Hans Boche My Story (6) The balloon went up after I had been in camp only a few days. The general of our Army was Von Manteufel. The master of Schwerpunkt. Which is literally maximum power at the point of engagement. I saw Manteufel sweeping about in a Mercedes staff car once or twice but never face to face. Other units passed through our camp area in seemingly endless streams headed for the front, which was the French border. The amount of men under arms and equipment we now had was much greater than even a year ago. A good thing Our Fuhrer had seen these eventualities years ago, and motivated all Germany. Adolf Hitler intended that we make a stand against the British army in France. This British Army, together with the French and odds and sods of Belgians etc was apparently determined to free Poland from 'the Nazi Yoke'. How they would do that, being six hundred miles from Poland? Did they expect to traverse Germany with an 'excuse me Herrman', then turn and attack us? Before they tried anything like this we stood up to them all at the French border, and before French mobilisation was complete, or conscription introduced in England, we were obliged to advance. I should mention that before this confrontation on the French border, and while I had been languishing in Hospital, things had been happening elsewhere. The main thing was that we had beaten the Allies (as they called themselves) who were racing us to take over Denmark and Norway. Our forces won the race and the Allies had to withdraw from Scandinavia. Perhaps it was this rebuff which stirred them up in France. In any event they massed on the borders and we attacked. I must say it all went against the grain a bit with me. If Alsace and Lorraine were given to us, (They were always historically German.) and there had been no ganging up on us, we would have lived happily ever after in Europe with our different cultures. I was quite a fan of French culture in fact. It lacked the efficiency and strength of German of course, but there is room for all sorts in this world of ours. The French had a style and chic, which we had not, they also seemed fairly happy in their beauracratic but inefficient way. Fighting them would be like bullying, and we Germans never wanted to be bullies. The English, or British, or whatever they wanted to be called, were different. They were not apparently happy like the French. They seemed a very miserable lot given to constant grumbling. The officers were chinless wonders and the men were scruffy but quite tough. Centuries of serfdom had bred in them a resistance to suffering. They would grumble and endure, I suppose it was the only way when the Lord of the Manor owned them all. They were good with their hands and could make good things if their upper classes allowed them to. The Belgians did not know who they were, some were French Belgians, some Dutch, some German. They had been voracious colonisers though, for a small country. Germany, I'm glad to say never really got involved in this ignoble seizure of other lands except when it became necessary for National Defence to take parts of Africa. Our Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler saw the way forward in this conflict clearer than anyone, and directed our Nation with expedition. There was no wavering or tentative initiatives. On the 9th of May, after staring at the Frenchies across a barbed wire fence for a few weeks, we poured into France with 'Das Reich' Division, Willi Hoffmeyer, Fonk, Albo and myself in the front line. We struck from Metz, the much vaunted Maginot line was as nothing. We crossed the Meuse (all bridges intact!) into the Argonne district. We met little resistance, or indeed much reaction at all, from the population until we neared Reims. We had previously fought small groups of French, who attacked unit by unit, wearing away their strength by dribbling it at us. We were the 'Schwerpunk', too strong. If they had made a concentrated attack with all they had at a particular point we would have been beaten. They were good fighters and their tanks were at least the equal of ours but the tactic of nibbling at us was fatal. Their Renault heavy tanks, which were a much later model than the two leviathans we had in training, were too heavily armoured for our 50mm to penetrate but their tracks were not protected, and they were slow. Many of their tank crews became prisoners of war in the Argonne. They were sent back to temporary holding camps, as I think it was Herr Hitler's intention to repatriate them as soon as France was Vanquished. We were rested as our army swept through Reims. I wanted to go to Reims and look for the Jackdaw of the famous poem, but I never got permission to leave camp. By the time were back in the line, 'Das Reich' had been turned North by Von Manteufel and we were near Amiens in Picardy. The names of places we passed were remembered in my mind as battlefields of the Great War. This time it was different, we were not crouching in the trenches going nowhere. This time the blue haze of our Mercedes engine marked an advance which, in one day, was more than either army in the Great War could achieve in a year. Every day we saw our aircraft go over to pound the enemy. There were many Stukas and Me 109 fighters. Very few enemy planes were seen, there was the odd French Dewoitine fighter. It looked very fast and I thought it was the Spitfire which we had all heard about. Fonk knew his planes and told me we had not seen a Spitfire yet. I wondered if they were being saved up and would come over in swarms one day and hammer us, but they never came. Our advance continued until near Lille at the Belgian border where we came up against the bulk of the British Army. They were falling back and the disorganisation of the French was not helping them. There appeared to be no co-ordination between the French and British, whose officers were to blame I know not, I only know that our officers took advantage of this and the momentum of our Division was maintained. Our only limit in advancing was our logistical supplies. We needed petrol at least twice a day, shells and food as well. Our Panzers were the fastest units in the Army and much time was spent waiting for the rest to catch up. We most often had to wait for our artillery as opposition was now greater and we were subjected to very sharp artillery barrages which caused casualties in our infantry. The British were too strong head-on in our present configuration, and it became our job to outflank them, so that we could cut off chunks of army, and capture them wholesale. When our pincer danger became too great the British had to pull back to secure the flanks. We fought their tanks here, North of Lille and I was surprised to find a motley lot of vehicles. No two tank squadrons seemed to have the same machines. Some appeared to be rivetted up like a ship, I think they were called Valentines. They did not show much Love though. We had experience from Poland, they had none but were worthy adversaries. Their odd riveted hulls were very thick, and they had skirts protecting the tracks, so they were very difficult to knock out. They had a similar calibre cannon to ours and we were just armoured enough to stand them. Only just though, as was shown on one occasion when a British shell hit the turret of our tank and stuck there, the tip showing on the inside and the ragged metal tearing Fonk's trousers, a close shave. Our field guns scored some hits on the Valentine's, which was enough to knock them out. I also saw a number of Valentines, after a manouvering stand-off, run out of petrol. The Tommies had to leap out and run off. We took the ground eventually and could have recovered the Valentines if we had wished. They were useful machines but we couldn't have kept them going for lack of spares, and we had no shells of the right calibre. Our engineers blew their turrets off with a small amount of explosive, making scrap metal of about ten thousand British Pounds worth of machine in one bang. There were also a few tanks called Cromwell I think. They were useless. There were also a few called Matilda, they had a big gun and any battlefield we came to where Matildas had been was marked by a few shattered Panzers. The penalty of the big gun was weight, therefore lack of speed, our field guns tackled them successfully and we could manoever out of their way. I once saw some Stukas have a go at a Matilda, but it was obviously very difficult to hit a tank from the air. We never saw a hit anyway. I could not see the point in this diversity of tank types which the British had. It must have been more difficult for maintenance and supply. I suppose they couldn't decide which sort to settle for. My advice would have been none of these, try to make one like a Panzer if you can. There was also a British Oddity for which we had no equivalent. They were generally scuttling about on the fringes of the battlefield and were called 'Bren Gun Carriers'. They were tracked like very small tanks with no turret, a Ford V-eight engine, a bren gun and and a couple of hardy soldiers. Very good in their place no doubt, but a Panzer battlefield was not their place. Perhaps they were for charging the natives in one of those savage colonies of the British. We were winning the war in France hands down, but it was more tiring than if it were a draw. We had to cover so much ground every day. Willi said we were to be relieved for a while and sure enough fresh Divisions came through our lines one day. Their Panzers were brand new, the crews were scrupulously correct in uniforms and equipment. They must have been shocked by us. In action Fonk wore a Pikelhaube, which is the Great War's ornamental helmet with spike and golden eagle. Definitely not regulation wear. Our tank was battered and we had covered the front glacis plate with various metal spares, track links, exhaust pipes, bogie wheels, anything metal. They would soon learn that you couldn't have too much metal between you and an incoming high velocity shell. Painted on our turret by Albo were our six victories. Four Renaults and two Cromwells. We had knocked-off a couple of Bren gun carriers but we would not have them painted on the turret, to Albo's disgust. Living conditions were reasonable if you discounted the lack of a soft bed every night. Our field kitchens kept up quite well, and we liked the French produce. We were able to buy food from the French with no problem and no inflated prices, so far as were able to judge. Oddly enough, despite the French hatred of our occupation, their animosity never seemed to extend to food, it was always available. I had not been much travelled as a youth, and had never been outside Germany. We were accustomed at home only to German food, so it came as some surprise to me to learn that I was an apprentice Gourmet. I sampled anything, even snails at a Bistro in a half destroyed French village. I was soon viewed as an expert and was consulted by other troops as to what they should or should not buy. I enjoyed all the cheese, and Pates, neither of which figure large in the German diet. I did not bother too much with the wines, we had other experts in that field, but I did like Calvados and was never without a flask of that handy, and a couple of bottles in reserve in the footwells of my tank. We had letters from home which showed great worry for our safety, and amazement at our progress. We were also amazed at our progress and we were safer than our people imagined. Our casualty rate was low, as there was not much house to house fighting in the towns, which is so wasteful of men. We were pushing them back all the time, never losing the impetus, which is vital in war. The territory we took was not particularly ravaged, and life got back to normal very quickly in the French Countryside. The peasants went out to work the fields in their high-wheeled carts as the tanks and troops disappeared over the next ridge. I tried to learn a little French, but it could only really be done from colleagues as the French either did not or would not understand us, except in purchasing, when their comprehension would improve. Northern France and Southern Belgium (French to all intents and purposes) were fairly poor areas with mainly agriculture and some coal mining. It was noticeably poorer than Germany. What was also noticeable was the French girls, who were often extremely pretty. I'm afraid I compared some of our German Frauliens (Not Lotte of course) unfavourably with them. The German girls in my memory seemed beefier, perhaps they ate too much. There was a vixenish quality about the French girls which was very attractive. The Frenchmen, on the other hand, had nothing to commend them. While we were resting in the rear, at a place called Hazebrouk, the sounds of battle came to our ears all day long. Air activity was intensified. On the morning of the day that we were to go back into battle all sounds ominously ceased. The war was over. We had won. Our camp was jubilant. Who would have believed that the two most powerful armies in Europe were beaten by us in only three weeks. We learned later that, while we had been resting, the English had evacuated some of their troops and a few French from the beaches at Dunquerque, back to England. They would never have got there if we had still been in the fray but I expect those new boys had dithered. When I say the war was over, I mean as good as. Our right flank was through Belgium, clearing up resistance in Holland. Imagine that, from Calais to Bremen by the coast road and all German territory. So by May 1940, in a few short weeks it was all over. We were allowed to drive our tank to Dunquerque to see the final battlefield. As we drove in, thousands of French troops, who could not be evacuated, were being shepherded out. There were also some British troops captured, distinctive in their pee-pot helmets. They looked more cheerful than I would have expected. At least for them the War was over and they could be sure of good treatment as guests of Germany. What amazed me most was the amount of equipment which littered the countryside for miles around. Acres of lorries and guns and tanks and motorcycles and those little bren gun carriers. Piles of food, clothing, and even rifles were lying everywhere. Most of the abandoned guns and tanks had been spoiled by damage inflicted by the departing troops. The motorbikes had been hit with a hammer, smashing the primary chain case or bending the valves. There was an undamaged lightweight motorbike that I 'liberated' and lifted onto the casing of our tank. It would be handy as a run-about. Back at camp I tried to get it going but though it had not been sabotaged it just would not run. I threw it into a hedge in disgust. No wonder they lost, and if all their equipment had been like this motorbike there was no need to damage it, it was no good anyway. Naturally the Channel saved England from immediately following in the footsteps of the other countries which we occupied, as there was no stopping Von Manteufel. I had no doubt the Channel could be negotiated away by the diplomats. I doubt if owning those British Isles would be much advantage to us, but we couldn't have an enemy twenty miles away making life difficult for us. We had all the raw materials and manpower and area we wanted now. We certainly wouldn't want to take over those troublesome Irish. The British Isles could be a protectorate of the Reich. The Empire would have to be discussed. Perhaps one day we would own Australia! From his position of strength, Hitler and Ribbentrop could sort out the British by diplomatic means if necessary, and we would now get a well earned rest. Chapter six. Domesticity. At St Omer Divisional Headquarters General Manfred Von Manteufel decorated me, and six hundred others, with the Iron Cross First Class. I found I was proud of it after all, and wore it round my neck on its black and white ribbon. I wore it when we took part in the ceremonial victory parade in Paris where I saw Our Fuhrer for the first time. He was taking the salute as I drove the Panzer down the Champs Elysees. He looked very impressive, with an aura of supreme confidence. He also looked as pleased as Punch, as well he might. After this excitement we were posted permanently to 'The German Occupation Force in France'. My armoured group of 'Das Reich' was to remain in St Omer, not far from the Belgian border. We were there in case of an invasion, which was highly unlikely I thought, as the British were still licking their wounds and drying off their soldiers. We also had to guard the many Luftwaffe airfields in the area. Air activity, when the weather was suitable, was constant. I had never realised we had so many aircraft. Fonk was our aircraft recognition expert and with his help we soon got to know the difference between the Ju 88 and Heinkel 111, which were our bombers. There were also many Me 109 fighters and a few Stuka dive-bombers with their distinctive gull wings. I could even recognise the General's Fieseler Storch, which looked like a dragonfly. The appearance of enemy aircraft in our skies sometimes happened now. Spitfires and Hurricanes (I could never tell the difference) came over, chasing back our bombers, and sometimes we saw a two engined job which I think they called a Bluefighter. One of these Bluefighters crash landed at St Omer airfield one day, peppered by 109's. I drove Fonk there in the tank to see it. The plane was intact, but it had landed without its wheels down and had bent propellors. The crew of three were on their way to Germany having been interrogated by our intelligence people. The plane was exhaustively examined by our own aeronautical engineers but they found nothing worth copying. Our own planes were much more advanced. The Luftwaffe boys felt a bit sorry for their counterparts in the RAF having to fight in these antiquated aeroplanes, except for the Spitfire, which they were rather wary of. The Bluefighter was broken up for scrap and taken away. I saw the motors being taken away on a lorry and was interested in them, as I have always been fascinated by internal combustion engines. These power plants were nine cylinder radials, marked Bristol. Whether that was the company who made them, or where they were made, I didn't know. Our airfields in France were covered with German bombers and I wondered how long England could stick it. The effect of our air attack must have been devastating. Some of our planes did come back smoking, or slid along with no wheels, and unfortunately we saw one or two which didn't quite make it and crashed in a fireball in the countryside. I felt very sorry for the crews and thought of my brother Bernard who was also flying these planes somewhere. I visited one such crash site and was amazed at how little was left of a once large aeroplane. I think it all could have been collected in half a dozen buckets. They looked strong enough, these planes, until something went wrong, then they were very fragile things. I slid back gratefully in my tank, after looking at the crash. Give me 60mm of steel armour plate every time, rather than one millimeter of aluminium. The Luftwaffe were the only arm who were now punishing the enemy, except for actions in Scandinavia where, with small forces, we had forestalled Allied takeovers and secured these Nordic countries ourselves. The much vaunted Royal Navy was unable to stop us and I was glad to read that our actions had secured for the Reich unlimited supplies of Iron ore. The fliers of the Luftwaffe who we were guarding had my admiration, going out sometimes twice a day, and the war in the air seemed to go on a long time. I thought that Britain would soon be made to capitulate with so much high explosive raining down on them. They had no chance of reply with their limited and dwindling Air Force. We had been told that there was no fear of Germany being bombed. This came as no surprise, as we were damaging or destroying the British planes on the ground, faster than they could be made. We had flattened most of their their Plane Factories, and with our Fighter and Flak defences, the few remaining enemy planes could not get through to the Homeland. It was a good thing we could not be bombed because I pictured my city of Stuttgart and knew it would be impossible to miss a big built up area like that however bad the aim was. During this period we spent our time in patrols, exercises, and the inevitable spit and polish which our officers seemed to love so much. In the evenings we would explore the countryside of France and Belgium. We travelled about in a British truck, we got it at Dunkirk and it was called a Bedford but here again whether that was a manufacturer or just the place it was made, I didn't know. We could always get some petrol for it from our tanks, there was no shortage. We would drink in the small cafes and got fairly drunk most nights. There was nothing else to do. French café music was no good, accordians mostly. I did not want to flirt with the girls, cheeky and attractive as they were. In any case they mostly got attached to the airmen and good luck to them I thought, best they get what pleasure they can, they are soon enough back behind the plexiglass and thin aluminium. This garrison work went on for many weeks and the aircraft activity seemed to lessen. Perhaps the job was done over there. Anyway I was glad to be given a period of leave as this inaction was getting boring. I was given three weeks, and arranged to spend two weeks at home in Stuttgart and then to join Lotte in Berlin for the last week.
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