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29 Friday May 2009
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29 Friday May 2009
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29 Friday May 2009
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Aviamaster 3/2000
By Vitaly Gorbach, Yekaterina Polunina and Dmitry Khazanov
The phrase ‘The face of war is not that of a woman’ – turned into a proverb owing to the title of a book by Svetlana Aleksiyevich – heavily influences the image of a woman at war, familiar to everybody from footage of the Second World War: a delicate girl-medic hauling a casualty from the battlefield under incoming fire. Such footage was a telling image of a woman as a saviour of life – as opposed to a male warrior slaying the enemy. The participation of women in various auxiliary units of the Red Army is well known. Meanwhile, the Great Patriotic War provided enough examples of women fighting as part of purely ‘male’ branches – Armour, Field Artillery, Air Force. The aviation aspect of the subject boils down usually to mentioning female pilots of the 46th Gv.NBAP, who flew the famous Polikarpov Po-2 ‘kukuruznik’ (corn-cropper) biplanes. However, it is not common knowledge that another two air regiments – a bomber one and a fighter one – were activated in parallel with the 46th Gv.NBAP. This article is dedicated to the female pilots of the 586th IAP.
The debate going on in Soviet society on the sexual and social position of women led to the fact that during the 1930′s the flying of planes was all the rage with boys as well as the girls. Along with men, the Motherland was made famous by Marina Raskova, Valentina Grizodubova, and Polina Osipenko. They were the first women in the Soviet Union to be awarded the title of ‘Hero of the Soviet Union’ – the highest national award. Their footsteps were followed by many a girl, queuing up for membership in the clubs of the Osoaviakhim (Russian abbreviation of the then popular association of military-oriented clubs). Thus, a young female Muscovite, V.A. Petrachenkova, wrote in her application on 22 Dec. 1938:
‘Owing to a tragic death of the best pilot of our socialist Motherland, Valery Chkalov, who gave his heart and his life to the cause of communism, I cannot remain indifferent to this tragedy… I want to join the ranks of Stalin’s aviators and dedicate myself to our Soviet homeland and Communist Party. I request admission to the aviation club of the Stalin District of the city of Moscow.’
It is possible that a present-day reader would deem the above language to be too high-flown. However, at the time, young people truly believed in the bright vistas for their country and were proud of the nation’s leaders. With aviation being en vogue, admittance to an aviation club was a great honour. A pre-war peculiarity was that the specialities of an aviator and a military pilot were seen as synonymous. Many women were mastering military skills in parallel with their basic flying training. Small wonder, when WWII broke out, that instructor Valeria Khomyakova (Moscow’s Leningrad Aviation Club) submitted a request to a local drafting office: ‘I do ask you to let me join the Red Army to be sent to the front…’ This request was motivated not only by ideology. Many girls logged a rather impressive number of flying hours in light aircraft. Some of them, e.g. Yekaterina Budanova, worked as instructors responsible for training the flying personnel for the Red Army’s Air Force. During the Soviet-Japanese hostilities at the Lake Hasan (Russian Far East), she would receive numerous letters of gratitude from her former trainees.
However, until the war, the female pilots’ requests to join the active forces, similar to that of V.D. Khomyakova, were falling on the deaf ears of the Soviet commanders. The formidable Red Army was believed to be an invincible guardian of the Soviet borders, ready to thwart any aggressor. Alas, the war broke out following quite a different scenario, instead of the one seen by most of the Soviet population as most probable. The ‘Lightning Strikes’ of the aggressor won him Belorussia, the Baltic part of the Union and most of Ukraine, with the Nazis launching their offensive against Moscow as early as in mid-autumn.
It is symbolic that female pilots were recalled in a most dire moment for the country when the bulk of the Western Front troops got encircled in the vicinity of Vyazma, leaving the approach to Moscow virtually undefended. On 8 October 1941, the People’s Defence Committee issued the order number 0099 ‘On Activation of Female Air Regiments for the Air Force of the Red Army’. By the order, ‘to draw on female flying personnel’, three air regiments, namely: 586th IAP, 587th BAP and 588th NBAP – were to be activated and manned by female personnel serving with the Air Force, civil aviation and Osoaviakhim army assistance society. The night and fighter air regiments were to be deployed to the town of Engels while the bomber air regiment was to be stationed at the Kamenka settlement.
The activation of female air regiments was initiated by Marina Mikhailovna Raskova – the embodiment of the pre-war success of our female pilots. She had many members of the Political Bureau of the Central Committee of the Communist Party to pull strings for her and visited the Kremlin personally on many occasions. During the initial days of the Great Patriotic War, Major Raskova was flooded with letters from female pilots asking for a place in front-line units, since many of them failed to be assigned to combat units through the proper channels of command like local drafting offices.
Raskova devised a plan to introduce a proposal for employing female pilots and technicians in combat. Her initiative was approved by Stalin, which meant a lot then. No doubt, the decision on activating all-girl unit was, to a certain extent, a propaganda coup, since even the units manned with active duty personnel could not achieve air superiority during the initial phases of the war. However, there is also no doubt whatsoever that the obvious desire of the women to fight the aggressor proved to the Services that the war had become truly everybody’ business.
Female air regiments were manned with volunteers on the recommendation of their respective Young Communist League organisations. In Moscow, several rooms were allocated for Raskova’s staff in the Zhukovsky Aviation Engineering Academy located in Petrovsky Park. From dawn till dusk, female college students and workers would queue up for their turn. Most conspicuous among them were the female pilots in their blue uniform overcoats or leather jackets. They were enrolled first of all. Applicants were in abundance and 450 personnel were selected fast enough. Few of them were professionals, with most of those selected being glider enthusiasts.
The newly activated unit, whose rightful commander became M.M. Raskova, was designated in a rather peculiar manner as ‘Unit 122′. All three air regiments were to be sorted out and their training started before 1December 1941. At first, it was planned that the personnel would receive their training at the Zhukovsky Academy premises. However, the state of siege declared by the authorities impacted on these plans. The girls had barely enough time to be kitted out, following which all three regiments set off on 16 October to the military training school at the town of Engels (Saratov Region).
Raskova was delaying the distribution of the girls among the three regiments awaiting the start of flying training. Moreover, all of her personnel demanded to be appointed pilots of combat aircraft, even though there was the need for navigators and gunners/radio operators. Even more dire need was in mechanics, technicians, weapons specialists, since the commander decided to fill all the slots in her regiments with females. Marina Raskova faced a tough job: most of the girls wanted to fly fighters. She decided, naturally, to select the best of them for the fighter regiment after the flying exam.
The initial phase proved to be rather difficult. Commanding a bunch of civilians with no idea of military discipline and no common cause so far to unite them was a tall order. Uniform-clad girls were restricted to barracks and were taking it harder than men normally do. To cap it all, the all-girl environment posed additional problems such as quarrels and rows. Major Raskova found a solution by cutting her command’s spare time by making them cram the regulations vigorously.
Men were surprised and suspicious of the all-female aviation unit. What a blunder it’s going to be, was everybody’s initial opinion. Most graphically the common view was expressed by Lieutenant Myalo who, upon learning that the political officer of the new unit is female, asked, ‘Wow! You even have political officers! Just like in a real unit?’ Such an attitude was to stick to all-girl units for the rest of the war, with the girls having to fight both enemy Messerschmitts and the resentment of their male colleagues.
Upon arrival at the flight school, the selection for particular regiments began. On 9 December 1941, the fighter regiment was singled out of the ‘Unit 122′ and designated as the 586th IAP. It comprised the first 25 girls who had passed their Yakovlev Yak-1 materiel proficiency exam. Having quickly appointed experienced Ye. D. Bershanskaya the officer commanding of the 588th NBAP and leaving the 587th BAP under her command, Raskova hit snags with finding a worthy commander for the 586th IAP. At first, the acting OC was a prominent Osoaviakhim pilot (later the 2nd squadron leader) Yevgeniya Prokhorova who earned her fame before the war via her record-breaking flights. She and the Engels flight school instructor cadre took the brunt of conversion training of the female fighter air regiment.
Following the completion of the ground school, on 28 January 1942 the regiment began receiving its long-awaited Yak-1 fighters, with 24 aircraft having been fielded with two squadrons by 10 February. All the aircraft were winter-tailored featuring ski landing gear, heat-saving engine compartments and white distemper paintjobs.
In late January, flight training commenced, first on Yak-7 twinseat trainers and later on Yak-1 fighters. The training flights proved the girls to be good enough pilots as well as demonstrating their enormous desire to be as good as men as far as piloting was concerned. Lt.-Col. V.P. Petrovich, deputy OC for flight training, faced the hard job of personally examining most of the pilots.
Most outstanding were Raisa Belyaeva and Valeria Khomyakova. The latter was allowed to fly the Yak-1 after just 52 minutes logged during trial flights, while other – even more experienced pilots – had to fly with instructors for as long as a total of 2.5 hours to be cleared for solo flights in the Yak-1. Khomyakova earned excellent grades for piloting in one of the trial flights but in another she switched to empty fuel tanks owing to her inexperience, with the fighter having to be crash-landed on the ice-covered Volga river. Other girls had their hands full too.
At the same time, female mechanics were receiving their hands-on training at the flight-testing facility of plant number 292. It should be noted here that becoming a technician turned out to be not so simple a task, since many future mechanics heard the words ‘crankshaft’ or ‘crank case’ for the first time during the classes. In addition, a mechanic’s job is hard enough for a man, let alone girls. In the line of duty they had to replace the engines and tails of their 3-tonne fighters as well as having to climb the stabiliser in the place of a load when test-starting the engines on the ground.
It is noteworthy that in early 1942 the winter in the Trans-Volga area was bitterly cold, with snowstorms raging on. The technicians had to see with their own eye what their military job was all about on the snowstorming night of 30 March when they were stood-to to save their aircraft that were in danger of being toppled by the stormy wind. The job was for several technicians to press the aircraft to the ground by lying on the fighters’ wing panels and stabilisers and wait for the storm to subside. When the wind settled, the people looked like chunks of snow but the planes suffered virtually no damage. However, the brief respite was oven by the noon when the snowstorm resumed anew. The girls had to rush to their airfield again to keep on saving their planes until midnight when they – dog-tired and soaked to their skin – had a chance to have some rest.
February 23 was rich with events: the regiment flew its first tactical sortie to cover a bridge across the Volga while new reinforcements from the city of Saratov wore their pledge of allegiance, with some of the girls breaking into tears being overpowered by emotion. Having arrived on the same day from Moscow, Maj. Raskova brought the order on the military grades for its personnel. Finally, one more important event occurred: the 586th IAP was assigned its officer commanding, Tamara Kazarinova, sister of Militsa Kazarinova who from the very beginning had been Raskova’s executive officer and the right-hand woman during the activation phase.
In March, the pilots carried on with their training while expecting to be sent to the front. Over two months passed but the regiment seemed to be forgotten. Finally, on 7 April 1942 an order arrived authorising the unit to be in Moscow in two day to take part in providing air defence coverage for the capital. The first spring of the war had already begun, snow was melting fast, which made it necessary for the Yak-1s to be refitted with wheels instead of ski landing gear at an regular airfield called Razboyshchina. The wheels, naturally, were in very short supply.
Changing the skis for wheels took the regiment a week. This was the reason for the regiment being returned back to Saratov. As a result, the 586th IAP failed to get to the front in the winter 1942. It looks like the command, which had learnt the lessons of the initial phase of the war, decided to spare the all-girl regiment by granting it a relatively quieter role as part of the air defences. Both flying and ground crews were far from happy: they were longing for seeing a real war but found themselves in the rear area again.
On 14 May 1942, the 586th IAP redeployed to the Anisovka airfield where it was reassigned to the 144th IAD (Air Defence) covering the railway installations in the vicinity of Saratov. Beside the 586th female IAP, the division comprised 963rd IAP. All that time, the 586th personnel carried on with their training, with the commanders placing the emphasis on high-altitude and night flying. Most often, the patrolling was carried out at 5,000-6,000 m. As is known, the Yak-1′s cockpit was not pressurised, therefore, the girls had to have quite a stamina and be skilled in using their oxygen equipment.
The regiment had to improve their communications systems on its own. The fighters flown by the 586th were of the initial versions and were fitted with receivers only. In the air defence role such a deficiency was inadmissible, so in three months radio operator Klavdia Volkova and special equipment engineer Vera Shcherbakova outfitted all aircraft with transmitters. This really impressed a commission that arrived from Moscow in August.
Meanwhile, the front had been getting even closer to the Saratov region. Previously, only rare Nazi reconnaissance aircraft would appear, but the first enemy bombing raids proved the war was only stone’s throw away. The first real alarm was sounded in the regiment on the night of 24/25 June when about a dozen He-111′s dropped their ordnance in the vicinity of the airfield and on the nearby ball-bearing factory. The next night saw a new air raid of around 30 enemy bombers that reduced one of the factory’s shops to rubble. The antiaircraft artillerymen claimed three enemy planes downed.
On 17 June, there was a grave incident in the regiment. When a pair of fighters were returning to base, Olga Studenitskaya’s aircraft suddenly lost control and went into a steep dive. The pilot managed to bail out but the plane hit her right leg – breaking it in the process. On hitting the ground, the girl hurt her broken leg even more. She could not get up so the chute dragged her around for some time. The investigation revealed the fighter had lost control due to a cracked bolt that dropped out of its place due to vibration and damaged the control column. Later, despite her grave wound, Olga Studenitskya returned to flying but that time she was flying the U-2 (Po-2) biplane in the polar area.
An absurd tragedy happened on 20 July. When escorting an Li-2 transport, the pair of fighters flown by Budanova and Smirnova ran out of gas and had to make an emergency landing in a field in the vicinity of Serdobsk. Budanova landed safely but Smirnova’s plane landed on the ploughed field and nosed over. Having travelled several metres wheels-up and banging onto the ground with its tail and wing, the fighter reassumed its normal position, with the pilot suffering no damage whatsoever. However, that seemingly well-ended sortie suddenly turned tragic. Seeing the fighter ruined, Lina Smirnova failed to control herself and committed suicide. The whole regiment was shocked.
The last casualty suffered during this relatively calm summer of 1942 was Olga Golysheva who died on 16 August in a mock combat when she failed to recover from a steep dive.
Meantime, the grave situation at the front resulting from the penetration of the Nazi troops at the Stalingrad approach led to the declaration of martial law in the Saratov Region on 9 September. On the next day, the whole 1st squadron led by Raisa Belyayeva redeployed to the outskirts of Stalingrad with a new – all-male – squadron having been activated as part of the regiment. The squadron was inexperienced and it took the regiment a lot of effort to make it combat-ready. The girls had to both pull their combat duty and share their not-so-enormous experience with even more greenhorn lads. Soon after the arrival of the all-male squadron, the first victory of both the 586th IAP and whole 144th IAD was won. It is very telling that its was won by a woman.
Actually, the success was preceded by not-so-pleasant events. In the night of 23 September, when repulsing an enemy air raid on Saratov, the AAA slugged so hard (though not too accurately) that friendly fighters could not approach the installations being covered. Such a lack of coordination resulted in the Nazis wiping out an oil tanker and returning to base scot-free. The city’s defenders were left with the oil spill burning on the Volga as an awesome reminder of what the war was about.
The raid prompted an immediate reaction of the national leadership. On the very same day, the Western Front’s Military Council member N.A. Bulganin visited Saratov. He demanded that basic co-operation among air defence units be established immediately. In particular, a decision was taken for the AAA to suspend firing on the target as soon as it is caught by searchlight – allowing the fighters to have their go at the enemy.
On 24 September, right after receiving a report on the enemy bombers approaching the city, the 586th scrambled a pair of Yak-1s flown by squadron leader Yevgeniya Prokhorova and her wingman Valeriya Khomyakova. Having spotted a Junkers Ju-88 caught by the searchlights, Khomyakova let off a burst on its cockpit. Blinded by searchlights, the enemy gunner opened up in return but to no avail. The bomber’s pilot must have been killed at once, since the Ju-88 banked heavily on the right and went into a nearly vertical dive. Going after the enemy, Khomyakova fired another burst but then had to recover her plane to avoid running into the ground.
According to Valeriya Khomyakova, afterwards, she was chasing another two bombers but was foiled by the searchlight operators who would switch off their lights too soon. Following a 45-minute aerial encounter, she returned to the airfield where she learnt of the bomber she had downed. The first to tell her about it was her technician Yakaterina Polunina who gave her a kiss crying, ‘Hey, you’ve just killed a Heinkel!’ Prokhorova’s sortie was not so successful. Six times she attack a pair of Heinkels nearly running them into the ground finally, but at the critical time her guns failed. Yevgenuya took this very emotionally: barely holding her tears, the squadron leader said that but for the weapons, ‘another two scumbags would have remained on the ground for ever’.
According to German records, on 20 September 1942, at Tatsinskaya airfield, Oberst E. Borman, Squadron Commander of KG76 was ordered to re-deploy. The first group was to go to the northern part of Russia to fight in the area between lakes Ladoga and Ilmen while the remaining two groups were to raid military installations in Saratov. The German command believed the raids on Saratov to be a success but on the morning on 25 September one bomber (Ju.88A-4 number 144010) failed to return to base. The crew of four, led by the 4th group OC, Oberleutnant G. Maak, was believed to be missing in action (MIA). This was despite the fact that the engagement happened at night, the German pilots saw the attacks of Soviet fighters and the downing of Borman’s plane and even made a report on the tactics used by Soviet fighters.
Khomyakova’s victory in the night combat somewhat cooled the heads of Luftwaffe pilots, with raids on Saratov stopping. As to the victoress, accompanied by the 144th air division commander, Col. M.N. Noga, she drove to the place where the downed bomber crashed. What they found at the scene made a depressing impression on the pilot: ‘All four of the Heinkel crew were dead, lying around in different position, with their parachutes having been deployed but, obviously, they lacked the time to fill with the air.’
Nonetheless, she was pragmatic enough to take the enemy parachutes and use the silk for sewing some underthings later. In the regiment, the first victory was celebrated with some vodka and a watermelon.
Three reporters really got to her by taking her photograph non-stop, with some of the pictures being taken of her in civilian clothes, which was quite unusual for wartime. However, taking her picture in civvies was allowed only to foreign reporters, which, in itself, was rather funny.
For the combat, V. Khomyakova was promoted to senior lieutenant, issued a 2,000-rouble bonus and appointed squadron leader. On 29 September, she was allowed to go to Moscow to pick up her Order of the Red Banner. Those days were the happiest in her short life, even though she failed to pick up her award since she was in too much hurry to get back to her regiment.
Alas, the life of Valeriya Khomyakova was cut short just a fortnight later. On 5 October 1942, at night, she died in the line of duty. Upon her return from Moscow, she was immediately put on duty instead of one of her colleagues, who was ill – even though she was tired herself. While taking off for a night scramble, she started climbing and with no visible reference points in sight, she banked heavily to the right and crashed. The investigation into the incident conducted by the 144th fighter air division OC, the political officer and chief of staff, concluded that the crash was due to the girl’s lack of experience in night operations and inadequate guidance on the part of the regimental command. The commission’s report stated that Khomyakova had flown only a single night training sortie in the UT-2 trainer even though the norm was seven.
However, Khomyakova’s technician Ye. Polunina had to conduct a 50-hour maintenance in early October 1942, which testifies to the number of flying hours that Valeriya had under her belt, including night flights. Besides, the following situation proved that the lack of experience was not the only point. On that tragic night, the fighters were scrambled to test their combat readiness, with the neighbouring – 963rd IAP – performing poorly. Thus, the take-off of duty fighters from the Rtishchevo airfield took a long time, while the duty fighter from the Razboyshchina took off in 20 minutes. Only a pair of the 586th IAP’s fighters scrambled in 2 min. However, maybe this was the reason for the crash.
The death of Valeriya Khomyakova prompted a radical change of command in the 586th IAP and a royal raspberry for the 144th IAD. Lt.-Gen. M.S. Gromadin ordered the 586th OC, T.A. Kazarinova, relieved of her duties due to a lack of aptitude. This was blamed both for the death of two pilots and five crashes, on the one hand, and, on the other, for creating a bad climate in the regiment and harassing the personnel, which resulted in the suicide of L.I. Smirnova. It should be noted that Tamara Kazarinova was not liked by her subordinates and blamed for many troubles dogging the outfit. Thus, the redeployment of the 1st squadron to Stalingrad was attributed to Kazarinova’s desire to get rid of certain pilots she disliked. As a result, the top brass decided that a heavy male hand was required to square the regiment away. On 22 October 1942, Maj. A.V. Gridnev assumed command of the regiment. He remained the regimental OC until the end of the war. In addition, the regimental political officer, navigator and senior engineer were replaced too.
However, no commander could ever save the girls from the dangers inherent to their job. On 3 December 1942, another tragedy took the life of 2nd Sqn Ldr Ye. Prokhorova who was the 586th IAP acting OC when the regiment had been activated. Yevgeniya Prokhorova, a flight club instructor, had been involved in flight training only since 1936, taking part in the annual air parades. In 1940, she made two national records in range and altitude while flying the Rot Front glider.
‘She flew beautiful aerobatics that could not be rivalled even by men’, said Prokhorova’s friend V.M. Lisitsina, ‘She had her own style and flew the advanced Yak-1 in a truly masterly fashion.’
While escorting a VIP Li-2 plane carrying Lavrenty Beria, member of the High Command, to Orenburg, the six Yak-1 escorts found themselves in dense fog. An attempt to get out of it by dropping low nearly killed escort leader Vitaly Belyakov who decided to lead the package to Orenburg. Suddenly, Prokhorova tried to check how low the cloud were without paying any attention to the orders of her leader (her radio must have been out of operation). Her fighter entered the fog and disappeared forever. Later, it was discovered that the fighter had hit a ridge when diving. The remaining five escorts barely escaped tragedy since Orenburg was covered by fog. Thanks to an opening in the fog that they found by chance, the escorts managed to crash-land 40-60 km short of the city. In the similar situation on 4 January 1943, a Petlyakov Pe-2 crashed with Major M.M. Raskova onboard.
While the bulk of the 586th IAP defended Saratov, its 1st squadron, which had been re-deployed to Stalingrad, got into the inferno itself. It was re-deployed there on 10 September, on one of the most critical days of the siege. The eight pilots flew in their fighters with the ground crews being delivered in the bomb bays of SB bombers. By that time, the Nazi troops had penetrated the city, breaking up the Soviet defences in the process. In some spots, they reached the Volga. In the skies over Stalingrad, there were bitter air battles raging daily, with the Luftwaffe enjoying air superiority.
The pilots of other regiments must have been somewhat shocked when an all-girl squadron arrived – flying fighters, to boot. However, the girls had no chance to fight as a single squadron. Being apprehensive of quickly losing them, the command attached both flights of the 1st squadron to then most experienced fighter regiments in the area of operations. The flight led by Raisa Belyayeva was attached to the 437th IAP while that of Claudia Nechayeva found itself in the Stalingradsky collective farm where the famous 434th IAP was garrisoned. There, the attitude towards the girls was both condescending and scornful, too.
‘You’ll be wasted, you greenhorns,’ the men would grumble gloomily.
Even more outspoken was the 434th IAP Regt OC Maj. I.I. Kleshchov: ‘It hurts me to see women at war – hurts and makes me feel ashamed as if us men can get you rid of all that unwomanly business.’
One can understand the regimental commander full well. He saw with his own eyes what the Luftwaffe pilots were capable of. Hence, he harboured no illusions. The girls were treated as any other reinforcements – being gradually given the chance to adapt. The first to fly combat missions (naturally, as wingmen) were the two Claudias – Nechayeva and Blinova. This happened after the mock combat between Kleshchov and Nechayeva during which she went into a spin. Nonetheless, she managed to show to her OC the best of her flying skills. The gallant pilot was not destined to fight long: on 17 September 1942, Claudia Nechayeva was killed in action covering her leader Capt. I. Izbinsky from Messerschmitts.
At the time, the flight led by R. Belyayeva was ordered to re-deploy to the Verkhnyaya Akhtuba airfield. The fighters landed on a deserted field with no-one and no planes in sight. The reason became obvious very soon indeed when enemy artillery began pounding the airfield. Under the incoming fire the female flight had to takeoff fast and return to their airfield in Anisovka where they were ordered to the Srednyaya Akhtuba airfield. The reaction of the male outfit stationed their – 437th IAP matched that of their 434th comrades: ‘We shall see if you can fly at all!’ Such an attitude offended Belyayeva who really flew into rage.
As a result, two fighters crossed their swords in a mock combat – the Yak-1 piloted by Belyayeva and the Lavochkin La-5 of the pilots whose name, alas, remained unknown. Raisa Belyayeva managed to get right behind the La-5 in the end. At that moment, a pair of Messerschmitts showed up – being ignored by the duellists who got quite engrossed in their scores-settling. Only a warning radioed by the ground control made them disengage and turn to meet the incoming enemy. The latter preferred not to press their luck and retreated, with the La-5 pilot having to land his aircraft on its belly. Belyayeva was recognised as the winner.
The regiment was suffering heavy losses, especially on the part of aircraft. Thus, there were not enough planes for all pilots to fly. The Stalingrad battle was very bitter. The enemy made no allowance to the girls for their gender. Once, squadron leader R. Belyayeva and her wingman M. Kuznetsova ran into a dozen Messerschmitts. For 20 minutes, they had to fight tooth and nail until reinforcements arrived.
The 1st squadron comprised two pilots whose names later became very well-known – Yekaterina Budanova and Liliya Litvyak. According to archives, they downed five Nazi planes in the Stalingrad area of operations (AO), with a total of 12 being shot down by them by August 1942. Sergeant Litvyak called Lilya [a dimunitive from Liliya] scored her first kill in only her second combat sortie on 27 September. While providing Stalingrad with air defence coverage, the package led by divisional commander Col. S.P. Danilov faced two Junkers Ju.88′s over the tractor factory. Litvyak was covering 437th IAP OC Maj. M.S. Khvostikov but when her leader missed his target she attacked herself setting a Ju.88 ablaze from a range of just 30 m.
That Junkers proved to be the only victory the girls scored in the skies of Stalingrad. She flew about 70 missions, of which 55 were combat air patrols in the vicinity of the Zhitkur area, and was recognised as an experience fighter pilot. It seemed that she was a member of Moscow aviation club just very short time ago. In the autumn 1941 she was admitted to Raskova’s group and made her first solo flight on 13 January in the Yak-1. Having learnt to fly at high altitude, she learnt to deal with spin and other aerobatics. In her letters to her family she wrote: ‘Everone of us is so sure of her strength and energy that we deem our present on the frontline as vital… Everyone is eager to fight, me most of all. I am not going to chicken out. I will do my utmost to the common good.’ She was always as good as her word.
Her friend Yekaterina Budanova chalked up two Ju.88 on 2 and 6 October 1942. She was rightfully considered to be the most experienced frontline female pilot. An irresistable drive had led 17-year-old Katya to a parachute club before the war. In 1934, she got her pilot qualification to become an instructor two years later. Not many male fighter pilots could boast more flying hours logged. She not only flew successfully but fought too. On 10 December, Senior Lieutenant Yekaterina Budanova went for a free hunt and succeeded in setting on fire two Bf.110′s at once. By mid-January 1943, both pilots had been transferred to the 296th IAP where they got their first combat awards – Orders of the Red Banner. They never returned to the 586th.
The future of the 2nd flight of the 1st squadron. When the 434th IAP was re-deployed to the rear area for reorganisation, Air Force inspector Col. V.I. Stalin [he must be Uncle Joe's son Vassily] suggested that the remaining three girls undergo a special training – a hundred aerial combat sorties. This was expected to give them knowledge of the relevant tactics and enable them to fight the Nazi aces on an equal footing. However, the plan did not come to fruition since Col.-Gen. A.A. Novikov, who soon arrived at the airfield, ordered the female pilots back to 586th IAP. Only Olga Shakova followed the Air Force’s Commander-in-Chief order. Lebedeva and Blinova remained at the front by taking the opportunity of transferring to the 653rd IAP where a couple of pilot slots were vacant.
After the enemy was defeated in Stalingrad, only Budanova, Litvyak, Lebedeva and Blinova remained in frontline units. In 1943, Shakhova, Belyayeva, Kuznetsova and Demchenko were supposed to return to the 586th IAP but they decided to stay at the front too. It was only an order for all four of them to go to Moscow and a severe reprimand by Gen. A.S. Osipenko, Air Defence Aviation CINC, that reminded the girls that orders must be obeyed. Suddenly, the girls were backed by Air Defence Force CINC Gen. M.S. Gromadin who demanded that the girls be awarded for the role they played in the bloody Stalingrad battle. The girls were given brand-new Yak fighters with the logo ‘From Mongolian women for the frontline troops’ stencilled on their sides, which the pilots flew to their original unit.
A curious event occurred after the siege of Stalingrad was over. The documentaries featuring the operations of the Soviet female pilots were being watched by their British colleagues. Soon, one of the British officers sent a letter writing the following address on the envelope: ‘USSR, Russian girl, fighting pilot Maria Kuznetsova’. It took the letter a long time to find the addressee but finally it was delivered to the 586th IAP. However, there were two girls named Maria Kuznetsova in the regiment! Only after the letter was translated into Russian and read by the whole gang, did it became clear that it was Maria Mikhailovna Kuznetsova (who had distinguished herself during the battle of Stalingrad) to whom her British ally had proposed in the letter. However, Maria was too afraid to even touch the letter out of fear of being accused of ‘maintaining relations with foreigners’.
In February 1943, the regiment was assigned to the 101st IAD (Air Defence) and re-deployed to the Pridacha airfield in the vicinity of the newly-liberated city of Voronezh. The ruined city made a dark impression, especially for the girls who saw the horrors of war for the first time. Amidst the Voronezh ruins there were the charred skeletons of buildings. The nearby fields and the river Voronezh were covered with thousands upon thousands of dead bodies of both Russian and German soldiers frozen into snow and ice.
The small Pridacha airfield was situated in the vicinity of the Voronezh aircraft factory. In addition, before retreating, the Soviet troops mined it with special wooden land mines that the mine detectors were unable to spot. One of the mines was triggered by a regimental petrol tanker, resulting in Junior Sergeant Akimova being wounded. The combat engineers and their dogs who were called to the scene had to search and destroy the mines until the end of March.
The regiment’s primary task was providing combat air patrols for the bridges across the Voronezh and Don. The time the regiment spent in the area was both the most difficult and the most effective for the girls. The strain was great both on the pilots and technicians, as well as engine and weaponry specialists, among whom Ye.D. Boryak, V.V. Kislitsa, M.M. Muzhikova, Ye.K. Polunina, N.N. Shebalina, A.A. Eskina and others were distinguished for their professionalism.
In April, the regiment was reinforced with nine replacements who had just graduated from the Penza pilot school and, at first, felt somewhat ill-at-ease in the cockpits of their fighters. It was especially hairy when the ‘greenhorns’ used to commence their range practice at the range near the airfield: it looked like the ground crews would not be spared the youngsters zeal. However, no ‘blue-on-blue’ ever happened. Flight Leader Junior Lieutenant V.M. Lisitsina was the one who broke in the reinforcements by flying with them in the Yak-7B twin seater first and then in the Yak-1 fighter. Also, a few sorties with new pilots were flown by Sr.Lt. O.N. Yamshchikova. Thanks to the seasoned pilots, the replacements received a very thorough training and by July were allowed to fly combat missions on their own. Naturally, they would fly as part of a package led by a senior – both in terms of rank and age.
Once, an incident occurred in the regiment. The after-action review revealed that some girls – just like lads – were partial to a bit of tomfoolery. Thus, when on a training mission, Jr.Lt. A.I. Yakovleva flying a U-2 trainer biplane tried to fly below the high-voltage electric power lines. She failed – the plane’s upper wing tore the line, the landing gear hit the ground and the plane – after making a somersault – fell onto the rail way below the lines. Valentina Volkova who was in the rear seat was thrown out of the aircraft and survived the crash with only a few bruises. The culprit, Antonina Yakovleva, was lucky enough to get off lightly, with her injuries being insignificant. Nonetheless, Maj. Gridnev punished the air hooligan alright: Yakovleva was busted all the way down to private and for a month had to pull the duty of engine specialist.
The command tasked the female regiment with day and night interception of enemy bomber who would raid the railway centres such as Otrozhki, Liski and Kastornoye. To hamper the enemy, the fighter pilots had to establish smooth co-ordination with other air defence outfits. Therefore, only old hands, such as Tamara Pamyatnykh, Galina Burdina, Valentina Lisitsina and Claudia Pankratova, were assigned to fly night missions. Still, the intercept tactics more resembled scaring the enemy bombers off than actual combat. Being controlled by ground controllers, the girls would open up on the Junkers bombers making them scatter – but hitting them was rather rare.
Nonetheless, since getting stuck on only one enemy downed in September 1941 (Khomyakova victory), the regiment began chalking up new victories. As early as 19 March 1943, a pair of fighters flown by Pamyatnykh and Surnachevskaya engaged two packages of German Ju.88′s and Do.215′s trying to bomb the railway station of Kastornaya from 15,000 ft. The ground warning posts counted a total of 42 bombers (even though in a tactical situation they might have exaggerated it somewhat). The Soviet fighters made a few successful attacks resulting in four downed enemies in accordance with the Soviet data. According to those participating in the engagement, two bombers exploded in the mid-air with their wreckage never being found. Another two ran into the ground in fireballs. The raid was disrupted. However, the Germans admitted only a single aircraft lost on that day in the area – a Messerschmitt Bf.110. It is quite possible that our pilots mistook that twin-finned aircraft for a Dornier Do.215.
When pursuing the retreating enemy bombers, the fighter flown by Tamara Pamyatnykh suffered heavy damage due to the accurate fire of the enemy gunners. She had to bail out. Her wingman, Raisa Surnachevskaya, did not abandon her leader and landed nearby. Still re-living the engagement and wiping blood from her cheek, Pamyatnykh met her friend with the tirade: ‘Still, we have downed four of the fascists and saved the station to boot!’ at that very moment, the regiment believed the girls had been killed in action. Afterwards, T.U. Pamyatnykh and R.N. Surnachevskaya were decorated with the Orders of the Red Banner.
29 April became a very lucky day for the regiment. Having demonstrated superior flying and marksmanship skills, regimental OC Maj. A.V. Gridnev was witnessed by his subordinates shooting down another Ju.88 between the city of Voronezh and town of Gremyachye. Another Ju.88 was shot out of the sky by the pair of I.I. Olkova and O.A. Yakovleva. On 14 May, Tamara Pamyatnykh and Olga Yakovlava shot down another Junkers. In the course of this action, Yakovleva had her elbow heavily wounded but managed to land her aircraft.
On the last day of spring, the command of the Voronezh-Borisoglebsk Air Defence Division District recommended that the 101st IAD (OC – Col. A.T. Kostenko), including the organic 487th, 586th, 826th, 894th, 907th IAP’s as well as the 910th (special purpose) air regiment be awarded the Guards banner and status. However, the recommendation was left unanswered.
On 8 June 1943, officer commanding of the 9th “Voronezh” IAP Gen. S.G. Korol ordered Maj. A.V. Gridnev to begin providing air defence coverage to the Steppe Front troops that were covertly deploying east of the Kursk area that was to become famous in a month. The 586th IAP’s OC was tasked with denying enemy recce planes access to the troops of the Steppe Front while preventing Luftwaffe bombers from dropping their ordnance on the lines of communication. Tasked like that, one squadron was always kept ready to scramble in case of enemy bomber raids, with another two pairs of fighters always patrolling at high and medium altitudes in search of enemy reconnaissance aircraft. The strain on the personnel increased sharply.
For their intercept missions to be successful, the girls would often scramble from ambush airfields. Many reinforcements from the Penza flying school learnt to take off fast and keep their bearings in the sky but nearly all of them complained of the Yak-1′s insufficient fire power that would time and again let German planes escape scot-free. Operations in the vicinity of the front-line enhanced the danger of running into the German fighter escorts while attacking the Nazi bombers. This had to be kept in mind every time the pilots were scrambled. Nonetheless, on the 14 June 1943, a surprise encounter of a pair of the 586th IAP fighters with a group of enemy aircraft resulted, obviously, in the most successful air combat since the regiment had been activated.
In the morning, the ground observer posts and the RUS-2 radar spotted a hostile aircraft approaching the area from the south. At 0959, a pair of 586th IAP fighters took off from the Voronezh airfield to intercept it. The lead aircraft was flown by regimental commander Maj. Gridnev, accompanied by a Yak-7b piloted by V.M. Lisitsina – who was often his wingman. Despite the heavy overcast, the ground-controlled fighters overtook the Ju.88 in the vicinity of Terbuna. The Junkers was travelling above the clouds at about 6,800m while the fighters found themselves 800m higher.
The first attack was made from two approaches: the leader attacked from above on the left side while the wingman from the opposite direction. The attack must have resulted in killing the enemy gunner since the Ju.88 did not open fire, but started vigorous manoeuvring to shake the fighters off and go into the clouds. A second, more successful attack followed, setting the right engine of the bomber on fire. The Junkers managed to dive into the clouds but to no avail. Having gone below the overcast, Lisitsina spotted it nearby and let off a third burst. At the moment, Gridnev saw a stream of bullets rushing above his cockpit and a Focke-Wulfe turning for another attack. The German fighter happened to be very close, a mere 50m. Giving it a couple of bursts, the major saw it streaming clouds of smoke and falling to the ground in the company of the Ju.88 finished off by Lisitsina.
However, the encounter was not over yet. Another pair of FW.190′s emerged from the clouds to attack Gridnev. The combat turned into a dogfight. Trying to hit the enemy while making a turn, the major ran out of ammunition. With a FW.190 breathing down his neck, he dived into the clouds but on leaving them he was attacked by the other one. The regimental commander found himself between the two enemy fighters, with one pursuing him and the other attacking him head on. He pulled up the control column as hard as he could and went into a vertical climb. Turning round, he saw down below a bright explosion and decided that the two attacking Focke-Wulfes had collided.
In the meantime, the 586th IAP was notified of their OC having been killed in action against four German fighters. Luckily, the news proved to be untrue and on the same night Gridnev flew his Yak back to the base. In turn, Gridnev believed Lisitsina had been shot down, too. Only after landing and seeing her alive and kicking, did the OC let himself relax. Four enemy aircraft were shot down owing to both accurate fire and immense luck. This unusual combat was reported by the Pravda daily on 27 June 1943.
According to the German data, on 14 June 1943, the Ju.88D-1 ?430608 organic to the 2(F)/22 detachment and piloted by Lieutenant G. Weiss disappeared in the vicinity of Voronezh. Obviously it was that aircraft that was downed by Gridnev and Lisitsina. The Luftwaffe JG51 squadron’s command suffered casualties too whilst free hunting in the area. Gridnev, the 586th OC, set ablaze the FW.190A-5 ?151215 flown by Lt. A. Marold. The German fighter turned to the west, dived into the clouds and suddenly exploded. It was that explosion that Gridnev mistook for the collision of the two FW.190s that attacked him.
With the Battle of Kursk launched, the regiment continued to provide cover for the trains in the area of the Steppe Front. On the morning of 11 July 1943, a pair of fighter flown by R.V. Belyayeva and M.M. Kuznetsova inflicted serious damage on a Ju.88 reconnaissance aircraft in the vicinity of Gremyachye. With its engine ablaze, the recce aircraft entered the clouds at an altitude of 800 m. It is a safe bet to say that the girls downed one of the two recce birds the 2(F)/22 detachment lost on that day in the area. That successful combat of Larissa Belyayeva proved to be the last one: eight days later, squadron leader Belyayeva died in a crash at the Pridacha when returning to base from a mission.
The regiment had been deployed in the vicinity of Voronezh until September 1943, with its elements or as a whole occupying airfields Pridacha, Kastornaya, Solntsevo, Shchigry and Kursk-Vostochny. That was the most successful time for the unit. There, the girls of the 586th IAP flew 934 sorties and shot down, in accordance with our data, 10 enemy aircraft: three FW.190s and seven Ju.88s. Over the summer, the unit lost two pilots dead – one died in a crash, the other was gravely wounded.
Soon after the summer hostilities, the command of the 9th fighter air corps – on order of Air Defence Force CINC Col.-Gen. Gromadin – recommended the 586th IAP for the Guards title. The recommendation stressed that the female regiment was leading within the corps as far as many parameters were concerned. At the time, a documentary was shot about the all-girl unit, with the personnel being issued new uniforms. However, the regiment again failed to become Guards unit at that time. According to one of the versions, the regiment and its commander were strongly disliked by Gen. A.S. Osipenko and Maj. Kazarinova, who had been relieved of the regimental OC position, but was still on staff at the ADF HQ. However, it is most probable that Stalin could not forgive the ADF for all the damage inflicted by the Germans on the military installations located in the Trans-Volga cities, including Saratov and Gorky.
Having re-deployed to the Kursk aviation centre, the regiment continued covering the rear area installations. Then the girls learnt of the fate of the four of their comrades who remained at the front after the Battle of Stalingrad. They became members of the 65th and 73rd Gv.IAP’s but the summer of 1943 proved tragic for them: all four of them were downed in air combat – with three of them being killed in action. On 17 July in the vicinity of Znamenskoye-Gnezdilovo Junior Lieutenant Antonina Lebedeva was killed by Focke-Wulfes. Two days later, Sr.Lt. Yekaterina Budanova died in an engagement in the vicinity of Novokrasnovka (Luganskaya Region).
The regiment got to like the daring girl who was the first to be allowed to fly free hunting missions. ‘Death of Gds. Sr.Lt. Yekaterina Budanova left no-one indifferent’, stated the Stalinsky Voin (Stalin’s Warrior) newspaper of 23 July. ‘With her death in action, the unit suffered a great loss for the fighter aviation. Those who knew her shall never forget her. She was a good comrade, an excellent fighter and was true to her Motherland which she defended with the last drop of her blood.’
Yekaterina Budanova personally shot down six enemy aircraft and four more as part of a team. On 1 October 1993, she was posthumously awarded the title of Hero of the Russian Federation.
The last loss of the hard summer of 1943 was Guards Lieutenant Liliya Litvyak. On 1 August, following two consecutive attacks of a four-aircraft Messerschmitt team, her plane was downed behind the enemy lines 2km north east of the village of Marinovka. It was witnessed by her wingman A. Yevdokimov but afterwards her death was still shrouded in guesses and fantasies. Thus, a pilot with a telling last name of Balamut (that could be loosely translated as ‘troublemaker’) who returned to the regiment after a forced landing in the occupied territory reported that ‘… two or three days later the locals told me that a Soviet fighter landed in the vicinity of the village of Chistyakovo. It was piloted by a slender straight-nosed blonde. As soon as she landed, she was captured by the Germans and driven away in a car.’
The report was mentioned in the political report of the 6th Gv.iad dated 29 August 1943. Divisional political officer Lt.-Col. Doronenkov concluded that it was Liliya Litvyak from the 73rd Gv.IAP who had been captured – since it was she who did not return to base then. However, other evidence, such as the report of Litvyak’s wingman Yevdokimov, runs counter to that version. No German documents confirming or disproving the capture of the Soviet girl flyer have ever been found.
A detailed study, by former technician Ye.K. Polunina, of the documents of the Central Archive of the Russian Defence Ministry obtained proof of the five enemy aircraft downed by Gds. Lt. L.V. Litvyak. On 5 May 1990, the brave pilot was posthumously awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.
Claudia Blinova survived but had a very dramatic fate. When escorting a six-plane group of Il-2 attack aircraft in the vicinity of Oryol, the four Yak fighters of the 65th IAP were attacked by 14 FW.190s. During the ensuing combat, escort leader Sr.Lt. Kuznetsov was killed. A burst from a FW.190 made Blinova’s fighter begin to disintegrate right in mid-air.
‘For some time, I was falling down together with the cockpit wreckage still squeezing tight the useless control column. I was not afraid. There was just one thought then: survive, survive!’ said Blinova later.
She managed to bailout from the burning wreckage of the plane, however, she landed in the occupied territory and was captured by the Nazis. During the interrogation, to conceal her name, she assumed the name of A. Lebedeva who had died recently. Soon, the captured pilots were loaded into a train and sent westwards. However, en route, Claudia and seven other personnel managed to escape. Only 20 days after the fateful engagement, she made a strenuous hike across the Wehrmacht-held terrain and crossed the frontline to get to the friendly forces. Having been debriefed, Lt. Claudia Blinova continued to fly combat missions as part of the 65th Gv.IAP until November 1945.
In late September 1943, the advancing Red Army troops captured the documents of the G2 section of Wehrmacht’s 18th Motorised Antiaircraft Artillery Division that two months earlier had been deployed in the vicinity of the city of Oryol. The records contained information on the successful encounter with Soviet Yak fighters by pilots of the Luftwaffe’s ‘Molders’ squadron that was seen by German AA personnel. Also, among the documents there were the records of the interrogation of ‘a downed Russian female pilot who flew a Yak-1 fighter.’ According to a POW, the Germans learnt that she was the only female pilot at the central section of the front and had made 15 sorties until she was shot down. It looks like the Nazis obtained no other intelligence from ‘Lebedeva’.
However, let us get back to the 586th IAP. In the summer 1943, the regiment was reinforced both in terms of quality and quantity. It was equipped with new Yak-7b and Yak-9D fighters. The unit activated a third squadron manned by male pilots and headed by Captain A.F. Kokovikhin. Right after the liberation of Kiev in November, the unit was re-deployed to the Zhulyany airfield. There, the regiment’s primary mission was to provide air defence coverage to the capital of Ukraine and bridging areas across the Dnieper.
In January 1944, a major battle commenced in the vicinity of Korsun-Shevchenkovsky where a large German force was encircled. In early February, the 586th IAP joined the hostilities, hitting the enemy’s ground troops and airfields that housed the Ju.52 transports airlifting supplies to the encircled force.
On 4 February, regimental OC Gridnev, his assistant Durakov and pilots Pamyatnykh, Akimova, Burdina, Batrakova and Demchenko flew a successful raid on the airfield. The package approached the airfield when several Ju.52′s were preparing for take off to airlift German personnel out of the encircled pocket of resistance. A Junkers gunner opened up with his machinegun. However, Demchenko did not turn away and let off an accurate burst that set the enemy plane on fire. Not long before that mission, the regimental commander recommended A.N. Demchenko to be decorated with the Order of the Red Banner. The recommendation stated that ‘while providing air defence coverage to ground installation, she never waited for enemy aircraft to come and would repeatedly seek them out.’ By 12 January 1944, the girl had flown 191 sorties and fought eight air combats denying the enemy the access to the installations and troops covered.
By late March, the unit flew 279 sorties and shot down six enemy warplanes. The most successful air combat was fought by A.V. Gridnev and G.P. Burdina who each downed one Bf.109 and, together, a Ju.52.
By the spring of 1944, the frontline had moved farther to the west making the regiment re-deploy to the Zhitomir-Skomorokhi airfield and assume the task of covering the trains rolling via the city of Zhitomir. During April, the 586th IAP destroyed two hostile aircraft in combat. Once again, Jr.Lt. Burdina distinguished herself by downing a Ju.88 in the night of 10 April 1944 in the vicinity of the railway station of Korosten. The other enemy plane, also a Junkers, was shot down on 21 April by Capt. N.K. Durakov.
It is noteworthy that twin-engined Ju-88′s made up the bulk of the aircraft downed by the Soviet Air Defence Force pilots since those aircraft were the most numerous type of bombers and long-range recce aircraft in the Luftwaffe inventory on the Soviet-German front for the duration of the whole war. However, there were some exceptions. Thus, on 11 May 1944, Regt. OC Gridnev and his wingman Surnachevskaya were scrambled to intercept an unidentified aircraft. They caught up with the enemy at about 9,000m over the city of Berdichev. The 586th pilots had never had to fight that high. However, they took the right decision to attack the enemy from the side that the sun was on. Nonetheless, downing the large twin-engine aircraft at the first go did not happen. It took them seven attacks to have the German to go down. The enemy aircraft, later identified as a Heinkel He.177 Griffen hit the ground 8 km south-east of the town of Lutsk. No doubt, downing such an exotic aircraft at the Eastern Front was a big deal for the regiment.
In principle, German archives confirm the loss of a He.177A-3. Those powerful, fast and well-armed aircraft began to be fielded with the KG1 Gindenburg squadron in the late winter-early spring 1944. In May that year, the Heinkels began flying deep recce missions over the Russian Federation and Ukraine. Before the month ended, three Heinkels had failed to return to base, with another four aircraft having been written off due to their technical condition.
Despite the presence of the male-pilot squadron in the 586th IAP, its combat tally was not as impressive as that of the all-girls squadrons. Nonetheless, the men did their best not to lag behind. On 11 July they fought a bitter encounter when N. Korolyov and G. Tsokayev destroyed a Ju.88 in the sky over Zhitomir. The combat was the last one for Lt. Nikolai Korolyov, while the downed Junkers turned out to be the last victory of the 586th IAP pilots, even though the regiment flew numerous missions afterwards. Prior to the autumn 1944, a total of 611 sorties were flown from the Skomorokhi airfield.
The frontline was moving fast westwards across Moldavia and Romania. From September 1944 to February 1945, the 586th IAP covered the cities and railway centres Obkhodnoye, Slobodka, Gura-Kamenka and Rybnitsa in the liberated territories, as well as main supply routes of the 2nd Ukrainian Front. The autumn 1944 saw bitter fighting starting in Hungary. Hungary became the last station for the regiment during the war. Prior to re-deploying to the city of Debrecen, an advance party was sent there. In the very beginning of 1945, a lone aircraft landed at the still empty airfield: a Hungarian pilot came to surrender and was obviously surprised to find a bunch of uniform-clad girls there.
In February 1945, the regiment was flying AD coverage missions in support of the Hungarian railway infrastructure and Danube crossing sites. However, there were no combat encounters due to a sharp decline in Luftwaffe activity. The 586th IAP suffered its last casualty after the war on 12 July, Jr.Lt. Maria Batrakova died after being struck by lightning. All in all, the pilots of the 586th IAP flew 4419 sorties and fought 125 combats chalking up 38 victories.
On 20 July 1945, demobilisation of the regiment’s other ranks was ordered. In November, female commissioned officers stationed in the Romanian city of Yassy demobilised too. The regimental officer commanding Col. A.V. Gridnev as well as a large number of male pilots were reassigned in November 1945 to the Kiev-based 39th Gv.IAP where he carried on with his service. This was the end of the worlds only female fighter regiment.
However, not all of the girls quit flying after the war had ended. Lieutenant A.A. Polyantseva joined the regiment in July 1943 from the ?486 plant where she worked as a test pilot. In February 1946, she resumed her test pilot work but this time at the ?464 plant where she tested the aircraft built by A.S. Yakovlev. Z.F. Solomatina was awarded the title of the Hero of the Socialist Labour (the civilian equivalent of the Hero of the Soviet Union.) for her work as an airline pilot. An even more impressive record was achieved after the war by Capt. O.N. Yamshchikova who flew a jet aircraft on 7 June 1947. She became a military test pilot, a rightful member of the College of the Air Force Research Institute and a colonel (eng.). Olga Yamshchikova’s impressive flying skills and composure earned her plenty of praise. She saw a lot in her flying career – jammed elevators, landing gear unwilling to extend, hydromixture flooding the cockpit and blinding her for some time… Obviously, the combat experience (she flew 15 combat sorties) came in handy helping her to survive most dangerous situations and save the prototype aircraft she flew.
While taking stock of the combat operations of the 586th IAP, one should not apply the same yardstick to them as was applied to a male. The girls did not down that many enemy aircraft – due to the fact that during the whole war the regiment was part of the ADF aviation fleet where the combat intensity was much lower than the workload experienced by frontline pilots. However, it should be understood what those 30-something enemy planes meant to the women flying fighter aircraft in combat – which was a heroic deed in itself. They did their utmost and more, often flying in adverse weather and at high altitude. The girls would attack well-defended targets and often incur grave wounds. There were the times when they had to attack four or five times in a single sortie in the face of heavy flak of the opposing enemy. They proved to be worth their salt by finding and killing the enemy aircraft at night.
At the same time, expecting something more of female pilots proved to be a tragic mistake. Claudia Nechayeva, Yakaterina Budanova, Antonina Lebedeva and Liliya Litvyak killed in action were a very graphic example. Flying a fighter in a dogfight required an outstanding stamina and strength and, truth be told, proved to be business the women were not supposed to do. Therefore, the only all-female fighter regiment shall remain as both an obscure aviation history paradox and a symbol of the heroic and tragic epoch of the 1930-1940s – the time of bright vistas and severe testing.
List of the female pilots who logged 100 or more sorties:
Lt. M.M. Kuznetsova
204
Sr.Lt. A.N. Demchenko
203
Sr.Lt. T.U. Pamyatnykh
191
Sr.Lt. V.M. Lisitsina
160
Sr.Lt. M.S. Kuznetsova
157
Lt. G.P. Burdina
152
Lt. I.I. Olkova
150
Lt. O.I. Shakhova
144
Gds.Lt. L.V. Litvyak
138
Lt. V.I. Gvozdikova
128
Lt. R.N. Surnachevskaya
104
29 Friday May 2009
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Date:
149–146 B.C.
Location:
near modern Tunis, Tunisia.
Forces Engaged:
Roman: 80,000 infantry, 4,000 cavalry. Commanders: Manius Manilius, later Scipio Aemilianus.
Carthaginian: inside the city: undetermined. Commander: Hasdrubal of Numidia.
Mobile force: 25,000–30,000 troops. Commander: Hasdrubal.
Importance:
The capture and destruction of the city of Carthage ended the Third Punic War, finally destroying that nation’s power.
Historical Setting
For many years two powers slowly grew in strength and ambition, one on the southern coast of the central Mediterranean, the other directly north on the Italian peninsula. Carthage grew wealthy by the sea, her ships trading from Spain in the west to Lebanon and Egypt in the east. Her income allowed her to hire the best mercenaries in the world, primarily from colonies she established in Iberia. Rome, on the other hand, grew strong through the hardiness of her farmer citizenry, upon which rested the city’s economic and military strength. They coexisted peacefully until 254 B.C., when a dispute over the island of Sicily brought about the First Punic War. After twenty-four years of fighting the Romans prevailed, although both sides were seriously weakened. After twenty-four years of peace they began fighting again, this time in a dispute over allies in Spain. The Second Punic War lasted seventeen years, with the great Carthaginian Hannibal rampaging through Italy but unable to capture Rome itself. Rome again prevailed, when Scipio invaded Carthaginian territory and forced Hannibal to return to defend his homeland. After the Roman victory at Zama in 202 b.c. Carthage was forced to surrender her navy and pay a heavy indemnity.
Under the leadership of Hannibal, who proved to be as talented an administrator as he was a commander, the indemnity was paid well ahead of schedule and Carthage once again focused on trade. The city-state began once more to strengthen and grow wealthy, for the land she possessed, unlike today’s Tunisia, was among the most productive farmland of its age. Although Hannibal was forced through political pressure to flee Carthage and die in exile, his home city scrupulously followed the terms of the peace Rome had imposed in 201. Fifty-two years of peace, however, was not a guarantee of avoiding another war with Rome.
The Numidian King Masinissa, whose country abutted Carthage to the west, indirectly provoked the Third Punic War. Through his alliance with Rome in the previous war, he was able to gain permission to reacquire lands Carthage had taken from Numidia. Since Carthage was originally established on Numidian land and with its cooperation, Masinissa could theoretically have occupied all of the territory Carthage controlled. Rather than attract too much attention from Rome, the Numidian king reclaimed small pieces of territory at a time when Rome was occupied in other parts of the Mediterranean world. In 155 B.C. Carthage complained to Rome about their ally’s acquisitions, but received little satisfaction. Three years later Rome sent an embassy to investigate, the leading member of which was the senator Cato. Seeing the renewed bounty Carthage enjoyed, Cato feared they could yet again challenge Rome’s position and from the day he returned home Cato argued with all his might that Carthage had to be destroyed.
Within Carthage, political factions struggled. In 151 a strong democratic party that took an aggressive stance expelled those citizens who favored cooperation and perhaps even union with Numidia from the city. Carthaginian complaints to Rome grew more strident as their rejections of Masinissa’s envoys grew more insulting. Masinissa also sent appeals to Rome, pressing his claims. In 151 a Carthaginian army under their leader Hasdrubal attacked Numidia, but was defeated and after being besieged in their camp was virtually destroyed by starvation. That violation of the peace terms, as well as Cato’s oratory in the Senate, convinced the Roman government military action was necessary. Hasdrubal, however, was evicted from power in Carthage and emissaries were sent to beg forgiveness on any terms to avoid war. An army had been dispatched by the time the embassy arrived, and they gave the Senate a virtual blank check to avert conflict.
The Senate demanded that their army should be allowed to do anything it wished, all territory and possessions of Carthage to become Roman-controlled, and 300 hostages surrendered. The ambassadors agreed to this total surrender, a deditio in fidem. In return for their surrender, Rome guaranteed the Carthaginians freedom, their own laws, nominal control over all their territory, and possession of personal and public property. Unfortunately, the arrival of the army brought even more difficult conditions. The Roman commander Manius Manilius obliged the city to surrender all its weapons of war; they did. Reportedly armor and weapons for 200,000 men were turned over to the Romans, as well as 2,000 catapults. One final condition was unacceptable: the demand that the city of Carthage be destroyed and all the inhabitants removed inland. “Whenever you look on the sea, you remember the great fleets you once had, the spoils you captured, the harbours into which you brought them, to fill your dockyards and arsenals” (Appian, quoted in Dorey and Dudley, Rome against Carthage, p. 161). Carthage responded by declaring war on Rome.
The Siege
Carthage could not hope to take the war to Rome, only to force the Romans away from their capital. Carthage was the best-fortified city of its day, completely walled for its 21-mile perimeter and with access to the sea for resupply. The city was divided into northern and southern halves (Megara and Byrsa respectively). In spite of the earlier surrender of weapons, the citizens began producing new swords, spears, shields, javelins, and catapults at a prodigious rate. The women of the city cut their hair to serve as rope for the catapults. In their desperate situation, the Carthaginian government pardoned Hasdrubal and he took command of an army of 25,000 to 30,000 outside the city, based in the province of Byzacena to the south and southwest. The main city there, Nepheris, dominated the supply route to the farmland beyond.
Rome had 80,000 infantry and 4,000 cavalry on site, with the port city of Utica (which had surrendered without a fight) just to the northwest to serve as a base. They had no siege engines, however, and three direct assaults against the western walls proved disastrous. A foray across the Lake of Tunis to gather wood ran into serious Carthaginian cavalry opposition, but ultimately sufficient wood was gathered to build two rams. The Romans had some success against the southern fortifications, but the defenders rebuilt the walls, then sallied to destroy the rams. As the summer of 149 grew hotter, the Roman camp between the lagoons became too unhealthy, so they relocated to the southern end of the city. Roman ships anchored there to provision the army, but they were almost completely devastated by Carthaginian fire ships. By year’s end the Romans had made little progress.
In 148 b.c. Manilius changed his strategy somewhat. He moved his camp from south of Carthage to the northern flank. Rather than press the siege he instead gathered supplies and made plans to attack Nephiris, where Hasdrubal’s force was based. On Manilius’ staff was the young Scipio Aemilianus, adopted grandson of the Scipio Africanus who had won glory in the Second Punic War. He advised against the Nephiris attack but was overruled. When Manilius was on the verge of defeat at the hands of the Carthaginian cavalry commander, Himilco Phameas, Scipio’s timely arrival with reinforcements covered the Roman retreat. He then played a key diplomatic role. Masinissa’s offer of assistance early in the conflict had been brusquely rebuffed; now the Romans needed all the help they could get. Masinissa invited Scipio to join the Roman delegation visiting him. When they arrived, they found Masinissa dead (he was in his eighties) and his three sons awaiting Scipio, who was charged with choosing the successor. He chose all three: one to rule in the palace, one as minister of foreign affairs, one as minister of justice, each according to his talents. Scipio brought Foreign Minister Gulussa with him back to the Roman camp, along with a large cavalry force.
The arrival of Numidian reinforcements had a profound effect on Himilco Phameus, who perhaps sensed a change in the winds and defected to the Romans. That was the one high point of 148 for the Roman campaign. Mani-lius had decided to attack other Carthaginian cities both to keep his army busy and to allow them some booty to maintain their morale. These attacks had mixed success and Carthage even spared some manpower to aid at the siege of Hippo and some money for an uprising in Macedonia. With Roman fortunes at a low ebb, Scipio campaigned successfully in Rome for the command appointment; the people overwhelmingly backed the Scipio name, and he seemed to be in the mold of his adopted grandfather. Scipio took charge in the spring of 147.
He arrived to confront a crisis. Manilius had gained some success against the Megara section of the city, but his men had been cut off and morale was low. Scipio went to work, expelling the multitude of camp followers and focusing the army on its task: no rewards without victory. In the meanwhile, Hasdrubal was recalled to take charge of the city’s defenses, leaving Diogenes (probably a Greek mercenary) in charge of the mobile force. Scipio launched an attack on Megara with early success, but withdrew under pressure. Hasdrubal responded by concentrating his force in Byrsa, then torturing Roman prisoners on the walls. This was intended to stiffen his troops’ defensive resolve, but it instead motivated the Romans. Even with Megara’s defenses lightened, Scipio realized that an assault on Byrsa was necessary, since the harbor was there. He spent the summer building fortifications: a series of palisaded ditches with sharpened stakes at the bottom, a wall facing the city with regularly spaced observation towers, and a four-story tower in the center. This completely isolated Carthage from landward approaches.
Scipio next began attempts to block off Carthage’s seaward supplies. He began building a mole across the mouth of the harbor. The Carthaginians responded by digging a new outlet to the sea due east from their circular harbor. They also began building ships out of whatever material they could find. When both fleet and outlet were complete they sallied, but inexplicably did not attack the empty Roman ships. When they finally mounted an assault on the third day, the Romans were ready and drove them back. Unfortunately, a bottleneck in the new outlet kept many Carthaginian ships exposed, and the Roman ships dealt with them harshly. Scipio then assaulted the outer quay protecting the commercial harbor, bringing in catapults and rams. This strategy suffered a setback when a night attack from the city destroyed most of them, but Scipio patiently rebuilt them and constructed fortifications as well. He finally managed to breach the walls, then breach them again after the first repair.
Scipio maintained pressure on the city but could not insert his men through the breach. He spent the remainder of 147 capturing what towns still remained loyal to Carthage, and defeated their mobile force at Nephiris after a twenty-two-day siege. That left the city of Carthage completely alone, with no source of supply. This provoked an offer to negotiate from Hasdrubal, but he would not concede to Scipio’s demand that the city be razed. In the spring of 146 Scipio invoked the Carthaginian gods to abandon the city, and then he launched his final assault. It came from the weakened walls near the outer quay and this time the Romans did break through. Hasdrubal set the harbor buildings alight but it did not slow the Romans down. What did slow them was the sack of the temple of Apollo, whose golden dome proved too inviting to the soldiers. When reinforcements entered the fray, the slow work of reducing the Byrsa citadel proceeded. Tall houses along narrow lanes proved to be individual fortresses, and the fighting was house-to-house, room-to-room, hand-to-hand for six days. Scipio finally ordered the houses burned to allow easier passage, and many noncombatants died in the conflagration. That proved the final blow to Carthaginian resistance. On the seventh day they surrendered wholesale, 50,000 men, women, and children giving themselves up to slavery. Hasdrubal and his family, along with 900 Roman deserters, were all that remained in the temple of Esmun. He did not display the valor of his earlier namesakes, but crawled to Scipio begging mercy as the deserters decided to die in the flames of the temple. Seeing his dishonor, Hasdrubal’s wife called out to him: “‘Wretch!’ she screamed, in a voice which raised itself above the universal din, ‘is it thus you seek to save your own life while you sacrifice ours? I cannot reach you in your own person, but I kill you hereby in the persons of your children.’” (Abbott, History of Hannibal, pp. 292–293). She stabbed his two sons, threw them into the flames, then dived in after them.
Results
Scipio rewarded his men with time to plunder the city at their leisure. That done, the remainder of the city was set ablaze and burned for ten days. The city-state of Carthage became the Roman province of Africa, of which a new Carthage built and settled by Romans was the capital. As the original city burned, however, Scipio wept. His tutor, the historian Polybius, spoke to him. “‘Is this not a splendid sight?’ He grasped his hand and said: ‘A splendid sight indeed, Polybius, and yet I am in fear—I know not why—that someday the same order will be given to destroy my own country’” (Appian, quoted in Dorey and Dudley, Rome against Carthage, p. 174).
Control of the North African farmland provided the storehouse of grain for Rome for the next several centuries. Not until the Vandals conquered the region in the fifth century A.D. did it cease being Rome’s granary. It became so once again, however, when Belisarius captured the province for the Eastern Emperor Justinian a century later.
References:
Jacob Abbott, History of Hannibal of Carthage (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1876); T. A. Dorey, and D. R. Dudley, Rome against Carthage (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1972); Gilbert Charles Picard, The Life and Death of Carthage, trans. Dominique Collon (New York: Taplinger, 1969).
27 Wednesday May 2009
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Chinese artillery sinks a French gunboat at Fuchou in 1884. On the whole, however, it was the European ability to attack coastal towns and penetrate China’s interior, in particular the Yangtze along which many of the most important towns lay, that gave relatively small European forces the ability to influence Chinese policy.
British frigates approach Canton on the Pearl river during the Opium War of 1839-42. Chinese junks were unable to prevent British vessels from attacking coastal fortifications, or from cutting the vital Grand Canal that carried much of China’s north-south trade. British smugglers quashed Chinese efforts to keep opium out of the country.
British victory in the Opium War with China (1839-42) demonstrated how relatively small naval forces could impose their will even on a vast continental empire. Sea power allowed the British to transform what the imperial court in Beijing viewed as a distant dispute in Canton into a struggle which directly threatened the economic health and political stability of the empire itself. Junks and poorly defended Chinese coastal fortifications offered scant defence against twenty-five Royal Navy ships of the line, fourteen steamers, and nine support vessels carrying 10,000 troops. With this relatively small force, the British seized four important coastal trading centres, sailed up the Yangtze River to block the Grand Canal which carried much of the Celestial Empire’s north-south commercial traffic, and threatened Nanking. This was enough to bring the Chinese to the peace table. However, in 1884-5 the French were far less successful in employing their navy to wring concessions from the Chinese when they attacked Formosa which, clearly, Beijing did not believe vital to its interests. The creation of a gunboat force was critical in allowing the Celestial Empire to defeat the Taiping and Nien rebellions, sparked by European encroachment, in the 1860s. Naval artillery made the walled cities held by the Taipings along the Yangtze untenable. Gun sampans and eventually gunboats on the Yellow river and Grand Canal escorted grain convoys, and linked a defensive chain of fortifications created to keep Nien forces from breaking out across the Yellow river, much as the British in the Boer War of 1899-1902 used railways to link barriers of blockhouses built to contain Boer commandos. The French pioneered river flotillas to advance up the Senegal river toward the Niger from the 1850s.
Battle of Ma Jiang
The extraordinary Battle of Ma Jiang took place at the mouth of the Min River on August 23rd 1884, the hottest and most uncomfortable time of year in Fuzhou, when most of the foreign inhabitants of the town would have long been settled in the cool of the mountains of Kuliang.
The French China fleet sailed unmolested into the Fuzhou harbour, into what would normally considered to be a trap, stayed there for a month and then opened fire on the anchored Chinese fleet. The battle lasted thirty minutes; the overwhelming firepower of the French battleships resulted in the sinking of five of the Chinese vessels.
There is little easily available documentation of this battle in English. That which is available is in Chinese or Japanese. A question to be answered is why the Northern Fleet was not dispatched to blockade the French. One of the reasons offered is that the commander of the Northern Fleet did not wish to lose control of his ships. This sounds rather weak but credible given the vacillation of the Qing court.
A second question is, what was the reaction of the foreigners living in Fuzhou at that time. There were a large number of foreign businesses in Fuzhou at that time, and a number of consulates.
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The river battle of Ma Jiang may be a forgotten conflict so far as the rest of the world and perhaps most of China is concerned, but it is commemorated by a museum for the martyrs who died in the battle. To the people of the villages of Mawei and Qin Jiang, this is another example of treachery and deviousness perpetrated by foreign forces in China. But now, the battle rates only a few lines in the history books and no more than a dozen web pages in Japanese, Chinese English and French.
The Sino-French War or Franco-Chinese War was a war fought between the French Third Republic and Qing Empire that lasted from September 1884 to June 1885. Its underlying cause was the French desire for control of the Red River (Yuan Jiang), which linked Hanoi to the resource-wealthy Yunnan province in China.
Although the 1874 Treaty of Saigon opened the river to navigation, in the early 1880s harassment by the Black Flag, a militia regiment raised by Liu Yung-fu (an ethnic Zhuang who was formerly a Taiping rebel in China) impeded French traders. Consequently, the French government dispatched a small expeditionary force to clear the Red River valley of Black Flags. The Qing court viewed the presence of a European army in Tonkin as a threat to its frontier security. It protested the French presence and began to prepare for war.
French forces under Captain Henri Rivière seized the citadel of Hanoi, the capital of Tonkin on April 25, 1882. Rivière was killed while clearing Black Flags from the Red River delta in the spring of 1883, provoking a groundswell of pro-war sentiment in France against the Chinese.
On 14th July, the French fleet under the command of Admiral Courbet sailed unmolested into the Min River, past the defensive fortifications, up to the Marine shipyard near the Youxing pagoda. The tolerant reception of an obviously aggressive force was because the Qing government in Beijing had advised that any offensive reaction could affect mediation between the Qing government and France.
As a result of indecision and inaction by Beijing, the Chinese and French fleet docked stem to stern in the harbour for over a month. The Fujian government asked Northern Fleet Minister Li Hongzhang for reinforcements from Tianjing, but this was refused,
August 19, 1884, France demanded an indemnity from the Qing Government and presented an ultimatum which the Qing Government rejected.
August 21 the French government withdrew its Ambassador and ordered his return to France. At the same time France ordered Admiral Courbet to prepare for war.
22nd, Courbet received the French government’s order, and that evening at 8 o’clock the French ships’ captains held an operational conference and decided on the next day at 2 p.m.[1], using the ebb tide to move the ships to be best vantage point .to attack the Chinese fleet.
August 23 at 8 AM, the French consul in Fuzhou notified the various consulates that they are about to declare war and advised them to move their ships to safety.. British vessels, Champion, Sapphire and Vigilance, and US vessel Enterprise were in port. At 10 a.m., the Fujian governor received the war declaration from the French, and he in turn informed Zhang Peilun who asked for a delay. Courbet immediately issued an order to the French fleet to open fire, and the battle of Majiang naval started at 1:45 p.m. August 23, 1884.
Although the Chinese fleet was severely outgunned and most of the vessels were at anchor, when the Volta opened fire on the Fujian flagship, Wuyang, the Chinese fleet fought back as fiercely as was possible.
In August 1884 at the Battle of Foochow, French forces utterly destroyed the naval fleet (built, ironically, under the supervision of Prosper Gicquel, a French citizen in China) in less than thirty minutes while the Chinese fleet was at anchor.
Despite the defeat, the earlier success of ground operations in Tonkin and on Formosa, the Chinese government’s lack of will to continue the conflict, and France’s overwhelming advantage at sea brought this war to its end.
The treaty ending the war was signed on June 9, 1885, as China acknowledged the Treaty of Hué and gave up its suzerainty over the Empire of Annam. Annam and Tonkin were incorporated into French Indochina soon thereafter.
[1] the timing of the assault is interesting. If ever there is a time that the Chinese are most vulnerable, it is at the siesta time – after lunch. We can wonder if Admiral Courbet had that in mind.
26 Tuesday May 2009
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Stung by his ungraceful departure from Kharkov three weeks earlier, Hausser was determined not to allow the army to share in the glory of recapturing his prize. In direct disobedience of orders to keep his tanks out of the city, Hausser planned to send the Das Reich Division into Kharkov from the west, while the Leibstandarte Division pushed in from the north. The Totenkopf Division was to continue its original mission to encircle the city.
For five days the Waffen-SS men battled through fanatical resistance in the concrete high-rise housing blocks that dominated the approaches to the city centre. The remnants of the Soviet Third Tank Army, reinforced by armed citizens, fought for every street and building.
By 10 March the Totenkopf and Leibstandarte had cleared the town of Dergachi, 16km (1 0 miles) to the north of Kharkov, of Soviet defenders, opening the way for the Leibstandarte to swing southwards down two main roads into the heart of the city. Two large kampfgruppen were formed, based around each of the division’s panzergrenadier regiments, for the assault operation and they were reinforced with strong assault gun, 88mm flak gun and Nebelwefer rocket launcher support. A third kampfgruppe made up of the reconnaissance battalion and a panzer battalion, led by Meyer, was to push farther eastwards and then enter Kharkov to close the escape route of the defenders. This took him through a heavily wooded and swampy region, which required plenty of guile and cunning to safely navigate. The column got hopelessly disorganized in the woods, as the tanks were pressed into service to drag bogged-down reconnaissance jeeps out of the mud caused by an early thaw. Meyer, of course, was at the head of the column and, as he emerged from the forest, a large Soviet infantry regiment blocked his path. Fortunately, a roving Stuka patrol intervened and devastated the Russian column.
The Soviets rushed reinforcements, including a tank brigade and an elite brigade of NKVD security troops, into the city to try to set up an improvised defence line. Hausser was determined not to let the Russians build up their strength, so the Leibstandarte and Das Reich Divisions were ordered to press on with a night assault during the early hours of 11 March. The two main Leibstandarte assaults immediately ran into heavy resistance, backed by tank counterattacks all along the northern edge of the city. Assault guns were brought up to deal with the enemy tanks, but a vicious duel developed during the day with many Waffen-SS vehicles being put out of action. Progress could only be made with the support of the Nebelwerfer rocket launchers, but even then no breakthrough was achieved.
The key attack, as always, was led by Meyer. With his small column of motorcycles, jeeps, halftracks, two Marder self-propelled antitank guns and nine tanks, he set off in darkness to raid the city. His kampfgruppe weaved its way past a number of Soviet positions, until a pair of T-34s spotted it and opened fire, destroying a panzer. In the confusion, a Soviet antitank crew opened fire and destroyed their own tanks, inadvertently clearing the way for Meyer. He then pressed his column on into the city and it had reached the cemetery by midday, but then had to halt when its tanks ran out of fuel. It then formed an all-round defensive position and waited for relief. Meyer’s force was besieged in the cemetery overnight by thousands of Russian troops and armed civilians. The Germans furiously dug in to escape the effects of mortar and artillery fire that was raking their positions.
Hausser now received orders instructing him to call off the attack by Das Reich’s Der Fuhrer Regiment, but the Waffen-SS commander ignored them. The battle continued to rage in the city throughout the night. To the west, the Leibstandarte’s two panzergrenadier regiments began their advance again, this time supported by panzers and 88mm flak guns in the front-assault echelons. Snipers in high-rise flats were blasted with quad 20mm flak cannon mounted on halftracks, while the panzers and flak guns defeated Soviet counterattacks by roving groups of T34s. The Leibstandarte’s Tigers spearheaded the attacks, acting as mobile “pillboxes”. The armoured monsters could park on street corners and dominate whole city blocks, while being impervious to enemy fire of all types. Later in the day, Joachim Peiper’s armoured personnel carrier battalion was at last able to break through the Red defence to established a tenuous link with the impetuous Meyer trapped in the cemetery. It brought in much-needed ammunition and fuel, before evacuating the wounded. Meyer’s depleted kampfgruppe had to remain in position to block any moves by the Russians to reinforce their defences in the centre of the city.
During the night and into the next day, several Waffen-SS kampfgruppen swept through central Kharkov. Every block had to be cleared of snipers, dug-in antitank guns and lone T-34 tanks. The Leibstandarte commanders drove their men forward into attack after attack to prevent the Soviets reorganIzIng their defence. The Der Fuhrer Regiment continued to press in from the west to add to the pressure on the Russians in the tractor factory area in eastern Kharkov. The bulk of the Das Reich Division was pushing south of the city to cut through large Soviet defensive positions and complete the German ring around the city. Das Reich’s tanks cleared a key hill to the southeast of Kharkov on 14 March, destroying 29 antitank guns and scores of bunkers, to break the back of Soviet resistance.
Within the city, the Soviet defenders were still putting up a tenacious resistance. They quickly withdrew from threatened areas, and then used the sewers and ruins to move in behind the Waffen-SS troops. Peiper’s armoured halftrack battalion proved invaluable because of its relative invulnerability to rifle fire from the scores of Soviet snipers who were still at large in areas “cleared” by the Leibstandarte. Resistance from the population was intense, and thousands of Kharkov’s citizens joined in the battle to prevent their city becoming part of the Third Reich again.
The brutal nature of the fighting in Kharkov was emphasized by the fact that more than 1000 Waffen-SS men were killed or wounded. On 14 March the operation to seize the city was complete, and German radio began issuing gloating bulletins about the Soviet defeat. At the Fuhrer’s headquarters in East Prussia, plans were being made for a bumper issue of medals to the “heroes” of I SS Panzer Corps.
The main group of Soviet forces in the city was now pulling back southwards into the face of the advancing XXXXVIII Panzer Corps. There was now the possibility of the Germans catching elements of more than 10 enemy divisions and tank corps in a pocket.
On 13 March the Totenkopf Division completed its wide sweep north of Kharkov, with SS-Obersturmbannfiihrer Otto Baum’s panzergrenadier regiment, backed by a panzer battalion, capturing the Donets crossing at Chuguyev to seal the noose around Rybalko and his men. The Totenkopf attack punched south and eastwards to link up with the 6th Panzer Division advancing northeastwards. The Das Reich, Totenkopf, 6th Panzer and 11th Panzer Divisions then proceeded to chop-up the huge Soviet force hiding in the pocket south of Kharkov. Stalin gave Rybalko permission to give up the defence of the city and break out to the east. The trapped Russians made desperate efforts to escape, staging massive humanwave assaults to break past the Totenkopfs blocking positions along the Donets.
The German noose was not pulled tight enough, and five days later the remnants of the Third Tank Army completed their break-out past Chuguyev, which was then held by weak army panzer divisions. Unlike Hitler, Stalin realized the importance of getting skilled troops out of pockets rather than leaving them to their fate (Rybalko survived the ordeal and went on to command his army with distinction at Kursk during the summer). The exposed Totenkopf Division would have been in real trouble if the Soviets had tried to break through to the forces trapped near Kharkov with their reserve Guards tank corps, but it was held back to secure the north Donets line.
To complete the German victory, Hausser dashed panzer kampfgruppen north to link up with the Grossdeutschland Division, which had been taking on Soviet armoured units defending Belgorod. An unofficial “race” developed between the Leibstandarte and the elite army division for the honour of seizing the last major centre of Soviet resistance in the Ukraine.
The first line of Soviet resistance, some 16km (10 miles) north of Kharkov, was rolled over on 16 March by the Leibstandarte’s 2nd Panzergrenadier Regiment, supported by a huge barrage of Nebelwerfer and artillery fire, as well as wave after wave of Stuka dive-bombers. A line of Soviet antitank guns and infantry bunkers ceased to exist. Next day, Peiper’s kampfgruppe was unleashed northwards with strong armoured support, including the Leibstandarte’s Tiger detachment. This powerful force made easy meat of another enemy antitank gun position during the afternoon.
After a pause during the night to rearm and organize air support, Peiper was off again. On cue, more Stukas attacked a large road-block just after dawn on the morning of 18 March. With the road now clear, Peiper ordered his armoured force forward again. He did not stop until his tanks and armoured carriers were in the centre of Belgorod at 11.35 hours. Eight T-34s encountered on the drive north were destroyed by the Tigers – all other Soviet positions had been ignored. “Sepp” Dietrich flew north in his Storch aircraft to congratulate Peiper on his success. The German coup de main operation may have taken the Russians by surprise, but during the afternoon they pulled themselves together and launched a string of armoured counterattacks. The Leibstandarte’s panzers repulsed all the attacks, destroying 14 tanks, 38 trucks and 16 antitank guns.
It was not until later in the afternoon, however, when the Das Reich’s Deutschland Panzergrenadier Regiment linked up with Peiper’s kampfgruppe, that the German position in the town was fully secure. The Russians continued to harry Peiper’s men in the town, and he was forced to conduct a number of panzer sweeps of the countryside to expand the German grip on the region. During one such operation a pair of Tiger I tanks were attacked by Russian tanks, who destroyed an accompanying armoured halftrack before they were driven off for the loss of 10 tanks, two armoured cars and 10 trucks.
Peiper’s dash to Belgorod had been possible thanks to a return of winter weather, but in the final days of March the temperature was rising and the snow disappeared. It was replaced by deep mud, which made all movement off roads, even by tracked vehicles, almost impossible. The Totenkopf and Das Reich Divisions fought a series of bitter infantry battles to establish a firm frontline along the Donets, east of Kharkov, for several days, but the spring campaign season was all but over.
Back in Kharkov, Waffen-SS panzergrenadiers combed the ruins of the city for the few remaining pockets of Soviet troops, and were also settling some old scores with its citizens. The desecration of the graves of Waffen-SS men killed during the January battles, and the mutilation of the bodies, made the Leibstandarte very loath to show any quarter to captured Russian soldiers.
Several hundred wounded Soviet soldiers were murdered when Dietrich’s men occupied the city’s military hospital. Any captured commissars or senior Russian officers were executed as a matter of routine, in line with Hitler’s infamous “commissar order”.
Special German Gestapo squads, SS Sonderkommando security units and Einsatzgruppen with mobile gas chambers followed close behind the victorious German troops, to ensure there was no repeat of February’s uprising. An estimated 10,000 men, women and children perished during Hausser’s short reign of terror in the city of Kharkov.
On 18 March, the German High Command claimed that 50,000 Russian soldiers had died during Manstein’s counteroffensive, along with 19,594 taken prisoner and 1140 tanks and 3000 guns destroyed. An impressive total but, when compared to the 250,000 Germans lost at Stalingrad, it is clear that the Soviets benefited more from the Kharkov battles. The Russians, their military production in full swing, could also replace their losses more easily.
I SS Panzer Corps played a key part in this victory. It demonstrated that it was one of the world’s foremost armoured formations, holding out against superior odds and then counterattacking with great skill and elan. Its success was not achieved cheaply, though. Some 11,500 Waffen-SS men were killed or wounded during the two-month campaign in the Ukraine. Some 4500 of these were borne by the Leibstandarte, emphasizing its key role at the centre of all the major battles of the campaign. Indeed, the majority of the casualties were in the combat units of the three Waffen-SS divisions. Not to be forgotten is the role of the Wiking Division serving with the First Panzer Army. It lost thousands of men in a series of small skirmishes, but was still able to take the offensive and defeat superior odds. The material strength of I SS Panzer Corps was badly affected by two months of battle. Its panzer regiments could only field less than half the number of tanks they had brought from France eight weeks before.
Manstein was justifiably dubbed “the saviour of the Eastern Front” for his efforts In turning back the Russian tide. Events later in the year would prove the Red Army’s defeat was only a temporary setback. The antics of the Waffen-SS in Kharkov placed the final phase of the German counteroffensive under a cloud. Hausser’s premature assault cost his corps thousands of casualties and allowed the Third Tank Army to escape through the weak German encirclement force. The butchery of the Waffen-SS after they broke into the city was not really remarkable – it was standard behaviour for a force that was in the vanguard of their Führer’s murderous campaign to rid Europe of Jews and Bolsheviks.
This, of course, was irrelevant to Hider, who in the weeks after Kharkov expressed a faith in the elite Waffen-SS divisions that knew no bounds. He declared I SS Panzer Corps to be “worth 20 Italian divisions”. Of more importance to those divisions, though, was the Führer’s express order to General Zeitzler, his Army Chief of Staff, that “we must see that the SS gets the necessary personnel”. And, in preparation for the summer campaign season, they were also to be given priority when it came to delivery of the latest Panzer V Panther tanks, much to the annoyance of the army.
A combination of mud and exhaustion brought military operations to a halt on the Eastern Front in mid-March 1943. Both sides needed to reorganize and re-equip for the forthcoming campaign season.
25 Monday May 2009
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Plan Martin Map of Operations: 12/16/44 – 2/3/45.
“We can still lose this war… The Germans are colder and hungrier than we are, but they fight better.”
–Patton, December 1944
German Attack Plans Fall 1944
The following historical synopsis taken from The Ardennes: Battle of the Bulge, by Hugh M. Cole (italicized passages my emphasis):
“The weaknesses of the [Hitler’s] plan were diagnosed by Rundstedt and Westphal as follows: sufficient force was not available to attain the distant goal of Antwerp; the German situation on the Western Front was so precarious that it was questionable whether the divisions slated for the offensive could be kept out of the moil of battle prior to D-day; the Allies might launch an offensive of their own, “spoiling” the German attack; the northern and southern flanks of the offensive would be dangerously open, the exposure increasing with every mile gained in the advance; finally, there was a better than average chance that all the attack could produce would be a salient or bulge of the Great War variety, consuming too many German divisions in what would be ultimately only a holding operation. The solution, as seen by Rundstedt and Westphal, was to produce an operations order which would be less ambitious as to the terrain to be conquered and which would aim at maximum destruction of Allied forces with minimum risk.
After a meeting that lasted several hours, Model agreed to submit a new army group plan incorporating most of OB WEST’s [i.e. Rundstedt’s] Martin study. Actually Model and Rundstedt found themselves in accord on only one point, that the Hitler scheme for seizing Antwerp was too ambitious and that there was no purpose to plans carrying beyond the Meuse River. Quite independently, or so it would appear, the two headquarters had arrived at the Small Solution, or the envelopment of the enemy east of the Meuse River. The fact that Model was violently opposed to the Fuehrer’s solution and thus could expect no support from OKW may have made him more amenable to Rundstedt’s exercise of the command decision. When the revised Model plan arrived at OB WEST headquarters on 28 October, it followed the general outline of the Martin plan. All of this work was preparatory to the receipt of further instructions promised by Jodl. These arrived at OB WEST headquarters by special courier during the night of 2 November.
Jodl seems to have had no hesitation about setting the two alternatives before Hitler. First, he could go ahead with the Big Solution, aiming at the seizure of Antwerp and the encirclement and destruction of the Allied forces north of the line Bastogne-Brussels-Antwerp. This would require a drastic revision of German strategy on all fronts. Combat divisions would have to be stripped from the Eastern Front in particular and given to OB WEST. Replacements and supplies for other fronts than the west would have to be reduced to a mere trickle. Obviously ground would have to be surrendered elsewhere if the great attack in the west were to be successful; therefore local commanders must be allowed to make their own decisions as to retrograde movement. (Surely Hitler must have gagged on this item.) This was not all. Jodl and Buttlar-Brandenfels recommended extreme measures to wring the extra divisions which the Big Solution required out of the German people. The Third Reich would have to be turned into a fortress under martial law, with total mobilization of men, women, and children-a step which was not taken in fact until the spring of 1945.
Closely linked with the Big Solution was the question of the form in which the attack should be delivered. The Hitler concept called for a single thrust on a wide front; this broad zone of action, so the argument ran, would make it difficult for the enemy to concentrate his forces for a riposte. When the Allies commenced to react, and only then, a secondary attack would be launched in the north from the Venlo area by two army corps under Army Group H (Student). Rundstedt, on the other hand, hoped to deny the enemy the ability to mass for a counterthrust by employing a double envelopment, the two prongs of the attack moving simultaneously from their jump-off positions. His reply, on 3 November, to the OKW instructions was phrased most carefully, but despite the protestation that the points of difference between the OKW and OB WEST plans were “unessential,” Rundstedt made clear his opinion that a concentric manoeuvre was a must:
“It is a requisite that a powerful [secondary] attack be launched from the area Susteren-Geilenkirchen simultaneously with the [main attack] of Sixth SS Panzer, Fifth Panzer and Seventh Armies; otherwise the destruction of the strong [Allied] forces already concentrated in the Sittard-Liege-Monschau triangle cannot be achieved.” [Ltr, Rundstedt to Jodl, 3 Nov 44, OB WEST, KTB Anlage 50, vol. I, pp. 47-50.]
Jodl visited OB WEST headquarters on 26 November, only to find that Rundstedt and Model were determined to cling to the Small Solution and the concept of concentric attack. Once again Hitler handed down his edict: “There will be absolutely no change in the present intentions.” But Model was tenacious. Taking advantage of a conference which Hitler called in Berlin on 2 December, Model brought forward his heavy artillery: Sepp Dietrich, Hitler’s old crony, and “Little” Manteuffel, the panzer general with the big reputation, both supporters of the Small Solution. Still Hitler refused to budge. One last attempt to win over the Fuehrer was made four days later when Rundstedt and Model submitted their final draft of the operations order for Wacht am Rhein. The accompanying map showed a second prong to the attack, this carried as in the first OB WEST plan by the XII SS Corps. Again Hitler rejected the suggestion.
Although Model and Army Group B were not consulted in the preparation of this answer from Rundstedt to Jodl, the army group planners made haste to repudiate any plan for a simultaneous two-pronged attack. The force making up the northern arm in Rundstedt’s scheme, the XII SS Corps, was too weak to carry through a simultaneous secondary attack; nor would Model agree to further reduction of the main effort as a step in beefing up the northern thrust. The OB WEST chief of staff could do no more than note this disclaimer from the subordinate headquarters: “The simultaneous attack of the XII SS Corps is regarded as essential by Field Marshal von Rundstedt for the purpose of tying down [the enemy]. Considering the weakness of our forces, OKW is of the same opinion as you. We will have to await a decision.” [ Ltr, Westphal to Krebs, 6 Nov 44, OB WEST, KTB Anlage 50, vol. I pp. 67-70.]
The OB WEST appraisal of Allied strength, as set forth in Martin, accorded the Allies a two to one superiority. Although the front was relatively quiet, the main Allied effort was recognized as being directed against the flanks of the German line (the Fifteenth Army in the north and the Nineteenth Army in the south). But the German long-range estimate of Allied intentions predicted that the Allies first would attempt to clear the Schelde estuary, as a preliminary to opening the port of Antwerp, and follow with a shift to the Venlo-Aachen sector as a base for operations against the Ruhr. Recognizing, therefore, that the Allied north wing with its four armies was heavily weighted, Plan Martin emphasized protection of the north flank of the attack, adding extra divisions for this purpose and feeding in a vital secondary attack by six divisions debouching from the salient south of Roermond.
The axis of the advance, as proposed in Martin, would be Butgenbach-Trois Ponts-Werbomont-Ourthe River-a Meuse crossing north of the line Huy-Antwerp. The Fifth and Sixth Panzer Armies, right and left, would attack on a narrow front, the main strength of the two armies driving between Simmerath and Bleialf on a front of only twenty-five miles. This was the salient feature of the Rundstedt plan: a heavy concentration for breakthrough on a narrow front. The area selected for the thrust of this sharp, narrow wedge offered the best tank going to be found; no rivers need be crossed by the main attack until the Ourthe was reached. Flank cover would be given by the advance of the Fifteenth Army in the north and the Seventh Army in the south. The secondary attack from the Roermond sector, heavy with armor, would effect a juncture with the main advance near Liege.
Plan Martin, then, exemplified Rundstedt’s desire to design and cut a coat matching the amount of cloth he expected to have. He wanted immediate results, to be won by a quick breakthrough on a narrow front with the entire field of battle reduced considerably in size from the maneuver area envisaged in the original Hitler directive. The simultaneous secondary thrust from the Roermond salient was regarded by Rundstedt as essential to the OB WEST plan.
The Hitler-Jodl plan provided for an attack to be carried by the three armies of Army Group B advancing abreast. Plan Martin placed the Seventh Army to the left and rear of the two assault armies with its northern corps advancing behind the southern wing of the attack.
Correspondingly, the Hitler-Jodl attack issued from an attack front sixty-five miles wide; the Martin attack took off from a forty-mile-wide base. In the first case the southern terminus of the penetration would be Grevenmacher; in Martin this terminus was set at Dasburg. Where the Hitler-Jodl attack moved straight through the Belgian Ardennes, that outlined in Martin skimmed the northern edge of the Ardennes. Of the thirteen panzer divisions listed by Hitler and Jodl, only four would be thrown into the first wave with six following in the second wave. The remaining three were to be held out for later employment in the holding attacks planned for Army Group Student. In Martin, contrariwise, Rundstedt put all of the panzer divisions he counted as available (twelve in number) in the first attack wave. As to reserves, the Hitler-Jodl order of battle counted four divisions in this category but provided for their commitment as the third wave of the attack. Rundstedt, far more concerned than OKW with the potential weakness of the southern flank, would assemble the three divisions of his reserve along the southern boundary of the expanding salient.
The decision to let the Sixth Panzer Army gather the largest sheaf of laurel leaves, if any, was politically inspired. Its commander, Sepp Dietrich, was high in the party and the panzer divisions assigned for the attack were SS divisions. Hitler’s letter on 1 November calls Dietrich’s command the Sixth SS Panzer Army, a Freudian slip for this army did not officially bear the title SS and would not for some time to come. The question at issue, however, was the location of the Sixth Panzer Army. Rundstedt wanted the main effort to be launched in the center and so wished to reverse the position of the two panzer armies in the final deployment. But this was only one of several points at which the deployment outlined by OB WEST in the Martin plan (as finally agreed to by Model) differed from that given by Hitler’s 1 November letter of instructions.”
Taken from The Ardennes: Battle of the Bulge, Chaps. II & III by Hugh M. Cole.
http://www.army.mil/cmh/books/wwii/7-8/7-8_cont.htm
*****
Plan Martin Modifications to Wacht am Rhein
Introduction
Field Marshall von Rundstedt, widely respected by many Allied generals, put forward the essential plan to be enacted here once it became clear that this offensive was inevitable, although he called for even more armored divisions in the first wave, to be employed upon a narrower front than engaged here, and breaking to the north-west. Rundstedt’s Plan Martin also saw 6th SS Panzer Army and 5th Panzer Army reversed in their starting positions, as they have been in this study. The aim was to effect an encirclement of US 1st and 9th Army forces in the Aachen area by linking with another German attack debouching from the Roermond salient to the north of Aachen. This was the “small solution”, scorned by Hitler, which would attempt to destroy Allied resistance east of the Meuse before crossing the river in force. Hitler’s “big solution”, with which he ignored and overruled the advice of all his generals, was to go straight at the Meuse before hooking right. It is assumed in this study that Hitler finally allowed Rundstedt and Model to proceed with Plan Martin with the proviso that, once across the Meuse at Liège, the attack force would strike directly towards Antwerp. Rundstedt, Model, et al., readily agree to this, knowing they had small hope of doing so, but feeling there were good odds that they could at least pull off the smaller solution envisioned by Plan Martin
For Germany at this late date in the war, Rundstedt’s plan was the most rational alternative (that is if seeking peace terms is ruled out), even if the odds were slim: deliver a crushing envelopment to retake Aachen and seriously maim the Allies to prevent the Ruhr area from falling in the near future, and putting the Allied schedule back by months. Once accomplished, a focus on the eastern front is made possible with this breather created in the west. It is not emphasized in many histories, but the US and British were scraping the barrel for infantry replacements by the end of 1944, being forced to cannibalize other formations—the entire 50th & 59th Infantry divisions for the British, and many AA and rear service units etc. for the Americans. This deficit was especially highlighted for the US after the carnage of Hürtgenwald which resembles—in hindsight to be fair—the idiocy of Stalingrad as the High Command pushes good assets after bad, feeding troops into a meat grinder for a location that has no great strategic value, but somehow manages to attain a sort of mystical “symbolic” value. This set things up very well for a German counter-attack:.
“Over a period of ninety days, nine U.S. divisions were chewed up and spit out as the Allied High Command tried to push their way through the Hürtgen with one failed frontal attack after another. The cost to the attacking U.S. First Army was put at 33,000 casualties (24,000 dead & wounded in combat plus another 9,000 victims of trench foot, disease or combat exhaustion). It
compares with the casualties suffered by U.S. Marine Corps during their 36-day assault on the island of Iwo Jima, about 26,000.”
http://members.aeroinc.net/breners/buckswar/
This scenario corrects the first two defects in the German plan, with respect to initial disposition and reinforcements, without stretching historical reality overly in the doing. All the forces used here were available, the majority of them actually on the West Front prior to the attack. The overall assumption, borne out by the stated intentions of Rundstedt’s plan, is that everything possible was put into this attack. The Germans simply didn’t have enough forces to engage in any other offensive activities on the entire front with this operation in effect.
This scenario also gives the US the possibility of an enhanced counter-attack under the historical rubric of Bradley taking over command of the entire front, with Montgomery denied command of the northern shoulder (see events below). Montgomery, as usual, was overly cautious in his response to the German attack.
Details of changes made to in [OPArt Wargame] Wacht am Rhein
The wonder about this “what if?” scenario is that it was not implemented at the time: if one is going to stake everything on one last blitzkrieg, then one should put everything possible into it. This conflict joins a long list of botched battles for the Wehrmacht from Stalingrad on, where the dead hand of Hitler moves above the planning maps, restlessly ensuring defeats with unerring consistency. Attacking Elsenborn ridge, throwing your best armored troops against this dug-in position, in two waves, was almost guaranteed to produce an inconclusive slug-fest. It was Pickett’s Charge for the Germans. This was realised too late, after Manteuffel had broken out further south, and the second SS wave and some, but not all, available reinforcements were routed down there accordingly, wasting precious time and resources. The second German failure had to do with the inexplicable holding back of reserves once a breakout was attained. Both SS divisions, and the two “Führer” brigades, were in fact right behind the front, ready and waiting; 9th Panzer & 15th Pz. Gr. divisions for example, were both fed into the campaign on the 23rd, far too late to affect the general course of events. Other key units, enhanced replacements and equipment, could have been made available but were not as Hitler adamantly refused to make sacrifices on other fronts in an all-out effort to make the Ardennes blow truly massive. One must give credit where it is due however, insofar as Hitler’s choice of attack was inspired, and his insistence that all orders pertaining to the offensive be limited to a small circle of generals sworn to secrecy, and that all unit commands pertaining to the build-up be conducted through land lines, not radio, equally so. His “intuition” correctly sensed an Allied penetration of High Command enigma messages, and these measures, along with the covering forests of the Schnee Eifel, allowed the Wehrmacht to pull off an amazing surprise attack in the West. Hitler was also correct in seeing that Wacht am Rhein—whatever the final odds against it succeeding, was in fact the Reich’s last chance. No attack on the Ostfront had even the remotest hope of inflicting the sort of blow that could be thrown in the West. And so Hitler’s offensive was correct in terms of form, but lacked the substance that his Field Marshals demanded.
It is ironic that this last major German offensive was to be called “The Rundstedt Offensive” by some, in as much as Rundstedt was only nominally in charge of all forces on the Western front. Rundstedt’s Plan Martin, submitted by OB West, had been rejected by OKH (Hitler) in all its premises and details. This then provided the genesis for this project, in essence a huge ‘what-if’ campaign, one that was entirely possible for the Germans to have put together had Hitler given the green light for various operations in the Fall of 1944 designed to reduce Army frontage in the east primarily, thereby freeing up more units for Wacht am Rhein/Plan Martin. These break down as follows:
The Grossdeutschland Korps commanded by von Saucken in the Fall of 1944 in Prussia was the nominal parent of both the Führer Begleit and Führer Grenadier brigades (each more a pocket panzer division), both historically used in the offensive. The Grossdeutschland Pz Division, and the GD Korps are added to the Wacht am Rhein order of battle. The Courland Front in the Baltic begins to transfer units to East Prussia, a final evacuation of units scheduled before the December 16th attack date in the Ardennes. The German player will have the option to have this overall OB West reserve Corps (including FB & FG Bdes) appear in its entirety D +4 days on either the north, center, or southern wing of the offensive.
Likewise the Hermann Göring Panzer Korps (in Prussia as well) under Schmalz joins 7th Armee in the southern attack zone, taking control of the already present 5th FSJ (parachute-infantry) division, along with the HG Panzer division. This was in response to Brandenberger’s (7.A) strong requests for added maneuver elements with which to deal with the inevitable counter-attack from Patton’s 3rd Army in Lorraine against the extending southern flank of the German salient.
Operation Nordwind in the Vosges aimed at Strassbourg (December 31st) is cancelled and the following units made available for the Ardennes attack:
17th SS Pz. Div. 25th Pz.Grenadier Div.
–17th SS & 25th Panzergrenadier division are largely built up to strength after the defensive battles in the Lorraine: 17th SS Panzer is added to 6th Panzer Army reserve; 25th Panzergrenadier is assigned to the HG Korps.
10th SS Pz. Div. 11th Pz. Div. 3rd Pz. Grenadier Div.
–10th SS Panzer, 11th Panzer, and 3rd Panzergrenadier divisions, all previously engaged in the Aachen defensive battles against US 9th Army, are retained in the Roermond salient under XII SS Panzer Korps and refitted with troops and equipment.
6th SS Gebirg Div.
–6th SS Gebirg (mountain) division, 7th FJ (para-inf), & 257th VGD are likewise withdrawn from the Vosges front, rebuilt, and sent into the Ardennes as Army reserves: 6th SS mountain assigned to 6th Panzer Army, 257th VGD to 5th Panzer Army, and 7th FJ Div to Brandenberg’s 7thth Army reserve in the south, on D +3. Other units from the former Army Group Kurland in the Baltic are assumed to have been sent to maintain defensive lines around Strasburg, and 126th ID (from Kurland) arrives turn 14 as 1st Army’s reserve.
269th Division is withdrawn from Norway (as was 560th VGD historically) and designated 15th Armee reserve for its attack out of the Roermond salient.
Units historically used in the attack, but were delayed in starting from their jump-off lines (e.g. 902nd StG Bde, parts of 3rd FJ division, & 15th PzGr Div., historically sent in piecemeal Dec. 23rd ) are assumed to have attained these positions before the assault.
The last assumption is that OKH radically diverted replacements and equipment to the Ardennes front from September through December, thus allowing almost all offensive formations to have 80-90% of their Theatre TO&E level by December 16th. Likewise, a more potent supply situation was created for the four attack armies.
Additional Forces Breakdown
Total additions to historical offensive armies: 11 divisions, of which:
Originally in area and retained: 3
From cancelled Operation Nordwind: 5
Divisions from Russian front: 2
From Norway: 1
South of offensive front:
From Kurland to 1st Army, south of offensive 2 divisions
Summary of improvements:
Most formations historically used in the offensive are now available, as stipulated in Plan Martin, rather than having a staggered reinforcement schedule (historical).
All formations are at 80-90% TOE levels, except units engaged in defensive battles against US 9th & 1st Army offensives aimed at capturing the Roer dams, as well as the US 102nd division’s attack and recent capture of Linnich, in an attempt to clear the Roermond salient from the east, all of the above ongoing operations when the Ardennes attack commences.
In addition to the division increase, an additional SS Tiger Abt is moved from the east front to the Roermond salient, as are two motorized artillery regiments, and Korps artillery attached to the Grossdeutchland and Herman Göring corps.
OKW failed to anticipate the supply difficulties involved in moving materiel forward with the advance without the usual rail assets assisting. It is assumed here that the Germans made somewhat better plans to move supplies forward, although their means were limited at this point of the war, especially in terrain as difficult as the Ardennes in winter.
A fifth factor, left to the German player, involves capturing St. Vith and Bastogne at the earliest possible date to avoid the supply bottleneck which historically occurred. The introduction of all these forces into a developing salient will create a severe overall supply constriction if these two towns are not captured early on, and this is precisely what happened historically. It is therefore assumed that Rundstedt, in getting the go-ahead for his plan, would have realized that the capture of Bastogne in the south was critical, both in terms of supply lines for the advance, but also as a critical area to hold before Patton’s 3rd Army arrives in force.
German 5th and 6th Panzer Armies have their positions reversed, with 5th Army now to the north, and 6th in the centre.
The Roermond salient area extends the campaign map to entirely include the northernmost US 9th Army, as well as the southern end of the British 2nd Army; likewise the southern front has been extended to entirely cover US 3rd Army dispositions. This primarily does away with the usual division X arrives at point Y on turn Z issue of Allied reinforcements, and instead presents the Ardennes campaign in full active context, allowing the Allied player (with some formation activation constraints) to free units and send them as desired. It also provides a broader scope for offensive actions, first and foremost the inclusion of the critical Roemond salient in the north, but also possible offensive actions by either side in the southern Lorraine area, although both sides are faced with extensive enemy fortification belts there: the Maginot Line once again for the Germans, and the Westwall extending south for the US.
In addition to 6 above, the Allied player also has Theatre Options to bring British and Canadian reinforcements onto the map (north), and two US divisions (south), in excess of the scheduled British XXX Corps, at a set victory point cost per group. As well, the US 8th strategic air force (heavies) based in England, has its presence extended.
Overview of the Plan Martin Campaign
The historical “Battle of the Bulge” ended (depending upon the historian) around January 15th 1945, when US forces had pushed the Wehrmacht back over its start lines. The Plan Martin campaign, while primarily focusing upon an enhanced German effort, also widens the scope of the campaign’s geography to allow for a full front dynamic as opposed to the usual discrete Ardennes treatment: this gives both sides advantages and disadvantages. For the same reason the campaign is extended to February 3rd 1945 (turn 100) and this is not primarily in place to give the Germans more time to accomplish their objectives. This enhanced German offensive is not a radical force alteration, and if the Germans are to attain a victory it is clear that it has to be grabbed early on at a rapid pace before the force and airpower disparity of the Allies inevitably stalls their advances, at least in the hands of a competent Allied player. Indeed, another 2-3 weeks in January and February will not give the Germans greater odds of winning, but will increase the chances of their losing, and more badly than historically was the case. The extended campaign will increase the chances for the Allies, in employing all their resources, and some from off the map north and south, of pulling off a strategic victory, not simply in halting the Germans and pushing them back over their start lines (which is an operational draw). They can seriously think about advancing to the Rhine earlier than the historical advance, and hand the German opponent in this model a decisive defeat.
Historical Note: there were in fact, a large number of small air activities at the beginning of this campaign.
Strategic Considerations
Historically, as the well-known story goes, Eisenhower, after some deliberation, and against the feelings of many of his generals who detested the British Field Marshall, agreed with Montgomery to subordinate 9th and part of 1st armies to Montgomery’s 21st Army Group. There were some compelling reasons for this at the time, some logistical, but the political was an equally important factor. As Bradley had placed his own Army Group HQ too far forward in Luxembourg, it would have been more expeditious, at least in the short term, to have Montgomery take over up north given the rapidly expanding German salient. Politically, and this weighed heavily on Eisenhower—giving Monty the authority there would almost certainly mean that his reserve XXX Corps would be brought south without having to be asked. In point of fact, direct orders from Eisenhower would have caused friction and political problems for US/British relations, but it was entirely within Eisenhower’s mandate to order any troops as needed.
Montgomery had been causing these sorts of problems in any case and would continue in his attempts to “punch above his weight” until the end of the war. As far as logistics go, I’ve never really understood why this issue is usually presented in rather black and white terms. What with the ever formidable American proficiency with logistics, engineering, and rapid establishment of communication networks, I do not see why Bradley could not have moved his HQ back to Liege or Brussels, causing some limited command control problems until the located HQ is in place and functioning to be sure; however, a few days of disrupted overall Army Group command while this was done, would likely have been short-term pain for long-term gain. Insofar as this model is giving the Germans far more strategic scope than was the case in the historical Ardennes campaign, it is only fair to give this option full consideration, as Eisenhower was obliged to. Bradley was not as radical as Patton in his ideas for campaigns certainly, but he was nowhere near the pedantic conservative “set piece” operations of Montgomery. This was borne out historically in the battle as Montgomery’s slow counter-attack developments were a major crimp in what the US might have accomplished if he had remained up in Holland.
Historical Note: the British 6th, US 82nd, 101st and the green 17th Airborne divisions, were all strategic reserves mid -December. Given the shortage of on-hand reserves, but equally the weather, terrain, and logistical drawbacks, all four airborne divisions were rushed in as regular infantry. Certainly committing these units in this manner was wasting their talents somewhat, but after Arnhem, and the onset of winter weather, it was clear that large airdrops would have to wait until the following Spring at least. Apart from that, given the serious nature of the German offensive, getting elite units in front of German spearheads overruled all other criteria.
German Paradrop: Operation Hohes Venn:
The Heydte battalion was formed by combing German parachute divisions for experienced jump-trained men, and Heydte was able to form a 1200 man battalion. This operation was remarkably inefficient for the Germans as transport planes were delayed, and many of the pilots non veteran, and ending up dropping the unit all over the place in what was the first German night air drop operation:
The paratroopers were to jump at dawn on D-day, first opening the roads in the Hohes Venn leading from the Elsenborn-Malmedy area toward Eupen for the armored spearhead units, then blocking Allied forces if these attempted to intervene. Colonel von der Heydte was told that the German armor would reach him within twenty-four hours.
The Ardennes: The Battle of the Bulge, p.271, by Hugh M. Cole. http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/books/wwii/7-8/7-8_11.htm
In this enhanced German effort scenario it is assumed that the operation was better organized and, as the unit had been hastily formed with the Germans never having engaged in night drops (with the small-scale exception of saboteurs and agents etc.), the unit will now be operable (Dec. 16th PM) Historically, due to transport snags at Paderborn, the planned dawn drop on the 16th ended up being carried out that night.
Historical Note: a number of rivers in the Ardennes do not really qualify as major rivers per se; however, the terrain usually had even small rivers and streams with steep banks and fast moving water. The German tank units on the Our river part of the front were not able to cross until late day on the 16th, after heavy bridges were constructed by specialist units.
Enhanced Effort ‘what if’, for both sides
‘What-if’ scenarios try to work as close to historical “facts on the ground” as possible. The original Wacht am Rhein plan come nowhere close to fulfilling the radical changes put forward by Jodl with Rundstedt and Model backing him. This view proposed a ruthless stripping of units and equipment from other fronts, and a total mobilization of all Reich labour, industrial, and military resources. It is worth repeating here:
“This would require a drastic revision of German strategy on all fronts. Combat divisions would have to be stripped from the Eastern Front in particular and given to OB WEST. Replacements and supplies for other fronts than the west would have to be reduced to a mere trickle. Obviously ground would have to be surrendered elsewhere if the great attack in the west were to be successful; therefore local commanders must be allowed to make their own decisions as to retrograde movement. (Surely Hitler must have gagged on this item.) This was not all. Jodl and Buttlar-Brandenfels recommended extreme measures to wring the extra divisions which the Big Solution required out of the German people. The Third Reich would have to be turned into a fortress under martial law, with total mobilization of men, women, and children-a step which was not taken in fact until the spring of 1945.”
( from The Ardennes: Battle of the Bulge, cited above, by Hugh M. Cole)
It is obvious from the revised German OB herein that I have aimed for a middle ground between the above Total War variant, and the historical Wacht am Rhein. I have not drastically affected other fronts in order to create an historically improbable Bulge ‘what if’. In fact, I have followed Rundstedt’s operational plan without putting into place massive troop arrivals from other fronts; what is assumed though, is a complete replacement & equipment priority for the attack armies, from September to mid-December of 1944. There is only one critical departure from the historical donnée and this is the necessary withdrawal from the Kurland area in the east, its only strategic purpose, as far as I can make out, was to retain a testing and training area for the new XXI and XXIII U-boats beyond Allied bomber range. The Kurland divisions go primarily to the Ostfront, with two going to the Saar front to take up the slack for 5 divisions historically used in the late-December German Nordwind offensive which is cancelled. A total of 2 divisions (elite divisions to be sure, along with their Korps HQs and assets) are brought from Prussia for Rundstedt’s Plan Martin. One infantry division is brought down from Norway which still leaves OKH with a formidable defensive force there. The Italian front makes no sacrifice. So, of a total of 11 extra German divisions, 8 were already on the western front.
But the point to be made here is that against an extra 11 German divisions, the British and Americans can make use of options to bring in the entire British XXX Corps, the 2nd Canadian Corps, and two US divisions from the south, for a total of 11 divisions themselves. I think a German advance to within the Antwerp area is highly unlikely against a reasonably competent Allied opponent; however, a rapidly developing envelopment of the Aachen area by German elite units, with Allied airpower very much muted, if not absent… this is quite possible, as both Rundstedt and Model realized.
Increasing the Geographical Scope of the campaign:
This model also provides a broader strategic scope as both wings of the historical “Battle of the Bulge” are covered from the British 2nd Army front lines in southern Holland, down to the US 7th Army in Lorraine. 3rd Army under Patton will likely respond to the German offensive much as they did historically; 3rd Army will, however, be facing a much tougher southern wing to the overall offensive with the HG Panzer Korps present. If the southern front in this model promises to be quite different for this reason, the north will radically diverge from the historical and this is precisely what Rundstedt and Model realized, while Hitler did not, dooming the entire offensive to its inevitable historical stasis as a large, but firmly contained, German salient. Rundstedt’s plan complicates things immensely for the Allies with its powerful northern simultaneous attack from the Roermond salient. Which reserves should go to block the Roermond attack, and which can be sent down to deal with the larger attack in the Ardennes? What other reserves off-map north and south should be brought on? Given the dynamic pace of the German thrusts on either side of Aachen, should control of this area go to Montgomery or to Bradley with his hastily relocated HQ? And finally, allocation of forces early on is critical as one cannot be certain where the German strategic reserve (The Grossdeutschland Korps) will appear—north, centre, or south? All of these issues are posed in this scenario.
The Strategic Dimensions of Plan Martin
The German attack, one of the most consummate surprise attacks in the annals of warfare, completely derailed Allied offensive plans, put the command structure in some disarray, created the potential for some major rifts between Montgomery and the Americans, and basically had Eisenhower scrambling, sending whatever units he had in the rear areas or England, to deal with what was a serious and powerful offensive. Plan Martin should, at least, demonstrate that the Allies were very fortunate Wacht am Rhein was entirely Hitler’s plan in all its details. In any case, the German offensive created a front-wide shock wave for the Allies. This was no local counter-attack, it was an attempted strategic blow. That being the case, it was mandatory to extend the map area to cover a fair part of the Western front, to give both sides a fuller operational context, and to provide other options that could be employed—the coverage of the Roermond salient to the north first and foremost, as this was the key precondition of Plan Martin. As I’ve noted elsewhere, the campaign has been lengthened to give the Germans time to shoot their offensive bolt, and to be driven back in the last half of the campaign far more than was historically the case. Their only powerful strategic reserve has the potential here to be mauled far more than was the case, and an Allied advance towards the Ruhr accomplished much earlier than the historical. The German attack, in my view (and in Patton’s I am sure) was a double or nothing venture which could have ended with a crippling defeat for the Germans. As it was, the far from inspired Allied grinding back of the German salient ended the campaign with no decisive victor. Certainly, in terms of the larger scope of the war this was a strategic defeat; but considered purely in front context this was a clear draw.
Hitler as “GROFAZ”
The conservative old-school Rundstedt had no great love for Nazism, and Hitler was well aware of this, using him as little more than a figurehead in nominal command of OB West. Rundstedt noted that his command authority was so etiolated that the only independent command he had was the detailing of guards for his HQ: Hitler demanded authority for any troop movement, right down to battalion level. Allied generals had a respect for Rundstedt as they sensed he was on a higher plane, both ethically and professionally, than any other German Field Marshal, at least since Rommel had been forced to commit suicide. They would not have been surprised to learn, before the end of the war and could talk to him, that he had seen German defeat as inevitable and had had the courage to advise Hitler to seek terms in 1944. For “GROFAZ” of course this was blasphemy, and it is a measure of Rundstedt’s considerable talents that he was still reinstated to command OB West after being dismissed earlier that summer following the Normandy breakout. His organizational expertise turned things around remarkably after the Falaise debacle, and the Allies were in for some very unpleasant surprises as they charged towards Germany to further scatter and rout what was seen as a completely defeated enemy. Not only was Rundstedt able to stabilize things and give the US some nasty combat experiences at Metz, Aachen, and Hürtgenwald, as well as the decisive defeat of the grand overall Montgomery Market Garden venture (this actually more Model’s doing to be fair), he was also able to create a powerful reserve force which saw highly experienced and veteran cadres which had escaped Falaise, rebuilt. Rundstedt put together the best offensive plan possible, and even found an unlikely ally in the ardent Nazi Fieldmarschall Model, commanding Army Group B on the West front. Like Rundstedt, Model felt Hitler’s plan did not have a leg to stand on. Their HQs repeated pushed the idea for an envelopment of Aachen, and the plan was adamantly rejected by Hitler—the rest, as they say, is history.
Allied Complacency
British major General Strong, intelligence officer at SHAEF, had specifically warned Bradley the Germans might use their reserves to break through the thinly held VIII Corps area in the Ardennes. The General was dismissed by Bradley on December 12th with the flippant remark: “Let them come!” This telling anecdote, along with the fact that his Army Group HQ was too far forward in Luxembourg, less than 20 kms from German lines, and well within range of German long-range artillery, indicates a background mindset on the Allied side that was complacent, one of many factors (that I won’t detail here) that allowed for the most unlikely and monumental Allied intelligence failure of the war. Plan Martin will likely prove that it could, even should, have been far more of a strategic blow than was historically the case. Eisenhower and Bradley were quick to see the defects in 12th Army Group’s dispositions, and set about correcting them in a hurry. By contrast, “GROFAZ” admitted no errors, ignored his best generals, and the Allies can be thankful they had the compulsively ignorant campaign directives of Hitler to deal with, and not the cool appraisals of a talented professional like Rundstedt.
Originally by
Daniel R. McBride
Edited by me to introduce you to the Operational Art of War series of computer wargames.
Bibliographical Notes
(Note: this is a partial listing some of the more important sources used.)
Cole, Hugh M. The Ardennes: Battle of the Bulge. US Army Center of Military History, 1965. http://www.army.mil/cmh/books/wwii/7-8/7-8_cont.htm
Connell, Mark J. The Ardennes: The Battle of the Bulge (Battles in Focus S.), Brassey’s (UK), 2003.
Dupuy, Trevor. Hitler’s Last Gamble. New York: HarperCollins, 1994.
Gaul, Roland. The Battle of the Bulge in Luxembourg: The Southern Flank December 1944-January 1945 : The Germans (The Germans, Vol 1) Schiffer Publishing, Ltd., 1995.
Gaul, Roland. The Battle of the Bulge in Luxembourg: The Southern Flank December 1944-January 1945 : The Americans (The Americans , Vol 2) Schiffer Publishing, Ltd., 2001
Mitcham, Samuel W. Hitler’s Legions: The German army Order of Battle, World War II. New York: Dorset Press, 1985.
25 Monday May 2009
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The United States had been officially out of Cambodia and Vietnam for only a few days when the radical Khmer Rouge seized the container ship Mayaguez. An all‑out effort was launched to effect its rescue, and that of its crew, which amounted to the last military act by the US in Southeast Asia.
Among the Southeast Asia campaigns, none had proven more divisive in America than the invasion of Cambodia ordered by President Richard Nixon in April 1970. Allegedly neutral under the government of Prince Norodom Sihanouk, by the mid‑1960s Cambodia had become a haven for Communist forces, with parts of its eastern provinces serving as bases for North Vietnamese army and Viet Cong troops operating against South Vietnam. Before the US and South Vietnamese operation into Cambodia during the spring of 1970, a new government under General Lon Nol had been formed, and in October 1970, the Cambodian monarchy had been established and the country renamed Khmer Republic. However, Us Southeast Asian nation was still divided: the Khmer Rouge, the local Communists loyal to Prince Sihanouk, soon controlled 60 per cent of the country. Finally, in spite of massive US assistance, Phnom Penh fell on 17 April 1975 and the Khmer Rouge gained full control of the country. Violently xenophobic, opposing both the USA and the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, the Khmer Rouge were responsible for the seizure of the SS Mayaguez in the afternoon of 12 May 1975.
The Mayaguez, a US‑registered 10, 776‑ton container ship of Sea‑Land Service, Inc., was steaming in international waters some 110 km (68 miles) southwest of Cambodia when it was seized by Khmer patrol boats. Before the ship’s capture, the crew had been able to radio their plight and, in the early hours of the following day, a Thailand‑based Lockheed P‑3 Orion patrol aircraft of the US Navy spotted the vessel near the Poulo Wai islands. Soon after this the Mayaguez was anchored off Koh Tang Island, and the next day the crew were taken to nearby Koah Rong Sam Loem island. Based on information obtained by the P‑3 and by US Air Force General Dynamics F‑111s, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the National Security Council urged President Ford to authorise a rescue attempt. The President, fearful that lack of a strong American reaction would encourage similar acts of political piracy, promptly approved this operation.
Luckily, the phased withdrawal of American forces from Thailand, which had been requested two months earlier, had not yet proceeded very far and the USA still had sufficient tactical air and sea power in the area to mount a quick rescue operation. In addition, 230 men from the 3rd Marine Division’s Amphibious Brigade were airlifted from Okinawa to Thailand (in Lockheed C‑141As of the Military Airlift Command) and a task force, including the USS Coral Sea and three destroyer escorts, was diverted to take position in the Gulf of Siam.
First to get into action was a Lockheed AC‑130E of the 16th SOS, which during the night of 13 May kept track of small vessels shuttling between the Mayaguez and Koh Tang island, and in the process was fired upon by Cambodian gunboats and light AAA on the island. Then, in the early morning hours, the on‑station AC‑130E fired warning shots across the bow of a patrol boat in an attempt to prevent the transfer of the Mayaguez crew to the mainland. Later that day, tactical fighters also fired warning shots at Cambodian small boats and fishing vessels and dropped riot‑control gas.
Notwithstanding this show of force, and unbeknown to the US command, the crew was transferred off Koh Tang island. Meanwhile, rescue operations had moved into full gear as helicopters prepared to depart from Thailand.
In the predawn hours of 15 May 1975, six HH‑53C Super Jolly Greens (a seventh helicopter of this type was then unserviceable but took part in operations later in the day) and five CH‑53Cs (two more being temporarily out of commission) departed from Thailand with their loads of Marines. Three HH‑53Cs delivered `grunts’ to the USS Harold E. Holt, a destroyer escort, for boarding the Mayaguez, while the eight other helicopters transported Marines to Koh Tang island. As it turned out, the task of the Marines deposited aboard the Harold E. Holt was an easy one. At 0830 the destroyer escort snuggled up to the Mayaguez and the Marines boarded the abandoned container ship. Shortly thereafter, the Mayaguez was taken in tow. On the other hand, the task of the Marines deposited on Koh Tang island turned into an unnecessary 14‑hour nightmare; Khmer resistance was stronger than anticipated and the crew of the Mayaguez was no longer on the island.
Under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Randall W. Austin, the first Marines were to land at daybreak on the northwest tip of Koh ‘fang island in two groups: the larger was to be deposited on a beach on the western shore and the smaller was to be landed on the eastern beach. Expected to benefit from a better than two‑to‑one numerical advantage over the Khmer Rouge and from strong air support, the Marines were to determine whether or not the Mayaguez crew was still being held on the island and, in the affirmative, to free them.
At first approaching the western beach unopposed, the lead helicopters, Knife 21 and Knife 22 (the CH‑53Cs taking; part in the Koh Tang operation bore Knife radio call signs, individual numbers being 21, 22, 23, 31, 32, 51 and 52, whereas the HH‑53Cs were Jolly 11, 12, 13, 41, 42, 43 and 44) came under small arms, rocket and mortar fire as soon as Knife 21 touched down. Having lost one of its engines and sustaining further damage, Knife 21 managed a single‑engine take‑off after unloading the Marines. Lieutenant Colonel John H. Denham and his three crew members struggled to get away but the damage was too extensive, forcing an emergency ditching during which Sergeant Elwood E. Rumbaugh, the flight mechanic, lost his life after pulling the co‑pilot out of the sinking helicopter.
While the survivors of Knife 21 were rescued by another CH‑53, Knife 22 attempted to land on the western beach but, with its fuel tanks punctured, barely succeeded in making an emergency landing on the Thai coast. A third CH‑53, Knife 32, made it to the western beach and unloaded its `grunts’ but was hit repeatedly. With a seriously wounded crew member, Knife 32 made it back to base. In the initial attempt to land Marines, three of the precious helicopters had been taken out of action.
The assault on the eastern beach, which had been planned to mount a pincer attack and seal off the northern tip of Koh Tang island where the Mayaguez crew was erroneously thought to be held, went even less well. Knife 23 and Knife 31 were both shot down, the crew and Marines of the former being subsequently pinned down on the beach while the USAF co‑pilot, two Navy corpsmen and 10 Marines lost their lives in the crash of Knife 31. With only 54 Americans in two separated groups on the island, the rescue operation was turning into an expensive affair both in terms of lives and loss of equipment.
Up to then, tactical aircraft had been prevented from providing air support for fear of hitting friendly troops in the confined and confused area where the first Marines had been air‑landed. However, as a Marine FAC had escaped from Knife 31 and was able to radio directions, the tactical fighters were at last able to enter the fray. With the fighters keeping enemy gunners busy, three HH‑53Cs were directed to land Marines on the western beach. Jolly 41 was driven away by enemy fire, but Jolly 42 landed its Marines on the western beach while Jolly 43 was forced to deposit its `grunts’ south of the beach. Nevertheless, the situation remained critical as the three American groups (60 Marines on the western beach, 29 south of this beach, and 20 Marines and five USAF crew members on the eastern beach) were unable within 50 m (55 yards) of friendly forces. Taking to link up. A first attempt to extract the force stranded on the eastern beach had to be aborted after Jolly 13 (initially used to bring Marines to the Harold E. Holt and later, after taking fuel from a HC‑130P tanker, assigned SAR duties) suffered severe damage.
At 0745, while the Marines were clawing their way along Koh Tang’s beaches under the protective umbrella of USAF fighters and gunships, the Coral Sea’s Air Wing Fifteen (CVW‑15) launched a first strike against Ream airfield, where 17 Cambodian aircraft (mostly North American T‑28Ds which the USA had supplied to Cambodia in happier days) were destroyed. A second naval air strike, which also comprised A‑7Es and Grumman A‑6A attack aircraft with F‑4Ns providing air cover, was launched an hour later and resulted in the destruction of an oil depot near Kompong Som. In addition, the 43rd Bombardment Wing at Andersen AFB on Guam was preparing to provide further support, with 15 Boeing B‑52Ds being readied for action. However, the Mayaguez crew was freed before the SAC heavy bombers were dispatched and the B‑52 mission was cancelled.
Under the direction of an A‑7D acting as a FAC, other A‑7Ds strafed and bombed enemy positions and an AC‑130E fired with its 20‑mm, 40‑mm and 105‑mm (4.13‑in) cannon, at times hitting well within 50m (55 yards) of friendly forces. Taking advantage of this support, another load of Marines was landed by Jolly 41, but by then eight of the 11 helicopters which had been available at the start of the operation had either been shot down or so severely damaged that they could no longer be employed. Fortunately, at 1045, the USS Wilson spotted an approaching Thai fishing boat which the Khmer Rouge had commandeered to return the Mayaguez crew. The objective of the rescue operation had been achieved. Now was the time to pull the Marines out of Koh Tang. To do so, however, would first necessitate bringing in additional Marines to attempt an overland rescue of those stranded on the eastern beach.
Dense and accurate enemy fire at the eastern beach foiled one more attempt to land reinforcements for the most hard‑pressed Marines, for Knife 52, already low on fuel, took several hits and had to return to base without unloading troops. Greater success was achieved at the western beach by Knife 51 (which, like Knife 52, had earlier been unserviceable), Jolly 11, Jolly 12 and Jolly 43, 108 Marines being landed to nearly double the number of Americans on Koh Tang island. By then, the Marines who had been landed south of the western beach had succeeded in joining up with the main contingent, thus consolidating the American position. Nevertheless, well dug‑in Khmer forces were likely to render costly any endeavour to link up the western and eastern contingents by pushing through the jungle across the neck of the island. Extrication of the 25 men stranded to the east would have to be done by helicopters, with the western force diverting the enemy’s attention and aircraft laying down protective fire.
Even though A‑7Ds dispensed canisters of riot control gas over Khmer positions before the arrival of Jolly 11 and Jolly 43, an early afternoon attempt to extract the personnel at the eastern beach failed when Jolly 43 had one of its engines shot out and a fuel line ruptured. Barely managing to reach the Coral Sea, which was then some 100 km (70 miles) from the island, Jolly 43 was temporarily out of action. To give the helicopters a better chance to succeed, the USAF then stepped up its air support, with two American 0V‑l0As of the 23rd TASS marking targets and directing A‑7Ds, F‑4Es and AC‑130Es. Yet, in spite of the fact that strike aircraft and the Wilson silenced numerous enemy positions, the situation was becoming even more critical as dusk was fast approaching.
Although Marines from the main contingent had advanced almost halfway between the two beaches, it was realized that a link‑up could not be achieved before nightfall and maximum efforts were expended to airlift the 20 `grunts’ and five airmen who had been isolated on the eastern beach for nearly 10 hours. Assigned this dangerous task, Jolly 11, Jolly 12 and Knife 51 went all out, while a C‑130E dropped a 15,000‑lb (6804‑kg) concussion bomb to shock Cambodian soldiers, and tactical aircraft, gunships, and a longboat from the Wilson laid down suppressive fire. Success was finally achieved and all 25 men were recovered by Jolly 11, which then rushed to the Coral Sea so that the injured could receive medical attention without further delay. A subsequent search for possible survivors near the wreckage of Knife 23 proved unfruitful and resulted in Jolly 12 being taken out of the fight when heavy damage forced it to recover aboard the carrier. It now remained for the last three available helicopters ‑ Knife 51, Jolly 43 (which had been repaired aboard the Coral Sea), and Jolly 44 (which at last had been made airworthy at Nakhon Phanom) ‑ to race against nightfall and pull out the main Marine force from the western beach.
Conspicuous gallantry on the part of the helicopter crewmen, effective discipline maintained by the Marines on the beach, commendable accuracy of the AC‑130Es in firing as close as 50 m (55 yards) in front of the `grunts’, and much risk‑taking by the OV‑10A pilots combined to foil the Cambodians’ hopes of pinning down the Marines for a fight to the finish during the night. Knife 51 and Jolly 43 picked up the first load of Marines (that of the latter being more than twice its normal combat loading) and rushed to the Coral Sea while Jolly 44, which had only been able to lift a partial load, saved precious time by making a precarious night landing on the small aft deck of the Holt which was sailing closer to the island. Quickly back at the beach, Jolly 44 picked up a load of 44 Marines and, almost immediately thereafter, Knife 51 lifted out the last 29 men. The two helicopters and their exhausted passengers, several of whom were wounded, made it safely back to the Coral Sea. The ordeal of the Marines and airmen was over; the Mayaguez and its 39 crewmen were once again free.
AAA Anti‑Aircraft Artillery
ARRS Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Squadron
FAC Forward Air Controller
SAC Strategic Air Command
SOS Special Operations Squadron
TASS Tactical Air Support Squadron
TAW Tactical Airlift Wing
TFW Tactical Fighter Wing
24 Sunday May 2009
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Royal Marine Commandos sleeping on the upper deck. Before the raid on Tobruk 1942.
After its raid on Kupho Nisi in April 1942, the 11th RM Battalion trained hard for a raid on the Solium Pass (modern Salum). But the raid was cancelled, probably because of the scarcity of shipping and adequate air cover. A raid was then planned on Tobruk, 300 miles west of the Allied lines in Egypt. For this raid Lieutenant-Colonel J.E. Haselden, an Army officer with the British Intelligence Services, had originally planned an overland foray by 12 men who would included some Palestinians,1 to destroy the petrol and other supply dumps near the port. In the event the raid was carried out by three formations. Force A, 350 Royal Marines of the 11th Battalion with some Army specialists in destroyers; Force B, special service troops of the Middle East (Army) Commando and clandestine forces guided by a patrol of the Long Range Desert Group; and Force C, 150 infantry (Argylls and a platoon of Northumberland Fusilier machine-gunners) carried to Tobruk on 18 Motor Torpedo boats and three motor launches. Other raids would be co-ordinated to disrupt Axis supplies.
The two large destroyers HMS Sikh and Zulu, disguised as Italian warships, were off Tobruk in the early hours of 14 September 1942, when after an hour’s delay lighters were launched. These had been built of unseasoned timber with only one in three having an engine. Each engined barge should have towed in two dumb lighters, each trio of craft carrying a platoon, but the stems of lighters pulled away from the hulls, engines failed and the craft took in water. The CO, Lieutenant-Colonel E.H.M. Unwin, found his barge was foundering some distance from the shore and the only radio was damaged. He could not, therefore, warn the destroyers of the difficulties and they came back inshore, expecting to find empty lighters returning from the beach. They were to have landed the second flight, including men with mortars and drivers whom B Company had hoped would handle captured transport in their drive into the town. But this was not to be, for Major Jack Hedley and two tows – two Platoons – were the only Marines still able to make for the shore. They were 800yds from the beach when coast searchlights snapped on and lit up the destroyers.
These 70 Marines nevertheless got to the beach, but many were drowned or crushed between craft and rocks, for they were 2 miles west of the correct beach. Jack Hedley dispersed his men among the rocks, mortar bombs came down on the lighters, destroying one which fortunately was clear of troops. At sea they could see Sikh engaging the shore batteries and ‘being shelled at terribly close range’. There was no time to lose as dawn was only an hour away, and there would not be the planned three hours ashore before sunrise at 0645. Major Hedley searched for the wadi, the dry bed of a flash-flood river, he expected to find behind the landing beach, but then realised that they were on the wrong beach. He nevertheless led his Platoon (from A Company) off the beach, hearing firing to his left where the other Platoon ashore (from C Company) was putting in an independent attack. As Jack Hedley’s men advanced in extended line, Germans and Italians were firing from the surrounding rocks ‘at anyone in a [British] steel helmet’. The way from the beach led to a wadi now bright with the light from star shells. The platoon winkled out machine-gunners, passed through a tented camp which they suddenly realised was a field hospital and moved towards another wadi’s head. One machine gun on a lorry was silenced by a grenade tossed by Jack Hedley and he killed five Italians in a defence post – he was a crack pistol shot – before reaching the steep bank at the wadi’s head. This was under machine gun fire but the Marines outflanked these guns and got over the bank, before pausing in a deserted building, as it was now daylight. They checked their weapons and redistributed ammunition, as they expected a long march before they could reach Allied lines. Sikh by this time was on fire, her steering jammed, and Zulu had been unable to pull her clear after a freak shot had parted the tow line. Only Sikh’s ‘X’ turret and her Oerlikons were still firing, but she stayed in action until this turret’s ammunition ran out and she was scuttled.
By 0830 there were only 11 Marines alive from Jack Hedley’s Platoon as he led them towards another wadi, where Lieutenant C.N.P. Powell and 10 survivors from C Company joined them. They found some caves where they lay up, hoping to hide there through the day and move out after dark. All attempts to contact other Allied forces failed. Major Hedley put his foot through the 18-set, ‘something I had always wanted to do’, he later wrote, for these sets were not powerful or robust enough for this type of operation. A couple of hours before nightfall enemy patrols found the Marines and they were captured. John Haselden had been killed earlier in the day, only three of his men eventually reaching the Eighth Army’s lines; the few machine-gunners and Argylls who had landed were killed or captured. The Allies also lost Zulu, the anti-aircraft cruiser HMS Coventry, and six coastal craft sunk by bombing as they were returning from Tobruk. After this only 90 Marines reached Egypt, many having died as Zulu was trying to pick them up from the lighters.
Captain S.W. Roskill, DSC, RN, has summed up the operation: ‘Today one cannot but feel that, even making full allowances for the circumstances which caused it to be carried out, the operation was rash . . . and that an assault on a strongly fortified port must require far stronger forces’.’ There is also reason to believe that the Germans expected a raid, for Major Hedley was told by the local commander that a regiment had been brought back the previous day from the German front and ‘had been waiting since 0130 hours for the landing’. There was a later report that one of Haselden’s Palestinians was pro-German.
24 Sunday May 2009
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HMS Kelvin – On 16 April 1942 she landed troops from the 11th Battalion of the Royal Marines at Koufonisi near Crete to destroy a W/T station (Operation Lighter).
In the Mediterranean by this spring of 1942 11th RM Battalion, the Land Defence Force of MNBDO I, had been practising amphibious landings for the best part of two years, and was becoming frustrated at the misuse of Marines by ‘continuously employing the Battalion in fatigues for the Army’. In November 1941, however, they had some opportunities to train for specific raids, but it was not until April 1942 that they were able to mount what their Commanding Officer, Lieutenant-Colonel E.H.M. Unwin, regarded as a training raid. The objective was the radar installation on Kupho Nisi, a small island off the southeast coast of Crete. The destroyer HMS Kelvin took B Company, about a third of the Battalion’s full strength of 27 officers and some 400 Marines, to the island on the night of 15-16 April 1942.
On passage to the raid, Unwin met Lieutenant-Commander Nigel Clogstoun- Willmott, RN, who – not by accident, one suspects – was aboard Kelvin. He had made a reconnaissance of Rhodes in 1941, swimming ashore at night from an Army Special Boat Section’s canoe, and later would be the founder of Combined Operations Assault Pilotage Parties, responsible for the pre-landing surveys of the ‘Torch’ (North Africa) beaches, and for surveys of Sicily, Italy and Normandy. On this April night in 1942, however, he was rowed ashore in a skiff. The difficulties of these early raids becomes apparent in the lack of proper equipment, for before the skiff had left Kelvin, the signal sergeant’s 18-set was put out of action by ‘a discharge of water from the ship’s side’.
The Company, having been dropped 1,000yds from the landing beach, followed the skiff inshore, a 25-minute pull on a calm star-bright night, ‘although there was no moon’. With one Section in each oared whaler line abreast, the cutter followed astern with the support platoon and the Company HQ. A channel was found through reefs off the beach by Clogstoun-Willmott sounding the bottom with an oar, and only one whaler got hung up for a while on the rocks. The other boats, however, became dangerously bunched together on a patch of beach no larger than a tennis court and its surround (30yds x 30yds). But the landing was unopposed until the leading Platoon moved off the beach, when, at the first burst of machine gun fire, their Greek guide bolted. He had been in the skiff with Nigel Clogstoun-Willmott and does not appear to have known much about the coast with which he was supposed to be familiar. They pushed on, outflanked the machine gun, and were in sight of the radar station when their guide was ‘recaptured’. They now met sporadic firing, but the Sections became disorganised, as there was no track to follow. The Lieutenant-Colonel, having sent the Platoon sergeant to collect in all the Marines he could find, then seized a light anti-aircraft position, putting a Bren-gunner to cover the Platoon sergeant’s men from its sandbagged emplacement. The Platoon commander then, following the plan, charged the building from the south with some 15 men. Three were wounded but the rest broke into the building. When he heard the cries of their charge and bursting grenades, the CO led in the remaining men from the west. The second Platoon by this time was in position covering a road from the nearby village, after coming under some fire. It would later cover the withdrawal, blowing up the reserve of Italian ammunition found in the building. A safe, books to fill two suitcases and radio sets damaged by the grenades were also found, and these were carried back to the boats – there is no mention of radar in the reports.
Of the withdrawal the Lieutenant-Colonel wrote, ‘the vulnerability at the point of re-embarkation was extreme . . . it was difficult to re-embark the wounded . . . [the] boats had to back out in turn, a fairly long process for an overloaded whaler . . . there was no communication between the forward troops and the beach’. The second 18-set had been damaged in a fall and could not be easily netted into any radio sets on the destroyer, and there was the problem of non-standard batteries linked by external leads to the 18-sets. The suitcases and safe were left in the cutter to be hauled aboard with this boat as Kelvin gathered stern way, for there was no time to lose: she had been clearly visible from the shore and fired on by machine guns. But the boat’s falls jammed or broke, the cutter tilted, and what might have been an intelligence coup in code-books from the safe fell into the sea and sank. The limitations of oared boats in amphibious operations has been mentioned before. Although the Lieutenant-Colonel did not labour the matter in his report, on 11th Battalion’s next landing the problems of powered boats would prove even more hazardous and cost many lives.
24 Sunday May 2009
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Pope Martin V
The papal return to Rome under Gregory XI in 1378 brought no solution to the Church’s problems. A body of cardinals opposed to the move from Avignon elected a rival pope and the western Church entered a period of schism which was to last until 1417. During that time various attempts were made to resolve the problems which had caused it, but it was left to a council of the Church to agree upon the election of Pope Martin V and to depose his rivals. The Conciliar Movement produced an important body of political theory and was to some extent an expression of a more general movement towards representative government in Europe as a whole. Conciliar theory, propounded at Pisa (1409), Constance (I4I4-I7), and Basle (143I-49), was to influence later reform movements within the Roman Church but it was a spent force by 1440. The Church was manifestly not a democracy, it was not suited to government by a representative assembly, and both theological and political divisions among the conciliarists themselves gravely undermined the authority of the council. From this period of aberration in the history of the hierarchical Church emerged the Italian papacy of the Renaissance. This was firmly grounded on a temporal, territorial foundation in the papal state, largely recovered by military force and purchase under Martin V and deeply involved in the politics of the Italian peninsula. Yet the tribulations of the Church during the Avignonese period and the schism had some positive results. Ideas of reform were in the air’ and in England, France, and Germany reforming circles grew up inside the Church which were not without influence. Improved clerical education was undertaken in England under the aegis of the bishops, diocesan and provincial councils valiantly strove to check abuses in Germany, and the late fifteenth-century humanist reformers at Paris, such as Lefevre d’Etaples, contributed to the Church’s development as a many-faceted institution which comprehended a remarkable diversity of pastoral, intellectual, and devotional styles.
The Church had experienced two great shocks during the schism: the rise of the Wycliffite or Lollard heresy in England and the outburst of Hussitism in Bohemia. Both movements had certain beliefs in common, particularly upon the sacramental role of the clergy and the disendowment of the Church, but the eventual outcome of their activities was very different. Whereas the Wycliffite heresy lost the support of members of the ruling classes (the so-called ‘Lollard Knights’), Hussitism was taken up and championed by many of the Bohemian nobility. Before 1414 the English nobility had certainly harboured and patronized Wycliffite clergy, but the association of Lollardy with political sedition by that date meant that members of the knightly class, although they had welcomed proposals fQr the disendowment of the Church, rejected Lollard beliefs. The rising led by Sir John Oldcastle deprived the movement of the support which was crucial to its survival as anything more than an underground sect, though influential among the middle and lower strata of society. Infiltration of the Church by Lollard priests was stopped and the severe penalties laid down in the statute De haeretico comburendo (1401) gave England the equivalent of ‘continental procedures against heresy, although the English Church and secular government, rather than the papacy or the Dominicans, exercised firm control over them. In Bohemia, the beliefs held by Jan Hus, scholar and preacher, were subsumed in a movement of more far-reaching proportions. Bohemian opposition to the papacy had grown since Charles IV’s alliance with the popes at Avignon in pursuit of his political schemes and objectives. Bohemia was brought more fully into the western Church through the use of Czech benefices to reward German ecclesiastics. This could only fan the flames of Bohemian national sentiment which, when allied to religious fervour kindled by evangelical preaching at the Bethlehem Chapel of Prague, broke out in extreme form after Hus’s condemnation and execution at the Council of Constance (1415). The Hussite revolt was many things-a political protest against the Emperor Sigismund, a doctrinal statement of the laity’s right to take communion in both kinds, and a nationalistic assault on German immigrants in both Church and State. It threw central Europe into confusion and created the only alternative Church since the Cathars, out of communion with Rome, which northern Europe was to know before the sixteenth-century Reformation.
The challenge flung by the Hussites in the face of the Roman Church extended beyond the borders of Bohemia. A mass of organized peasant and town levies, officered by Bohemian nobles and gentry such as the knight John Zizka, were unleashed into territories held by the Emperor Sigismund and the German princes. Attacks on Austria and Franconia were launched by the Hussite armies, plundering and pillaging as they went, and the crusading forces of Catholic Christendom under German nobles met defeat at the hands of this common soldiery, armed with hand-guns as well as pikes and crossbows in their warwagons. Only with the defeat of the Taborite extremists, who had formed themselves into a communistic settlement on Mount Tabor, by the moderate Utraquist nobility in 1434 was the Hussite threat lifted. But the remnants of Hussite armies, ready to be hired by anyone in search of manpower, were scattered over central Europe and hardly contributed to its stability. Pope Martin V had viewed the spectacle of Bohemian revolt with considerable anxiety, preaching a crusade against the heretics in 1427, to which other western kingdoms and principalities were invited to contribute both men and money. England was particularly solicited by the papacy, for it had been the root, the pope wrote, of the pernicious heresy first planted by John Wycliffe and which had spread to infect the kingdom of Bohemia. But the monarchies of the west had other preoccupations and calls on their military and financial resources and a proposed English crusading army was diverted to the siege of Orleans in 1428. Popes might preach the crusade but, as was clear after the fall of Constantinople in 1453, the concerns of western rulers lay elsewhere. Dynasticism and the defence or acquisition of territory, rather than crusading expeditions against Bohemian heretics or Turkish infidels, absorbed the diplomatic, military, and financial resources of the national monarchies and princely states of northern Europe.
Besides the more dramatic outbreaks of religious dissent, less spectacular forces were at work within the Church. The search for a more deeply personal relationship with God, mediated through the saints, was a common phenomenon in the later Middle Ages. Heretics, while seeking such a relationship, erred in the eyes of the Church because too often the clergy were eliminated or their significance greatly reduced as sacramental mediators between man and God. It was through the administration of the sacraments-of baptism, confession, absolution, and the Eucharist or mass-by ordained priests that the individual and sinful layman was brought into a proper relationship with Christ’s redemptive power. The reconciliation of tensions between the formal offices of the Church, especially the mass, and the desires and promptings of individual conscience and devotional fervour was not an easy task. But between the extremes of dogmatic orthodoxy and heretical error lay more moderate forms of religious sentiment and behaviour. Among these one of the more important was the socalled devotio moderna, which had developed from modest beginnings in Holland in the late fourteenth century. Probably influenced initially by Rhineland devotional cults and by some of Meister Eckhardt’s (d. 1327) teachings on the sanctity of the everyday and mundane, a Carthusian novice called Gerhard Groote (1340-84), who was ordained a deacon in 1380, established a community of brethren at Deventer. These Brethren and Sisters of the Common Life, as they came to be known, lived a communal existence, receiving lay people into their houses, and provided an excellent example of an attempt to channel lay piety into non-heretical, practical activities. One of the most important functions of the Brethren’s houses was the production of books. Their inmates were scribes, bookbinders, and illuminators who formed veritable publishing houses for the production and dissemination of religious books, of which the house at Zwolle in north Holland was among the most noted. But houses were soon established in Westphalia and Wiirttemberg. Lay piety, practical work, and evangelism by means of the written word combined to make the brethren exponents of a devotional life which had a certain realism about it.
The days of heroic monasticism, such as that of St Bernard’s early Cistercians, were over and the Brethren of the Common Life demonstrated the extent to which the laity actively sought a place within a clerically dominated Church. Although the houses of the Brethren became increasingly clerical in composition during the later fifteenth century their influence extended far beyond their walls. Among the older religious orders within the Church there were indeed attempted reforms-of the Carmelites and Cistercians in particular-but the order which gained most later medieval support and endowment from laymen were the Carthusian brothers. In England the only new monastic foundations of any significance were Charterhouses-at London (1370), and Mountgrace in North Yorkshire (1396). The Carthusian monk was essentially a hermit, occupying his own cell or small house within the cloister, but meeting for a common meal on certain specified occasions. His major occupation, apart from prayer and meditation, came to be very similar to that of the Brethren of the Common Life: the production and composition of books. The works of Richard Rolle, Nicholas Love, or Denis the Carthusian were popular and widely disseminated in their time and lay predilection for saintly hermits was institutionalized by the Charterhouses. Anchorites and recluses proliferated, often on the lands of the secular nobility, and their absolute renunciation of the world commended itself to the wealthier sections of later medieval society. There was perhaps an element of vicarious asceticism or self-denial by proxy in all this and the penitential literature of the period (some of it composed by laymen) would support such an idea. In his Livre de Seyntz Medicines (1351) Henry, duke of Lancaster, wrote of his sins and of the many temptations put by the world in the way of the rich and powerful. Atonement for sin could take many forms-from the performance of personal penance to the endowment of a religious house, hospital, almshouse, or school-and the more practical tone of much later medieval lay piety suggests that the performance of good works was becoming increasingly important. Entry into paradise and remission from the pains of purgatory could be achieved in many ways and it is an indication of the varied and multiform character of lay piety that so many charitable acts were undertaken. Popes might come and go, councils meet and disband, but the horizons of most inhabitants of northern Europe were bounded by their parish, collegiate, or cathedral church, in which all participated. Baptism was universal and obligatory, binding men and women together as the body of the faithful, not yet riven (outside Bohemia) by the doctrinal schism of the Reformation. But there were disturbing signs at the end of the Middle Ages that the traditional forms and institutions of the Roman Church were, unless reformed or adapted, insufficient to contain and satisfy the demands and aspirations of a more literate and educated laity.