Rommel does not answer, staring down at the beautiful, luxurious carpet. “The landings in Italy proved that,” Guderian adds gently, trying to sound logical.
“So shouldn’t the panzers be put a set minimum distance away from the enemy naval artillery, and not move forward from that line?” Geyr adds.
The two fall silent as the field marshal gets up and begins pacing, trying to control his temper. He understands how they feel. He often used a mobile reserve successfully in North Africa. But the arrival of Allied airpower has changed all that. Unlike the Russians, the Americans and British use thousands of sophisticated aircraft to neutralize key targets, an upscale version of their own blitzkrieg. And he has seen many times what a massive air force can do to a moving column of vehicles, especially strung out in the open. With scores of enemy bombers ravaging mobile units, the enemy could very well stop their reserves cold and thus isolate the battle area.
So he tells them, “If you leave the panzer divisions in the rear, they will never get forward.” Guderian and Geyr look at him, unconvinced. “Once the invasion begins, enemy air power will nearly stop everything from moving.” Enemy Jabos would hit precious fuel sources. And what their aircraft missed, their navy would take shots at.
“Herr Feldmarschall,” Geyr replies patiently, “if it is necessary, the panzers can roll by night. And sir, if it’s critical enough, they can still move by daylight too, as long as we keep the spacing to at least 150 yards between vehicles.”
Rommel stares at him. He must calm down.
“In the first place,” he begins, controlling his voice, “once the landing takes place, 150 yards will not mean a thing. Allied fighter-bombers will dust off anything that dares to show itself on even a side road. In the second place, their navy has the capability to saturate an entire area with high-caliber shells. Intervals will not help, because the entire road area will be hit. We cannot use trains to move units, because the rail networks are all but destroyed. Also, American technology has made it possible for their ground units and aircraft to communicate with each other, and with their fleet. Anything trying to get to the coast will be picked up and their positions given to attacking aircraft or warships.”
Rommel has seen this type of precision at work for the British in North Africa. And the well-armed, well-supplied technological Americans are even worse. He had grumbled more than once, “Those damned Americans fight their battles ‘mitt dem Rechenstift’”—with a calculator.
Movement in the dark would not be much better. Rommel has seen nights where the sky is lit up brilliantly with parachute flares, as ruthless enemy aircraft begin bombing their targets below, exposed to the harsh light of the aerial flares. Rommel pauses and remembers what those ruthless Nachtjabos had done to his beleaguered columns struggling to retreat from El Alamein.
Guderian, seeing that the discussion is deteriorating, speaks up. He repeats the importance of keeping the panzers inland, out of the way of the enemy navy and tactical support squadrons. “This is critical for several reasons, Herr Feldmarschall. For one thing, they will not easily be targeted. And besides, what if the invasion is at up Calais or along the coast up there?”
“Then they will withdraw and struggle northeast to get to the landing site,” Rommel replies.
“But that’s the point,” replies Guderian gently. “If they are along the Normandy shoreline, it will take a great deal of time to pull them away from the coast and send them northwards to meet the enemy. That’ll use up a lot of fuel too, you know. And by then it might just be too late.”
“Well, my dear Guderian,” Rommel says, “it won’t make any difference anyway— not with the power the Allies have in the air. Whether it is 200 or 300 kilometers, it will take them days to get up to Calais, especially if many of the bridges are out.
And all that time, they will suffer greatly from massive air attacks. By then the invasion will be long decided, one way or the other.”
Geyr, looking at Rommel, says sullenly, “Sir, in the desert you always fought off enemy attacks by outmaneuvering him. Now you want to put everything up front in a line, just like the French did to you in 1940. Remember what you and General Guderian did to them? Have you changed your way of fighting, Herr Feldmarschall?” Rommel feels his face redden. Before he can speak though, Guderian is in the middle of it. “General,” he admonishes quietly but reproachfully, “you are out of line.” Geyr looks over at him, then back at Rommel. “Excuse me, Generalfeldmarschall,” he answers apologetically. “I sometimes get frustrated. I am sorry.”
Rommel nods. “I understand what you are saying. Look, don’t you think I’d rather fight a mobile battle? Of course I would! I’d love to be able to maneuver freely around them, to concentrate my forces at one point and puncture their line. I’m just telling you that we will not be able to do that. At the landing point, they will have concentrated all of their naval strength, and most of their tactical airpower. Remember, General,” he adds, staring at Geyr, “I’ve seen what just a part of their huge air force can do—you have not.”
He pauses. Stay calm. “You mentioned North Africa. Herr General, those weeks we retreated from El Alamein, what was left of us could hardly move because of their constant bombing and strafing raids. Day and night. Up and down our lines.” He thinks back to the terrific Trommelfeuer5 he and his men received starting the night of October 23. It had continued on and off for long periods as they had time and time again been forced to abandon their positions.
“We couldn’t advance without being stopped in our tracks. And we couldn’t retreat without taking terrible losses. I can’t remember how many times my own vehicle was strafed and run into a ditch, or how many times I had to duck for cover, with their bombs exploding a short distance from my head. Men only a dozen meters away were blown himmelhoch. There were times when staff officers right next to me were killed.6 You just can’t deploy well under those circumstances. They would cut your vehicles to pieces.”
Trying to get to the point, he tells them that he is well learned in fighting the British and Americans, and that as a matter of fact, he knows a hell of a lot more about commanding the panzer reserves in France now than they do. Rommel fiercely concludes that he is fully convinced that his method is right.
Guderian stares at the field marshal and realizes that he will not be able to change the Swabian’s mind. It is like talking to a brick wall.7And Rommel does have a point about airpower. Guderian himself has observed how Allied aircraft often fly with almost arrogant impunity over various sections of France, including their training areas. And their bombers seem to be able to strike in significant numbers wherever they choose. So Guderian finally drops the subject and, following his lead, Geyr wisely does too. With the point of contention dropped, the conference is essentially over. Nothing worth mentioning has been achieved, but Guderian concludes that he will remember this conversation, and that this matter is not yet over.
Luckily, things perk back up again at dinner. Guderian talks about developing better self-propelled artillery and assault guns and, charming as ever, he is only too happy to quote portions of his “ “Tigerfibel.”8 Rommel and Guderian get along pleasantly enough through the evening, and Rommel hopes that Guderian will not fight him any more on the panzer issue.
1Lit “fast boats”: small German craft, equivalent to the British MTBs or American PT boats, many capable of cruising at speeds of 34–36 knots. The all-encompassing moniker “E-boat” was used for any German patrol craft, ranging from an armed motorboat to a large Torpedoboot.
2Operation Tiger. One of the largest amphibious exercises secretly being conducted by the Allies in preparation for the Normandy Landings, involving a landing exercise for some 30,000 soldiers. These vessels are carrying American engineers of the 1st Engineer Special Brigade.
3Each Schnellboot had a 37mm Flak gun at the stern and at least one 20mm Flak gun at the bow or amidships, along with a variety of machine guns. A number of the boats had 40mm cannon.
4This was an American LST (Landing Ship, Tank). The idea was first suggested to President Roosevelt by Winston Churchill, telling him that they needed a ship that could carry and land tanks and heavy equipment directly onto a beachhead. At just over 100m in length, and with a draft of just 5m at full load, its maximum speed was 11 knots. The LST was armed with one 76mm gun, one 40mm gun and six 20mm antiaircraft guns. It carried seven officers and 204 enlisted men.
5Lit. “drum fire,” as a snare drum beat might give.
6Rommel did not exaggerate. Many times he and his staff were bracketed by enemy air raids. On September 1, 1942, he personally suffered six such attacks. In one particularly close raid, a 20cm piece of red-hot shrapnel punched a hole clear through one of the shovels in his tent, and landed on his leg. Later raids produced more such incidents, with pieces of explosion fragments landing next to him.
7Guderian later wrote about the field marshal, “He always wanted to have his own way.”
8Guderian’s Tiger Primer. See footnote for February 12.
Saturday, April 29
Despite the fact that it is the weekend, Rommel plans on leaving for yet another tour of the coast. Intelligence reports from Fremde Heeres West have indicated that the enemy has substantial amphibious forces in the Mediterranean (as is evidenced by the Salerno and Anzio landings), and that a simultaneous landing in southern France is possible.1 Since the barrier construction seems to be going well enough along the Channel, Rommel decides to go south one more time. His reasons for the trip are twofold: First, he is going to inspect the First Army along the Atlantic and the Nineteenth Army, now led by General Sodenstern.2 However, he also wants to have a look at the Pyrenees.
It is early morning. Hauptmann Lang is sitting in the chief of staff’s office, going through the morning communiqués for the field marshal. There is little new in the reports before him today, with one exception. In the early hours of the 28th, two formations of Schnellboote out of Cherbourg had stumbled onto a sizable convoy of nine enemy ships around Lyme Bay. Attacking with torpedoes, they had destroyed or damaged several enemy vessels. The S-boats certainly must have shaken up the Allies.
Of course, that swings both ways. When the landing craft had been reported at 3:25 a.m., the coastal defenses had gone on full alert. A follow-up message later indicated that a nearby enemy destroyer had evidently not been aware of the presence of the landing craft. So they were probably stragglers from a landing exercise. The coastal units eventually were told to stand down. Another false alarm.
Well, the field marshal will want to see that report. Then they will have breakfast with the staff and then leave for another inspection. They will embark on a long trip, heading down to the southern zones of France—the Bay of Biscay, the Pyrenees, and finally to the shores along the Mediterranean.
When the field marshal tours, his group normally travels in a convoy of just two cars. Today though, his entourage will include five automobiles. There will be several reporters on this trip. Along with Rommel will be Lang and his driver Daniel. General Meise and their operations officer, the cultured Oberst! von Tempelhoff, will ride in the second vehicle and Admiral Ruge in a third. Five cars, and yet there will be no escort to attract attention. The commanders of the many sectors that they will travel through will not know that Rommel is coming, so that word of his trip does not reach the enemy. However, if they get in trouble, no one will know it.
Lang wonders again about what he will take for lunch along the way. The field marshal often maintains a spartan diet when on the move. Usually, they only take along a thermos of coffee or consommé, along with a few sandwiches. Often the field marshal will cross out a proposed menu that Lang has written and write out in big letters: SIMPLE KITCHEN MEAL.
He then sometimes confuses poor Lang after handing back the now-corrected list by adding a contradicting comment, perhaps with a small shrug of his shoulders, “Of course, if you want to throw in a chop or two, that won’t bother me.”
Lang has settled this morning on a few sandwiches, some fruit, and some hot tea in a thermos. Not that it makes much difference what he takes along. Chances
are, the field marshal will probably not even bother to eat it.
Lang finally takes the morning reports over to Rommel’s study, and the field marshal goes through them. He notes the navy’s Schnellboote report. He makes a note. His staff will have to look further into this incident.
In another navy report, two torpedo boats, the T-27 and the T-24, had tried
to break out from St. Malo, attempting to reach Brest. Unfortunately, they were once more intercepted off Île de Bas and attacked. Only one had made it back to St. Malo.3
Rommel finally gets up and walks down to the dining area with Lang. They are seated at the breakfast table with a number of staff officers, including Speidel. Rommel listens attentively to them as he eats breakfast.
The conversation is informal. His staff members are seldom constrained around their boss, and the talk this morning is casual and comfortable. The field marshal nearly always allows his staff to freely express their views. They are after all, his staff, handpicked by him, and he feels close to all of them. They in turn are completely dedicated to him.
Now as they sit at the table, each of them in turn brings up various subjects. Once in a while, they laugh comfortably.
With breakfast over, he becomes impatient to leave. Telling everyone “Well, I’m leaving,” he pushes back his chair and stands. Most of them follow him down the hallway.
Just outside the main doors, Daniel waits, with both doors on the right side of the field marshal’s beautiful, cleaned-up Horch open and waiting. Rommel turns to each of the staff members staying behind and bids them goodbye. He says a few parting words to Speidel, then walks down the concrete stairs and climbs into the front seat next to Daniel.
He looks at his watch. It is a little after 6 a.m. “Let’s move, Daniel,” Rommel says.
They drive down to the river and cross the Seine by ferry. On the west bank, they get in their customary three vehicles, accompanied this time by the other two cars for the reporters. The entourage departs southward.
They drive for some four and a half hours. At 11 a.m. they get to Nantes near the Loire estuary. They stop for lunch at the soldiers’ mess hall there. Before sitting down, Rommel calls Speidel back at the château and gets updated on the latest reports. Nothing unusual. More bombings.
Despite the impatience of their customers, the two older French waitresses take their time. The men find it amusing that their dishes are served from the right, and even more so that Rommel himself is not the first one served. In fact, he must wait some time for his order. The attendants, unperturbed by their guest, seem to have their eyes on the younger men.
More driving that afternoon along the coast, passing the Loire estuary, continuing south. The towns go by—Pornic, St. Jean-de-Monts, Rochefort, Pointe de La Coubre…
They stop briefly here and there to visit elements of different units. This includes the headquarters of the First Army’s 80th Corps, 4 Haeckel’s 158th Reserve Division, Wilck’s 708th Division, 5 and of course, units of the 17th SS Panzergrenadier Division Gotz von Berlichingen.6
At 8:45 p.m. that night, the small motorcade finally pulls into the town of Royan, about halfway down the Bay of Biscay on the Gironde estuary. They have traveled some 780 kilometers. Tired, they get settled in and dine a half-hour later. Most turn in afterwards, although Admiral Ruge, spending the night with the area Sea Commandant, 7 stays up to visit with his navy colleagues.
By the end of the day, most of the details about last night’s German surface attack on the landing ships of convoy T-4 near Slapton Sands have been relayed up the Allied chain of command to SHAEF. The eight American LSTs carrying the 1st Engineer Special Brigade had been taking part in the Allies’ only large pre-invasion landing exercise when they were struck by at least two groups of enemy E-boats.8 Eisenhower himself is enraged over the matter. For one thing, the reports show th
at the Germans had been quite successful because the landing ship formations had not been zigzagging, but rather had been sailing in a straight line; perfect targets.
They had been led by just one escort, a small British corvette9 that could only do about 15 knots, less than half the speed needed to chase after the E-boats. To make matters worse (and luckily for the Americans, unknown to the Germans), the small corvette could not communicate directly with the landing ships, because it was operating on a different radio jrequency. It was also reported that once the German boats began attacking, many soldiers were ordered not to open fire and further give their vessel’s position away. The American skippers, not knowing what to do, ended up circling their vessels, much like in the Old West.10
This attack is very bad news. The enemy probably now realizes that this exercise shows that the Allies are nearly ready to invade. The German radar and observation forces will no doubt be on special alert from now on for any other Allied movements, and surprise will now be much harder to achieve.
The preliminary casualty count from last night’s E-boat attacks is reported as over 630 men lost, about three quarters of them US Army personnel. Two LSTs, 507 and 531, were sunk. A third, 289, was heavily damaged, barely making it back to port. A fourth, 511, was hit by friendly fire. The Allies only had a few landing ships to spare for the real invasion, and with the losses taken last night, the enemy attack has effectively taken out any reserve they might have had.11
Even more serious though is the report that nearly a dozen American officers12 presumed lost in the attack possessed considerable critical knowledge of the upcoming invasion. Some survivors reported that the E-boats had at one point puttered through the flotsam with small searchlights or flashlights on, apparently nosing through the wreckage for information.
Enraged by this new security threat to their diligent precautions over the plans and objectives of their huge upcoming invasion, Eisenhower is livid. He harshly orders that the area be thoroughly, relentlessly scoured with frogmen, divers, capable swimmers— whatever it takes—until every single one of the bodies of those officers in question (and any incriminating papers they might have on them) is found.13
Countdown to D-Day Page 53
