Between Giants

by Prit Buttar

  German naval units started to operate in support of the ground troops on 10 October. The heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen, with occasional support from the cruisers Lützow and Admiral Scheer, repeatedly bombarded targets ashore, their heavy guns striking with great accuracy. On 15 October, when returning through dense fog to her home station of Gotenhafen, the German name for the Polish city of Gdynia, Oberwachtmeister Dammert recalled:

  When it was returning from engaging land targets, the Prinz Eugen was shaken by a mighty blow in the thick fog.

  On the bridge, the initial perception was that the ship had run into a mine. The order to ‘Batten down all compartments!’ was given by signal bell. The doors and hatches of all the compartments were closed to prevent the damaged cruiser from taking water and sinking.

  It soon turned out, however, that the Prinz Eugen had rammed the light cruiser Leipzig amidships in the vicinity of Hela, close to Gotenhafen.

  On that 15 October the crew of T20 performed beyond the call of duty. The torpedo boat, commanded by Kapitänleutnant Lampe, came upon the site of the collision and was the first to find the damaged ships. The T20 came up on the Leipzig and secured to her undamaged starboard side. The torpedo boat then took part in the towing operation in which the Leipzig was towed from the stern to Gotenhafen.

  … The following morning I determined from the forecastle that I could see the Baltic Sea through the hole in the flank of the Leipzig. It was not until afternoon that the Leipzig was freed with the help of several tugs and torpedo boats. In the process, the tugs attached several long wire cables to the Prinz Eugen …

  After our ship had been freed from the Leipzig we entered Gotenhafen under our own power. The Leipzig had to be towed in. In the harbour we could then examine the damaged bow of the Prinz Eugen. Repair of the ship began soon afterward.55

  Prinz Eugen was unable to operate at sea for several weeks. Leipzig was lucky to survive the collision, being sliced open down to her keel by the heavy cruiser’s bows.

  With such a small area of Saaremaa left in their control, the Germans began to withdraw forces from the island. 218th Infantry Division was evacuated on 13 October, by which time events had progressed elsewhere in the region.

  Forced to improvise as a consequence of the collapse of Army Group Centre in the summer, the German High Command demonstrated that it was still capable of mounting complex operations at short notice. Both Doppelkopf and Cäsar were handicapped by difficult terrain, where strong infantry formations might have been more effective, but in the aftermath of Bagration, such forces were very scarce, and were desperately needed to shore up the front elsewhere; 1st Infantry Division, the only infantry formation in 3rd Panzer Army that Raus regarded as being up to standard, had been intended for use in Doppelkopf, but had to be deployed further south to protect the East Prussian frontier. Aster, the evacuation of Estonia, was planned and executed at very short notice, and surprised both the Soviet and German High Commands in how well it was carried out. Without the rapid redeployment of III SS Panzer Corps to the Riga area, it seems likely that Bagramian would at least have been able to reach Riga, if not take the city, which would have resulted in the probable destruction of 16th and 18th Armies. For the moment, the front line had been salvaged, but the balance of power had shifted irrevocably in favour of the Red Army. The Wehrmacht could only wait to see where the next blow would fall.

  Chapter 9

  THE ISOLATION OF ARMY GROUP NORTH

  The city known to the Germans as Memel and to the Lithuanians as Klaipėda originated after the Teutonic Knights built a castle in the territory of the Curonians, in order to provide a base from which they could subjugate the pagan tribes of the area. Shortly after its creation in 1252, the name of the castle and the town that had grown up around it was reduced from Memelburg to Memel, and this name persisted until 1923, though it was known to the Lithuanians as Caloypede, Klawppeda, or Cleupeda. The name is thought to be related to the terrain around the city, either derived from the words klaidyti (obstruct) and pėda (foot), referring to the boggy landscape, which was difficult to cross, or perhaps the Curonian klais (flat, open, free) and ped (ground), referring to the relatively flat area where the original castle was built. Even in the days of the Teutonic Knights, the nature of the terrain probably played a major part in military operations in the area, as well as giving places their names.

  The city, and therefore the area around it, was always part of East Prussia, from the time when the state was controlled by the Teutonic Knights to the creation of the Kingdom of Prussia. It therefore became part of Germany in 1871, and its isolated position as the most northerly city of the new nation contributed to its slow industrialisation. The area was home to large numbers of Lithuanians, and a census in 1910 showed that 45 per cent of the nearly 150,000 people living in Memel or the surrounding territory – known as Memelland – regarded Lithuanian as their first language. However, the distribution of the German and Lithuanian populations was not uniform. Within the city itself, Germans were in a substantial majority, while Lithuanians dominated the surrounding countryside.

  As has been discussed, there was considerable disagreement about Memelland at the end of the First World War. The Poles wanted the region incorporated into Poland, possibly instead of Danzig, which was to be awarded ‘free city’ status. Lithuania was firmly against any such arrangement, as it would deprive the country of any major seaport, and give Poland an almost encircling presence around Lithuania. Some, though at first probably only a minority, of ethnic Lithuanians living in the territory, and in the neighbouring area of East Prussia, called for union of the area they knew as ‘Lithuania Minor’ to be joined to the new state of Lithuania.1 In view of the conflicting demands, the Treaty of Versailles detached Memelland from Germany and placed it in the care of the League of Nations. Britain was offered the opportunity to manage the territory, but declined, whereupon the French agreed to become administrators. A battalion of French troops arrived in February 1920, and Gabriel Petisné became the head of the new administration.

  Negotiations dragged on for several years. Lithuania’s claims were hamstrung by the fact that the Western Powers had not actually recognised Lithuania as an independent nation, and there were attempts to try to link together several different issues. In March 1922, the British proposed that the Lithuanians should accept Polish control of Vilnius; in return, the Western Powers would grant Memelland to Lithuania, would recognise the country as an independent state, and would provide financial assistance. Unwilling to concede on the Vilnius question, the Lithuanians rejected this proposal, after which the Western Powers leaned ever more towards a Danzig-like ‘free city’ status for the region. Faced with such a development, Lithuanian politicians decided to take matters into their own hands.

  Although General Silvestras Žukauskas, commander of Lithuania’s small army, claimed that his men would be able to disarm the French garrison in as little as a day, the Lithuanians were unwilling to enter into a potential conflict with France, still clinging to the hope that they would be able to establish lasting alliances with the Western Powers. Instead, they turned to the model of Żeligowski’s Mutiny, by which Poland had seized Vilnius. At first, it seemed that the plot faced huge obstacles. Although many people within Memelland were ethnically Lithuanian, they had lived under German rule for centuries, and most had even adopted Lutheranism. They tended to regard Catholic Lithuania as a backward, rural country, and were inclined to support ‘free city’ status. Secret funds were established to promote pro-Lithuanian (and anti-Polish as well as anti-German) propaganda, and slowly the mood of Memellanders began to shift. In Germany, there was widespread acceptance that a return of Memelland to Germany was, at the moment, out of the question, and, concluding that at an unspecified date in the future it would be easier for Germany to recover Memelland from Lithuania than from Poland, the German government made clear to the Lithuanians that Germany would not object to a Lithuanian seizure.

  In January 1923
, a group calling itself the Supreme Committee for the Salvation of Lithuania Minor declared that Lithuanians in Memelland were being oppressed by foreign powers, and called on the powerful Lithuanian paramilitary organisation Lietuvos Šaulių Sąjunga (‘Lithuanian Riflemen’s Union’) to come to the aid of their fellow countrymen. Some 1,000 well-armed volunteers crossed the border and seized control of most of the area, though in Klaipėda itself, Petisné refused to hand over power. There was an exchange of fire on 15 January, which resulted in the deaths of 12 insurgents, two French soldiers and a German policeman. By the time French reinforcements arrived the following day (aboard a Polish ship), the city was under Lithuanian control.

  Although the Western Powers deeply disapproved of the Lithuanian action, they were faced with a fait accompli in a distant part of Europe, and there was no appetite to spill the blood of their soldiers for such an obscure cause. There continued to be tensions, but a final convention was agreed in 1924, handing the region to Lithuania. Although the convention guaranteed considerable autonomy to Memelland, the German population, who formed 80 per cent of those living within Klaipėda itself, continued to regard themselves as Germans, and wished for reunion with their homeland. The National Socialists first established a branch in the city in 1933, and their strongly nationalist agenda resonated with the German population; the Lithuanian authorities responded by banning the party, and imprisoning its local leadership. Inevitably, this led to protests within Germany, which were exploited by the National Socialists to show that the League of Nations was unable or unwilling to protect Germans in Memelland.

  With tensions between Lithuania and Poland continuing, especially in the context of the Vilnius question, there was always a possibility of war between the two countries, and in 1938 the Germans made plans for a seaborne invasion of the territory, supported by land forces in East Prussia, should a conflict break out between Lithuania and Poland. With a resurgent Germany asserting itself aggressively elsewhere, for example in the Sudetenland, the Lithuanian government decided that it was best not to antagonise Hitler, and after Germany presented an 11-point memorandum, Lithuania lifted restrictions on the National Socialist Party, resulting in a huge increase in party membership. Ernst Neumann, the leader of the original National Socialist movement in the territory, was released from prison, and immediately resumed his energetic activities. Many people joined local Selbstschutz (‘self defence organisation’) units, organised in a similar way to the SA in Germany and wearing identical uniforms. During the December elections to the local assembly, pro-German candidates secured 25 of the 29 seats.

  It was inevitable that German attention would fall upon this small enclave of ‘oppressed’ Germans, and in 1939, Berlin demanded the return of Memelland to Germany in an ultimatum delivered verbally by Joachim von Ribbentrop on 20 March to the Lithuanian Foreign Minister, Juozas Urbšys, who was passing through Berlin on his way home from the coronation of Pope Pius XII. Although the only records of this ultimatum to have survived are from the report that Urbšys gave to his colleagues on his return to Kaunas, it seems that Germany threatened military action unless Memelland was returned to German control.2 The Lithuanian government felt that it had no real choice. The Memelland Assembly was expected to reconvene on 25 March, and was likely to pass a motion calling for return to Germany, and the threat of German military intervention had to be taken seriously, given German conduct in the Sudetenland. The convention that had settled matters in 1924 did not allow Lithuania to reassign sovereignty over the region without the consent of the other signatories of the convention, so the Lithuanians contacted both France and Britain to discuss the matter. Although both Western Powers expressed sympathy for the Lithuanians, neither was prepared to take any steps to support resistance to the German demands.

  Hitler set sail for Klaipėda aboard the pocket battleship Deutschland, accompanied by the Admiral Graf Spee, Nürnberg, Leipzig, Köln, and a fleet of smaller ships. He intended to go ashore on 22 March, but negotiations between Ribbentrop and Urbšys dragged on into the night, leaving Hitler to cope with the throes of seasickness on a windy night at sea. A five-point treaty was finally signed shortly after midnight, and the following day Hitler was able to enter Klaipėda, at the same time that the German 1st Infantry Division, a formation recruited mainly in East Prussia, marched into the city from the south, led by the division mascot, a large dog.

  The loss of Memelland was a major blow to Lithuania. Although it formed only 5 per cent of the country’s land area, it comprised perhaps a third of Lithuania’s industrial base, and over 70 per cent of Lithuania’s foreign trade passed through the port. The resulting dependence upon Germany played a major part in local politics in the months that followed.

  In the autumn of 1944, war threatened the area once more. Prior to the first isolation of Army Group North, Bagramian had considered a thrust to the Baltic coast at or near Klaipėda, but decided that the risk to the flanks of any such advance was too great; instead, he opted to turn north and push on to the Gulf of Riga. In late September, the western option once more came under active discussion, and Bagramian received new orders on 24 September, that his front was to move the bulk of its forces from the Riga axis to the Klaipėda axis, in order once more to isolate Army Group North. The entire operation was to be prepared in six days, and executed within a further 11 days. At the same time, 2nd and 3rd Baltic Fronts would renew their attacks towards Riga, to tie down as much of Army Group North as possible, far away from Bagramian’s axis of advance.3

  There were several advantages in switching the axis for Bagramian’s front. Firstly, STAVKA calculated that this could be achieved faster than German forces could be redeployed; it would therefore be possible for Bagramian to operate in an area with far weaker German units facing his assault formations. Secondly, unlike the heavily contested territory immediately west of Riga, the approaches to Klaipėda had seen no fighting since 1941, and the roads and bridges were therefore in relatively good condition. Thirdly, Memelland was currently part of the Reich, and its capture would be an event of great political significance for the Red Army, particularly with Anglo-American forces approaching the Reich’s western frontiers. Nevertheless, the timescale for preparing the operation was daunting, requiring the movement of about half a million men, a thousand tanks, 10,000 guns and mortars, and all their associated supplies, over a distance of up to 120 miles across roads already heavily degraded by the fighting of August and September. In order to release Bagramian’s 4th Shock Army and 51st Army from the Riga axis, 2nd Baltic Front would have to move 10th Guards Army and 42nd Army south, and use them to replace 3rd Shock Army and 22nd Army; these latter two would then replace Bagramian’s armies outside Riga. And, of course, this had to be achieved without the Germans becoming aware of it.

  Bagramian and his army commanders began detailed planning on 25 September. It was decided to mass roughly half of the front’s strength on a narrow frontage of only 12 miles, allowing for a concentration of up to 200 guns per kilometre (5/8 mile) of front. 6th Guards Army, with 2nd, 22nd and 23rd Guards Rifle Corps, 103rd Rifle Corps and 19th Tank Corps, would attack across about half the width of the selected sector, aiming to reach the Telšiai-Plungė area within five days. 43rd Army, with 1st, 19th, 90th and 92nd Rifle Corps, would attack alongside, with its axis of advance slightly to the south. 2nd Guards Army, with 11th and 13th Guards Rifle Corps, 44th and 54th Rifle Corps, and 1st Tank Corps, would attack south-west from Šiauliai. 5th Tank Army would be held back as the main exploitation force, intended to be inserted between 6th Guards Army and 43rd Army on the second day to rush on to the Baltic coast. Obukhov’s 3rd Guards Mechanised Corps would be held back as front reserve, allowing it a little more time to recover from its losses in the September fighting.

  Secrecy was an absolute priority for Bagramian:

  As always, we did all we could to keep the attack preparations secret. This time, we laboured to use every opportunity. First, we rigorously restricted the circ
le of those in the know. We formally struck the word ‘attack’ from our vocabulary. Everything was carefully planned and executed. This also required well-organised leadership by the staff. General Kurasov [Bagramian’s chief of staff] played an outstanding part in this … in addition, the movement of troops and equipment on all roads during the day was of course forbidden.

  This time, we did not rely just upon camouflage, but also sought to mislead the enemy. Generals Malyshev [commander of 4th Shock Army] and Obukhov were ordered to simulate the resumption of the attack on Riga from the south, to strengthen their reconnaissance, to regroup, and to allow trucks to be seen driving to the front. Additional preparation instructions were given via wire communication.

  The same happened with General Kreiser in the Jelgava area. We simulated the building of defences at Šiauliai. Obstacles were reinforced, trenches deepened, the network of communication trenches widened.4

  Despite the best efforts of all his staff, Bagramian had to ask Moscow for more time to prepare for the operation. He was relieved when the start of the attack was delayed to 5 October. On the eve of the attack, the Soviet commanders gathered for a final briefing. They were advised that the Germans had established three lines of defence. The main position consisted of a series of field fortifications over a three-mile depth, with a second line of much deeper positions. Finally, there was a third position, stretching from Tilsit to Klaipėda. Although the assessment of the strength of the main position was perhaps overstated, other observations made by Colonel Klebnikov, Bagramian’s intelligence officer, were accurate:

  When describing 3rd Panzer Army’s dispositions, Colonel Klebnikov described a further peculiarity of the enemy’s defences, namely the linear deployment of his forces. All five infantry divisions were in the first defensive line as if along a string. One only had to break through this string with a forceful thrust, and there would be no further cohesion, as there were no strong reserves to the rear. Actually, to the south-west of Šiauliai, in front of the left flank of 43rd Army, armoured troop formations had been detected; the same applied to the seam with 3rd Belarusian Front, where aerial reconnaissance had detected the concentration of considerable infantry forces. As was later determined, these were from Panzergruppe Lauchert (about the equivalent of a tank brigade) and 21st Infantry Division.