The Valkyrie Option

by Markus Reichardt

  12th August

  Western Champagne

  France

  What are we doing Hauptsturmführer, it was Günther the driver as always looking for guidance. Wittman leaned forward out of the turret squinting at what appeared to be for a moment a plane in the sky. There had been very few Allied air attacks since the withdrawal commenced and he was fearful of slackening.

  'What does it look like; we are withdrawing. Withdrawing so that we can fight another day. ' The Tiger with every hatch open to combat the infernal heat inside the Panzer was rumbling along at cruising speed 12 km per hour.

  He'd been over this with the crews of his company before many times since they had started the march back to the Reich. As members of Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler - the first division of the Waffen-SS, they had taken Dietrich's word that the radio broadcasts about Hitler’s death and the cause of the putsch had been accurate. Dietrich had formally gotten the officers to commit their loyalty to the new government of Germany. He was their commander. They were Germany's elite. They were the best. They followed orders.

  No-one had grumbled when they had started retreating. The troops knew as well as the officers that on the Normandy front stuck in the stationary line that successive Führer orders had committed them to holding they were wasted, being fed piecemeal into a meat grinder that prevented them from utilising their greatest advantage - their mobility. Still they had done it and suffered terribly - from artillery from constant attacks, from shortages of everything, but most of all from the allied fighterbombers. Taking the front back to regain the initiative made sense. Wittman snorted dust out of nostril. He truly did not feel in the mood for any political lecture or great discussion on strategy. Still he forced a smile. Like many others Günther was mentally trying to sort out the new circumstances and talking helped, especially talking to superiors who should in theory know more about this than enlisted men.

  'Let’s assume that between Sepp (Dietrich) and Rommel someone up in charge knows what they are doing. Right now they have decided that it is more important that we do not get killed defending France against the AngloAmericans but that we go east to defend our homes against the Bolshevik hordes. As long as the people in Berlin stick to that idea long enough, we should be alright.’ It was a cheap way out but it worked.

  'Yes sir' the driver seemed satisfied' You’re lucky Wittman thought all you got to do is drive and follow orders. As an officer I do not have that luxury. As an officer I am responsible for you. Do I know what Rommel is doing? Instinctively he felt that Rommel’s priorities holding back the Russians as opposed the western allies made sense. Beyond that who could tell.

  Woll who seemed to be reading his thoughts cocked an eyebrow. 'Deep thought Hauptsturmführer you look troubled.'

  Wittman turned slowly to his gunner. For a moment their eyes met before instinct made both heads turn to sweep the skies for allied Jabos.

  ‘Does Rommel know what he is doing ? Woll. I ask myself that. I follow Dietrich and he follows the Feldmarschall. ... and yet... did we not swear an oath ? The Obergruppenführer has never really answered that one. When I signed up back then I swore an oath first when I joined the Wehrmacht and again when I joined the SS. Both were about loyalty to Germany and the Führer. Funny I never even considered that the two could be separate. Back then things seemed so simple.'

  ‘Back then we were not at war. Hauptsturmführer.’ Woll, generally a quiet man sounded certain.

  Does war really change that? Wittman shrugged gazing at the passing poplar trees lining the avenue into the small town west of Chalons where 2nd Company was to entrain. He had been given the name but had forgotten. The war made you forget many things.

  The problem was Wittman did not know. All he had ever wanted to be all his teenage life was to follow in his father’s footsteps. Like ever German he had witnessed the hardships of the common man around him in the confusion of the Weimar days. It was Hitler who had brought clarity to that confusion. Hitler who had put bread on the table of the common man again in the early thirties. Given them hope and security, jobs and promised it would last. Even a farmer’s family who had rarely suffered as much hunger and uncertainty as the city folk, had noticed the difference. Michael had gone to the army out of a sense of duty. Hitler had called for a strong Germany. Michael and his father hoped that the Army would give him the education that the farm could not. The oath he had sworn had been to Germany and to Hitler. It had made sense. Hitler had been elected he was the legitimate leader - things had gotten better. And for the first years of the war Wittman like everyone else had revelled in the glory of national pride restored. Had they been wrong? Had they been too arrogant? The way things were going both in Normandy and in Russia when Adolf Hitler had died suggested that the Führer had not had all the answers.

  Hitler had taken them into Russia - the endless Russia which had swallowed so many of Germany's best. Michael and his Assault Gun crew had fought there for nearly 3 years. The fight against Russia had seemed right, but just like the Soviets had been surprised by Blitzkrieg so had the mentality of the German army. It had never stopped to think about reason and possibilities. Drunk on victory they had stormed into Russia when Hitler directed them there after the victory over France and on the Balkans. Bolshevism had been one of the major disruptive forces in the interwar years. Bolsheviks and Communists had threatened to take away land from its owners, factories from their managers, stores from the shopkeepers. They practiced a dehumanised form of social system Their politics based on the primitive instincts of the Slavic hordes. Or were they?

  Few Army commanders or even junior officers had questioned Hitler’s leadership when they had taken on Russia in 41. Only after the reverses of Stalingrad had some rediscovered their consciences. Did it matter now? Hitler was dead. The reality was that they had to find a way out of the mess they had followed him into. Did the new lot in Berlin have the answers. He certainly hoped so.

  Question was would they be able to and would not someday someone say that they abandoned their oaths to the great man of Germany at the time of his death and followed those who nicked his coat. Who were these plotters? Did they have Germany's interests at heart or were they just out to make peace in a way that saved their estates in East Prussia?

  The small town loomed up ahead. Wittman thrust up his arm to signal a general stop for his Tigers to get out their travelling gear. This was as far as their orders told them to move this day and the woods around the town were clearly the best place to park the Tigers even if the Allied Jabos had become less of a threat. They might not be fighting right now but they were still formally at war.

  12th August

  Warsaw

  To Jan Mioduchowski the situation seemed unreal. Here he was in Warsaw in a field hospital tended by German and Polish doctors less than a week after having been shot down by German flak trying to supply his compatriots with arms. Even more surreal was that German propaganda film crews were interviewing him and one of the Home Army men who had found him about the fate of his crew.

  Dressed in his British flight jacket, he faithfully told his story to the camera. Then he watched in amazement as four other Home Army unit commanders told of how their units had either been disbanded, arrested or decimated by the Russians and how they had barely escaped. None of these things had been reported in the British media even though the Polish grapevine had hinted at them.

  What Jan did not see afterwards was the editing and distribution of the film to include scenes from the German investigation into the Katyn massacre and other images showing burnt out villages.

  There were still a few neutral news agencies that were happy to consider running a story put out by the losing side if it made good print. They all received a free copy courtesy of the same men who had just week before espoused the military prowess of the Greater German Reich and its Führer. The fact that the theme here was that Russians had killed not just Poles but Poles in British uniform made for good press and even some of the
American agencies ran with the story.

  An angry Guy Burgess at the BBC managed to clamp down on the story in the United Kingdom but in America the administration was caught off guard. If the Soviets were shooting Poles in British uniform were they still our allies? Historians would later trace the demise of the benevolent Uncle Joe image that Roosevelt’s new dealers had striven so hard to entrench for three years, to this story.

  Just days after his discussion with La Guardia about the Vatican’s thinking, Roosevelt found himself on the defensive. It took all of his administration’s efforts to prevent the story from becoming front page news. More than one editor told Harry Hopkins that their faith in the administration was being tested and that the story would run if there was any more of this non-sense by the Russians.

  13th August

  London

  Polish Government in Exile

  No minutes were kept of the meeting that led to the fateful decision, but the confident messages from General Bor and other Home Army commanders over the past days had made all the difference. Although there had been some incidents between German and Home Army forces, Polish soldiers of the Home Army were in control of most of Warsaw, and large tracts of the surrounding countryside. In six other cities German authorities had handed policing powers back to the Home Army. More importantly they were living off German supplies. And they retained joint control over Warsaw airport. He had heard Mioduchowski’s testimony. They had no illusions about Stalin.

  After a further brush-off by the Foreign Office the various men around the table had to concede that in the absence of British action and supply flights, the German actions appeared credible. Churchill had just left for Italy where he would meet – inter alia – with the Communist partisan leader Tito, and was not expected back for at least two weeks. In his absence they would have to deal with the Foreign Secretary. In less than twenty minutes the Premier and his inner circle had appointed an envoy who would visit a number of Polish units still stationed in the United Kingdom to carry forth their message that once again the time had come for Poles to rely on themselves. The de facto ceasefire between the Home Army and the Wehrmacht had as the Premier had stressed to Eden changed everything.

  The envoy that left the Premier’s office later that day was a trusted but largely anonymous aide but the message he carried was significant. It was a simple reminder to the Poles serving in British uniform that due to the Polish Governments refusal to surrender in October 1939, Poles, no matter what uniform they wore, were still nominally under the command of the Polish Government. Wearing the Royal Air Force uniform did not make you ultimately subject to British order was a clear and simple message that was conveyed to the Polish airmen of the various fighter and transport squadrons serving in the RAF. As an example the message cited the South African squadrons which though operationally subordinate to the RAF, had not sworn an oath of allegiance to anyone but their own Government. In Warsaw there were Poles fighting to prevent the replacement of Nazi tyranny with Soviet dominance. The Home Army controlled the Warsaw airfield. Two days later the Polish airmen acted. Scheduled to fly combat patrol over the English Channel most of the K Squadron Hurricanes packed extra fuel tanks took off as scheduled and never came back. That morning an astonished Bomber Command base commander noticed that two wings of Lancasters piloted by Polish crews as well as more than twenty Polish ground crew were missing. A fair share of workshop spares had gone with them.

  14th August

  Reims

  France

  Rommel stared down at the arrows Speidel was scrawling on the map. 'What is happening here, gentlemen ? ' His staff all looked at Speidel who seemed to be living on the phone that morning. Calmly he finished marking up the map, constantly referring to his notes. Rommel watched the lines push deep into his lines. Whatever was going on, this was no raid. Speidel's aide brought another message, but no more lines were added to the map. It was a very narrow front, thus no offensive. What was going on?

  The air in the room was filled with the stench of rot. The cellar that the staff had chosen for the two-day stop had been dry upon original inspection but had turned out to be less than rain-proof. Water dripped from a number of point in the ceiling after last night’s rain shower, which had taken out the buildings electrical circuit. The kerosene lamps were a familiar and reasonable second-best. But it was what Rommel wanted low-key and bombproof.

  Speidel straightened up and briefly regarded his handiwork. 'Gentlemen, I will summarize as best I can but I do invite comment at any stage. I think I am missing something here. '

  'You and me' Rommel's eyes were focussed on the lines following their invisible extensions across the landscape. His staff was already talking about moving HQ earlier to an open field, but the Desert Fox still preferred a bomb-proof location when he could get it. Old habits died hard.

  'Well what we know is that yesterday morning a major American tank unit surprised one of the PanzerLehr Division’s Panzergrenadier companies playing rear guard here just west of Montargis – he pointed to a town eighty kilometres south of Paris - and simply captured the lot of them. It seems that no-one got away. Regimental command sent a patrol a few hours later to check on their progress and lost a few vehicles to another or the same American tank column coming down the road. By lunchtime these columns seem to have converged here at Montargis and later at Sens where they overran a transport battalion loading provisions. They then cut the Paris-Dijon railroad; a line we had wanted to keep open for at least another four days. We only found out when these units did not check in at their designated destinations that evening. These allied spearheads must have been moving with lighting speed for such surprise to have been achieved. Nightime patrols found evidence of a fire fight in the town and along the road leading from there to Troyes. However it seemed that the Americans had vanished and thus General Bayerlein of PanzerLehr put it down as a raid by an angry and ambitious American Panzer commander or another one of the frustrated French units using American uniforms and equipment to make a name for themselves. Personally I would have done the same.'

  'Ja' Rommel nodded the raid against Rouen on July 26 was on this scale, wasn't it. '

  'In terms of the area attacked it certainly was.' one of the junior staff officers agreed.

  'Back then we were still more alert. Things must be really bad within Alliance politics if De Gaulle still feels the need for his men to risk their neck in these kind of escapades.' the intelligence liaison officer volunteered. 'I would have thought that the loss of nearly a complete battalion would have taught them a lesson back then.'

  Rommel leaned over the map still confused. Militarily what he saw made no sense. 'Explain the political angle again, Horst.'

  'Well De Gaulle is jostling for a place in post-war French politics. That he will occupy one is beyond doubt, but since he is not the only game in town, he might not come out on top. If his men distinguish themselves by forcing us to relinquish French territory faster than we planned then his stature rises. He is already on less than perfect terms with the Americans and some of the British. If he can lay claim to the title 'Liberator' regardless of all the details, that'll be a big thing for him.''

  Buying glory with the blood of his men. Rommel's thoughts darkened. He hated politicians and their mercenary, self-serving logic.

  'Anyway, if this is a French glory raid, Herr Feldmarschall, then the advance would have halted after reaching a visible, reasonable symbolic target. Like getting over a certain river first, seizing a particular town of significance, or something like that. Capturing Sens would have taken them across the Yonne River and the Paris-Dijon railway. Both are theoretically symbolic targets.’

  ‘Especially so given that in less than a week Paris will be theirs anyway without a fight’ the Waffen-SS liaison officer snarled.

  ‘They have not stopped this time. My bet is that this is something else. Looking at the map I cannot see a target that would fit the political criteria' Rommel was puzzled.


  'Ja, 'Speidel nodded his assent.' From what we know there were attacks on units this morning here, and here. He pointed to the map west of Sens and around Troyes and Romily. This latter attack is confirmed by the unit itself before they were overrun virtually at dawn. It seems a sizeable American force charged into town and barely stopped to take 12 SS Panzer's reconnaissance company captive. The French - let’s assume that’s what they are - fired first and asked questions later. The radio report that was relayed to another 12 SS Panzer unit was brief and indicated that the sender thought it more important to send a detailed report than to make a stand to the death. Good for us.'

  Rommel gave his Chief of Staff a quizzical look.

  'Well, what I mean is .. that there was good detail on the composition of the enemy force, the number of vehicles etc. and less of the usual we will not retreat stuff.'

  The Waffen-SS liaison officer stepped forward stiffly.' With your permission Feldmarschall, 'Rommel just nodded smiling' I think that General Speidel should stick with the pertinent information rather than cast doubt on the honour of any of our units in these difficult and for some ..'he halted briefly' confusing times. '

  Speidel waved a weary hand. ‘No offence meant Ritter. I like you am also still adjusting. Please humour me on this one. No offence of any kind was meant to any German soldier. Those men did the right thing from a strategic point of view; they gave us information something far more important than blood spilt over ground we intend to vacate.’ The Waffen SS liaison nodded and stepped back.