Chapter II: Part XIX
Chapter II: The Gambit of the West
Part XIX
April 16, 1936
At the western edge of the Paris suburb of Poissy, Oberleutnant Günther Taubert scanned the ground ahead through his field binoculars. A warm breeze sent ripples through the tall grass at the roadside where he stood. Next to him, two regimental mechanics attended to a cracked gear in his Panzerkampfwagon I light tank.
The vehicle had broken down while maneuvering into position to block the west road into Poissy, and Taubert had called for a panzerwart to get the vehicle running again. Three hours later, two of them had arrived, pushing a small cart with spare parts.
Taubert turned to see the senior panzerwart approaching.
The mechanic shook his head. “Herr Oberleutnant, the gear cannot be replaced by our substitute. Division may have the part, but they are very, very busy.”
“How long will it take for divisional mechanics to arrive?”
“Who can know? Probably several hours at the least.” He wiped sweat from his face with the back of a greasy glove.
“It is presently…” Taubert checked his wristwatch, “1630 hours. Can someone be here by dark?”
“I cannot guarantee it, Herr Oberleutnant.”
“I understand. Please do your best, though.”
“I will.” The mechanic saluted, joined by his compatriot, who had at last pulled himself out from under the tank.
Returning the salute, Taubert turned to take stock of the rest of the vehicles under his command. The five Pzkpfw Is of 1. Zug, 2. Panzer Kompanie, I. Abteilung, 1. Panzer Regiment, 2. Panzer-Division straddled the roadway, ready to block any attacks that might come from the west. The crews were exhausted, having been near the vanguard of Generalleutnant Hausser’s already-legendary thrust into Paris. A painted banner hung between two of the tanks.
Papa has done it! read the black lettering. “Papa” some of the SS men had called Hausser affectionately, and the usage was now spreading to the tankers of the Panzerwaffe.
Hausser had retired from the Reichswehr in in 1932, soon joining the SA and SS, attaining the rank of Oberführer by 1935. Prior to the war in Belgium, however, von Blomberg had personally requested that he relinquish his commission in the newly-formed SS-Verfügungstruppen and return to service in the Wehrmacht Heer. That he had done, serving brilliantly on von Rundstedt’s staff at Heeresgruppe A, in large part orchestrating Generalleutnant Ewald von Kleist’s lightning drive along the French border. Soon after the war, von Kleist had been appointed temporary military governor of Brussels, leaving Hausser the natural choice for commander of the forces that would become II Armeekorps.
II Armeekorps, which had been formed from von Kleist’s I Panzerarmee and several additional administrative units, had spearheaded the advance of VI Armeekorps into northern France. It had encountered increasing resistance after taking Arras, and by the morning of April fifteenth had established a salient that at its tip stretched 15 kilometers into Picardie.
What happened in the following hours had already galvanized a faltering German nation. It had been so sudden and so spectacular that the men who now defended Paris were still mystified as to exactly how Hausser had managed to slip a mere three armored divisions past stiff resistance and capture the jewel that had eluded von Hindenburg for four long years.
Squatting on a tree stump, Taubert tried to piece together the previous night’s events in his mind.
Since afternoon on the fifteenth, 1. Panzer-Division had been probing westward along a strong defensive line running along the Somme from Péronne to Abbeville -- suggesting that II Armeekorps was trying to break through to the sea near Le Crotoy and cut off the French divisions near Calais. Then, just after dark, Hausser had sent 2. and 3. Panzer-Division barreling back to the east just as 1. Panzer launched a frontal assault near Amien.
Generalmajor Guderian’s tanks soon found the eastern end of the French line, and II Armeekorps poured through an undefended 10 kilometer gap between Saint-Quentin and Origny-Sainte-Benoite -- and southwest into the open country leading to Paris.
Racing overland, they had captured the Oise bridges intact, and by midnight, both divisions had crossed it not far downriver from Compiègne.
Here, an ancient forest -- the Massif de Trois Forests -- rose to block the German advance. Hausser had ordered the weary tank crews westward until the ground was passable for armored vehicles. Still facing no resistance, the advance at last proceeded south along the old Lille-Paris highway along which much of Napoleon’s shattered army had retreated after Waterloo.
By this time, 1. Panzer-Division had disengaged from its attack and was following the rest of II Armeekorps, aided in its drive southward by reflective way-markers Hausser had ordered dropped in the road along the line of advance. Generalleutnant Hausser had maintained close radio contact with his subordinate commanders throughout the night, and almost miraculously the force managed not to get lost or separated in the dark.
The principal line of Hausser’s advance through Picardie.
Just after 0500, the first exhausted elements of II Armeekorps entered the outskirts of Paris. Hausser sent a column of tanks into the city under a white flag to contact the civil authorities and demand capitulation. Word returned at 0555 that Paris would offer no resistance. Paris, The City of Light, The City of Love, The Flower of the West -- had fallen.
The tanks of II Armeekorps had covered almost 150 kilometers during the night, over country previously thought a barrier to large numbers of armored vehicles. They had successfully exploited a weakness in the sluggish French defenses, and bypassed the few reserve units that could be mobilized to meet them. Numb from the all-night advance, the men could scarcely appreciate what they had accomplished.
On entering the city, Hausser had met personally with Roger Langeron, -- who, as
préfet de police had declared Paris an open city -- and demanded full cooperation of the Parisian police in maintaining order. With German tanks in the city center, Langeron had been in no position to refuse, and soon, police were patrolling the streets with loudspeakers, ordering all civilians to remain indoors.
Hausser had set up headquarters in the Hôtel de Crillon, where his staff was working frantically to restore communication with von Küchler and Bayerlein. At 0950, he had managed to cable Berlin with a single terse message: “II Armeekorps has taken Paris.”
Outside, the Place de la Concorde was filled with staff cars; blankets were hung between the open-topped vehicles to provide shade for the support personnel not directly attached to Generalleutnant Hausser. It was an unseasonably warm day in the French capital, and not a small number of officers could be seen splashing in fountains to cool themselves.
As the sun climbed in the sky, the many exhausted tankers from the rear of II Armeekorps had encamped in the fields north of the city; others parked the nimble Pzkpfw Is in Paris’ many open plazas and slept on top of them.
Those who remained awake watched as the
tricolore flags had been taken down, one by one, from the state buildings, and hastily replaced by the Swastika flags normally draped over the tanks for air identification.
It soon became clear that the French government had had less than an hour’s warning to flee the capital, allowing the Germans to capture the vast majority of the French bureaus and archives intact. With no capacity to evaluate or transport these highly significant intelligence assets, Hausser had ordered all such buildings sealed until II Armeekorps could be relieved by a larger, better equipped force.
Largely by virtue of Hausser’s decision to leave control of the streets to the French police, the great city had remained remarkably peaceful, allowing II Armeekorps to rest and reposition itself to defend Paris from inevitable counterattack.
Shortly before noon, however, in response to attacks from a small numbers of French reserve soldiers barricaded in the 12ème Arrondissement, 3. Panzer-Division Headquarters had declared martial law in the entire
arrondissement. Generalmajor von Arnim had sent a detachment of tanks to clear the streets, by force if necessary. With the help of Langeron’s police, von Arnim cornered the fighters in a narrow street. After a brief gun battle that left one policeman and three French soldiers dead, those who still resisted -- perhaps only several dozen by that point -- had surrendered.
French reserve soldiers in the 12ème Arrondissement, shortly before the arrival of von Arnim’s tanks.
By 1300 hours, the French military seemed to have grasped what had happened. 1. Panzer-Division, now stubbornly defending the western approaches to Compiègne, had managed to keep a narrow supply corridor open, but was suffering mounting losses. Generalleutnant von Weichs, its commander, had been wounded when his command car had rolled over after a near miss by French artillery. Oberst Nehring, his deputy, had taken his place -- driving up and down the division’s frontage to maintain order and morale.
Throughout the afternoon, Hausser had ordered his units to tactically important positions throughout the city, after receiving reports of French forces massing to the north and west. Thus, 2. Panzer Kompanie had been ordered to Poissy, where Taubert’s tank had finally broken down.
Taubert rubbed his eyes. He judged that he had slept a total of seven hours in the past seventy-two.
“Look at this!” Leutnant Bauer, commander of 2. Zug, was standing where Taubert had earlier, watching the windswept fields ahead through his binoculars.
Taubert got up from the tree stump and raised his own binoculars to his eyes. Nothing. “What do you see?”
“Look, past that tall tree next to the yellow house -- just above the horizon. Dust!”
Orienting his binoculars at the tree, Taubert was able to resolve a dark line that hung in the distance far to the west. “My God. French tanks.” Even as he spoke, he saw the line of dust begin to stretch upwards into plumes as the winds increased.
With a loud flutter, the
Papa has done it! banner between tanks 213 and 214 caught in a gust and slipped free from its hangings, blowing away down the road westward.