by Gee, Colin
It's choice, not chance, that determines your destiny.
Jean Nidetch
Chapter 6 – THE LEGEND
0917 hrs Sunday, 1st July 1945, Winzenheim Camp [Rheinwiesenlager], Occupied Germany.
SS-Standartenfuhrer Ernst-August Knocke cast a spell wherever he went, be it on his own comrades or on those detailed to guard the prison camp full mainly with members of the SS, combat soldiers incarcerated alongside those who did spent their war at a desk or in a concentration camp.
What immediately set him aside from every other German there was the fact that he strode the camp in full black panzer uniform, complete with those tangible marks of years of bloody intense combat, from his Great War Iron Cross First class, awarded for his heroic defence of a trench position, through to the Knights Cross with Oak leaves and Crossed Swords at his throat, the last personally presented by Adolf Hitler. Underneath the Knights Cross was the “Pour le Merite” or Blue Max, also of Great War fame, which the young acting Oberleutnant Knocke had won two days before hostilities ceased and which had not been confirmed until 1929. These awards and insignia had not been looted and he was held in the very highest esteem by those who imprisoned him there, particularly the camp commandant. The French Colonel had once served with the Vichy Forces but had been forgiven sufficiently to be placed in charge of the abhorrence that was Winzenheim camp.
Knocke was the third ranked officer presently in the camp but the other two above him were held in virtual contempt by the combat troops, who all deferred to his judgement on matters. Because of the respect they held him in, they continued to march and drill on his orders, and the exercise sessions were rigorous and long. Thanks to his efforts his combat troopers kept fit and healthy, where others less prepared succumbed to disease and the melancholy of the unoccupied mind. All in all, there were one thousand and thirty-eight members of the SS in the camp, of which over half had once been SS combat troops. Add in two hundred and onee members of the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe, and the camp fit for habitation by five hundred and forty souls was crammed with one thousand two hundred and thirty-nine prisoners.
In a nutshell, Knocke was a legend on both sides of no man’s land. An energetic forty-seven year old who had seen time in the trenches of the Great War, he departed from the beaten German army at the end of hostilities, surviving the great German depression with work as a night watchman and baker. The full recognition of his Great War service came in 1929, when the Pour-le-Merite was belatedly presented to him and with it came an opportunity to join the Wehrmacht; to be once more a professional soldier.
He joined the rising National Socialist party in 1934.
In February 1941, he transferred from the Wehrmacht into the Waffen-SS and from that time he never looked back. He had served with a number of Germany’s elite SS divisions, rising from Untersturmfuhrer with the Leibstandarte-SS, through to Standartenfuhrer in SS-Das Reich, with command appointments in every SS Panzer Division but SS-Frundsberg and SS-Hitler Jugend.
Panzers were his main tool, and he was a master craftsman. Employing his metal leviathans correctly at all times, he successfully completed mission after mission, butchering the massed Soviet ranks with precision and sweeping the field with his meticulous manouevrings and instinctive judgement.
Wherever he had gone, he took victory with him, even if his contribution could not stem the tide elsewhere.
His final command had been immolated outside Vienna, but not before successfully counter-attacking once more and inflicting huge losses on the Soviet army.
The division had then virtually ceased to exist and Knocke had tried to proceed back to Berlin on orders from someone who clearly did not understand the transport situation.
He had fallen into the hands of the French Army two days later.
The young North African soldiers who captured him had obviously been in awe. They did not even remove his handgun, which fact caused some consternation with the French regular army major who was confronted by a loaded Walther P38 when Knocke handed it over before his interrogation. In truth, he might still even have it on his person now if he had not taken it from its holster himself and placed it on the table. Money could not have bought the look on that officer’s face and Knocke delighted in telling the story often.
In his mind, Knocke appreciated that Germany would still need soldiers, and so he trained his men in the arts of war as he knew them. From veteran to new trooper, he set in place a continuing tactical training programme, often using stones or pieces of wood to represent tank tactics and formation manouevre on the floor of the barracks. He reasoned that even the French might object if he did so openly in front of the guards.
Because of his teachings, many a young man in his captive audience acquired knowledge that would stand him in good stead should there be further bloodshed in Europe.
Unfortunately, Knocke could not continue as he would have wished today, for he had been requested to attend the administrative block for clarifications. That was code for interrogation about wartime career’s, and most importantly, where he had been and whom he had killed.
Well, that was the day gone then, Knocke mused, for he had been many places and killed many enemies.
Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives
William James
Chapter 7 – THE MEETING
0925 hrs Sunday, 1st July 1945, Winzenheim Camp [Rheinwiesenlager], Occupied Germany.
Lavalle had seen a lot of German officers by now and felt that nothing was going to surprise him anymore. From the ‘seig-heiling’ stiff-backed fanatics through to those who awful experiences had cowed; they had all been across his desk and received his personal interrogation and decision.
His task was simple.
Regardless of the previous years of war and what had been done that was regrettable, find men who would wear the uniform of his beloved legion and who were prepared to honour the legion code, men who could bring soldierly qualities to the struggle against the communists What his country needed now were soldiers of quality and no one could refute the fact that the Germans had them in large numbers, many of them languishing in prisoner of war camps the length and breadth of Europe.
Rumour had it that there were over five million Germans presently in captivity, less the sixty-three men Lavalle had thus far found to ply their profession further afield in the jungles of Indo-China. Most of those were either on their way to or had arrived at the Sidi-bel-Abbes headquarters of the Legion.
That the struggle for which Lavalle was recruiting was exclusively against the communist meant that he had only had three suitable candidates turn away from the offer he put on the table, for one thing each and every German understood was the communist threat.
So here he was in Winzenheim, one of the Rheinwiesenlager, the set of camps hugging the Rhine that were rapidly acquiring a reputation as hellholes for their occupants.
The large room set aside for his ‘interrogations’ was classically devoid of any charm. Concrete walls, white-washed and bare, save for an electric fan high in one corner soundlessly agitating the air. Windowless and poorly lit, the only furniture being the two chairs and a battered but serviceable table placed centrally, topped off with an electric lamp and an ashtray.
He sat down at the table and reached for the file on top of the pile. This file had drawn his attention the moment it arrived in his office, for it was one of very few which were red, and one of only six he had seen that had a blue ribbon around it. That made the person described therein very special indeed. This man was also the reason Lavalle was conducting his business on a Sunday, when the rest of the section was off enjoying the high-life in Karlsruhe. The name on the file had been known to Lavalle long before his involvement with the clandestine operation that brought the document into his possession.
He had read it previously of course, three times in fact, and fascinating reading it was too, now supplemented by additional witness state
ments from German prisoners and newly arrived Soviet Intel files adding to what the allied intelligence services had scrounged up during six years of war. The man described in these pages was a real legend, both in his own army and in that of his enemies, and that was a rarity. Rommel had achieved it of course, but this man had fought his war exclusively in Europe, and most of it in the bloodbath that was the Eastern Front.
The door opened and the guard gestured the arriving prisoner inside.
Lavalle looked up and his immediate reaction was to stand and salute, a reaction he only just managed to suppress in time, although the man who stood opposite him saw the faint twitch of movement.
The German in front of Lavalle was the most impressive soldier he had ever seen, the more so as he was stood at the attention in immaculate full uniform, his medals shining and resplendent, eyes calm and firm.
He invited Knocke to sit, which Ernst did with a lithe and graceful movement.
The lack of any formal introduction from his interrogator was not lost on Knocke.
Lavalle opened the folder and, in perfect German, read aloud through the family details, list of unit assignments and general service record, pausing only to confirm a date here, an award there.
“Well you seem to have been very thorough,” ceded Knocke after ten minutes of solid listening.
“You even have my two weeks at Zossen recorded, which was extremely secret and not even my divisional commander knew I had been there. Also I congratulate you on your mastery of my language”.
“Thank you Herr Knocke. I am from Alsace of course. Now, let me be frank and get to the point. My main purpose is normally to interview members of the defeated German army with a view to recruiting them into the Foreign Legion and sending them to fight for France in Indo-China. You are not seen in that role, partially because of your age but partially because of your speciality being with tanks.”
“War is a young man’s business for sure Colonel, and panzers are not a jungle weapon,” and delivered with a quizzical inflection, "So why am I here?”
“That is a good question.”
Lavalle brought out his Gauloise cigarettes and offered one up. Ernst did not comment on the fingers missing from the hand holding the packet. Veterans did not do such things. When both men were enjoying their first puffs, he continued.
“I am here because it would seem that you fought a fair and chivalrous war and are not tarnished with excesses such as are some of your countrymen. Neither are you in anyway directly involved with the extermination camps.”
Lavalle straightened a little. “Had you been so involved then we would be having a very different conversation right now. Instead, I am here to make you an offer. Many of your comrades find the lure of fighting communists too much to resist, some wish to hide in the legion to evade responsibility for what they have done and others sign up simply because they have nothing better to do. I do not see you agreeing to serve France in any capacity for any of those reasons Herr Knocke. Not even ego I suspect”, which was said in such a way as a listener might think it was also a question.
Knocke shifted slightly and delivered a gentle riposte in a tone that made Lavalle understand the force and personality of the man opposite him.
“I can assure you that the Russian front afforded no room for ego, Herr Oberst.”
“Permit me to rephrase that,” Lavalle countered softly after a respectable pause.
“You have skills, skills which my country and others might need to draw upon. Sat opposite us are millions of Russians and already there are problems brewing. Across the world communism is taking further root. Who knows where the next Hitler or Mussolini will rise?”
“Or Stalin?”
“Or Stalin Herr Knocke, indeed, or Stalin.”
Lavalle offered his cigarettes again and when both men had eagerly drawn the rich smoke into their lungs he continued.
“This war is over and you will not take to a uniform again to oppose the enemies of your country, or mine for that matter. You will not bear arms again I am sure, but you have priceless knowledge and skills. I do not understand precisely where you would fit in within the greater scheme of things but I do know that you will not be allowed to fade away and that you will be asked to bring your skills to serve again.”
‘So basically you have nothing to offer me, and no idea of what you might want me to do. How can I refuse,” with a chuckle that fell short of amusement.
“Au contraire Herr Knocke. I am empowered to offer you and a selected group, removal from this facility within the week, unofficial paid employment based in pleasant surroundings and a guarantee that you will not be asked to do anything that would harm your comrades or country.”
“A lot is expected with little by way of definite information. I cannot entertain any advance from an enemy of my country in any case.”
“We are no longer enemies, surely that is clear?” Lavalle left that hanging in the air but received no acknowledgement from Knocke. “The war is over, the peace is signed. We must all now stand together in the face of the communists.”
Knocke leant slightly forward.
“As we Germans were saying for years; years in which we stood alone against them! We have already shed much blood, and suffered much loss, and I saw too many of my men die in the cause you now conveniently wish to champion. You have just read out that I grew up in a small village called Metgethen, Herr Oberst; does that mean anything to you?” The emotion was controlled but none the less there, and again the force of Knocke gave Lavalle pause, and his reply was obviously sincere and heartfelt.
“Yes, I know of Metgethen Herr Knocke, and I am truly sorry for your loss, but you know as well as I do that Nazi Germany could not have been allowed to stand, and that the Western Allies could not have fought alongside a nation driven by Hitler and his band. I have been to a quiet but dreadful place called Natzwiller-Struhof, where the reasons for the need to remove Nazism were made very clear to me by my own eyes There are other, much more awful places I have not seen but about which I have heard nightmare stories. The people of a nation always pay the price of the policies laid down by its politicians and undoubtedly Germany has suffered much in that regard, that is true.”
Lavalle placed an envelope he had been holding gently on top of the folder.
“Surely Herr Knocke, you must see that the best hope of salvation for your homeland, your Fatherland, lies with a joint approach to prevent the spread of communism westwards. What happened at Metgethen is still unclear but what I do know is that none of us wants that to be visited upon any other village, town or city. That surely must be something for you to consider? It is too late for you to act in preservation of your own family, but you can assist in protecting the rest of your country, and in so doing, preserve mine too. You have skills and knowledge which may become much in need.”
Such a speech required a considered response and so Knocke paused to order his thoughts before replying.
“Again, I have to say that a lot is expected with little information to go on. I will grant you that we may no longer be active enemies but don’t expect that a political end to the war will just make our enmities go away over night.”
Lavalle assessed Knocke’s response as much in his poise and tone as in his words. It was obvious to Knocke that the Frenchman’s mind was working out the next move. It was equally obvious when the decision was reached.
“You have said enough for me to go further.”
Lavalle took up the envelope that had appeared in his hands previously.
“I am permitted to show you this document and solely request that if you do not wish to be associated with the project outlined in it, that you do not speak of it further. I am empowered to make certain threats in that regard but out of professional courtesy, my understanding of their pointlessness in your case,” he looked Knocke directly in the eye to stress his earnestness, “And through personal choice, I do not. I will ask for your word as an officer.”
Knocke
digested the words and understood that in Lavalle he was encountering a soldier such as himself. Between two such men, honour still had a place.
“That is given Herr Oberst.”
The envelope changed hands and Knocke read the title.
“Colloque? This means what exactly Colonel?”
“Ah, apologies Herr Knocke, my error. In your language, it would say symposium. “
A few moments pause which hid a burst of deep thinking by Knocke, ended solely by a softly spoken “Danke” as he extracted the contents, one translation set in German, the original in French, reading slowly and without expression.
Once finished Knocke obviously saw the signatories authorising the symposium, checked the original French copy and looked directly into Lavalle’s eyes, uttering a soft “Mein Gott”. He then re-read the entire four pages three times before returning them to the envelope and handing it back to an expectant Lavalle whose cigarette packet once more disgorged two cigarettes.
“Are you aware of the contents of that document Herr Oberst?” Knocke asked in a way that almost defied the contents to be true.
“I am, as I typed the German language translation you have just read, and so miserably failed to place a proper translation on its cover, for which I apologise again. I do not profess to fully understand the words I wrote, nor their implications for France, Germany, Europe, or you for that matter Herr Knocke.”
Gentle nodding of the head acknowledged acceptance of Lavalle’s comment and then Knocke merely closed his eyes and withdrew into thought, his fingertips extended against each other, as was his want when deep in contemplation of a problem.
Obviously much was rattling and rumbling through Knocke’s head so Lavalle wisely decided to let him work through the dilemma without interruption.
