AFRIKA KORPS ARMOUR IX
31 Wednesday Dec 2008
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31 Wednesday Dec 2008
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31 Wednesday Dec 2008
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Germans Reichsarbeitsdienst unit marching watch by Jersey uniformed policeman.
Paul Sanders. The British Channel Islands under German Occupation, 1940-45. Jersey Heritage Trust. Jersey Societe Jersiaise, 2005. xxviii + 284 pp. $41.25 (cloth), ISBN 978-0-9538858-3-1.
Reviewed by Ryan Holte
Published on H-War (December, 2008)
Commissioned by Janet G. Valentine
The Peculiarities of Being under Both the Crown and the Swastika
While mainland Britain managed to stave off a German invasion in 1940, the Crown Protectorate Channel Islands (Guernsey, Jersey, Alderney, and Sark) were not so fortunate. Of all the lands conquered by Nazi Germany, the Channel Islands were unique in a number of regards, not the least of which was that their titular government remained at war with Germany. Paul Sanders emphasizes repeatedly the uniqueness of the situation in the Channel Islands, frequently making the argument that the islands do not fit in neatly with the rest of occupied Europe. In the introduction, for example, he states that the occupation of the Channel Islands was “so unique, in fact, that it is extremely hard to put into words” (p. xv). In addition to stressing the distinctiveness of their situation, Sanders aims to reassess the resistance and collaboration that occurred in the Channel Islands.
“My thesis is that the current ‘over-focus’ on collaboration in the islands is not merely a reaction to the comfortable myths of the past, but that it bears a relation with the current political context” (p. xvii).
The historiography of the Channel Islands during the Second World War has been marked by the question of collaboration. The official history, _The German Occupation of the Channel Islands_ by Charles Cruickshank (1975), avoids the question altogether, which is typical of both the published histories of the time as well as private journals. Instead, historians have focused on the hardships islanders faced and how they managed to survive the occupation. In 1992, however, (what was then) the Public Records Office released a number of documents that had been sealed, and were originally meant to remain so until 2045. In the wake of these documents, questions about collaboration in the Channel Islands were raised, first by the press (both tabloid and broadsheet) and later by historians. Perhaps the best known and most controversial of these new histories was Madeleine Bunting’s _The Model Occupation_(1995), which accused islanders of acquiescing to the point of collaboration with their occupiers. Sanders’s work falls between these two extremes; he certainly addresses the issue of collaboration, but he also makes it abundantly clear that he believes Bunting has “over-shot the mark” (p. 259).
The heart of this book is in the second and third chapters, respectively titled “Collaboration? What Collaboration?” and “Resistance, Repression and Persecution.” The extent to which the local populations collaborated with or resisted their invaders are central to the historiography of not just the Channel Islands, but, indeed, all of occupied Europe. These are emotionally charged subjects, and Sanders takes a tactful, nuanced approach when dealing with these issues. He argues that simply asking whether or not the islanders collaborated with their German occupiers is not useful:
“Rather helpful in this respect is the typology of collaborations established by Werner Rings and Peter Davies which suggests a menu of the following: heart-and-soul collaboration, shield philosophy, conditional collaboration, tactical collaboration, submission on the grounds of superior force and wait-and-see collaboration” (p. 67).
Sanders concludes that “collaboration in the Channel Islands came in a rather pure form,” because the islanders did not engage in the heart-and-soul type, but rather submitted to the overwhelming force of the Germans (p. 74). He contends that the historians and journalists who have attacked the islanders for collaborating with their Nazi occupiers have been overly critical because they do not fully understand the peculiarities of the Channel Islands.
This reviewer does not want to give the impression that the entire book is dedicated to questions of collaboration and resistance. The book is arranged topically, with chapters devoted to such issues as economics, the culture of survival, the occupying Germans, and the use of the islanders as a source of slave labor. _The British Channel Islands under German Occupation_ is an excellent study that draws on a vast array of archival sources to examine a number of topics beyond collaboration and resistance. For instance, Sanders provides fascinating insights on the peculiarities of the economy and black market during the occupation. He deftly uses the stories of a myriad of islanders to illustrate his numerous points, and by doing so, he brings a great deal of humanity to his topic.
Although this is an excellent, meticulously researched book, this reviewer was slightly frustrated by the brevity of the introduction, which is just over three pages long. There is no discussion of the author’s methodology or the historiography of the topic, either narrowly defined as the study of the Channel Islands or more broadly defined within the context of occupied Europe. This is disappointing for two reasons. The first is that Sanders has staked out a novel place in the historiography of the occupied Channel Islands, and it would be useful had he clearly articulated this. Second, this book (indeed the whole subject) is at the nexus of two subjects (the British home front and occupied Europe), and a discussion of the intersection of these two historiographies could have been fascinating. Beyond this, a lengthier introduction would have made the book more accessible. Just as Sanders seems to assume that his readers are acquainted with the historiography of the topic, he seems to believe that they will be familiar with the histories of the Channel Islands, studies that are fraught with peculiarities and idiosyncrasies even before one considers the complicating factor of occupation. This is slightly bewildering, as he spends much time arguing that the unique nature of the islands is essential to understanding the occupation. These minor criticisms aside, _The British Channel Islands under German Occupation_ is a fascinating book that is essential reading for historians of the Channel Islands, and is well worth the attention of historians whose work is on either the British home front or occupied Europe.
31 Wednesday Dec 2008
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Subject: H-Net Review Publication: ‘Men, Materiel, and Morals: The Anatomy of Civil War England’
Barbara Donagan. War in England, 1642-1649. Oxford and New York Oxford University Press, 2008. xii + 443 pp. Plates. $110.00 (cloth), ISBN 978-0-19-928518-1.
Reviewed by Martyn Bennet
Published on H-Albion (November, 2008)
Commissioned by Brian S. Weiser
Men, Materiel, and Morals: The Anatomy of Civil War England
One almost cringes when a new title arrives bearing some combination of the words “civil,” “war,” and “England.” After a quarter of a century of working on civil war issues, there is sometimes a dread when a book arrives on your desk. However, the last year or so has seen some excellent new titles, by Mike Braddick, Ian Gentles, Mark Stoyle and so on, and this new book by Barbara Donagan is no exception to this trend.[1] Donagan reckons, with some justification, that there is still much to be done on the course of the war, the military experience`of soldiers, and the processes of militarizing a section of society and the concomitant effects on the fabric of society as a whole. Civil wars are notoriously different than international wars, for none of the combatants are in another country, they are all at home. The British and Irish civil wars were, of course, composites, part civil war and part international war, for soldiers from each of the four countries fought in a foreign country at some time or another, but, for much of the time, all combatants were “at home” in a broad sense, sharing common languages, perceptions and cultures with their enemies and the people amongst whom they lived. At the risk of slipping into cliché, they were sometimes fighting their neighbors or members of their family.
It is very difficult to find some particularly new angle to the study of the war, but Donagan has done it. In some ways at first glance it bears comparison with Charles Carlton’s book from 1992, _Going to the Wars_. This book, in a similar fashion to Carlton’s, dissects the war in an imaginative way. The first section looks at the nature of war and the justification of war: how wars could be legitimized both in their cause and in their course. Naturally there were no single views on this. For some this was a Christian war necessary to defend an embattled godly way of life (usually this was a Presbyterian and “puritan” view). For others here was little but horror. Halcyon days were lost; peace was sacrificed to a bloody catastrophe like that witnessed on the Continent, from where allusions and comparisons (as well as expertise) were drawn. Donagan then looks at the supposed amateurish nature of the military command during the war and makes interesting points about the “arm (or sedan?) chair” manuals that were available to the would-be generals, and adds this to a melange of training sessions for the militia led by veterans, the private companies of soldiers like the Honourable Artillery Company, which Donagan suggests brought together the notion of citizenship and “soldiership,” in a precursor of some of the ideals stress by the New Model Army as it developed its political programs.
The subsequent section looks at the mechanics of fighting the war: the types of troops involved, weaponry, battles, and skirmishes. Again one might think that the large numbers of texts on battles and fighting might have given us all we need, but Donagan sheds even more light on the process and experience. The chapter on intelligence works particularly well. The chapter on the development of military law is also very good and forms an excellent backdrop to studies of the brutality of some aspects of the war in its later years: this is followed by an excellent chapter on how the law was put into practice and by an examination of those who were exposed to being “outside” the law on racial, religious, and moral grounds.
The book switches about halfway through to the protagonists themselves: armies, officers, and men, before concluding with an examination of two sieges, Boarstall House and Colchester, as a sort of workbench on which the foregoing chapters can be tested. The former siege, which involved Sir Thomas Fairfax personally, ended about two months after the king’s surrender in 1646. The obstinacy of the governor, Sir William Campion, was based on honor, both personal and professional. The surrender was a public event witnessed by schoolboy Anthony Wood, given the day off to see it. The second siege, Colchester, concluded with the execution of two royalist generals accused of breaking the terms of their surrenders at the end of the first war. This siege was one of the incidents of the second civil war that so angered the men victorious in the first; a war they saw as an attempt to overturn God’s victory. This second surrender was thus very different and the mutability of the concepts of honor and duty that the years of war had brought into the spotlight and questioned came into play. Royalist leaders were accused of betraying promises to the victorious parliament that overrode their loyalty to the king, which was no longer accepted as paramount.
This book is a very valuable addition to the corpus of knowledge on the civil war. It explores, as one might expect from Donagan’s earlier work, concepts of honor, obligation, duty, and loyalty and it does so in an engaging manner. Moreover, this book, an excellent read and a fascinating insight into the war, justifies Dr. Donagan’s claim that there is so much more to explore.
Note
[1]. Mike Braddick, _God’s Fury, England’s Fire: A New History of the English Civil War_ (New York_:_ Penguin, 2008); Ian Gentles, _The English Revolution and the Wars in the Three Kingdoms_ (Harlow:
Pearson-Longman, 2007); Mark Stoyle, _Soldiers and Strangers: An Ethnic History of the English Civil War_ (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005).
31 Wednesday Dec 2008
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Given that I think I am finally getting towards the end of decorating the Wargames Room, I thought I would share a few shots.
The room has a very rich, warm feeling to it. Honestly, walking in, with the lights as they are, the lit cabinets, the prints and the weapons and the pack and the rest… it has really turned out exactly as I hoped.
30 Tuesday Dec 2008
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24 July 1936-24 August 1936: Konteradmiral Rolf Carls – flag aboard the armored ship “Deutschland.”
25 August 1936-5 October 1936: Konteradmiral Hermann Boehm – flag aboard the light cruiser “Nürnberg.”
5 October 1936-13 November 1936: Konteradmiral Rolf Carls – flag aboard the armored ship “Deutschland.”
14 November 1936-15 December 1936: Konteradmiral Hermann Boehm – flag aboard the light cruiser “Nürnberg.”
16 December 1936-19 March 1937: Konteradmiral Hermann von Fischel – flag?
20 March 1937-14 May 1937: Vizeadmiral (from 1 April 1937) Hermann Boehm – flag aboard the light cruiser “Nürnberg.”
14 May 1937-22 June 1937: Konteradmiral Hermann von Fischel – flag aboard the armored ship “Deutschland” and then the armored ship “Admiral Scheer” (from 10 June 1937).
23 June 1937-3 August 1937: Vizeadmiral Hermann Boehm – flag aboard the light cruiser “Nürnberg.”
3 August 1937-7 September 1937: Vizeadmiral (from 1 January 1937) Rolf Carls – flag aboard the armored ship “Admiral Scheer.”
8 September 1937-7 October 1937: Konteradmiral Hermann von Fischel – flag aboard the armored ship “Admiral Scheer.”
8 October 1937-8 February 1938: Konteradmiral Wilhelm Marschall – flag?
8 February 1938-13 March 1938: Konteradmiral Hermann von Fischel – flag aboard the armored ship “Admiral Scheer.”
14 March 1938-22 March 1938: Kapitän zur See Leopold Bürkner (b.m.W.d.G) – commander of the light cruiser “Emden.”
22 March 1938-26 June 1938: Kapitän zur See Otto Ciliax (b.m.W.d.G.) – commander of the armored ship “Admiral Scheer.”
?
24 July 1938-15 August 1938: Kapitän zur See Paul Wenneker (b.m.W.d.G.) – commander of the armored ship “Deutschland.”
?
SOURCES: Hildebrand, Hans H. & Henriot, Ernest. “Deutschlands Admirale, 1849-1945, Band 1-3″; Koop, Gerhard & Schmolke, Klaus-Peter. “Pocket Battleships of the Deutschland Class.” Geoffrey Brooks, translator. Greenhill Books, London/Naval Institute Press, Maryland, 2000; Koop, Gerhard & Schmolke, Klaus-Peter. “German Light Cruisers of World War II: Emden, Königsberg, Karlsruhe, Köln, Leipzig, Nürnberg.” Geoffrey Brooks, translator. Greenhill Books, London/Naval Institute Press, Maryland, 2002.
30 Tuesday Dec 2008
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Soviet aircraft and aircrew participated in the Spanish Civil War, and in March 1937, during the Battle of Guadalajara, air attack played an important role in the defeat of the Italians. The success of this operation, flown mostly by the R-5, R-Z, I-15 and I-16, convinced Stalin of the need to develop a dedicated ground support aircraft. The VVS duly prepared new specifications, this time for an armoured ground attack aircraft, a Bronirovannyi Shturmovik.
For Stalin this was a change of direction, for before the experience in Spain the Kremlin had seen more advantages in a light, fast multi-role aircraft, the so-called Ivanov programme. Some of the aircraft developed for this specification were now offered in ground attack versions with additional armour. Sukhoi’s successful BB-1 (also known as the Su-2) was the basis for the BB-2, or ShB (attack bomber). Similarly, Kotcherigin developed his R-9 into the LBSh (Legky Bronirovannyi Shturmovik or “lightly armoured attack aircraft”). The American Vultee V-11G light bomber, for which a license was acquired in 1936, was the basis for the BSh-1. Such aircraft had increased armour, armament optimised for ground attack missions, and more powerful engines to compensate for the increased weight. Kotcherigin also replaced the retractable landing gear of the R-9 by a supposedly more rugged fixed landing gear.
Tank vs. Plane
Next serious attempts was in the Spanish Civil War were Soviet-supplied Poliarpov I-15 biplanes and Polikarpov I-16 monoplanes armed with two ShKAS 7.62mm (0.3in) machine-guns (1800 rounds per minute) attacked 65 CV-33 and CV-35 tankettes. Using armour-piercing bullets they damaged several of the tankettes.
The Soviet “observers” concluded that a dedicated tank-attack aircraft would be an asset, and the Polikarpov design bureau started to design such a plane, but never complete any. A second design bureau started up in 1937, Ilyshin, and came up with the BSh (Bronirovannii Shturmovik, or armoured attacker), first flight in 1939. Armed with 2 20mm ShVAK cannons and 2 7.62mm ShkAS machine-guns and racks for 8 82mm (3.2in) RS-82 rockets and 2 100kg (220lb) bombs. It entered production as Il-2 (36.160 produced).
When Barbarossa started, Russia had 70 Il-2 in service and the first unit in combat was the 215th Assault Aviation Regiment, in the Veliki Luki area, where seven Il-2 attacked a German armoured column with bombs, rockets and cannons. Several tanks and trucks were destroyed, and the German advance was stopped.
Several attacks followed in the next weeks, but the Germans answer with Flak, and every pilot surviving 10 operational missions were automatically awarded the “Hero of the Soviet Union” decoration.
30 Tuesday Dec 2008
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PRE-WAR HISTORY
It’s hard to believe that a little more than five years prior to the invasion of Poland on September 1, 1939, the Luftwaffe didn’t even exist. Disarmed by the conditions of surrender of the First World War, Germany was banned from having a standing air force. While organizationally it prevented the Luftwaffe of WWII from being formed early, the ban was widely ignored in spirit. Numerous state-sponsored “flying clubs” blossomed all over the country, many air officers from WWI were placed high in the German Army structure, and the German aircraft industry, banned from building warplanes for Germany, moved some operations oversees and produced aircraft under contract for other nations.
The fact that the Germans saw the potential of airpower in a CAS role is important for understanding the success of the airpower component of what western observers called Blitzkrieg. Unlike most other countries in the inter-war years, Germany saw a close connection between its air force and army, not just on paper, but in tactics. As the Luftwaffe came into its own in 1934, most of the higher officers in the Luftwaffe were formerly of the German Army. Even new recruits to the Luftwaffe officer corps were given valuable training in army tactics and concepts. The two branches frequently held officer exchanges during annual exercises, and to a degree unlike any other nation, the Luftwaffe was seen as a supporting peer to the Army, as well as the other way around. As Germany’s enemies would find once they were on the receiving end of the Blitzkrieg, this coordination, from the highest echelons down to combat units, greatly enhanced their military effectiveness. Despite some early, and even some lingering, feeling of distrust of their new airborne counterparts (incidentally, many of those same German military leaders also distrusted the armor corps), the German Army not only expected, but demanded, that the Luftwaffe support them in war. While the Luftwaffe was not instantly wed to the actions that we would consider close air support today (preferring instead to initially focus on actions in the enemy’s rear…what we would consider interdiction today), several of the Luftwaffe’s most progressive military minds had their own theories.
To make these theories work, the Germans needed a practical testing ground for testing air / ground coordination. They got it, in the form of the Spanish Civil War.
SPANISH CIVIL WAR
The baptism of fire for the Luftwaffe and their new concepts of air / ground cooperation came in Spain. In November 1936, Germany had 40 aircraft and more than 4,000 “voluntary” personnel in the theater, fighting on the Nationalist side as the Legion Condor. This number would eventually move upwards of 10,000 men.
The leaders of the fledgling Luftwaffe used Spain as the testing ground for doctrine, and for the most part came away with correct theory that would prove instrumental over Poland and France in the years to come.
One leader in particular, Oberst Wolfram von Richthofen (the cousin of WWI’s “Red Baron”) played a crucial role not only in developing the tactics of close air support, but also the tools to make it all work. Originally the Chief of Staff of General Hugo Sperrle, von Richthofen took over as commander of the Legion Condor in 1938. Prior to that, Richthofen cut his teeth turning years of theory of “peacetime” army/air force cooperation into practice.
Richthofen’s fame came largely later in France and Poland, and ironically, while he is often credited with the development of dive bombing tactics for the Ju87 Stuka, he was not an early proponent of the aircraft. While there was never a doubt of whether the Luftwaffe would support the army or not, Richthofen’s original preference was on the status quo theory of effective strikes, low-level strafing and bombing using He51 and Hs123 fighters and coordinated by liaison teams in the German Army.
Special Luftwaffe radio teams, attached to army commanders, could accurately direct ground support where it was needed. This by itself was revolutionary; with the added force of some new German weapons, the first large-scale lesson in close air support was about to begin.
In September 1937, the Junkers Ju87A Stuka was introduced to the Spanish Civil War as part of the aircraft’s operational trials. Three Ju87s from I/St.G 163 were sent to Spain, and aircrews quickly grew to appreciate the dive bomber’s abilities. It was rugged, stable, and easy to fly. Luftwaffe aircrews were rotated through the Stuka unit to give them combat experience in the airframe and provide a pool of skilled operators for when the type went into widespread use. The Germans prized the Ju87s so much that not even their Nationalist allies were allowed to examine them, and it became a great fear that one of these “wonder weapons” would fall into the hands of the enemy.
Approaching its target at a near vertical dive, the Stuka was capable of placing its 1,000 lb. payload with then-pinpoint accuracy. A pair of machine guns rounded out the armament. After its first combat use in March 1938, aircrews bragged of being able to deliver bombs within five meters of the target, more than close enough for the bomb to cause significant damage. Aviation historian Walter Boyne has called the Stuka “the first smart bomb” for its ability to strike at pinpoint targets, far more accurately than conventional low-level bombing.
The initial success of the Stuka was not lost on von Richthofen, who began to strongly push for more coordination between Stuka crews and the army forces below. This was a marked change from earlier in the conflict, when he was reluctant to use the new aircraft.
In one instance, the Germans launched a bombing raid on a road bridge near Guernica. More than 40 level bombers and fighters were tasked to take out the target. A 1948 British study of the action came to this conclusion:
“He had at his disposal a weapons far more suited to the task than the cumbersome Junkers (Ju52 level bomber). Each of his Stuka dive bombers was capable of carrying a single bomb weighing 1,000 pounds. Equipped the latest bombsight, able to nose-dive onto a target, and any of the four Stuka available that day would have had a high chance of taking out the bridge with one direct hit.”
Von Richthofen apparently never considered employing the brand new Stukas for the attack. As their worth and accuracy became more evident, they were used much more, which also strengthened army / air force cooperation.
By the end of the civil war, Luftwaffe troops served at or near the front line, coordinating strikes on targets between the aircrew overhead and the commanders of both the Luftwaffe and the army further back. As the war came to an end, the Germans walked away from their victory with a solid appreciation for the power of air / ground coordination, although coordination between Luftwaffe units and ground troops still was mostly limited to the Army’s Divisional level.
Interestingly, the military observers in Britain came to opposite conclusions. When the Minister of the Army suggested that the value of close air support had been proven by the Germans, the idea was squashed by senior officials as inefficient and ineffective. Official memos strongly discouraged the mere talk of coordinating air power with the army below. It became so dogmatic that in 1938, any RAF unit practicing strafing in cooperation with the army got a letter of rebuke from the Air Ministry.
British and French soldiers and airmen would pay for their leader’s stubbornness in the years to come. Germany was going to take the lessons learned in Spain and focus their attention next on Poland. The West would sit back and watch. The fuse to WWII had been lit.
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The lack of an effective ground-attack aircraft = close-support aircraft was a handicap to German ground troops. The lack of this capability was not anticipated when the Ju-87 entered service. The Hs-123 was taken out of production, despite the excellent record the type had in Spain, and the Henschels were sent to flying schools. Wolfram Von Richtofen, commander of the Legion Condor at the end of the Spanish Civil War, had seen the effectiveness of close-support in aiding ground troops, and pressed hard to retain some close-support capability in the Luftwaffe. When he was made commander of Fliegerkorps VIII, the Luftwaffe “tactical air force” as it were, he pressed that much harder and to appease him he was allowed to retain one Gruppe of Hs-123s. This was II/LG 2, which used the Henschel very effectively in Poland and France, and later in Russia. So effective were they, that the flying schools were obliged to surrender their Hs-123s to make up attrition within this Gruppe, which was later formed the nucleus of new, dedicated Schlachtgeschwadern. The Hs-129 was devised as a dedicated ground-attack aircraft to fill this gap, although the aircraft was not a success and was soon withdrawn. The Hs-123 served until 1944, when the last ones were worn out. By then, the Ju-87 had all but disappeared, as had the Hs-129, replaced by the Fw-109G. Rudel’s cannon-armed Ju-87Gs were the last Stuka units left in Russia.
30 Tuesday Dec 2008
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The following information is provided on Gruppe Imker-the codename of the German Ground Contingent of the Condor Legion:
1 Pz.Kp (from the 1 Battalion of Panzer Regiment 6 (Neuruppin))
2 Pz.Kp.(from the II Battalion of Panzer Regiment 6 (Neuruppin))
Transport Kp
Tansport Kp
Nachrichtenzug (Signals Platoon)
Werkstatts-Kp (Workshop Company)
1 Pak. Kdo. (Antitank Gun Command)
Upon the completion of training, the Spanish tank companies retained their German Pz.Kpfw.1s and accompanied them to the front. The German training companies would then receive another supply of tanks to be used for the next training session. Army ground personnel in Spain never exceeded 600 men at any time. Gruppe Imker (Group Beekeeper) had a staff, under the command of oberstleutenant von Thoma, which coordinated and maintained all direct communications to Germany. Imker’s Panzer units were codenamed Gruppe “Drohne” or Group “Drone”. The following information came from the book entitled, Uniforms, Organization, And History: Legion Condor by Roger James Bender and published by R. James Bender Publishing, 1992.
Each company had 11 Pz-Is with 3 companies to a Battalion (Agrupacion) and a T-26 company added later (captured tanks)
30 Tuesday Dec 2008
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The Legion Condor is commonly associated ONLY with Luftwaffe volunteers and aircraft, such as Werner Molders and Adolf Galland, (who flew both He-51 biplanes, and Bf-109 s in Spain), as well as with the Stuka, Ju-52, and He-111 squadrons which assisted Franco s Nationalist forces. There was however, also a lesser known German army ground contingent which fell beneath the overall aegis of the Legion Condor known as Gruppe IMKER commanded by panzer-offizier Oberstleutnant Wilhelm Ritter von Thoma. The group of so-called panzer instructors were raised from experienced men of Pz.Rgt.6, and were equipped with the less than formidable Pz.Ib. The equivalent of three tank companies and their crews and support elements were shipped from Stettin in late 1936 and were setup and used to train Spanish Nationalist tank crews. Both Spanish trainees and their German instructors took part in a number of decisive battles thereafter, including the Battle of Madrid in November 1936. German army advisors were also despatched to train Spanish Nationalist troops in infantry, artillery, signals, and anti-tank methods, and these advisors participated in combat against Republican forces as well. So it is without doubt that German army officers and enlisted men participated in the Spanish Civil war alongside members of the Luftwaffe.
As for the inscription bearing the legend Generalstab des Heeres 10. Abteilung… and its relation to the German forces in Spain during the Civil War, I can only speculate. In the pre-war period, (pre-1939), the OKH (Oberkommando des Heeres High Command of the Army) was apportioned into a number of complex and labyrinthine-like sub-offices, each of which outwardly controlled a generalized area of command and control, but in reality, may have also overseen sub-areas of command competence not generally associated with its putative designation. As far as I can discern, during the period in question, (1936-1939), the office of the 10.Abt. came in the OKH hierarchy under the First Senior General Staff Officer, designated as, Oberquartiermeister I , or O.Qu.I. Beneath him came ten branches, or abteilungen which dealt by numerical succession, with operations, transport, supply, etc. Branch 10, or 10.Abteilung was responsible for Manoeuvres and Operational planning. How this integrates with the Legion Condor or any of its activities during the Spanish Civil War is, at first glance, difficult to discern. More satisfactory information might be gleaned by tracking the activities of (then) Oberstlt.Walther Warlimont, who acted as direct plenipotentiary for the Chief of the German General Staff (Blomberg), to El Caudillo Franco. Warlimont was an OKH insider whose progressive ideas concerning the internal power allotment of the Army high command in relation to the various branches of service were instrumental in creating an overall or integrated OKW or Armed Forces High Command structure in 1938. Any and all mention of an OKH, 10.Abt. disappears shortly after the start of the war in 1939, when such duties as Manoeuvres and Operational planning were relegated to the OKW s Wehrmacht Fuhrungstab, (Wfstb).
30 Tuesday Dec 2008
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On the eve of World War II the Luftwaffe had inherited ‘little in the way of doctrine from World War I. During World War I two general missions were given to German tactical aircraft. One was to give direct support to attacking infantry by neutralizing enemy trench lines, the other was to suppress enemy aircraft attempting to do the same for their own infantry. Units of the Air Force in squadron size were attached directly to ground units and tasked by the ground commander. It was a basic German precept that “no battle must be fought on the ground without the Air Force making its honorable contribution.” So, as the Luftwaffe began rebuilding after the failure of the policies of the Treaty of Versailles, a basic doctrinal assumption was the legacy of close cooperation with the army. ‘ In actuality, however, the tactics to be used in the Second World War were still in experimental stages.
During the period between the end of World War I and 1936 the Luftwaffe trained its pilots and developed its doctrine outside of Germany. Additionally, continued emphasis was placed on maintaining a viable aircraft industry. Throughout this period there was a growing commitment to the concept of Close Air Support. Once Hitler came to power and the Wehrmacht was brought back into the open, German military power became an instrument of German foreign policy. However, this power was by no means complete. Notably, the Wehrmacht lacked heavy firepower and artillery. Williamson Murray commented on this situation and wrote, “Because of the shortage of heavy artillery, German Army commanders proved almost too enthusiastic on the subject of close air support.” * The first real test of Luftwaffe doctrine was in Spain with the Condor Legion, sent by Hitler to aid General Francisco Franco in his conquest of that country.
Initially, German air forces adopted a strategic bombing campaign against Spanish cities. In November 1936, Franco’s forces surrounded Madrid and requested support from the Condor Legion in reducing the city. German advisers were eager to test the Luftwaffe in such a role and consented. From November 16 until November 19 the Condor Legion bombed the city and its outskirts. In March 1938, Spanish Nationalist forces with support from the Condor Legion began the battle for the Plains of Aragon. The battle was victorious for the Nationalists notably because of air superiority. From these actions the Germans learned a great deal about the use of aircraft in support of infantry. Adolph Galland, later to become an ace in the Luftwaffe, noted that it was from this time on that a distinction was made between air-to-air fighters and ground-attack aircraft. Afterwards, many of the Luftwaffe’s leaders, but especially Wolfram von Richtofen, commander of the Condor Legion, felt the need to expand further the Luftwaffe’s capability to support ground operations. The German General Staff still had not decided upon Luftwaffe doctrine, but it did lean away from the strategic and more toward the tactical aspects of airpower.