A fruitful and crucial relationship sprang up between Guderian and Speer, both of whom were bent upon making better use of Germany’s resources for what they saw as the common good. So seductive was Guderian’s persuasiveness that he actually managed to obtain for the Panzerwaffe materials and manufacturing capacity that previously had been exclusively Luftwaffe property. Hence the Luftwaffe, plagued by misguidance from Göring and the errors of some among his favourites, found itself shorn of facilities as the air attack upon German industry mounted in intensity. To airmen sold on the dream of air power, this seemed a pernicious blow to Germany’s hopes of survival though it is equally certain that, now as always in the past, they also exaggerated their case.
Far more destructive than administrative chaos, however, was the irrevocable and repeated commitment of Army formations to lost situations. To within a few days of the final collapse of the Axis forces in North Africa in the first week of May, fresh troops were still being sent across the sea. A last minute plan to evacuate the key personnel of the tank forces by air, strenuously supported by Guderian, came to nothing with the result that what could have been cadres for many fresh units and formations were needlessly lost. At about the same time the plans for an offensive against the Russians were in course of discussion. The Chief of Staff, Zeitzler, had proposed to Hitler an enveloping attack against the Kursk salient where it invitingly jutted out towards the west. When the idea had been mooted in April by Manstein, for implementation on the dried-out ground in early May with the relatively weak panzer forces then available, the Russian defences were still weak enough to proffer a reasonable chance of success. Early in May, however, it seemed apparent that the Russians were forewarned (as they were) because the defences were being vigorously and noticeably strengthened. But by then Hitler had become enthused and was demanding, with political, propaganda motives, a dramatic victory that employed as many as possible of the new Tiger and Panther tanks. This requirement imposed delays to enable these machines to be brought forward in large numbers straight from production. At once Guderian was drawn into a direct confrontation with Zeitzler and Hitler, pointing out not only the continuing and inevitable mechanical deficiencies of the new tanks with their unfamiliarised crews, but also the pointlessness of striking at Kursk: ‘How many people do you think even know where Kursk is?’ he claims to have asked Hitler. And Hitler – who once said that he knew ‘with whom of my people I can allow myself this [scornful disregard] and with whom I cannot’ – had actuated his Guderian-deflection device by appearing to agree while persevering unheedingly with what he instinctively preferred.
As was his policy, Guderian struggled to penetrate the places of decision in order to influence overall strategy. Though once more he could drive to the front, speak to the crews, and watch the tanks in action – as he did when the Kursk offensive at last began, after repeated delays, on 4th July – essentially he had risen above the battlefield environment and was bent on changing Hitler’s habits along with those of OKW and OKH. At Kursk the tired and grimy crews described what he had feared and expected. Failure. The Panthers, in particular, had given trouble with running gear that broke down and optics which did not allow the tank gunners to make full use of the excellent, long 75mm gun. The Tigers, too, broke down while a number of the latest most heavily armoured self-propelled guns, the Ferdinands, suffered tactical reverses because of their inability to fend off Russian infantry once they became separated from their escort: invulnerably armoured and heavily armed with an 88mm gun, they had only one machine-gun for close defence. But, fundamentally, the failure at Kursk was due to the employment of a faulty plan which lacked the element of strategic as well as tactical surprise.
In the high courts of power he met men whose aims and methods were often quite contrary to his own. In Guderian’s judgement the defeat at Kursk was decisive because ‘… it damaged the German Army to an irreparable degree and the loss of the war dates from this defeat even more than from that at Stalingrad. The Russians had comparatively small losses and struck back after the German attack, leading to renewed breakthroughs and retreats on the part of the Germans’. It would, he said, ‘… affect the establishment of a defensive front against invasion in the West …’ The primary target for his disappointment at the defeat at Kursk was Zeitzler, but Zeitzler merely suffered from the ailments wished upon him by his predecessors – and this Guderian now came to realise. Albert Speer, who supported Guderian through thick and thin even in his attempts to curb the members of Hitler’s entourage, was now instrumental, at Guderian’s request, in setting up a meeting with Zeitzler in his own house at Ober-saltzburg. Ostensibly it was to settle ‘… some disputes … springing from unresolved jurisdictional questions … But it turned out that Guderian had more in mind than the settlement of minor disputes. He wanted to discuss common tactics in regard to the matter of a new Commander-in-Chief of the Army.’
Speer continues: The differences between Zeitzler and Guderian quickly dwindled to nothing. [It is certainly noticeable that, from the late summer onwards, Guderian’s attitude to Zeitzler softened.] The conversation centred upon the situation that had arisen from Hitler assuming command of the Army but not exercising it. The interests of the Army as against the two other branches of the services and the SS must be represented more vigorously’. In essence the two soldiers agreed that Hitler should become less partisan and that he ought to relinquish the post of Commander-in-Chief and appoint somebody who would maintain personal contact with the army commanders and take care for the needs of the troops. It was agreed that Speer and Guderian should speak independently on the subject to Hitler, but unfortunately neither knew that both Kluge and Manstein had recently done precisely the same. Hitler drew the false conclusion that all four were in collusion – as, to all intents and purposes, was so. Tresckow had already sounded Guderian, ostensibly on behalf of Kluge, to see if a reconciliation could be effected between the old antagonists as a first step in a joint approach to Hitler in an endeavour to arrange a diminishment of his powers. Guderian had declined because of ‘My very exact knowledge of Field-Marshal von Kluge’s unstable character …’ It may well be that Tresckow, as one of the principal plotters, had pushed Kluge hard into making the offer (as he had invariably to do in pushing Kluge towards any sort of resistance) but Guderian, none the less, may have been wrong to decline even though he was shrewd in his judgement of the hesitant Kluge. At that moment a combined effort by the most senior commanders might have averted the tragedy to come, forlorn though the hope could be. Guderian, however, was playing a lone hand from a sense of necessity. Accustomed to being rebuffed by his seniors and contemporaries he scarcely hoped to achieve lasting alliances among the hierarchy.
The oppressive atmosphere of intrigue and circumlocution which pervaded Hitler’s court stimulated its mood. Within those walls, personal relationships fluctuated with the same frequency as policy. Loyalty and continuity were at a premium. Conflicting judgements were the rule rather than the exception. In 1943 there was, in the innermost circles of power, a fairly strong consensus of opinion that Guderian, as Warlimont put it to me, ‘politically sought a closer association with the Party than was customary among the officers’. To a large extent this is confirmed by Goebbels in the pages of his diary. On 6th March 1943 he quoted Seyss-Inquart as saying that ‘… our generals sometimes get weak in the knees’ and added: ‘This view is confirmed by a long talk with Generaloberst Guderian … We discussed the abuses prevalent in the Wehrmacht. Guderian is a very sharp critic of these obvious improprieties. He impressed me as an exceptionally wide-awake and alert commander. His judgment is clear and sensible and he is blessed with healthy common sense. Undoubtedly I can work with him. I promised him my unstinted support.’ According to Guderian he attempted to have Goebbels persuade Hitler to replace Wilhelm Keitel with an officer ‘… who understood how to function as an operational commander’, but nothing of importance came of this meeting. Goebbels was never among those to offend the
Führer. Nor was Guderian successful in another meeting with Goebbels on 27th July when again, according to Goebbels, ‘He told me about his grave concern over the present status of the war. He pleaded for concentration at some point since we cannot afford to be active on all fronts. He complained about the inactivity of OKW which does not contain a single leader. Guderian made an excellent impression. He is certainly an ardent and unquestioning disciple of the Führer.’
It is possible that the normally forthright Guderian was engaged in a delicate attempt to split the Nazi ranks by administering mild doses of the Hitlerian virus – a little sweetness here, a little poison there, with the intention of bringing general pressure to bear on Hitler while enhancing his own standing. He even tried to influence Himmler, though Göring, who ‘disliked working’, he left alone. Within a year Goebbels, at a vital moment, would adopt a strikingly different opinion of the Inspector General of Armoured Forces, but that was at a moment when the whole Nazi house of cards was shaking. It is undoubtedly true, as will be seen, that Guderian envisaged himself as the man who might yet save the Army and the nation.
In the meantime any hope there might ever have been of Germany ‘concentrating at some point’ had evaporated. Germany had forfeited the initiative long before the disaster at Kursk. The annihilation of the last bridgehead in Tunis had provided the springboard from which, in July, the British and Americans had launched the invasion of Sicily, an event which had led Hitler to call off the attack at Kursk. The fall of Mussolini followed and, in September, the invasion of Italy as Germany’s major ally sued for peace. A guerilla war which, since 1941, had spluttered in the Balkans, broke into flames and attracted large German forces in efforts to pacify a vast area, as well as deterring an Allied invasion. In Russia the waves of an almost irresistible flood of offensives rolled westward, engulfing formations and units whose combat prowess had been stabilised but whose higher direction was permanently hampered by Hitler’s vetoes on yielding ground. An incipient inability on Hitler’s part to comprehend that mobility was as much part of defence as it was of attack, inhibited Hitler from permitting his commanders to exercise the full potential of the panzer divisions which, given the opportunity, had shown outstanding defensive powers.
The panzer divisions were forced to perform the defensive role which Seeckt and Guderian had originally envisaged for Germany’s limited forces – manoeuvres in depth with the flexible aim of destroying enemy forces on ground of the defender’s choice. What was more, the German Army in Russia, throughout the mid-period of 1943, possessed a far better capability to achieve what had been dreamed of in the 1920s. They not only had ample space in which to play an infinite number of tactical permutations, but a superior mobility and hitting power far in advance of anything seen before. The new regulations, then being issued by the Inspector General’s staff, were couched in terms of the defensive offensive battle based, initially, upon careful reconnaissance. In this respect the run down of the reconnaissance troops after 1941 was a matter of deep regret to Guderian who was busily trying to rehabilitate them. These units could find and track each enemy thrust in co-operation with aircraft. When the strength of direction of each threat was confirmed it would be for the infantry divisions, backed up by self-propelled guns, to hold vital points. Then the panzer divisions could move at speed to key, and preferably flanking, positions from which they initially blasted the enemy, as in an ambush, and next drive among the shattered remnants to deliver the coup de grace. Finally the panzer divisions would withdraw in readiness to deal with the next threat as it developed. Unfortunately Hitler frequently intervened to hamper preliminary operations, and either delayed them too long or began them too soon, thus mitigating their effects. Command of tanks can only come from the front. Alternatively he would allow success to be won and then sacrifice the advantage by vetoing a subsequent redeployment or persisting too long in the face of a subsequent stalemate. Invariably he turned economic plans into profligate waste.
In Guderian’s summing up: The unfortunate and ruinous combat of 1943 had defeated all schemes to increase the fighting power of the panzer divisions. Only the quality of the individual tanks could be improved, but the total number dwindled steadily. By September 1943 there were fourteen division with one panzer battalion each, eight with two, and two with three. In addition there were ten Panzergrenadier divisions each with one panzer battalion armed with assault guns. The authorised strength, per company, though stipulated to be 22 tanks, was actually only 17.’ On the other hand Guderian understates the vastly improved striking power provided by the new, more accurate high-velocity guns, and that, in training, infinitely more trouble was taken in profitably improving the gunner’s skill. Before 1939 tank gunnery had been rudimentary. Now much more time and trouble was given to shooting techniques with great emphasis on live firing on realistic practice ranges. Henceforward German tank gunners scored far more hits than their opponents and it was this capability, allied to improved equipment and the existing tactical skills, that was the greatest achievement of the Inspectorate under Guderian. Without this amazing feat of organisation and inspiration the German Army would have collapsed much sooner than it did.
Increasingly Guderian came to worry about the functioning of the higher leadership and strongly to doubt the Führer, though he was far from first to do so. For example, Erwin Rommel had lost faith in Hitler as long ago as November 1942 when Hitler had forbidden him to abandon a broken position at El Alamein. In the aftermath of incurring quite unnecessary losses, Rommel had been frankly outspoken in his criticism of Hitler and, in consequence, had been extracted from Africa. He now posed an embarrassment to the Führer, who, nevertheless, felt compelled to keep his most highly-prized, propaganda general in the public eye. Rommel was given sinecures – a job on the Führer’s personal staff and then the task of up-dating plans in the event of an Italian surrender. But once more Rommel disappointed Hitler by demanding that Italy be abandoned and that the defence of Southern Germany should be based upon the Alps. So Rommel was denied the post of Commander-in-Chief of Italy: instead it was given to Albert Kesselring of the Luftwaffe, a more amenable character.
These things Guderian interpreted in his own way and linked them with yet another awful blunder that was in course of preparation by Hitler – an ill-prepared counter-stroke at Kiev in November. On 9th November, the day Hitler proposed this operation, Guderian wrote a letter to Gretel in which he clearly indicates his forebodings and, incidentally, corroborates the tone of disenchantment in Panzer Leader. Referring to the seriousness of things at the front and the fact that ‘… insight into the situation does not keep pace with it, resulting in a continuous lagging behind of decisions …’ he went on:
‘How long I can continue in my command under these circumstances I cannot say. I am not very optimistic. When I consider that Ro [Rommel had to hand over his Army Group because, in essence, he gave correct advice … then I am not very hopeful that I shall fare better. Nevertheless I feel compelled at this hour to express myself critically in order not to be guilty of neglecting the troops, for which I could never forgive myself later. Keep your fingers crossed that things turn out right.’
This was the Bartenstein spirit of 1919, the sentiments of one who had resolved to offer himself as a sacrifice in his country’s cause. If his adoption of this attitude seems delayed (apparently a whole year after Rommel), it can only be said that, whereas Rommel had suffered for 18 months under Hitler’s direct command before loosing faith, Guderian required barely six to reach the same state. A comparison between the performance of Rommel and Guderian is certainly appropriate. Each had been raised to the heights of public adulation in exploitation of their dashing achievements in battle; each in his way was photogenic and an evocative subject for the propagandist; neither objected to a place in the limelight. But Rommel, the fighting soldier par excellence, had inferior foresight to Guderian and still less organising and administrative ability. Before the war, as Ronald Lewin says of Romme
l in his Rommel as Military Commander, ‘His record … is one of steady but conventional progress’. Rommel, in fact, could never have conjured up and pushed through the imaginative Panzertruppe in all its ramifications and with the need for such deft negotiation. But Rommel had not been trained as a General Staff officer and his operations at war hung much more on a string than did Guderian’s. Each, of course, had peerless insight into the demands and opportunities of the battlefield and was a superb tactician, though the better trained Guderian calculated the risks more thoroughly and, in endeavours to win his way in negotiation, cultivated diplomatic skill and, when necessary, the patience to give here or wait there for a more propitious moment. As Guderian once ironically and sadly reflected about Rommel (whom he admired), ‘He always wanted to have his own way’. They were as one in their ideals, a Prussian and a Swabian in complete accord over the integrity of the oath and of honour, committed to criticism of Hitler (though Rommel was by far the more indiscreet) but opposed to removing him by violence. Both totally rejected assassination.
Guderian: Panzer General Page 27
