The Odyssey of a U-Boat Commander

by Erich Topp

  During my term in office we had many foreign visitors, among them the Royal Navy's Admiral Clutterbuck, then Deputy Commander of SACLANT, and Admiral Bush from the Channel Command. A very important visit was that of the SACLANT Commander himself, U.S. Admiral Moorer. The talks we held with him about our responsibilities and capabilities were informative for both sides. Afterwards we gave a dinner reception for him at the Hotel Dreesen, an evening planned and arranged by the Inspector's aide-de-camp.

  The whole affair came off as follows: The Inspector of the Navy, Vice Admiral Zenker, and I welcomed Admiral Moorer and his staff with a glass of champagne in the lobby of the hotel. This would have been fine had the lobby not also been used by the other guests of the hotel, who naturally cared little for us and our dealings. Then we retired to the second floor where two connecting rooms had been prepared for us. The long table and the chairs stood so close to the walls that the waiters had trouble serving the meal. First we had a soup. Then fried chicken as the main course, which in the United States seems to be reserved for the poor, and finally ice cream for dessert. Afterwards we returned to the same busy lobby where, once again in the company of the other hotel guests, we had a cup of coffee and a glass of brandy. Being familiar with the generous American standards of hospitality, I found this reception most embarrassing. I had to think of Admiral Johannesson's prediction that the Bundeswehr would remain an unloved stepchild of this state, and also of the red carpet treatment that foreign diplomats and politicians customarily received on their visits to Bonn.

  The next day we were invited to the residence of the U. S. ambassador in Bonn, George McGhee. Here the table was laid with exquisite china; the various crystal glasses beautifully reflected the light of the burning candles; there were flower arrangements in the colors of the German flag; and the seating arrangements were such that the waiters had plenty of room to serve us.

  After the dinner, as is usual, the gentlemen and the ladies split to do their own things. We men retired to the library for political talks. It was the time of the Great Coalition and the Vietnam War. U.S. President Johnson had expected more public support from his allies, especially from the Germans. This support had been withheld and the atmosphere between Washington and Bonn was rather chilled. When Washington and Moscow negotiated the nonproliferation treaty for nuclear weapons without consulting their respective allies, German Chancellor Kiesinger had spoken of a complicity among the superpowers-an unfortunate and inaccurate remark that had further cooled relations. McGhee argued that Kiesinger's comment was inaccurate because Johnson needed to have some successes in foreign affairs in order to improve his popularity at home, where he had come under fire because of Vietnam and race riots. The ambassador was very interested that evening in giving us a glimpse of America's problems, and he tried to create the impression that he was doing everything possible to overcome the misunderstandings on both sides and to improve relations between Washington and Bonn.

  In the meantime the ladies had retired to the dressing room of the ambassador's wife. In the middle of the room stood a huge bird cage, painted white, very elegant in its rococo design. This cage was home to a big black bird from India with a huge beak. As soon as the ladies entered the room the bird burst out into the most ordinary of laughters and uttered in a croaking voice: "I like pretty girls, I like pretty girls!" This was followed by another burst of laughter. How long must it have taken the ambassador to train this bird until everything came out perfectly?! It certainly was highly entertaining.

  By 1968 I was slated to become the next Deputy Chief of Staff for Planning and Operations at the Headquarters of NATO's AFNORTH (Allied Forces, Northern Europe) Command in Kolsas, Norway. My appointment had been agreed to and welcomed by SACEUR, the Supreme Allied Commander, Europe. On March 8, 1968, State Secretary Paul von Hase of our Foreign Office asked me to see him. He showed me a telegram he had just received from our ambassador in Oslo. The message stated that in the interest of good relations between Norway and Germany, and considering the impending big parliamentary debate over Norway's continued membership in NATO, it would be vital that my anticipated appointment caused no problems whatsoever for the Norwegians. Even if my appointment were not publicly announced, there could be no doubt that those in Norway opposed to NATO and to Germany would want to know everything about me and my career. He therefore asked that he be supplied with as exhaustive information about me as possible, information that would enable the Norwegians to judge whether and how far opponents of NATO would be able to find a personal pretense to torpedo my appointment. The director of the political section of the Norwegian Foreign Office had expressed his concern that my candidacy would be especially in jeopardy if I as a U-boat commander had sunk Norwegian warships or merchantmen during the war. The Norwegian official requested for his personal use a summary of my activities during the war, including the circumstances leading to my imprisonment in Norway, any actions that might have raised Norwegian animosities toward me, in particular the sinking of Norwegian ships, participation in the occupation of Norway, and possible incriminating publications.

  The accompanying memorandum of the German ambassador in Norway, Richard Balken, stated that he considered the concerns the Norwegian official had put forth in the name of his government basically justified given the present political situation. He thought, however, that in certain details the Norwegians were carrying matters too far. The ambassador went on to describe the gathering domestic campaign in Norway against that country's continued membership in NATO. He seemed convinced that the opponents of NATO, lacking arguments of a political or military nature, would revive their campaign by appealing to latent anti-German sentiments in the country. It would be disadvantageous, therefore, for the Norwegian government as well as for the German embassy, if after my appointment matters came to light that could be exploited by the NATO opposition in Norway.

  Our personnel department thereupon put together a document detailing "Topp's four points of contact with Norway." They were: (1) executive officer aboard U 46 during the occupation of Narvik in the context of "Operation Weseriibung;" (2) a stopover in Bergen to refuel U 57; (3) being taken prisoner in Norway at the end of the war; and (4) the sinking of four Norwegian merchant vessels.

  The State Secretary expressed to me his view that, after reading my curriculum vitae and my file, the whole affair was personally embarrassing to him and that his evaluation of me had only gained as a result of getting to know more about me. After weighing all factors in this matter, however, he suggested that a quiet settlement of the problem would be in everyone's best interest. Raised in the tradition that raison d'etat should outweigh any personal ambitions, I concurred with the State Secretary. This led first of all to a letter written by the Inspector General to the Commander-in-Chief of Allied Forces in Europe, General Lymen L. Lemnitzer:

  Dear General Lemnitzer:

  You were kind enough to agree to my suggestion of 12/4/67 to appoint Rear Admiral Erich Topp as Deputy Chief of Staff for Planning and Operations at the Headquarters of AFNORTH to replace Rear Admiral Erdmann. Today I must inform you that new considerations in connection with the modernization of the German Navy render it impossible for us to assign Rear Admiral Topp to that post. We find ourselves in this phase of modernization unable to forego Topp's collaboration and special experience. I trust you will understand why we would like to withdraw Topp's nomination. I shall present to you before long the name of another admiral to replace Rear Admiral Erdmann.

  Second, a proper formula had to be found to avoid the impression that the minister lacked backbone. Third, efforts had to be made to ensure my personal integrity against possible attacks by the Norwegian communist press, which might be tempted to produce banner headlines reading, "Murderer of our sailors in high NATO position." Even if the sinking of four Norwegian vessels at night, out of British-escorted convoys and without knowledge of their nationality, was perfectly justified under international law, the press might nevertheless have exploited
the incidents against me. By withdrawing my nomination we avoided a situation that could have played into the hands of the communists in Norway in connection with their campaign against their country's continued membership in NATO.

  On October 10, 1968, when Admiral Fritz Guggenberger took over the command originally scheduled for me, General Lemnitzer is said to have remarked to the Norwegians: "I hereby send you an admiral who has sunk only British ships."

  At about the same time we had the great debate about the naming of the three new guided missile destroyers. Three names had been suggested, each one representing a branch of the armed forces: Admiral Lutjens for the Navy; Colonel Molders for the Luftwaffe; and Colonel General von Fritsch for the Army.

  The press had already created some excitement about Lutjens, who had sent a well-known loyalty message to Hitler just before he went down with the Bismarck. In the case of the devout Catholic Molders, his twelve kills as a pilot during the Spanish Civil War were conveniently played down. But the name Fritsch ended up in a public crossfire of different opinions. One side saw him as an Army leader independent of any entanglements with National Socialism, an outstanding personality with an exemplary character who had steadfastly fought against the mean defamations his adversary Himmler had brought against him, and who had heroically sought and found death at the head of his regiment during the Polish campaign outside Warsaw. On the other side there were irrefutably insulting remarks Fritsch had made privately about Reich President Ebert and the Social Democrats, as well as certain passages in a letter in which he expressed political opinions that had already been brought up in connection with the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg after the war. Both sides never doubted Fritsch's personal integrity or leadership qualities. Because of Fritsch's remarks and the likely political protests ahead, the Navy suggested to the minister to name the destroyer Rommel instead. Rommel was at home and abroad a highly respected officer on account of his military successes and chivalric attitudes, a man who in the last phase of the war had joined the resistance movement and was known to have been forced by Hitler to commit suicide because of these connections.

  Such controversies, no matter how insignificant they may appear to us today, were prone in those days to ignite painful discussions about proper respect for tradition in the armed forces and were symptoms of the inner difficulties the Bundeswehr had to overcome as long as its leadership had once served in the Wehrmacht. Similar problems remained in the Bundeswehr's outward representation, in defining its proper place in the state, and in improving its public image. Twelve years after its creation these matters were far from solved. I often had to think of Johannesson's dictum of the armed forces as a "necessary evil." No wonder the soldiers' self-image suffered under these circumstances. But the military leadership, too, contributed at times to the difficulties by not taking unambiguous stands in important matters and by not presenting outsiders with a clear profile.

  One example to illustrate these difficulties was a conference for some 200 top-level military commanders that was held in Kassel in May 1968. This meeting made headlines when a group of demonstrators, some 100 high school and university students from Frankfurt, blocked off the entrances to the city hall where the conference took place and began shouting noisy anti-military slogans. To pass through the demonstrators was only possible under insulting and embarrassing circumstances. In order to be able to deliver their presentations to the assembled admirals and generals, the main speakers, State Secretary Rolf Lahr of the Foreign Office and Minister for Science and Development Gerhard Stoltenberg, had to be flown by helicopter to an inner courtyard of the compound. Despite this incident the Inspector General of the armed forces remarked that he did not notice a decline of authority. Along with a number of other officers, I had expected that the state or the city would use police to clear the entrances to the building or, if that was not done, that the conference be cancelled in protest. But others feared a police action would make headlines in the press, something our group thought could only improve the reputation of the armed forces. After all, is it not the obligation of the authorities under Article I of our Constitution to respect and protect the dignity of man? The Christian Democratic member of parliament, Hans Dichgans, wrote thereupon in a letter to Minister of Defense Gerhard Schroder: "I feel very much reminded of the Caudine Yoke [symbol of a humiliting defeat the Romans suffered at the hands of the Samnites in 321 B.c.] If I consider the continuing decline in the exercise of authority in our state, I am gripped by deepest apprehensions."

  Toward the end of my time as Deputy Inspector of the Navy I became indirectly involved in what would become known as the Grashey Affair. In March 1969 Major General Helmuth Grashey, then Deputy Inspector of the Army, gave a speech to a number of general staff officers at the Leadership Academy. His remarks were highly critical of the concept of "Inner Leadership" and of the parliament's special deputy for military matters. Grashey not only addressed specific instances of mishandled situations but criticized the very way the leadership system was designed.

  Hearing of Grashey's speech, the Inspector General convened a meeting at which the Inspector of the Army, Lieutenant General Albert Schnez, the Inspector of the Luftwaffe, Lieutenant General Johannes Steinhoff, and I representing the Navy were present. General de Maiziere began our talks with a brief summary of what had happened and tried to play down the incident. He called it a derailment and implied that the defense minister planned to issue a generous statement. Schnez basically agreed with Maiziere. He knew Grashey as an intelligent officer who had spoken freely and openly without having given himself enough time to prepare his remarks properly.

  For Steinhoff and myself, Grashey's speech went beyond the matter of a few ill-chosen words. We argued that a public statement by the military leadership should not give the impression of creating a process of solidarity. The speech was already being discussed in the public and was a cause for controversy. Therefore it was mandatory to take a clear stand to clarify the matter in the eyes of the public and to avoid mistrust among the citizens toward the military leaders, especially among the political opposition, which had agreed to the idea of the Bundeswehr only with reservations and had been critical of it in the past.

  I emphasized that the principles of Inner Leadership were in line with the constitutionally mandated mission of the armed forces. This did not mean that they should not be adjusted if a changing Zeitgeist made modifications desirable. The leadership concept should not be allowed to become a matter of individual interpretation. The Bundeswehr as part of the executive branch is subject to parliamentary supervision. Such control also means that the Bundestag watches over the principles of Inner Leadership, which were designed to integrate the armed forces into our modern industrial society. If this process is successful, it contributes to the credibility of our strategy of deterrence. Steinhoff, too, demanded a clear statement. It was important for him to abandon the lie that grew from the discrepancy between stated goals and reality. For him, Grashey merely represented the tip of the iceberg.

  I have discussed the conference in Kassel and the Grashey Affair in some detail here to show that the top military leaders in their relationship to the public exercised a degree of caution and distance that we considered misplaced. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the political and military leadership shared the city of Bonn and were thus in close and sometimes awkward contact. We believed we could do more for the military if we showed a genuine profile, both in situations in which we were attacked by the public and in response to our own mistakes.

  Since I often had to fill in for the Inspector of the Navy, Vice Admiral Gerd Jeschonnek, I developed a close relationship with General de Maizicre on several occasions. To deduce from the incidents discussed here that he suffered from a lack of willpower to exercise authority would be to gain a wrong picture of the man. De Maizicre was undoubtedly the right man at the right time in the right office to deal with the residual mistrust many held out toward those who heade
d the armed forces. He was a masterful pilot in difficult waters, using his high intelligence and great experience to circumnavigate the obstacles in his path and always stressing the primacy of civilian political control. It would be unfair to measure his charisma among the soldiers by the few visits he made to the small and, to him, unfamiliar Navy. His style and appearance were exemplary. Neither his line of argumentation nor his choice of words ever betrayed insecurity, even though he had to be careful in his words and actions at a time when the self-image of the military and its relation to the state underwent a remarkable transformation.

  His greatest disappointment, it seems to me, was that he could not push through the reorganization of the top echelons of the armed forces. He wanted to strengthen the office of the Inspector General by exercising immediate command control over all branches of the military. All three branches-Army, Luftwaffe, and Navy-preferred the American solution of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Here the Inspector General was more or less a colleague and partner of the branch inspectors, little more than first among equals. For us it was important that the inspectors exercised direct military control over their branch of the armed forces. We in the Navy were also concerned that we had a direct and decisive role to play in the design, development, and construction of the vessels with which we would have to fight without downplaying the legitimate concerns of the civilian offices involved. While we agreed with the leadership staff of the armed forces (FU S) about reforms regarding weapons design, development, and procurement, we disagreed with de Maizii re's plans for a revamping of the entire military command structure. In our meetings we deputy inspectors always coordinated our views to present a common line of argument. I also had close contacts with the Inspector of the Luftwaffe. We usually agreed on all crucial issues. When I left the Navy in 1969 he said to me, "It looks as if your refusal to help reform FU S has cost you your career."