The motivations of those who did volunteer were mixed: some were ardent Germanophiles or Nazi sympathizers; others felt let down by their own governments and placed their faith in the Nazi New Order. Still others looked for adventure and an escape from the drab existence of life in a defeated and occupied country. And more than a few, at the bottom of the economic ladder, were content to be housed and fed in exchange for military service.12
The selection standards for these foreign volunteers were the same as for Reich Germans, with the usual emphasis on a visible and certifiable Aryan racial background, good health, and a strong physique. In March 1941 Berger set up the German Guidance Office (Germanische Leitstelle) to organize the recruitment and training of the Germanics. It set up a training camp for new recruits at Sennheim in Alsace. Once there, the recruits from many nations encountered hardened German NCOs for the first time. The instructing staff in this initial phase lacked the flexibility to handle people whose backgrounds were very different from that of the average German recruit, who had already gained valuable experience from service in paramilitary and labor organizations. Norwegian volunteer Ole Brunaes summarized the training regime and its instructors: “They had self-confidence, well skilled with a dynamic efficiency and were remarkably proud of their famous German military traditions. We Norwegians, coming from a country where national defense had been neglected, the military professions ridiculed and any tradition nearly ruined, had a lesson to learn with regard to accuracy, toughness, discipline, cleanliness—physically as well as morally (fingernails being examined before eating, the locking of wardrobes strictly forbidden, thefts from comrades punished hard).”13
There were many complaints from recruits about their treatment, not so much regarding the physical severity of the training but because of the dismissive and insulting attitudes shown by the instructors toward their homelands. When made aware of these protests, Steiner and a few other progressive officers intervened in an attempt to encourage the training staff to show a more enlightened approach to the men under their charge. Yet, despite their efforts, the national and ethnic abuse of foreign volunteers continued.
The overall shortage of volunteers and the strict selection and training process made it impossible for the Wiking Division to become the Scandinavian formation that its name implied. As the division moved east for Operation Barbarossa—the invasion of the Soviet Union—out of a total manpower strength of 19,377, only 1,554 were foreign volunteers. Of this figure, the separate national contributions were as follows:14
Dutch 621
Finns 421
Norwegians 294
Danes 216
Swedes 1
Swiss 1
In fact, throughout its history, Wiking would remain a predominantly German Reich formation, supplemented by fluctuating numbers of Volksdeutsche, Germanics, Finns, and Estonians. The majority of Germanics would be assigned to other formations.
After Demelhuber’s departure from “Germania,” his replacement was Standartenführer Karl Reichsritter von Oberkamp, a cavalry officer from World War I and mountain warfare specialist in the interwar years. Differences with Steiner would lead to his removal from the Wiking Division in June 1942, to be replaced by Standartenführer Jürgen Wagner. Oberkamp and Wagner would go on to command divisions of their own, and both would share the same fate of being executed in 1947 by the Yugoslav government for war crimes.
The “Nordland” Regiment was assigned to Standartenführer Fritz von Scholz, a former officer in the Austro-Hungarian Army. Standartenführer Hilmar Wäckerle—the scourge of the Dutch Army on the Grebbeberg—commanded the “Westland” Regiment until his death in the first phase of Operation Barbarossa, when he was replaced by former Romanian general Artur Phleps. The Wiking Artillery Regiment was handed to Herbert Gille, a veteran SS-V artillery officer.
THE 10 MILLION or so ethnic Germans, or Volksdeutsche,15 scattered across Europe represented the best hope for a mass army. By the end of the war, some 310,000 Volksdeutsche had entered the Waffen-SS, a triumph for Berger’s recruitment measures.16 As well as serving in their own ethnically organized units, they acted as a reinforcement pool for all other Waffen-SS formations.
Although groups of ethnic Germans were to be found throughout the Continent, the largest concentrations were in the Balkans and central and Eastern Europe. The origins of German settlement outside the homeland dated back before the twelfth century, when Germans had emigrated down the Danube into what would become Hungary, Yugoslavia, and Romania. Some groups had lost much of their connection with Germany, while others maintained a strong sense of attachment to the fatherland. Relationships between the Volksdeutsche and their host countries varied considerably from country to country, but the thrifty and industrious Germans were generally welcomed by host governments—who had often encouraged their emigration—and coexisted peacefully with the indigenous populations.
The Nazi regime, with its belief in the centrality of race and Volk (folk), demonstrated an interest in Europe’s ethnic Germans from 1933 onward. This led to the formation of the Hauptamt Volksdeutsche Mittelstelle (Main Welfare Office for Ethnic Germans) in 1935, abbreviated to VoMi. The functions of VoMi were to look after the interests of Volksdeutsche and promote Nazi ideology within ethnic communities and to ultimately organize their return to the German Reich.
After the conquest of Poland, VoMi also encouraged newly arrived Volksdeutsche to take over farms seized from local Poles. Once settled in the German Reich, however, Volksdeutsche became liable for military service, and here the Waffen-SS was given first pick of the recruits ahead of the Wehrmacht. Although service in the Waffen-SS remained voluntary in theory, the pressure put on young ethnic German men to sign up was extreme, often to the point of physical coercion. Thus, from as early as 1940, the Waffen-SS began to lose its exclusively voluntary nature.
While Nazi propaganda liked the world to see the Volksdeutsche as a homogenous racial entity, comprising solid German stock with a heartfelt desire for a return to the homeland, the actual situation was rather more complex. Not least were the doubts expressed by Nazi racial “experts” as to the ethnic suitability of some Volksdeutsche for inclusion within the German Reich. Field studies by these officials suggested that for substantial numbers, the German racial line had been diluted by intermixing with their Slav hosts. But of greater concern was evidence of “interbreeding” with Jewish communities similarly scattered across central and Eastern Europe. As a consequence, all Volksdeutsche were ordered to be rigorously screened and their racial suitability classified prior to acceptance. And for many Reich Germans, the Volksdeutsche, with their strange accents and stranger dialects, remained less than properly German and were treated with varying degrees of disdain.
Among the ethnic Germans themselves, Nazi interest in their affairs could be disturbing and unsettling, especially for those not on the political Right. But for many without such political qualms, Nazi Germany represented a dynamic new force, and they were inspired and flattered by this interest shown in them by the fatherland. There were also cultural affinities that bonded the two sides. As VoMi historian Valdis Lumans points out, many Volksdeutsche were attached to Nazism because of its Volkish nature: “The Nazi obsession with the peasantry and the soil was better attuned to the mostly rural Volksdeutsche than to the predominantly urban Reich Germans.”17 During the 1930s VoMi encouraged the growth of pro-Nazi political groups and parties within Volksdeutsche communities.
Berger regarded the Balkans as a fertile recruiting ground, with Romania his first experiment. He knew the country well, as his daughter had married right-wing Romanian Volksdeutsche politician Andreas Schmidt. In June 1940, with Schmidt’s help, Berger spirited away 1,060 Romanian Volksdeutsche. They traveled by boat up the Danube, nominally as agricultural laborers, but on reaching Germany they were medically screened with 700 joining the Waffen-SS.18 Despite the success of this coup, Berger still had to tread warily. The Balkan governments may have feared Hitler, but t
hey still drew the line at their citizens—regardless of ethnicity—being “kidnapped” by the SS.
In the spring of 1941, Himmler and Berger could take satisfaction that their plans for the mass expansion of the Waffen-SS were starting to bear fruit. Although the numbers of Germanics and Volksdeutsche within the ranks were still small, the beginnings of a Europe-wide recruiting system had been established. And it was this structure that would provide essential manpower for the war against the Bolshevik enemy to the east.
Chapter 10
BALKAN DIVERSION
AMID FINAL PREPARATIONS for the invasion of the Soviet Union, Hitler was distracted by the antics of his ally Benito Mussolini. The Italian dictator had long harbored dreams of creating his own empire in the Mediterranean and Balkans, and jealous of Germany’s repeated military successes he decided to take action on his own—but with unfortunate results. In North Africa, an attempt to seize Egypt from the British ended in ignominious failure. Of more significance, however, was Mussolini’s invasion of Greece in October 1940. Although outnumbered, the Greeks inflicted a costly and humiliating defeat on the Italian Army, which then retreated back into Italian-held Albania.
During the fighting, Britain and Greece came to an agreement that British forces would be deployed in Greece. This news worried Hitler as Germany relied heavily on Romania’s Ploesti oil fields, which were now vulnerable to attack from RAF bombers flying out of Greek airfields. Before the invasion of the Soviet Union went ahead, Hitler decided to solve the problem by launching a full-scale assault on Greece.
Germany already dominated the Balkans, and its troops would be given free passage to Greece by the governments of Hungary, Romania, and Bulgaria, which had all signed up to the Axis Tripartite Pact. Field Marshal Wilhelm List’s Twelfth Army, deployed in Bulgaria in preparation for the attack, comprised fifteen divisions (four of them armored), as well as Leibstandarte SS “Adolf Hitler.” The Greek Army—plus a relatively small British and Commonwealth military contingent—could have little hope of fending off such a powerful force.
Yugoslavia—a fractious, newly formed state of Serbs, Slovenes, Croatians, Bosnians, and others—was eventually bullied into signing the pact on 25 March 1941. This was the final piece in the German strategic jigsaw; transit of German units through southern Yugoslavia was vital in outflanking the defenses of the Metaxas Line in northern Greece.
The surprise overthrow of the Yugoslav government on 27 March through a coup by Serb nationalists—and the country’s withdrawal from the Tripartite Pact—temporarily threw German plans into disarray. A furious Hitler demanded the immediate destruction of Yugoslavia. The German high command readjusted its plans, with the German Second Army redeployed to invade northern and central Yugoslavia, while Twelfth Army’s invasion plan was extended to include southern Yugoslavia.
Hostilities opened on 6 April as the Luftwaffe instigated a mass bombing campaign. The rebellious Serbs of Belgrade were the focus of Hitler’s ire, and the city was bombed for three days and nights. Much of the city was destroyed, with at least 4,000 of its inhabitants killed. While the bombing was ongoing, German ground forces advanced into Yugoslavia.
At the beginning of April, the Reich Division, stationed in France, had been ordered to join General Reinhardt’s XLI Army Corps in Hungary without delay. Crossing into Germany, the division passed through Munich and Vienna before driving over the border into Hungary on 5 April. Two days later it reached its assembly area at Temesvar, an advance of around 900 miles completed in a week.
Belgrade was the objective of the mechanized XLI Corps. The SS Reich Division was deployed alongside the German Army’s elite “Grossdeutschland” Regiment. Both formations entered into an unofficial competition to see who would be first to reach the Yugoslav capital.1 The advance of Reinhardt’s corps was held back for a couple of days, allowing the Reich reconnaissance units a chance to survey the proposed line of attack. They discovered the ground was low-lying and that a sustained period of heavy rain had rendered it into a near-impassable swamp.
On 11 April Reinhardt ordered Hausser to open the offensive. The “Deutschland” and “Der Führer” Regiments led the attack, with the 11th Regiment held in reserve. Yugoslav resistance was light, the chief enemy being the waterlogged, marshy terrain. During the day increasing numbers of vehicles became mired in the mud, leaving the infantry to achieve the first day’s objective alone. Reich’s divisional history singled out Keppler’s Austrians in “Der Führer” for special praise: “The attack was indescribably strenuous for the regiment’s men. Only a person who has made a 50-kilometer march himself can imagine the enormous physical achievement it represents. The soldiers covered this distance carrying weapons, ammunition and equipment. They marched through deep mud, their boots sticking with every step. The athletically trained and physically fit men arrived in Seleuš thoroughly drained. This day brought the most strenuous march and attack for the Regiment ‘Der Führer’ that it had seen throughout the entire war.”2
The “Grossdeutschland” Regiment—advancing over a slightly longer but far easier route—reached its objective just after the SS troops. For the next day’s action, Reich was ordered to halt and await the arrival of its artillery and vehicles, which would travel behind “Grossdeutschland.” Thus, it seemed inevitable that the army unit would win the race.
Reich’s reconnaissance battalion—some way ahead of the division—was also ordered to hold position, but a motorcycle patrol of just ten men under Hauptsturmführer Fritz Klingenberg had apparently not received the order. Klingenberg, a former adjutant to Paul Hausser and a man with a reputation for audacity and for scrounging the best equipment and supplies for his men, reached the Danube later in the day. He sensed that the weakly held city might be taken by a coup de main. Although the bridges over the river were damaged or destroyed, one of his men found a small motorboat, and the patrol crossed over to Belgrade.
While marching through the streets of the city, they met a German official who guided them to the German consulate. With the consul’s help, Klingenberg contacted the mayor of Belgrade and in a spectacular piece of bluffing managed to convince him that he was the advance guard of the main German Army and that if the city did not immediately surrender, it would be subject to a ferocious bombardment by artillery and Stukas. At 6:45 P.M. the mayor signed the terms of surrender—to a ten-man reconnaissance patrol. In a further display of bravado, Klingenberg ordered a nearby Serbian pioneer column to organize ferries across the Danube to collect waiting German troops at Pancevo on the far bank. Among them were units of “Grossdeutschland,” now the losers in the race for the Yugoslav capital.
News of the raid was picked up by German propaganda units, soon to be broadcast across Europe. Hitler was also delighted and decorated Klingenberg with the Knight’s Cross. The story had a less happy ending for the mayor: finding that he had been duped, he shot himself.
On 13 April German forces—including the rest of the Reich Division—entered Belgrade en masse, and five days later the remnants of the Yugoslavian government surrendered. Yugoslavia was broken up into its constituent parts: Serbia came under direct German control, with a fascist puppet state established in Croatia.
Hausser’s division spent the next ten days acting as an occupation force, rounding up Yugoslav soldiers for dispatch to prison camps (an exception was made for ethnic Germans, released to their homes). As Reich prepared to leave Yugoslavia, a number of ethnic Volksdeutsche from the Banat region of northern Serbia were incorporated directly into the division. On 26 April a recruitment battalion for Romanian Volksdeutsche was established in the SS Schönbrunn barracks in Vienna, with Sturmbannführer Heinz Harmel as its commander.3 This marked the beginning of the dilution of German Reich-raised divisions with ethnic Germans.
ASSIGNED TO XL Corps in Bulgaria, Leibstandarte acted as a reserve for 9th Panzer Division as it crossed over the border into southern Yugoslavia on 6 April 1941. While the bulk of List’s Twelfth Army advanced directly
toward Greece, it was planned that XL Corps would overcome local Yugoslav resistance before pushing into northwestern Greece to outflank the main Greek defensive line. Yugoslav resistance was sporadic and ill-organized, although one congested Leibstandarte column was caught by Yugoslav bombers, seriously wounding Obersturmbannführer Wilhelm Mohnke, commander of the II Battalion.
Bypassing the city of Skopje, Leibstandarte and 9th Panzer Division drove toward the Monastir Gap and the Greek frontier. After a brief skirmish to secure passage over the River Zrna, the Germans pushed past Monastir and into Greece. Their advance threatened the left flank of the Anglo-Greek defenses under the command of Lieutenant General Sir Henry Wilson. If the Germans could penetrate the mountainous Klidi Pass, then the whole Allied line would be in jeopardy.
Wilson ordered his troops to hold the pass for at least two days to allow new positions to be organized farther to the rear. The pass itself was held by British, Australians, and New Zealanders, who had been rushed to Greece from North Africa. They were unprepared and ill-equipped, not least for the terrible weather then sweeping the Balkans, where heavy rain turned to swirling snowstorms in the mountains.
On 11 April the Germans pushed forward toward Klidi, only to be rebuffed by the Allies holding the high ground on either side of the pass. During the fighting Obersturmführer Fend of the 8.8cm Flak detachment was captured by Australian troops, whose recent arrival was reflected in their confusion as to what was happening and even where they were: “I was taken back a few hundred meters along a railway embankment and handed over to an enemy captain, whose troops were eating by their vehicles. They seemed quite anxious as they did not know which way to advance. During my short interrogation I got the impression that they wanted to drive towards the [Greek-held] Klisura Pass. I told him that the pass was already held by the Germans. Even more surprising, I was asked if I knew a passable way to Athens!”4
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