with the enemy massing in force to the north and west on defensible ground, 6. Panzer is no longer in a position to be an effective offensive force. Indeed, if my supply line is threatened more from the north in the next 24 hours, I will find myself wholly unable to carry out offensive battle.”
“I understand,” von Bock said, “but that is not an acceptable response. Your reverse has made Berlin exceedingly nervous. It appears the aim is to convert tactical gains into political leverage to force a favorable peace before we lose control of the Channel. This could be happening over a timeline of several days. If the British government gets to believe that our powder has been spent, so to speak, and that we are on the defensive, they will certainly rebuff negotiations in hopes of a long, grinding battle. Eventually, the Channel will close, and when that happens, everything shall be lost. I say this to impress upon you the urgency of sacrificing operational or strategic concerns for immediate material gain in a tactical sense.”
“I am not certain what you mean,” von Senger said, all too certain.
“I mean that you shouldn’t worry about the danger to your regiment a week from now. Pound forward, despite even heavy losses. We shall provide whatever support we can. If you can penetrate deeper behind London, the pressure on the capital will become unbearable.”
“If I may,” the courtly baron von Weichs coughed. “Substantial pressure could be applied if we were to draw back, and refocus on a frontal push toward London. At this point, we stand to face significant losses either way. The last thing we want, though, is to risk the armored mass being cut off and destroyed so far inland. Certainly Oberst von Senger’s engineers can ensure that the roads and rail lines he has cut so far are wrecked beyond any hope of repair.”
“Perhaps that is so. Perhaps that is so. But HKK is convinced of the need to threaten London by encirclement. Unless the city is cut off from the north, and the defenders far inland thrown into disarray -- as they have been -- the British government will surely see its chances of waiting out the Channel battle as favorable.”
von Senger sensed that the Falcon was interpreting Berlin’s instructions rather liberally, but there was nothing he could do. From Calais, Generaloberst von Rundstedt trusted the commander of his 2. Armee implicitly. Even if -- and the idea evaporated into impossibility even as he thought of it -- von Senger could go over von Bock’s head to protest, he would find his protests falling on unsympathetic ears.
Rising to his feet, von Senger saluted. “I shall renew my offensive as soon as my crews are ready. Until then, if I have satisfied your questions, I should return to the front at once.”
von Bock returned the salute crisply. “Your concern for your men is commendable, Oberst. But do not forget your concern for your men’s duty.”
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