WWII History - August 2014

W-Texas Buillon FP Aug14_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:24 PM Page 2

W-Bradford FP1 Aug14_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:31 PM Page 2

WWII History (ISSN 1539-5456) is published six times yearly in February,April, June, August, October, and December by Sovereign Media, 6731 Whit-tier Ave., Suite A-100, McLean, VA 22101. (703) 964-0361. Periodical postagepaid at McLean, VA, and additional mailing offices. WWII History, Volume13, Number 5 © 2014 by Sovereign Media Company, Inc., all rights reserved.Copyrights to stories and illustrations are the property of their creators. Thecontents of this publication may not be reproduced in whole or in part withoutconsent of the copyright owner. Subscription services, back issues, and infor-mation: (800) 219-1187 or write to WWII History Circulation, WWII Histo-ry, P.O. Box 1644, Williamsport, PA 17703. Single copies: $5.99, plus $3 forpostage. Yearly subscription in U.S.A.: $19.95; Canada and Overseas: $31.95(U.S.). Editorial Office: Send editorial mail to WWII History, 6731 WhittierAve., Suite A-100, McLean, VA 22101. WWII History welcomes editorial sub-missions but assumes no responsibility for the loss or damage of unsolicitedmaterial. Material to be returned should be accompanied by a self-addressed,stamped envelope. We suggest that you send a self-addressed, stamped enve-lope for a copy of our author’s guidelines. POSTMASTER: Send addresschanges to WWII History, P.O. Box 1644, Williamsport, PA 17703.

WWII HISTORY

4 WWII HISTORY AUGUST 2014

Contents

Features28 One in a Thousand Chance

In May 1942, a Japanese submarine force snuck into Sydney harbor in a daring,suicidal attack.By Christopher Miskimon

34 In Peiper’s PathSS fanatic Jochen Peiper led Hitler’s desperate spearhead during the Battle of the Bulge.By Josh Quackenbush

42 A Roll of the DrumsNazi U-boats brought World War II to America’s shores as they ravaged merchantshipping off the East Coast.By Michael D. Hull

50 The Invasion of New ZealandIn preparaton for amphibious operations in the Pacific, U.S. Marines trained in New Zealand.By Bruce M. Petty

54 “Score 109 to 1”In the spring of 1944, the small island of Biak—a stepping stone to the Philippines—was taken by the Americans.By David Alan Johnson

60 The Big Three in TehranRoosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin had a pivotal meeting in the Iranian capital in late 1943.By Michael D. Hull

Cur

tis 0

2313

www.WarfareHistoryNetwork.com

RETAILER: DISPLAY UNTIL SEPT. 1

AUGUST 2014

KAMPFGRUPPE PEIPER AND THE

Battleof the BulgeBATTLE OF THE ATLANTIC

Attack of the Nazi U-boats

Waffen-SS AT WAR41ST DIVISION ON BIAK

Battle of the CavesASSAULT ON SYDNEY HARBOR

Japanese Midget Sub Attack

THE MANHATTAN PROJECT, U.S. NAVY HELLDIVER,BOOK & GAME REVIEWS, AND MORE!+

Columns06 EditorialRosie the Riveter’s roots are preserved at Willow Run.

08 OrdnanceU.S. Navy dive-bomber crews flew the CurtissSB2C Helldiver late in World War II.

12 ProfilesGeneral Leslie Groves played a vital role inthe development of the atomic bomb.

16 InsightThe Waffen-SS developed as the military armof Hitler’s private Nazi army.

22 Top SecretBrigadier Orde Wingate’s Operation Thursdayended in success but spawned controversy.

66 BooksThe troopers of F Company, 506th ParachuteInfantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Divisionfought their way across Western Europe.

68 Simulation GamingIt’s 1960, the Nazis won World War II, butWilliam “BJ” Blazkowicz is here to put themback in their place.

Cover: A soldier of theWaffen-SS poses with aBergmann MP-28 some-where in the Soviet Unionin 1941. See story on theWaffen-SS on page 16.Photo: Bundesarchiv Bild101III-Melters-074-14;Photo: Melters

August 2014

W-Aug14 TOC_W-Jul06 TOC 4 6/6/14 1:52 PM Page 4

W-First Street FP Aug14_Layout 1 6/5/14 4:50 PM Page 2


Editor ialRosie the Riveter’s Roots Are Preserved at Willow RunWHEN HOLLYWOOD PRODUCERS VISITED THE MASSIVE WILLOW RUN AIRCRAFTproduction facility, a legend was born. Just a few miles west of Detroit, Michigan, in YpsilantiTownship, the Willow Run plant was the brainchild of auto magnate Henry Ford. Its scale was like nothing previously seen, and the massive facility featured an assembly line thatstretched a mile.

Although it was considered at first to be something of a boondoggle, when Willow Run hitits stride as many as 40,000 people worked there, some living in nearby government housing.At peak production from 1943 to 1945, these workers turned out a Consolidated B-24 Lib-erator heavy bomber every hour, and by the end of World War II nearly 8,700 of the big, four-engine war winners had rolled out the doors.

As remarkable as the production numbers themselves is the story of a large number of theworkers who have become legendary. The exigencies of war meant that women were assum-ing roles in the workplace that had previously been reserved for men. On the floor at WillowRun, hundreds of women were busy during a daily shift, hammering, bolting, and riveting theplanes together. Looking for a worker to feature in an upcoming film, the Hollywood producerssaw these women, and the phenomenon of Rosie the Riveter, symbol of America’s wartimecommitment and icon of a changing workplace, developed.

Posters emblazoned with Rosie sprang up across the country, and the slogan “We Can DoIt!” became well known lexicon. Willow Run was only one of many locations where womenproved their abilities in the workplace and broke through gender barriers, reshaping life in theUnited States in ways still felt today.

Willow Run actually functioned until 2010, when General Motors closed the plant in antic-ipation of the construction of a new vehicle research center. As the wrecking ball began toswing, an effort to preserve a portion of Willow Run as the Yankee Air Museum has gainedmomentum. Its purpose is simply to maintain a small, 150,000-square foot portion of theWillow Run plant because of its historical significance and in tribute to the thousands of“Rosies” who changed America.

“It should be taken care of so that everybody, our children, our grandchildren, our greatgrandchildren, can enjoy it as the years go by,” former Willow Run employee Loraine Osbornetold the Associated Press. “It was really important to get those planes out so they could savepeople’s lives.”

The task before those involved in the Save The Bomber Plant campaign was to raise $8 mil-lion for the preservation effort. As time was literally running out, donors came forward withenough money to allow the preservationists to make a formal offer to purchase a portion ofthe plant. When General Motors filed bankruptcy several years ago, much of the corporation’sreal estate holdings were placed with the Revitalizing Auto Communities EnvironmentalResponse Trust (RACER), which graciously allowed several extensions in the fundraisingeffort and ultimately cooperated with the preservationists.

Bruce Rasher, the redevelopment manager for RACER, told the Associated Press, “Ourmutual goal remains to see the former hangar redeveloped as the future home of the museum,an outcome the community clearly supports.”

Thanks to a concerted effort, a significant piece of American history will be preserved. Thou-sands of workers on the home front during World War II provided the planes, tanks, guns,and bombs that defeated the Axis. The countless Rosies that contributed to that effort deservea lasting tribute.

Michael E. Haskew

W-Aug14 Editorial_W-Jul06 Letters 6/6/14 12:44 PM Page 6

7

WWII HISTORYVolume 13 n Number 5

CARL A. GNAM, JR.Editorial Director, Founder

MICHAEL E. HASKEWEditor

LAURA CLEVELANDManaging Editor

SAMANTHA DETULLEOArt Director

CONTRIBUTORS:George Davenport, Jr., Jon Diamond,

Robert F. Dorr, Michael D. Hull, David Alan Johnson, Joseph Luster,

Christopher Miskimon, Bruce M. Petty,Josh Quackenbush, Allyn Vannoy

ADVERTISING OFFICE:BEN BOYLES

Advertising Manager(570) 322-7848, ext. 110

[email protected]

Advertising SalesLINDA GALLIHER

(570) 322-7848, ext. [email protected]

MARK HINTZChief Executive Officer

KEN FORNWALTData Processing Director

BROOKE BLEESubscription Customer Service

[email protected](570) 322-7848, ext. 164

CURTIS CIRCULATION COMPANYWORLDWIDE DISTRIBUTION

SOVEREIGN MEDIA COMPANY, INC.6731 Whittier Avenue, Suite A-100

McLean, VA 22101-4554

SUBSCRIPTION CUSTOMER SERVICE AND BUSINESS OFFICE:

2406 Reach RoadWilliamsport, PA 17701

(800) 219-1187

PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

AUGUST 2014 WWII HISTORY

W-Aug14 Editorial_W-Jul06 Letters 6/6/14 1:54 PM Page 7

IT SENT JAPANESE WARSHIPS TO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN. IT PULVERIZEDfortifications on Japan’s home islands. The Curtiss SB2C Helldiver dive-bomber left a trail ofwreckage in its wake, the debris and detritus of a devastated foe. Yet, the Helldiver is rememberedtoday mostly as an unpopular latecomer to the war, a less than stellar performer built by an air-craft company in decline.

A round, blue tube squatting on a tiny tailwheel carrying a pilot and radioman-gunner in tan-dem behind a 1,900-horsepower Wright R-2600 radial engine, the Helldiver with its 49-foot, 9-inch wing span, was dubbed the “Son of a Bitch Second Class,” the “Beast,” and worse by manya pilot who paid more heed to the rumor mill in the ready room than to the performance gaugeson his instrument panel. In fact, the plane was neither as bad as its critics said or as good as itsmanufacturer hoped.

The engineer running the Helldiver design team was not planemaker Curtiss-Wright’s iconic DonR. Berlin, who designed the P-40 Warhawk, but the company’s Raymond C. Blaylock. The Hell-diver’s career began with problems. The prototype XSB2C-1 made its maiden flight on Decem-ber 18, 1940, but the prototype was destroyed just days later. Curtiss rebuilt theaircraft, and it flew again in October 1941 but crashed a second time after a month.After production moved to Columbus, Ohio, from Buffalo, New York, the firstproduction Helldiver flew in June 1942.

From the start, the blue warplane garnered a reputation for poor stability, struc-tural flaws, and poor handling. Britain rejected the Helldiver after receiving 26examples. Lengthening the fuselage by one foot and redesigning the fin fixed theaerodynamic problems, and the stability and structural issues were exaggerated—yet more than one Helldiver broke in half when making a hard tailhook landing

I By Robert F. Dorr I

Helldiver MenU.S. Navy dive-bomber crews flew the Curtiss SB2CHelldiver late in World War II.

on a wooden carrier deck.After several variations in armament

appeared with early Helldivers, the Navy set-tled on two forward-firing, 20mm cannons inthe wing (introduced on the SB2C-1C model)plus the enlisted crewmember’s swivel-mountedtwin .30-caliber machine guns. The radioman-gunner could deploy his firepower only by low-ering the rear deck of the fuselage immediatelyahead of the vertical stabilizer.

The Helldiver offered an internal bomb baythat could accommodate a 1,000-pound bomband be closed by hydraulically operated doors.Hardpoints under the wings accommodatedadditional ordnance.

Perhaps the most important change camewith an improved propeller. After a 12-footCurtiss Electric three-blade prop proved inad-equate, a four-blade propeller from the samemanufacturer with the same diameter and withroot cuffs was introduced with the SB2C-3model—the point at which nearly all imperfec-tions in the design had been smoothed out. TheSB2C-4 followed, introducing “cheese grate”upper and lower wing flaps that were perfo-rated like a sieve; they enhanced stability.

Helldivers flew their first combat missionwhen Squadron Bombing 17, or VB-17, joineda strike force assaulting the redoubt at Rabaul,New Britain, on November 11, 1943, as part ofa larger strike force.

In Target Rabaul, Bruce Gamble tells of thefirst American to lose his life on a Helldivercombat mission. “One SB2C bellied in off thecarrier’s bow [of USS Bunker Hill]. A planeguard destroyer dashed in, but only the reargunner was recovered. Lieutenant (j.g.) RalphL. Gunville drowned because his pockets werestuffed with extra rations for the plane’s life raftin the event of a ditching.”

Chuck Downey read a newspaper accountof the Helldiver’s combat debut in the New Jer-sey beach resort town of Wildwood where, inlate 1943 and early 1944, the Navy was form-ing squadron VB-80, or Bombing 80. Some ofthe pilots in the new squadron (officially formedFebruary 1, 1944) picked up SB2C-1C Hell-divers at the Curtiss-Wright factory in Columbus

and delivered them to Wildwood.“We knew this aircraft was meantas a replacement for the SBDDauntless, which won glory atMidway,” Downey said. “Someof the men thought the Dauntlessperformed better over all, eventhough the Helldiver was biggerand more powerful.”

A Curtiss SB2C Helldiverdive bomber approaches aU.S. Navy aircraft carrier.Intended as a replacementfor the heralded DouglasDauntless, the Helldiverproved to be a rugged

platform for dive bombingin the Pacific Theater.


OrdnanceNational Archives

W-Aug14 Ordnance_Layout 1 6/5/14 3:38 PM Page 8

W-Bradford FP2 Aug14_Layout 1 6/5/14 4:50 PM Page 2

George Walsh, another Helldiver pilot in VB-80, initially questioned replacing a proven war-plane with a new one. “Early production mod-els of the Helldiver had a lot of defects,” saidWalsh. “It was rushed into production at a newfactory in Columbus while engineering specifi-cations were constantly being revised.”

Continued Walsh, “The plane weighed eighttons and was a jungle of wires and hydraulictubes. The latter operated the flaps, foldingwings and landing gear. It proved difficult toland on a carrier because of the long nose. Thiscreated so many accidents that Admiral ‘Jocko’Clark rejected the first Helldivers for hissquadron on the [carrier] Yorktown and hadthe SBDs brought back. The ‘Helldiver’ desig-nation was soon replaced. Pilots began refer-ring to the plane as ‘The Beast’ and that pejo-rative stayed with the plane even after latermodels proved to be sturdy and reliable.”

When radioman-gunner Jim Samar learnedthat he would be occupying the back seat of aHelldiver rather than a Dauntless, his initialreaction was disappointment. “Worse thanthat. I was crestfallen,” Samar said. He, too,was a plank-owner of VB-80, which left Wild-wood to go aboard the carrier USS Ticon-deroga, made the Panama Canal transit, andstopped briefly in San Diego, where actressMaureen O’Hara, married to a VB-80 officer’sbrother, visited the ship. By early summer 1944,VB-80 and Ticonderoga were rehearsing waroff the coast of Hawaii and ready to fight.

Ticonderoga joined the Allied invasion of thePhilippines. For Helldiver radioman-gunnerSamar, the squadron’s first combat mission onNovember 5, 1944, proved to be the most dra-matic. The target was Japanese-held Clark Fieldnear Manila. It was the only time Samar firedat a Japanese warplane—something gunnersdid rarely in the final year of the war.

A Nakajima Ki-44 Hayabusa fighter, known tothe Allies as an Oscar, ambushed the SB2C car-rying pilot Lieutenant (j.g.) James W. Newquistand Samar. “I gave him a burst and he left,”Samar said. “I saw my tracers go into his engine.I saw smoke erupt from his engine.” The Oscarfell from view. No one saw whether it wentdown. Samar did not receive credit for an aerialvictory but believes he shot the Oscar down.

Between November 5, 1944, and January 21,1945, VB-80 launched 26 missions, 11 of whichSamar flew, against Japanese targets on Luzon,Formosa (Taiwan), and French Indochina.Samar still has a logbook with cryptic entriessuch as “bombed shipping in Manila Bay.”

Pilot Chuck Downey remembers this as theperiod when the front-seater in the SB2C Hell-diver mastered the fine art of dive-bombing.

“You pulled the handle to open the bomb baydoors,” Downey said. “You watched the Japan-ese ship slide under the left center section lead-ing edge of your wing. You slowed to dive-brake deployment speed of 125 knots. Youperformed a split-S to the left [a half-roll,inverted, going into a descending half loop],using rudder and aileron to put into a verticaldive with a maximum speed of 350 knots.”

All of this, of course, was simply the mechan-ics for dive-bombing. The purpose was to endup near vertical in position to drop bombs intothe stack of a Japanese warship. The maneu-vers were significantly more uncomfortable for

rearward facing radioman-gunners like Samarand were often undertaken while antiaircraftshells were exploding nearby.

On November 13, 1944, pilots of VB-80attacked the 5,100-ton Kuma-class light cruiserKiso in Manila Bay.

Said Walsh, “We launched before dawn andeach plane rose to slide into squadron formationby the light of a rose colored rising sun, whichbecame visible over the horizon as we gained alti-tude. We throttled back to a slow climbing speedto conserve fuel and gain altitude. Flying westtoward Manila we had to reach 14,000 feet fly-ing over the snow capped mountains of eastern


ABOVE: On a routine mission from the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Shangri-la, this Curtiss SB2C-4 Helldiver from squadron VB-85 is flying near the coast of Japan on August 11, 1945. BELOW: On June 1,2013, the Commemorative Air Force’s Curtiss SB2C-5 Helldiver goes into the “break” on approach to an

airfield at Manassas, Virginia, with pilot Ed Vesely at the controls and author Robert F. Dorr in the rear seat. This Helldiver is the only one in the world that remains in airworthy condition today

John Lackey/Fly By Photography

Robert F. Dorr Collection


Luzon. Our flight included 24 SB2Cs, two divi-sions of 12 each. The divisions included sectionsof three planes in ‘V’ formation, and I led thelast section of three planes. We were loaded with1,000-pound bombs.”

Kiso was the flagship of the Japanese 5thFleet, Vice Admiral Kiyohide Shima com-manding. Dozens of carrier planes from severalsquadrons had some role in the attack, butHelldiver pilots Downey, Walsh, and Lieu-tenant (j.g.) Leslie B. Case were the ones whomade direct hits with 1,000-pound bombs.

Said Walsh, “At 300 knots the thirty secondsof the two mile dive passed in what seemed tobe slow motion speed as black puffs of explod-ing antiaircraft shells floated by, punctuated byred tracers from machine guns. The dive brakeshold the speed of the plane from approachinghigh velocity as it would in a free fall or powerdive. The pilot is pressed forward against hisshoulder straps because the aircraft is held backas if suspended from a rope. There is time toadjust the aiming point by using the elevatorsand ailerons as the ship grows bigger and big-ger in the windscreen. That day there was nowind factor to be compensated.”

“A cruiser is a narrow target,” Walsh contin-ued. “I stayed in my dive until I was confidentof scoring a hit, and released the bomb. At thatspeed another two seconds would have mademe a suicide pilot. I pulled out hard; probably13 Gs, low over the water, and taking evasiveaction while I retracted the dive brakes, adjustedthe throttle, blower and pitch, closed the bombbay, and raced south toward the rendezvous.Gordon [Virgil Gordon, Walsh’s radioman-gun-ner] reported a direct hit but I did not look back.I often wonder why. I guess my instinct was toget the hell out of there, and back to the pro-tection of the group. We were also so low overthe water all my attention was occupied in fly-ing the plane, looking where I was headed andwatching out for other possible planes in thearea, including Japanese fighters.”

Downey’s bomb went straight down the No.1 stack to the boiler room, detonated, and sep-arated the stack from Kiso’s main hull in amessy clatter of debris. It is unclear whetherShima was aboard, but he survived the war.Some 715 Japanese sailors did not survive theattack that sent the Kiso to the bottom in just13 feet of water.

Squadron VB-80 continued bombing in thePhilippines and on Formosa until January 21,1945, when Ticonderoga was put out of actionby kamikaze attacks. No one in the Helldiversquadron was among the 144 men killed whentwo Japanese suicide planes slammed into thecarrier, but several were severely burned.

Instead of going home with their wounded car-rier, VB-80’s Helldiver men transferred to thecarrier USS Hancock.

From 1943 to 1945, some 30 Navy bombingsquadrons put to sea with Helldivers. Many ofthe squadrons made only one combat cruise.VB-80 was typical except that it changed shipsmidway through the final year of the war.

By early 1945, most Helldivers in the West-ern Pacific were SB2C-4 models. This was themature Helldiver lacking the poor factoryworkmanship and many of the minor flawsthat plagued earlier versions.

Aboard Hancock, VB-80 began flying mis-sions against the Japanese home islands on Feb-ruary 21, 1945. Now, in addition to a 1,000-pound bomb in its bay and a 500-pound bombunder each wing, many SB2C-4 Helldivers fly-ing against targets in Japan were retrofitted to

carry eight 5-inch high-velocity aircraft rocketsunder their wings. These were rocket-propelledunguided projectiles with explosive warheads.When attacking airfields and industrial sites inJapan, instead of going into their vertical dive-bombing mode, Helldiver crews strafed andfired rockets.

Thanks largely to the superb training of U.S.flyers, the Helldiver racked up a solid record ofachievement in the final months of the war.None of this was attributable to Curtiss-Wright, a planemaker that was in constanttrouble with the government. Unlike Grummanand Vought, which were responsible for mostof the warplanes on the decks of the Navy’s 102aircraft carriers on VJ-Day, Curtiss seemedunable to improve aircraft assembly methodsor to innovate.

Long after an investigative committee led bythen-Senator Harry S. Truman of Missouriuncovered major problems at Curtiss plants,Navy leaders were acknowledging that the Hell-diver was far from perfect. “When we neededthe SB2C Helldiver neither we nor it was ready,”said Assistant Secretary of the Navy for AirArtemus L. Gates. Pilots and radioman-gunnersfelt great affection for their Helldivers, but theywere never as accurate in a dive as the Daunt-lesses they were intended to replace and neverachieved their full potential. The Helldiver wasthe last combat aircraft manufactured in signif-icant numbers by Curtiss, which went out of theplanemaking business in 1948.

Official records credit the Helldiver with18,808 combat sorties in the Pacific War. Hell-divers are credited with sinking or helping tosink some 301 Japanese ships of all types.Radioman-gunners are credited with shootingdown 41 Japanese aircraft, a figure that isalmost certainly exaggerated. Some 271 Hell-divers were lost to antiaircraft fire and 18 toJapanese fighters. It might be said of the Hell-diver that it only reached full maturity, and wasonly fully finding its way, when the war ended.Helldivers were among the hundreds of war-planes that overflew the surrender ceremony onthe battleship USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay onSeptember 2, 1945.

Industry turned out 7,141 Helldivers, includ-ing SBF versions assembled by Fairchild andSBWs from Canadian Car & Foundry. The ver-sions built in the largest numbers were theSB2C-1 (978), SB2C-2 (1,112), SB2C-4(2,045), and SB2C-5 (970). The SB2C-5 modeldid not see combat.

Robert F. Dorr is an Air Force veteran, a retiredU.S. diplomat, and author of the book Air ForceOne, a look at presidential aircraft and air travel.

AUGUST 2014 WWII HISTORY 11

ABOVE: Jim Samar, a radio operator/gunner with dive bombing squadron VB-80, sits in the

back seat of a Curtiss SB2C Helldiver and demonstrates taking aim with the twin mounted.30-caliber (7.62mm) machine guns installed to

ward off enemy fighter planes. BELOW: ThisU.S. Navy Curtiss SB2C Helldiver is releasing itsbomb during a training run. Note that both the

pilot’s and the gunner’s canopies are open.

Robert F. Dorr Collection

National Archives


BY THE SPRING OF 1945, THE OUTCOME OF WORLD WAR II WAS NOT IN SERIOUSdoubt. What was in serious doubt was the number of casualties that would eventually be required tobring the war to a successful conclusion. The invasion of Japan was expected to result in one millionor more casualties. In August, the war ended with a blinding flash and untold devastation, a flashoften credited to theoretical physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer and a cadre of other noted scientists.

Without diminishing the contributions of Oppenheimer and the others, the lion’s share of creditfor the success of the Manhattan Project is due Lt. Gen. Leslie “Dick” Groves, the “indispensableman” in the project.

People often gravitate toward heroes with a dash of humility and modesty best represented by an“aw shucks” demeanor. This was not Dick Groves. Despite a pudgy physique, he was a man of self-assurance who made others feel inferior in his demanding presence. His aggressive nature not onlydrove the Manhattan Project to success but also led to his personal downfall. After World War IIended, Groves lost much of his heroic stature. He was a victim of the political war that followed theproject, leaving him a forgotten hero.

By the summer of 1942, the Manhattan Project was in trouble. Scientific studies were spreadamong a multitude of laboratories. Not only were there few concrete results to assess but few logi-

I By George Davenport Jr. I

The IndispensableMan General Leslie Groves played a vital role in

the development of the atomic bomb.

cal next steps had been identified. The city ofOak Ridge, Tennessee, where uranium enrich-ment was to be conducted, had been planned butconstruction was not making great progress.During the previous decade, scientists hadexplored the concepts of nuclear fission withpromising theories and laboratory experiments.However, there was no realistic plan to producea nuclear weapon. Additionally, the country wasmired in the issues of mobilization following theattack on Pearl Harbor.

The Manhattan Project had been authorizedin early 1942 and assigned to the Army Corpsof Engineers. This was done primarily to set upan accounting process for the efforts, not togive the military control of the work. Its origi-nal objective was to develop an atomic weaponbefore the Germans developed one and then touse this weapon against the Germans. The sci-entists did not want any military involvement,convinced they could solve all of the problemsand create a single nuclear device that wouldend the war. The project was rudderless.

At the same time, Colonel Dick Groves wascompleting his basic training for the coming ofhis greatest responsibility. He had supervisedthe construction of the Pentagon and done itextremely efficiently. For his reward, he wanteda combat command in the European Theater,preferably of one of the newly formed engi-neering brigades. Groves knew that the roadfor promotion as a member of the Corps ofEngineers led though combat command. Hebelieved he had earned his opportunity.

Instead, he was ordered to take responsibil-ity for the Manhattan Engineering District. His


ProfilesAll: National Archives

ABOVE: The organizational skills of GeneralLeslie Groves were largely responsible for thesuccess of the Manhattan Project. TOP: The

Trinity nuclear bomb test detonation on July 16,1945, in Los Alamos, New Mexico, reveals the

devastating power of atomic weaponry.

W-Aug14 Profiles_Layout 1 6/5/14 1:59 PM Page 12

W-Next Ten FP1 Aug14_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:32 PM Page 2

initial role was to build the facilities needed toproduce fissionable material, and it quicklyexpanded. His mission became the implemen-tation of a project that many thought utterlyimpossible, the “Star Wars” of World War II.Results exceeded realistic probabilities, pri-marily through the hardheaded leadership ofGroves. He led with an intensity few can com-prehend, using a goal-oriented approachunavailable in today’s era of political correct-ness. He personally chose and guided excellentsubordinates. His efforts and their contribu-tions made the project successful.

Any exceptional project leader knows whatto do when faced with the mess Groves inher-ited in 1942—take action. Groves establishedclear goals for the project, developed a plan,got organized, and began to remove barriers tothe success of the plan. He envisioned a 36-month project with an unlimited budget andno technical right to success.

The biggest hurdle to overcome in the shortterm was competing priorities. The country wasmobilizing to fight wars on two fronts, start-ing with a level of unpreparedness that provednearly disastrous. The U.S. military was notprepared for World War II, and mobilizationwas chaotic.

In mid-1942, the Manhattan Project hadonly relative priority, rated AA, similar to thatfor radar and synthetic rubber. Groves knewthis priority would be inadequate for the bar-riers he would encounter, and he immediatelyfocused on changing it. He went to the Officeof War Production Planning, carrying a letterauthorizing a AAA priority for the ManhattanProject. There were no other AAA priorities.Groves made this request without explaining

the details of the project for security reasons. Ineffect, he was asking for a blank check. Alongwith a threat to resign and describing theboard’s intransigence in a personal letter toPresident Franklin D. Roosevelt, Groves got hispriority upgraded. However, he did not win anyfriends by succeeding in this manner.

The fission potential of U-235, an unstableisotope of uranium, had recently been demon-strated in a laboratory setting, but the capacityto refine enough U-235 to produce multiplebombs was questionable. The amount thatwould be needed was uncertain at that stage,but it was known that the rate of refining U-235 would be painfully slow.

Little U-235 is produced in refining uraniumore, but far more U-238, a more stable isotope,is produced. Unfortunately, U-238 will not sus-tain a chain reaction. The potential to producefissionable plutonium from U-238 seemedmore practical, but the instability of plutoniummade its use in a weapon questionable. Theproject’s early challenge was one of choice:Where should efforts be focused?

Groves chose to do both and immediatelystarted building Oak Ridge to refine uraniumore. At the same time, he focused other effortson the technology to produce plutonium fromU-238. Soon he would also be building the cityof Hanford, Washington, where plutoniumwould be produced.

Groves was not involved with implementingthe projects on a day-to-day basis once theywere staffed and launched, but he stayed cur-rent with their progress. He was given weeklystatus reports and was a frequent participantin barrier removal and problem solving as thetwo facilities were designed and built.

Oak Ridge and Hanford each proceeded inparallel with the scientific studies needed forengineering designs. The degree of rework wasnot insignificant, but progress was steady. Witha 36-month schedule to maintain, there was notime for the traditional sequential approach.This approach starts with theoretical work,proceeds to in-depth studies and laboratorytesting, and is followed by small-scale pilotplant work to prove the application. Then, andonly then, engineering design can be initiated.

Instead, all of these activities were under-taken in parallel. Results of one phase wereused to verify the work of other phases, not aspreparation for them. However, the availabilityof fissionable materials, while essential, was notthe only critical component of the project.

These fissionable materials had to be com-bined into a device that would create a sus-tainable nuclear reaction and the devastationthat would follow. Work on this effort, bothscientific studies and engineering application,was spread all over the United States. It wascollected at a single site and supervised byanother of Groves’s subordinates. This activitywould require one of his most brilliant selec-tions, one the FBI adamantly opposed.

J. Robert Oppenheimer was one of severalmen considered to lead the bomb developmentteam, but his candidacy had several limitations.Oppenheimer was a theoretician, not a scientistwith practical application experience. In addi-tion, he was not a recipient of a Nobel Prize,and the scientific community at work on thefission studies was replete with Nobel laureates.Even more significantly, he had attended anumber of communist front activities. His wifeand brother-in-law were members of the Com-munist Party, and his loyalty was suspect. TheFBI would not approve his security clearance.

Despite these issues, Groves decided thatOppenheimer had the personality and skillsneeded to oversee the scientists who woulddevelop the atomic bomb. Groves took per-sonal responsibility to override the objectionsof the FBI and selected Oppenheimer to spear-head the effort of collecting scientists at a facil-ity to be constructed at Los Alamos, New Mex-ico. Groves and Oppenheimer had dissimilarleadership styles, but Groves altered his to fitthe situation, and the results were outstanding.

The scientists gathered at Los Alamos andstarted work. Midway in designing the bomb,tests demonstrated that the gun design for thedevice, developed for U-235, would not workwith plutonium. In a gun device, plutoniumwould prematurely start a chain reaction beforethe material was adequately concentrated. The“fizzle” of plutonium would not produce a


Fat Man, the plutonium bomb dropped on the Japanese city of Nagasaki on August 9, 1945, sits on its transport carriage on the island of Tinian in the Marianas.


nuclear explosion. Now what?With assurance not based on much beyond a

“must do” attitude, a second bomb design wasinitiated. This one was even more untested thanthe gun design. However, it would be needed ifmultiple bombs were to be used. The implosiondevice that was developed was so experimentalthat the desert test at Trinity Site was the firstfull-scale opportunity to evaluate its efficacy.

As if the overall responsibility for Oak Ridge,Hanford, and Los Alamos operations were notenough to keep Groves busy every minute ofevery day, he also became the leader of thebombing missions. He added wing commanderresponsibilities to his engineering castles.

Groves, working closely with General Henry“Hap” Arnold, chief of staff for the Army AirForces, chose the untried Boeing B-29 Super-fortress heavy bomber for the missions. TheBritish Avro Lancaster bomber was deliveringbombs in Europe similar in size to the atomicdevices, but both men wanted an Americanbomber for an American bomb. Groves thenformed the 529th Bombardment Squadron,accepted Colonel Paul Tibbets as his squadroncommander, and began preparing the bombersand the squadron for the mission.

At almost the same time, another of Groves’ssubordinates built a separate facility on theisland of Tinian in the Marianas for the 529thSquadron, one completely inaccessible to occu-pants of the island who were not involved inthe atomic bomb deployment for security rea-sons. The specially configured B-29s designatedfor the atomic bombing missions were differentfrom the other B-29s on the island, and ques-tions about the unique features of these air-planes were not viewed favorably.

By the spring of 1945, the time had come todecide where to use the atomic weapons, andGroves chaired the committee that developed alist of potential targets. With one targetremoved by Secretary of War Henry L. Stim-son for political reasons, Groves was then givenoperational control for the missions themselves.Using this list, he selected specific targets andthe timing for the missions. Further, he beganwork on the longer range plan to drop a bombeach week until Japan surrendered.

In July 1945, the test of the plutonium devicewas an unqualified success, and project direc-tion was clear. With the approval of PresidentHarry S. Truman, the first device would bedropped in early August. Weekly atomic bomb-ing would continue until ordered to cease. Thediplomatic efforts to convince the Japanese tosurrender were fruitless in early August andcontinued after the first bomb was dropped onthe city of Hiroshima.

The Hiroshima bomb was made with ura-nium and detonated as expected on August 6.With no response to further peace overtures,the second mission commenced. Its primary tar-get was the Kokura Arsenal, which had to bebypassed because of bad weather. Its secondarytarget, the city of Nagasaki, was hit with a plu-tonium bomb on August 9. It missed theground zero target by several miles but stillcaused widespread devastation.

Following Nagasaki, Groves was instructed byArmy Chief of Staff General George C. Marshallto halt the bombing effort. President Truman hadconcluded that killing more civilians would notbe appropriate. Meanwhile, the Soviet Union haddeclared war on Japan. The combination of theawesome destructive power of the atomic bombsand the potential Soviet onslaught made Japan-ese Emperor Hirohito conclude that it was fruit-less to continue the war. He made a radio broad-cast to the people and announced his intention tosurrender. The war was over.

With the unleashing of the atomic bombs,Dick Groves became an instant national hero.An August 6, 1945, press release started: “Asoft-spoken General with a flair for the ‘impos-sible’ emerged today from the shadows ofarmy-imposed anonymity to be revealed as thedriving force behind a $2 billion ‘calculatedrisk’ which he directed to successful comple-tion in three years as one of the world’s great-est scientific and engineering achievements; thelarge scale tapping of the energy within an atom

to produce a weapon of war.”Unfortunately, Groves’s achievements faded

into the political infighting of the postwar era.The political question was the disposition ofthe Manhattan Project. Should the UnitedStates give control of the weapon to a civilianagency or leave it in military control? It was aheavily debated subject, and Groves used everybit of his prestige and influence to retain con-trol in the military. In the end, responsibility forthe project was placed with the newly formedAtomic Energy Commission (AEC).

The decision to form the AEC was a closecall, and Dick Groves did not accept defeatgracefully. He was a foot-dragging obstacle inthe turnover of power, and the transition wasanything but smooth. For Groves, the worstwas yet to come.

By then a lieutenant general, Grovesrequested assignment to the position of chief ofengineers as recognition for his contributionsto the war effort. General Dwight Eisenhower,then chief of staff of the U.S. Army, declinedthe request. Eisenhower stated that Groves wastoo young for the position and that he had notserved in the European Theater.

Groves’s last efficiency report states: “Anintelligent, aggressive, positive type of man witha fine, analytical mind and great executive abil-ity. His effectiveness is unfortunately lessenedsomewhat by the fact that he often irritatesassociates. He has extraordinary capacity to getthings done!” Clearly, this capacity to get thingsdone was outweighed by the irritation factorand also affected the historical treatment ofGroves’s work.

Until recently, few books have been writtenabout Dick Groves and his extraordinaryaccomplishments with the Manhattan Project.Conversely, J. Robert Oppenheimer was a sym-pathetic figure in the history books, someonewho struggled with the moral questions aboutthe bomb. Perhaps because of this struggle, hiscredits outweighed his accomplishments.

Dick Groves, on the other hand, had no suchstruggle. He was firmly convinced that the useof the bomb was the proper decision and neverwavered from this position. He was not a manto suffer diminishment lightly. His autobiogra-phy, Now It Can Be Told, describes the story ofthe Manhattan Project with a degree of first-person authenticity that should have changedpublic opinion, had it been widely read. It is afascinating story.

George Davenport, Jr., is a retired engineer, for-mer Army officer, and 1963 graduate of theUnited States Military Academy. He resides inChattanooga, Tennessee.


In September 1945, physicist J. Robert Oppen-heimer (left) and Groves (right) survey the twisted

steel remnants at the site of the Trinity atomicbomb test detonation two months earlier.


IN 1933 A PORTION OF THE NAZI PARTY’S SCHUTZSTAFFEL (SS) WAS ARMED ANDtrained along military lines and served as an armed force. These troops were originally known asthe SS-Verfügungstruppen, the name indicating that they served at the Führer’s pleasure. By 1939,four regiments (Standarten) had been organized.

The Verfügungstruppen took part in the occupation of Austria and Czechoslovakia side by sidewith the Army (Heer). During the months preceding the outbreak of the war, they were given inten-sive military training and were formed into units that took part in the Polish campaign. In addi-tion, elements of Death’s Head formations (Totenkopfverbände), which served as concentrationcamp guards, also took to the field as combat units.

During the following winter and spring, regiments that had fought in Poland wereexpanded into brigades and later divisions. This purely military branch of the SS wasknown at first as the Bewaffnete SS (Armed SS) and later as the Waffen-SS. The reg-iment Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler eventually became a division of the same name;the Standarte Deutschland together with the Austrian Standarte Der Führer formedthe Verfügungs Division, to which a third regiment, Langemarck, was later added,creating the division Das Reich; and the Totenkopf units were formed into theTotenkopf Division. These three divisions were to be the nucleus of the Waffen-SSin its subsequent rapid expansion.

The Waffen-SS was based on a policy of strict racial selection and emphasis on polit-ical indoctrination. The reasons for its formation were as much political as they werean opportunity to acquire the officer material that was to prove valuable to the SS later.

I By Allyn Vannoy I

Evolution of ArmedEvil The Waffen-SS developed as the military arm

of Hitler’s private Nazi army.

As the war intensified, the Waffen-SS beganrecruiting “Nordic” peoples. In 1940, the Stan-darten Nordland and Westland were created toincorporate such “Germanic” volunteers intothe organization. They were combined with theexisting Standarte Germania to form the Wik-ing Division.

Subsequently, the Waffen-SS formed native“Legions” in many of the occupied territories.These were eventually converted into brigadesand divisions.

A relaxation of the principles of racial selec-tion occurred as the war turned against Ger-many. During 1943-1944 the SS turned moreand more to recruiting all available manpowerin occupied areas. While its main efforts weredirected toward the incorporation of the “racial”Germans (Volksdeutsche), a scheme was devisedthat permitted the recruiting of foreigners of allnationalities while retaining at least some sem-blance of the original principles of “Nordic”superiority. Spreading foreigners thinly through-out trustworthy units soon proved insufficientto digest the mass of recruits. Consequently, divi-sions of foreigners were formed that received asprinkling of regular Waffen-SS cadres. Finally,it became necessary to complement the Waffen-SS officer corps with foreigners.

Concerned with the racial aspects of theirunits, Waffen-SS leaders developed a namingsystem that dubbed a unit as foreign with anaddition to its designation. Units with a highpercentage of racial Germans and “Germanic”volunteers—Scandinavians, Dutch, Flemings,Walloons, and Frenchmen—such as the 11thSS-Freiwilligen Panzergrenadier Division Nord-land, carried the designation “Freiwilligen.”Units containing a preponderance of non-Ger-manic personnel, especially Slavic and Balticpeoples, such as the 15th Waffen-GrenadierDivision-SS, carried the designation “Waffen-”as part of the unit name.

This organizational expansion modified thecharacter of the Waffen-SS as an elite political

formation. Nevertheless, thesedivisions were expected to fightto the bitter end, especially sincethe individual soldiers had beenmade to feel personally involvedin war crimes, and propagandaconvinced most that their treat-ment, either in captivity or afterGermany’s defeat, would com-pare unfavorably with thataccorded other members of thearmed forces.

Over time, the Waffen-SS cre-


InsightBundesarchive Bild 146-1996-026-34A; Photo: Georg Pahl

The SS LeibstandarteAdolf Hitler was formed

during the 1930s asHitler’s personal

bodyguard and later grewinto a division of the

Waffen-SS, the militarywing of the organization.

In this photo from theearly days of the Leib-

standarte, soldiers pass inreview as their comman-der gives the Nazi salute.

W-Aug14 Insight_Layout 1 6/5/14 1:56 PM Page 16

W-Next Ten FP2 Aug14_Layout 1 6/5/14 4:48 PM Page 2

ated some 42 divisions and three brigades aswell as a number of small, independent units.Of the divisions, seven were panzer divisions.The balance included 12 panzergrenadier divi-sions, six mountain divisions, 11 grenadier divi-sions, four cavalry divisions, and a police divi-sion. Many of the divisions, organized late inthe war, were divisions in name only and neverexceeded regimental strength.

The SS panzer divisions were the purest interms of German members, as well as being thebest equipped and supported of all German com-bat units. They formed the strongest and politi-cally most reliable portion of the Waffen-SS.

The creation of an SS panzer division wassometimes evolutionary. Formed from Hitler’sbodyguard unit, the Leibstandarte SS AdolfHitler became a full infantry regiment withthree battalions, an artillery battalion, and anti-tank, reconnaissance, and engineer attachmentsin 1939. After it was involved in the annexationof Bohemia and Moravia, it was redesignatedthe Infanterie-Regiment Leibstandarte SS AdolfHitler (motorized). In mid-1939 Hitler orderedit organized as an SS division, but the Polishcrisis put these plans on hold. The regimentproved itself an effective fighting unit duringthe campaign, though several Army generalshad reservations about the high casualties it had

sustained in combat.In early 1940, the regiment was expanded to

an independent motorized infantry regiment,and an assault gun battery was added. After theWestern campaign, it was expanded to brigadesize. Despite this, it retained the designation asa regiment. Following an outstanding perfor-

mance in Greece, Reichsführer-SS HeinrichHimmler ordered it upgraded to division sta-tus. However, there was no time to refit the unitbefore launching Operation Barbarossa, theinvasion of the Soviet Union, and so it remainedthe size of a reinforced brigade.

In late July 1942, severely understrength andcompletely exhausted from operations in Rus-sia, the unit was pulled out of the line and sentto France to rebuild and join the newly formedSS Panzer Corps, where it was reformed as apanzergrenadier division.

Thanks to Himmler and Obergruppenführer(General) Paul Hausser, the SS Panzer Corpscommander, the four SS panzergrenadier divi-sions—Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, Wiking,Das Reich, and Totenkopf—were organized toinclude a full panzer regiment rather than onlya battalion as found in Army units. This meantthat the SS panzergrenadier divisions were full-strength panzer divisions in terms of their com-plement of tanks.

Following the capitulation of Italy, the Leib-standarte engaged in several major counterin-surgency operations against Italian partisans.During its time in Italy, the Leibstandarte wasreformed as a full panzer division and desig-nated the 1st SS Panzer Division LeibstandarteSS Adolf Hitler.


Members of the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler photographed during the Nuremburg Rally in 1935.

National Archives


Waffen-SS grenadier or infantry divisions weremainly recruited outside Germany. One wasformed from French recruits, two in Latvia, onein Estonia, one with Ukrainians, another fromSoviet prisoners, and one of Italian Fascists. Thelatter two each held the designation as the 29thSS Grenadier Division at different times, the for-mer Soviet prisoners in 1944 and the Italian Fas-cists in 1945. All of these divisions were createdfrom 1943 to 1945.

Ukrainians, Latvians, Estonians, and Russ-ian turncoats who joined the SS were executedif taken prisoner by the Soviets. Those found inthe hands of the Western Allies after the warwere returned to the Soviets to suffer the samefate. Waffen-SS prisoners taken by the RedArmy seldom survived their initial capture orlengthy imprisonment in the Soviet Union.

Six SS mountain divisions were formed fromVolksdeutsche. Three were short-lived unitsmade up of Balkan Muslims, and one, whichnever exceeded regimental strength, wasformed from Italian Fascists.

Eleven of the 12 SS panzergrenadier divisionswere created or their designations wereassigned from 1943 to 1945. Nine of the divi-sions were formed from Volksdeutsche andnon-Germans, which included Dutch, Wal-loons, Belgians, and Hungarians, but many

were never stronger than regimental strength.Command formations during the war

included two SS armies, the Sixth SS PanzerArmy and the Eleventh SS Army. Of the 13 SScorps, four were panzer corps, two were moun-tain corps, and seven were infantry corps. Sevenof these corps were not created until 1944.

The Sixth SS Panzer Army was created in theautumn of 1944 in northwestern Germany asthe Sixth Panzer Army to oversee the refit of

panzer divisions shattered during operations inFrance. It played a key role in the 1944Ardennes offensive, then in Hungary in 1945,and finally in the fight for the Austrian capitalof Vienna. The Eleventh SS Army was formedin February 1945. It operated in northern Ger-many until the end of the war.

One Waffen-SS division was designated theSS-Panzer Grenadier-Polizei Division. This wasthe only unit made up of members of the police


Bundesarchive Bild 101III-Zschaeckel-189-13; Photo: Friedrich Zschäckel


that had been incorporated into the Waffen-SS.In addition, the 35th SS Police Grenadier Divi-sion was organized from German policemen inearly 1945, although it only reached regimen-tal strength.

In principle, the SS was to accept no newmembers after 1933, except from selected grad-uates of the Hitler Youth. However, the cre-ation of the Waffen-SS and its rapid growthcaused the partial suspension of this rule. How-ever, service in the Waffen-SS did not necessar-ily include membership in the SS proper.

Prior to the war, suitable SS candidates weresingled out while still in the Hitler Youth (HJ).Boys who had proved themselves, often underSS leadership, in the HJ patrol service wereoften tabbed for later SS service. If the candi-date satisfied SS requirements in political relia-bility, racial purity, and physique, he wasaccepted as a candidate at the age of 18. At theannual Nazi Party Congress in September, can-didates were accepted, received SS certificates,and were enrolled in the SS.

Service in the Waffen-SS was officially volun-tary. The Waffen-SS claimed priority over allother branches of the armed forces in the selec-tion of recruits. Eventually, to meet the high rateof casualties and the expansion of Waffen-SSfield divisions, service in the Waffen-SS becamecompulsory for all members of the SS, and thevoluntary transfer of personnel from any otherbranch of the armed forces was permitted. From1943, pressure was exerted on members of theHitler Youth to volunteer for the Waffen-SS.Later, entire Army, Navy, and Air Force unitswere taken over by the Waffen-SS, given SS train-ing, and incorporated into field units. Waffen-SS

enlistment drives in Germany were nearly con-tinuous. Waffen-SS recruitment was regionallyorganized and controlled.

The decision to enlist “Germanic” and “non-Germanic” foreigners in the Waffen-SS wasbased more on propaganda value than on thefighting ability of these volunteers.

In Scandinavia and the occupied countries ofWestern Europe, recruiting was undertakenlargely by the local Nazi parties. In the BalticStates it was conducted by the German-con-trolled governments, and in the Balkans by Ger-man authorities in concert with the govern-ments. With the growing need for troops, aconsiderable element of compulsion enteredinto the recruiting campaigns. The small groupsof volunteers were reorganized into regimentsand battalions, either to be incorporated intoexisting Waffen-SS divisions or to form thebasis for new divisions and brigades.

Early in 1943, the German government, inexchange for promises to deliver certain quan-tities of war equipment, obtained from the gov-ernments of Romania, Hungary, and Slovakiatheir consent to a major Waffen-SS recruitingdrive among the “racial” Germans in thosecountries. All able-bodied men considered ofGerman origin, including some who couldscarcely speak the language, were pressured tovolunteer, and many men who were alreadyserving in the armies of these countries weretransferred to the Germans. Well over 100,000men were obtained in this manner and distrib-uted among the Waffen-SS divisions.

The results of this recruiting were mixed atbest. The 13th SS Mountain Division Hand-schar may have been the worst unit in the Waf-

fen-SS. Formed in the spring of 1943 as theBosnian-Herzegovinian Division, it initiallyconsisted of Bosnian Muslims and Croat vol-unteers. When volunteers lagged, Christianmembers of the Croatian National Army wereforced to join the division. Sent to southernFrance in mid-1943, the division promptlymutinied. The unit was eventually returned toYugoslavia. In the Balkans it was involved inmassacring defenseless Christian villagers andhad a high rate of desertion. In October 1944,the unit was disarmed.

In 1945, the 36th SS Grenadier DivisionDirlewanger was formed. Better known as theDirlewanger Brigade, it was upgraded in nameto a division in the last weeks of the war. Mostof its members were men taken from concentra-tion camps, some were Communists or politicalprisoners, but most were common criminals. Thedivision eventually accepted hardened careercriminals as well as Soviet and Ukrainian pris-onerss, members of the Wehrmacht convicted oflesser felony offenses, and eventually all Germanconvicts. Its commander, SS Colonel OscarDirlewanger, was a brutal drunkard who hadonce been expelled from the SS for a moralsoffense. The brigade was responsible for a num-ber of atrocities, especially against Russian par-tisans, Poles, and Jews. The division and its com-mander were considered notoriously unreliableby the German Army.

For military operations, units of the Waffen-SS were usually placed under the command ofthe German Army. In the beginning, individualunits were assigned to Army groups as needed,although an effort was made to give them inde-pendent tasks whenever possible. Emphasis wasplaced on the propaganda value of their employ-ment, and many spectacular missions wereassigned to them, although their importance andthe difficulty of the tasks were often exaggerated.

On the Eastern Front, these units becameinvolved in increasingly more difficult combatassignments. Gaining reputations as elite forces,divisions of the Waffen-SS began to control reg-ular Army units in their immediate vicinity. Thenext step was the formation of SS corps which,under OKH command, controlled SS divisionsand brigades. Soon certain SS corps held com-mand over a small group of SS units and amuch larger number of Army units. Eventually,certain SS corps commanded Army units only.When the Sixth Panzer Army was formed in theautumn of 1944, a large number of units of theGerman Army were for the first time designatedpart of an SS formation.

In theory, the influence of Himmler ceasedwith the subordination of Waffen-SS units to theArmy. In effect, however, there was evidence that


As World War II dragged on, Reichsführer SS Heinrich Himmler accepted non-Aryan

formations in the Waffen-SS. In this photo, Bosnians of the 13th Waffen-SS Mountain Division

“Handschar” photographed in May 1944.


he retained the right to approve any Armydeployment of SS troops. The temporary relief ofField Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt as comman-der on the Western Front in 1944 was attributed,at least in part, to a conflict with Himmler overthe deployment of Waffen-SS troops.

Waffen-SS units were deployed in all majorGerman land campaigns except North Africaand the 1940 campaign in Norway. Beginningwith the conquest of Poland, they played signif-icant roles for the remainder of the war. At leasttwo divisions participated in the Western offen-sive and Balkan operations of 1940 and 1941.One division was engaged in Finland from thebeginning of Operation Barbarossa. In Russia,the number of Waffen-SS units grew from fivedivisions in 1942 to four corps and 13 divisionsduring 1944. An SS brigade participated in thegarrisoning of Corsica and was later committedas a division in Italy, while another assisted inthe occupation of Italy following the Fascist sur-render there in 1943. To this were added a newdivision and a new brigade in 1944.

Two Waffen-SS corps and at least seven divi-sions fought at various times against partisansin Yugoslavia, and one division formed animportant component of the occupation forcesin Greece. Two Waffen-SS corps and six divi-sions were employed in Normandy and partic-ipated in the withdrawal from France. On theWestern Front, one Army, at least six corps, andup to nine divisions opposed Allied forces earlyin 1945. Nine Waffen-SS divisions and twobrigades operated in Hungary near the end ofthe war.

The SS increased its power over the Armydramatically in July 1944, as individual mem-bers of the Waffen-SS were attached to regularArmy units to improve their reliability. Waffen-SS units were used to prevent mass desertionsor unauthorized withdrawals. Waffen-SS per-sonnel formed the nucleus of the Volks-grenadier and in some instances of Volkssturmunits. Large contingents of the Luftwaffe andKriegesmarine were pressed into the service ofthe Waffen-SS when it became urgent to reformbadly mauled Waffen-SS units.

At the end of 1940, the Waffen-SS numberedslightly more than 150,000 men. By June 1944,it had grown to 594,000. Intended as an eliteforce, the Waffen-SS evolved due to the exi-gencies of war from the original SS concept ofa military organization imbued with Nazi ide-ology and loyalty to Hitler into a polyglot forceof decreasing combat effectiveness.

Author Allyn Vannoy has written extensivelyon a variety of topics related to World War II.He resides in Hillsboro, Oregon.



THE INTEREST IN BRIGADIER ORDE WINGATE, FOUNDER AND LEADER OF THECommonwealth Chindits or Special Force, persists to this day, almost 70 years afterhis fiery death after his B-25 Mitchell bomber crashed in the hills of India.

Although his campaigns and causes ended with his death in March 1944, aposthumous attack was leveled against Wingate in a vituperative account of theChindit leader’s contributions to the war in Burma. This appeared in 1961 in Maj.Gen. S. Woodburn Kirby’s The Official History of the War Against Japan, Vol. III:The Decisive Battles. Some have labeled this screed an “exercise in literary envyagainst unorthodoxy and creativity.”

The animus between Wingate and Kirby went back to 1943, when the Chinditleader returned to New Delhi from Quebec and exhibited an aggressive and offen-sive stance in response to General Headquarters’ (GHQ) near total opposition tohis plans for material and personnel requests for Operation Thursday, the nascentsecond Chindit invasion of Burma, which had received the approval of PresidentFranklin D. Roosevelt, Prime Minister Winston Churchill, and the Combined Chiefsof Staff (CCS).

When Wingate flaunted his newly acquired access to Churchill, it humiliated Kirby,who was the director of staff duties at GHQ. In a complaint to Lord Louis Mount-batten, then head of Southeast Asia Command (SEAC), Wingate rashly named Kirby“as one of those who should be sacked for iniquitous and unpatriotic conduct.”

Thus, Wingate became a particular enemy of Kirby, who in 1951 was appointedto write The Official History of the War Against Japan. Kirby “took his revenge”on Wingate’s legacy with his pen, concluding his harangue with, “Although heserved the Allied cause well by putting an almost forgotten army in the headlines

I By Jon Diamond I

War in the JungleBrigadier Orde Wingate’s Operation Thursday ended in success but spawned controversy.

and boosting morale, the very qualities whichenabled him to win the support of the PrimeMinister and the Chiefs of Staff and to createhis private army in face of great difficultiesreduced his value as a leader and a commanderin the field.”

In regard to Field Marshal William Slim’sepic battle against Lt. Gen. Renya Mutaguchi’sJapanese 15th Army during their Operation U-Go invasion into Assam, India, in March 1944,

Kirby wrote about the temporallycoincident Operation Thursdayin the Official History: “Theoperations of Special Force thusdid little to aid Britain’s Four-teenth Army in defeating the[Imperial Japanese] 15th Army’soffensive. They had indeed thereverse effect, for the need tomaintain five brigades of SpecialForce by air within Burma aggra-vated the shortage of aircraftwhich at times hampered Four-teenth Army’s conduct of the bat-tles. Moreover, the fresh division[Imperial Japanese 53rd Divi-sion] which the Japanese broughtinto Burma, solely to assist in thedefence of the Hukawng Valleyand deal with the Chindits’ inter-ruption of their communicationsto Mogaung and Myitkyina, wasnot required in full for that pur-


Top SecretImperial War Museum

National Archives

A group of the famed Chindits, commanded by eccentric Brigadier OrdeWingate (above), ford astream with their pack animals somewhere in

Burma. Wingate initiatedthe controversial Operation

Thursday as a deep penetration behind

Japanese lines to disruptenemy operations.

W-Aug14 Top Secret_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:02 PM Page 22

Military History Brought to Life Like Never Before…INTRODUCING

Warfare History Network.comNo matter what your interest in military history, fromWorld War II to the Civil War, from Napoleon to Hitler,to the very latest in wargaming, you’ll find it at Warfare History Network.com

Warfare History Network is the official web portal ofSovereign Media’s print magazines, WWII HISTORY,WWII QUARTERLY, MILITARY HERITAGE and CIVIL WARQUARTERLY. But WHN contains so much than any otherhistory website out there.

With your FREE MEMBERSHIP, you’ll receive ourFree Daily Newsletter with fresh in-depth perspectiveson a wide variety of battles, weapons, leaders, maps andmore, written by the top experts in the field. Choosefrom four specific “channels,” or websites, within thewebsite, which best mirror your interest -- or choosethem all if you wish:

• CIVIL WAR • WORLD WAR II• MILITARY HISTORY • WARGAMING

But there’s so much more. Download our Free Reportswhich deliver in depth coverage of fascinating warfarehistory topics. All this at NO COST TO YOU. There isabsolutely no risk.

Choose any — or all — of our FREE REPORTS below,by visiting the website and you’ll become a member toWHN, with all the benefits, including a constant offer-ing of new Free Reports, a daily newsletter written byindustry experts and chock full of military history arti-cles, maps, photos and discussion, and instant access tothousands of military history articles from the archivesof our magazines. All absolutely free!

Use the web address below to visit today!

www.WarfareHistoryNetwork.comwww.WarfareHistoryNetwork.com

Warfare Network ad-NEW_Layout 1 6/6/14 10:50 AM Page 1

pose and provided welcome reinforce-ments for the [Imperial Japanese] 15thArmy.” To replace the 15th Army reserve,the Japanese Burma Area Army sentMutaguchi only the 53rd Division’s 151stregiment.

Wingate’s expanded attack strategy forOperation Thursday was novel but realis-tic. Air power would revolutionize long-range penetration (LRP), which Wingateunveiled in mid-February 1943, as Opera-tion Longcloth, as fighter-bombers becameaerial artillery and the transports and glid-ers provided supplies, armaments, rein-forcements, and casualty evacuation withprecision, enabled by state-of-the-art radiocommunications conducted by Royal AirForce officers and enlisted men. Wingate’sChindits would not need sea or land linesof communication. Unlike OperationLongcloth, Wingate envisioned SpecialForce being able to stay and fight at localesof choice rather than dispersing or havingto fight their way back through an enclos-ing enemy.

The Chindit leader now coupled his tacticalconcept of movement with strategically placedproximate defended garrisons. Wingate wasmodernizing warfare by shaping his visions intorealities in the remote and desolate Burmese the-ater, where an absence of roads, tremendous dis-tances, and formidable terrain would make oper-ations unsustainable as the Imperial JapaneseArmy was soon to learn in its U-Go offensive.

The Chindits’ entry into Burma would bemade by planes and gliders furnished by Amer-ican Number 1 Air Commando led by ColonelsPhilip Cochran and John Alison. After theglider landing, roughly two columns of Chin-dits would occupy a field that would be con-verted into a landing strip for larger transportaircraft. Then the rest of the brigade would bebrought in by the transport aircraft. Wingateenvisioned that these defended areas or“strongholds” would be operational within 36hours and ready to disrupt Japanese installa-tions and communications in the vicinity.

This idea of a “stronghold” originated fromWingate’s canceled plan to establish one inMarch 1943, during Operation Longcloth, inthe forests of Bambwe Taung. The notion wasthat such a defended locale with airfields, 25-pounder field artillery, 40mm Bofors antiair-craft artillery, and an internally located watersupply would enable columns to retire into itfor safety and then set out on raids from itsperimeter. With supply and relief, these strong-holds could become virtual offensives on theirown. On February 20, 1944, Wingate was to

document his notion of the stronghold, whichwas taken from the book of Zechariah: “Turnye to the Stronghold, ye prisoners of hope.”Wingate added, “The motto of the Strongholdis ‘No Surrender.’”

As early as January 16, 1944, Wingate pro-vided evidence to Mountbatten that a Japan-ese move up to the Chindwin River was apreparatory stage for a forthcoming offensiveagainst Assam. He presciently stated that theJapanese would be compelled to use the “longbad vulnerable roads of Burma” for commu-nication and that this offensive would be“strong and damaging and that before it wasovercome, [British] 11th Army Group mighthave to face the temporary loss of allManipur.” On March 14-15, the Japaneseinvaded Assam with three divisions from thenorth of Homalin and from the center of theirChindwin front, Operation U-Go.

Postwar opinions vary as to Wingate’s tac-tics, and many officers who fought alongsideWingate admired him for his field accomplish-ments rather than indicting him solely for hiseccentric behavior. The Japanese also rememberthe effectiveness of Wingate’s planning and exe-cution. In sharp contrast to the Official His-tory, the consensus of these opinions will attestthat the Chindits of Special Force greatly con-tributed to the eventual defeat of the Japanese15th Army’s Assam offensive, which eventuallyled to their total abandonment of northernBurma and consequent losses of central andsouthern Burma to the British in late 1944 and

1945. Senior Japanese officers, amongthem Mutaguchi, the commander of theJapanese 15th Army and U-Go strategist,stated that Wingate’s Chindits duringOperation Thursday drew off vitallyneeded units from the fighting at Imphaland Kohima and tipped that balanceagainst them.Initially in northern Burma, Mutaguchicommanded the formidable 18th Divisionfrom his divisional headquarters inMaymyo as a part of the 15th Army andwas involved in the counterattack againstthe first Chindit assault, Operation Long-cloth, in 1943. The British senior com-manders in Delhi may have been derisiveand willing to ignore any important out-come of Wingate’s first Chindit expedition(Operation Longcloth), but Mutaguchilater conceded that it had changed hisentire strategic thinking. Mutaguchi had scrutinized Wingate’s tac-tics and his use of the Burmese terrain andconcluded, as Wingate demonstrated, thattroops would be mobile with pack trans-

port in northern and western Burma only duringthe dry season. Wingate had also shown that itwas possible for units to attack across the mainnorth-south grain of the rivers and mountains ofBurma. The Japanese general’s own revelation,along with intelligence of the British buildup atImphal, convinced Mutaguchi that he must even-tually attack Imphal and Kohima to preemptanother British offensive from India in 1944.

An advance into central Assam was beyondthe capabilities of the Japanese in 1943. TheJapanese, mainly owing to the influence of thefirst Chindit operation, had come to the con-clusion that they would be unable to defeat thisforeseen British offensive with a defensivemind-set and that an invasion of Assam to cap-ture the Allied bases there was their best strat-egy. In late summer 1943, Mutaguchi began theplanning for an offensive during the dry seasonof early 1944. However, prior to that invasionMutaguchi argued that the 15th Army line ofdefense should be moved westward to at leastthe Chindwin River or even possibly to the hillson the Assam-Burma border.

Upon being promoted to lead the 15th Armyin March 1943, Mutaguchi maintained hisheadquarters in Maymyo and had under hiscommand the 18th Division led by GeneralShinichi Tanaka, which faced the Chindits andStilwell in the north; the 56th Division, facingChiang Kai-shek’s Yoke Force in the east; andthe 33rd Division facing the British on theChindwin. The 15th Army was later reinforcedby the 31st Division. Elements of the 31st Divi-


British soldiers, one of them shirtless, man a field gun and keep watch for enemy troop movements as a Douglas C-47

transport aircraft drops supplies by parachute.

National Archives


sion began to arrive in Burma in June 1943,and this buildup was completed by September.It was this 31st Division that fought the Britishgarrison at Kohima in India during the U-Gooffensive in early March 1944.

Mutaguchi planned a three-division attackinto India for March 1944 with the 33rd Divi-sion under General Yanagida advancing towardImphal from the south, the 15th Division underGeneral Yamauchi (with units of the IndianNational Army recruited from Indian prison-ers of war) attacking Imphal in two prongsfrom the east, and most significantly, the 31stDivision under General Sato advancing toDimapur, the huge supply base 11 miles longand a mile wide, which provided for the wholeof the Slim’s Fourteenth Army.

Mutaguchi intended that as soon as Kohimaand Dimapur were captured his victoriousforces, accompanied by the Indian NationalArmy and its leader, Subhas Chandra Bose,would advance into Bengal, where the subju-gated Indian populace would mount an inter-nal insurrection against British rule and sup-port his triumphant “March on Delhi.”

Was Kirby correct in his Official History ordid Special Force provide significant aid toBritain’s Fourteenth Army in defeating theJapanese 15th Army’s offensive? Mutaguchi

had planned to move his tactical headquartersclose to the Imphal front across the ChindwinRiver, but because of Operation Thursday therewas a six-week delay. On April 9, 1944, a newheadquarters, 33rd Army, was created andmade responsible for north and central Burma,which included the area of Wingate’s secondexpedition.

On April 11, 1944, Mutaguchi was relievedof the responsibility of looking after northernBurma and was given the single task of theImphal/Kohima offensive. It was not until April20 that Mutaguchi’s headquarters reached thewest bank of the Chindwin. Some have arguedthat Mutaguchi’s tardy arrival in Assam was ofno consequence; however, a Japanese DefenseAgency postwar manual on Operation U-Gohighly rated the effectiveness of Wingate’s Chin-dits in causing this delay, which not onlyadversely affected the Japanese command struc-ture in Assam but had an appreciable effect ondecreasing the morale of the Japanese troopsfighting the British Fourteenth Army.

Mutaguchi almost accomplished the aims ofhis U-Go offensive into Assam. If success hadcome to Mutaguchi’s campaign of March-June1944, British and American forces operating inBurma would have had all of their contact sev-ered with the West. An incorrect logistic and

supply decision by this otherwise outstandingJapanese commander along with the selflessbravery of Indian and British troops thwartedhis U-Go plan. Mutaguchi’s idea of commenc-ing his offensive with only one month’s rationsand supplies, in anticipation of capturing thestores at Dimapur, became a significant factorin his ultimate defeat. The Japanese had noequivalent to the American and British air sup-ply capabilities to troops on the ground in for-tified positions or on the move in the junglesand hills of Burma.

The Japanese generals’ reaction to OperationThursday was discordant as their own U-Gooffensive was underway. Mutaguchi initiallybelieved that Wingate’s second operation wastoo far into the northern Burmese interior toaffect his own operations in the Imphal/Kohimaarea. However, his superior, General Kawabe,took the Chindit assault seriously and cobbledtogether a force of about 20,000 troops to con-front Wingate at Indaw in the spring of 1944.Initially, this force was able to prevent BrigadierBernard Fergusson’s assault on Indaw, but itwas then diverted to attack Lt. Gen. “MadMike” Calvert at the Chindit White Citystronghold near Mawlu.

With the failure of his forces on the Assamfront, Mutaguchi sacked his three divisional



generals in the course of Operation U-Goagainst Imphal and Kohima. After it failed, hewas next to go, and on August 30, 1944, hewas transferred to the general staff in Tokyo. Ina postwar letter to historian A.J. Barker,Mutaguchi wrote, “On 26th March I heard onDelhi radio that General Wingate had beenkilled in an aeroplane crash. I realized what aloss this was to the British Army and said aprayer for the soul of this man in whom I hadfound my match.”

As offered by historian Peter Mead, based onthe responses of the Japanese officers whofought in Burma to postwar inquiries, “The air-borne [Chindit] troops absorbed the greaterpart of the Japanese ground forces earmarkedas reserve [for the Imphal offensive]....The oper-ation of the Japanese 2nd TransportationHeadquarters was completely frustrated by theairborne landings and by 16 Brigade [Fergussonat Indaw]. Neither 31st nor 15th Division [inAssam] received the additional supplies to pro-vide for emergencies.”

The resupply of these two divisions ofMutaguchi’s U-Go offensive had been inter-dicted by Wingate’s Chindits. Japanese Mono-graph No. 134 corroborated this but also statedthat the Chindits contributed decisively to theinterdiction of supplies to the Japanese 31st,

15th, and 18th Divisions. Based on statementsfrom over 30 Japanese commanders after thewar, the monograph stated, “The raiding force[Chindits] greatly affected Army operations andeventually led to the total abandonment ofNorthern Burma.”

Just before his death in 1968, Mutaguchiwrote, “The advance into Burma of GeneralWingate’s forces at the time of the Imphal cam-paign brought about serious failures in thestrategy of the Japanese Army.... At first I wasunable to grasp the real nature of this enemy,and my immediate reaction was to assume thatthis was a unit sent forward as an irritant andmade the mistake of thinking it could easily beswept away. However this forward unit waspart of a large corps, going under the assumedname of the 3rd Indian Division [Special Force].There were those among the [Burma] AreaArmy Staff who considered that in these cir-cumstances we should call off the Imphal cam-paign, but I held that while the enemy wasengrossed in this airborne operation he wouldbe paying less attention to his rear and that thiswas a splendid chance to put our Imphal planinto operation….

“As we expected the plan was able to takethe enemy unawares. The 33rd Division madea lightning advance to the Tonzang region, and

the 31st and 15th Divisions which made up ourmain strength were able to cross the Chindwinwithout the enemy’s knowing.... However, afterthat, General Wingate’s airborne campaignspread more and more widely, and the [Burma]Area Army Commander [Kawabe] picked outthe 24th Independent Mixed Brigade and a partof the 2nd Division to confront Wingate’sforces. The counterattack by these units on25th and 26th March ended in failure. Thenthe Area Army Commander rushed the 53rdDivision, the Strategic Reserve, to the Mawluarea [“White City”]. Further, the fact that wehad no alternative but to use our feeble air forceagainst these airborne forces was a very greatobstacle to the execution of the Imphal cam-paign.... General Wingate’s airborne tactics puta great obstacle in the way of our Imphal planand were an important reason for its failure.”

Major General Matsui wrote, “If Wingatedecided on the timing of his operation, he was agenius of war.” A letter found on the body of adead Japanese officer, retrieved from theNational Defense Archives in Tokyo, said: “Howwas it that we Japanese were so triumphant inthe beginning and had to endure the hell of fail-ure in the end? What happened in Burma? Incoming to any conclusion we must not forgetMajor General Orde Wingate.... He planted



himself center stage and conducted all the frontswith his baton, which he called the Chindits. Hereduced the Japanese power to wage war on fourBurma fronts and so fatally affected the balance.In fulfilling this function alone, he showed him-self a great general.”

Wingate’s brigadier and lifelong friend DerekTulloch also cited Japanese Monograph No.134, which praised Wingate’s developments inthe art of warfare: “Although it was recognizedthat such an extensive drive by a tactical brigadeinto enemy territory was made possible only byair supply, Army Group commanders failed tocorrect their outdated conceptions of theBritish/Indian forces and the Chungking Army.Their failure to conceive a counterattack planbased upon the concept of close air/ground coop-eration must be considered a great mistake.”

Tulloch further stated, “Wingate’s object wasneither to kill nor contain Japanese soldiers, butto make the Japanese command conform to hiswill and so prepare the way for the victory of theAllied main forces. Purely by the action of posi-tioning his brigades for the tasks he intended tocarry out, he had already weakened the Japan-ese thrust at one of the three decisive pointswhere he could not effectively control the battle.The morale of both Mutaguchi and his staff wasthereby lowered to an appreciable degree.”

After the war, other high-ranking Japaneseofficers expressed their views on various aspectsof the Burma conflict. The second Wingateexpedition, Operation Thursday, took theJapanese by surprise. General Numata, Chiefof Staff Southern Army, which was composedmostly of troops from conquered SoutheastAsian countries, admitted that there were noJapanese plans to meet this airborne assaultwith the construction of strongholds.

It was not until early April that the Japanese

high command realized that a corps-sized,large-scale penetrating attack was underway.Until then, only local Japanese units were gath-ered to be hurled at the Chindits. Numatastated, “The reaction of the Japanese Army tothis operation was so great that the Japanese15th Army (the Army which included the threedivisions detailed for the Imphal offensive) eventhought of sparing from the force attackingImphal a substantial force to annihilate theenemy unit and thus secure the safety of its rear.This plan was not carried out. Instead railwayunits and line of communication guards werecollected and deployed against the Britishtroops; while on the other hand 24 Indepen-dent Mixed Brigade, which was guarding theMoulmein area southeast of Rangoon againsta possible sea landing, was ordered to proceednorth at all speed. All those units were orderedto advance against the Allied airborne troopsaround Mawlu.... We became aware of its seri-ous proportions only after the Japanese attackswere repulsed.”

General Naka, who at the time of OperationThursday was chief of staff of the Burma AreaArmy, in response to questions as to whetherthe airborne forces upset the Japanese opera-tions against Slim’s Fourteenth Army (Central


Continued on page 74

Brigadier Orde Wingate, wearing a pith helmet,confers with Allied staff officers prior to taking off

for the Chindit base at Sylhet, Assam, India.

National Archives


THE YEAR 1942 was one of crisis for theAllied cause in the Pacific. Until May, almosteverything had gone in favor of Imperial Japan.In that month the Japanese were stalemated atthe Battle of the Coral Sea. If the Japanese Navyhad succeeded in capturing Port Moresby at thesoutheastern tip of the island of New Guinea,Australia would have been in dire straits. In thisdesperate time, the threat was still serious asthe Imperial fleet could return at any time.

This was a threat the Australians felt morethan any. The nation was large, resource rich,and relatively wealthy while simultaneouslyunderpopulated, poorly armed, and isolated.Australia lacked the population required tosupport an army capable of resisting Japan.Much of its military was spread elsewhere witha portion lost in Singapore, and many of itstroops were fighting the Germans and Italiansin North Africa. Vast distances separated theisland nation from its most vital allies, theUnited Kingdom and the United States. For thecitizens of Australia it seemed as if a Japanesefleet would appear over the horizon any day.

Nevertheless, the country did what it could toprepare. Some 130,000 troops remained,though most were untrained. As far as possible,likely landing beaches were fortified with

barbed wire, trenches, and antiaircraft posi-tions. A nighttime blackout was ordered for alllights within six kilometers of the coast, thoughcuriously lighthouses were allowed exceptionfrom the order. Much as in Britain, Australiansprepared to move their children to the coun-tryside away from likely bombing sites. WithEngland stretched to the limit, Australia beganto turn to America for the support it needed, atthe time a controversial move to many Aus-tralians. It would take time for the Americansto move significant strength to bolster Aus-tralia’s defense, however.

In the meantime, Japan continued tothreaten. Imperial forces moved into the SouthPacific, slowly closing a noose around theisland nation. The Japanese knew that Aus-tralia would serve as a staging ground for theeventual Allied riposte and had to be neutral-ized. Australia was far too large a nation forJapan to physically invade and occupy; theImperial Army was already stretched thinly,from northern China to remote outposts dot-ting the Pacific. However, the Japanese couldseize a few more islands, such as Samoa, Fiji,and New Caledonia, among others. Using theseislands as bases they could interdict the lines ofcommunication between America and Aus-

tralia, preventing the buildup necessary for acounteroffensive.

The setback at Coral Sea and the colossaldefeat at Midway in June 1942 put a damperon that scheme, but Japan did not give up eas-ily. An effective submarine campaign might wellisolate Australia. Japanese naval doctrine calledfor using submarines as an adjunct to their sur-face battle line. Squadrons of subs would rangeahead of the main fleet, hitting enemy forcesand reducing their strength until the mainJapanese armada could secure a decisive vic-tory. Commerce raiding was a secondary mis-sion but ultimately necessary. Given the require-ments for surface ships elsewhere, submarineswere the most readily available.

Midget submarines had been used at PearlHarbor, but their mission was essentially a fail-ure. Of the five tiny submersibles sent to wreakhavoc along with the Japanese air attack, noneachieved success and one almost ruined the ele-ment of surprise for the attack when it wasspotted by the coastal minesweeper USS Con-dor and sunk by the destroyer USS Ward in theearly morning hours of December 7, 1941. Still,the idea of using them for long-distance raidsagainst enemy ports persisted, and the JapaneseCombined Fleet’s commander, Admiral IsorokuYamamoto, approved their deployment for twomore attacks. One strike would be made in theIndian Ocean against British ships, while thesecond would be directed south to Australia.

The Imperial Japanese Navy’s 8th SubmarineSquadron had responsibility for the midget sub-marines and the mother subs that carried them.Designated a Special Attack Group, the 8th wasdivided into two flotillas, East and West, withthe Eastern Flotilla sent toward Australia. Thisforce included six large submarines. Four ofthem, I-22, I-24, I-27, and I-28, were mothersubmarines that carried the midget subs intorange of their targets. The other two, I-21 andI-29, carried floatplanes to perform reconnais-sance. The squadrons each had a pair of sub-marine tenders, seaplane tenders, and armedmerchant cruisers to support the subs.

On April 16, 1942, the East Flotilla left theport of Hashirajima on Japan’s Inland Sea. Thegroup sailed to the naval base at Truk Atoll andprepared for the voyage to the target, Sydney,Australia. The Japanese plan was to launchtheir 46-ton midgets off the coast, close enoughfor them to sneak into the harbor and strikeAllied naval vessels or merchant ships mooredthere. The crews were confident they could getinto the harbor and carry out their attack,though they were less sure they could get backafterward.


ONE IN A THOUSAND

ChanceIN MAY 1942, A JAPANESE SUBMARINEFORCE SNUCK INTO SYDNEY HARBOR IN A DARING, SUICIDAL NIGHT ATTACK.

BY CHRISTOPHER MISKIMON

W-Aug14 Subs in Sydney_Layout 1 6/5/14 3:48 PM Page 28

Photographed after anAmerican air raid, Japan-ese midget submarines lieon the muddy bottom oftheir drydock in the har-bor of Kure, Japan. Sub-marines like these partici-pated in the daring raidagainst Sydney Harbor inMay 1942 and in theattack on Pearl Harborthat plunged the UnitedStates into World War II.

TopF

oto

/ The

Imag

e W

orks

29


The midget subs were attached to theirmother vessels and had a hatch allowing thetwo-man crew to enter directly from the hostsubmarine without surfacing. Each midget wasjust under 80 feet long and carried a pair of 18-inch torpedoes. With their electric motors theyhad a range of 150 nautical miles at five knots.The lead-acid batteries powering the motorcould not be recharged after disconnectingfrom the mother. In case the crew was unableto rendezvous with the mother vessel, eachmidget had a scuttling charge to prevent cap-ture. For this mission each sub had a junior offi-cer in command with a petty officer as a navi-gator, responsible for steering. The commandercould stand behind the navigator, manning aperiscope.

Around May 18, the submarines left Trukand set course almost due south for the east

coast of Australia. About a week later, I-29launched its floatplane, a Yokosuka E14Y,Allied code name Glen, on a reconnaissanceflight over Sydney. Arriving over the city justbefore dawn, the pilot and navigator surveyedthe harbor and saw a large number of Alliedwarships moored around its various quays anddocks. Their mission a success, they turnedback to the I-29. Upon landing, however theGlen was damaged beyond immediate repair,unusable for the rest of the mission. At 1:30 thenext morning, the Eastern Flotilla was ordered

to make its attack on Sydney. By May 29, five submarines had gathered

some 35 miles off Sydney. As they prepared fortheir task, Vice Admiral Teruhisa Komatsu,commander of Submarine Squadron 1, sent amessage from his flagship at Kwajelein: “In

seizing this once-in-a-thousand chance,approach the enemy with the utmost confi-dence and calm.”

In the Indian Ocean, the Western Flotilla wascarrying out its own attack against the Britishanchorage of Diego Suarez. This port in Mada-gascar had only been in British hands a fewweeks after a stiff battle to capture it fromVichy France. This attack succeeded in damag-ing the battleship Ramillies, taking her out ofservice for a year. A tanker, the British Loyalty,was sunk. Unknown to the Japanese sailors off

the Australian coast, the mission at Madagas-car had met with some bad luck as well. Onlyone of the two midget subs sent against DiegoSuarez had made it into the harbor.

On May 30, the Eastern Flotilla’s remainingfloatplane was launched on a second recon-naissance of Sydney Harbor. The pilot, FlyingWarrant Officer Susumu Ito, took off from I-22 and successfully overflew the harbor area,confirming the presence of enemy warships,including one battleship (the “battleship” wasactually the American heavy cruiser Chicago).The next day the mother submarines movedcloser to the harbor mouth, taking position sixto eight miles from it. Within their submergedhulls, the midget crews began preparations.

Aboard I-22, Lieutenant Matsuo Keiu andhis navigator, Petty Officer First Class TsuzukuMasao, not only prepared their submarine andequipment but their souls as well. Alongside thecrew of the mother sub, they worshipped at asmall Shinto shrine complete with candles. In asmall ceremony, they honored the nine sailorswho had died making the midget submarineattack on Pearl Harbor six months earlier.These men were known popularly as the “NineWar Gods of Pearl Harbor.” A photograph ofthem was shown around. Next a citation fromAdmiral Yamamoto was read, and the groupsat down to a meal together.

During the repast Matsuo asked I-22 assis-tant torpedo officer, 2nd Lt. Muneaki Fujisawa,to cut his hair. The young officer agreed andshaved Matsuo’s head closely. Fujikawarecalled that his young comrade seemedresigned to death on his mission. During thehaircut Matsuo said aloud, “I wonder what mymother is thinking at this moment?” Tsuzukuwrote a letter to his brother telling his sibling hehad been killed near Australia on May 31. Bothseemed to accept their task and the probabledoom that came with it. A purification ritualfollowed, and then a change into fresh, per-fumed uniforms. Matsuo also donned a thou-sand-stitch belt, a sash designed to protect thewearer from harm. Finally, a tea ceremony washeld, its purpose to instill a feeling of tranquil-ity before the coming action.

Similar events were happening on the othertwo mother subs. On I-27 Lieutenant ChumaKenshi and navigator Petty Officer OmoriTakeshi and on I-24 Lieutenant Ban Katsuhisaand Petty Officer Ashibe Mamoru preparedtheir craft. At about 5 PM, all three crewsboarded their midget subs. Charts and lists ofcall signs were brought aboard along with foodand drink. Matsuo also brought a sword hisfather had given him before he left. It waswrapped in a red bag made from the sash of his


National Archives

Australian War Memorial

ABOVE: One of the midget submarines that attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, ran aground andwas later dragged onto a beach on Oahu. The debate concerning the success or failure of the submarineattacks that Sunday morning remains a source of some controversy. The first Japanese prisoner of wartaken by Americans during World War II was the commander of one of these small craft. TOP: Midget sub-marine commander Lieutenant Matsuo Keiu (right) asked 2nd Lt. Muneaki Fujisawa, an assistant torpedoofficer aboard the fleet submarine I-22, to shave his head prior to the departure of the midget submarinesfor their attack on Sydney Harbor in May1942.


mother’s wedding dress. Once ready, the tele-phone line connecting the two vessels was sev-ered and the clamps connecting mother tomidget released. Now the midgets sat loose intheir carry racks. A small amount of compressedair was injected into the ballast tanks, and thetiny submarines floated slowly and gently fromtheir racks, rising steadily upward. Once clear,they could start the electric engines and beginthe long, slow journey to Sydney harbor.

At 5:25 PM Lieutenant Matsuo’s submarinegot underway. Three minutes later Chumabegan moving, and Lt. Ban started at 5:40. Theplan was for Chuma to enter the harbor first at6:33, followed by Matsuo and Ban at intervalsof 20 minutes. All three submarines wereslowed by a strong southerly current and someunexpectedly heavy seas. By the time Chumareached the harbor mouth, he was an hourbehind schedule. Ban was two hours behind.

The Japanese aerial reconnaissance was

noticed by the Australians, but curiously littlewas done about it. It was a dark, overcast nightin Sydney, and heavy clouds hid the full moonoverhead. The skies would not clear until aftermidnight. Despite the blackout, lights were onhere and there where work crews were busymaking repairs or improvements. Normal traf-fic continued. Ships were coming and goingfrom the harbor, and the various ferry boatswere darting about the docks delivering pas-sengers. The Royal Navy officer in command,Rear Admiral Gerald Muirhead-Gould, wasapparently aware the Japanese seemed to be upto something but chose not to call an alert.

At the harbor mouth, electronic indicatorequipment was in place that could detectincoming or outgoing vessels; a trained opera-tor could even tell whether the signature was ofa submerged or surface vessel. If anything weredetected, the sailor on duty could telephone theoperations room on nearby Garden Island sothe alarm could be sounded. A steel mesh tor-pedo net was also in place and watched by sen-tries. Small patrol boats were assigned to watchfor intruders. Many of them were convertedfrom civilian motor launches and equippedwith machine guns and depth charge throwers.Shore batteries and antiaircraft guns wereemplaced. In the harbor were over a half dozenCommonwealth warships, the American heavycruiser Chicago, and some barges converted tofloating barracks, along with the usual assort-ment of civilian ships.

Outside the harbor, Chuma lurked, search-ing for a way in. A ferry was steaming into theharbor, heading for the torpedo net, and theJapanese officer decided to follow in its wake.Slowly, at no more than six knots, the midgetsubmarine trailed the ferry. Passing through thedetection net, it left a discernable signature, butat the time it was not recognized as a sub-mersible. As the ferry approached the boomand net, the midget fell behind, and Chumadecided to make for a second gap in the net.Veering off course, the tiny sub ran into the netand became stuck at 8:05. For 10 minutes the

crew struggled to free the vessel to no avail.Nearby a night watchman employed by the

Maritime Services Board went about his duties,looking after some barges and pile drivers nearthe torpedo net’s boom. James Cargill, an expe-rienced Scottish merchant mariner, had stoppedto speak to another employee when he sawsomething in the water at 8:15. At first hethought it was a small launch running withoutits lights on. He knew it should not be there, sohe set out in a rowboat to investigate. Arrivingalongside, he saw what looked like a pair ofhuge oxy-acetylene bottles with a steel frameover them, probably the midget’s two torpe-does with their protective covers. He recalled,“I was convinced the mysterious object waseither a mine or a submarine.”

There were two patrol boats on duty near thenets, and Cargill immediately rowed away tofind one. At 8:45 he contacted the HMASYarroma, commanded by 21-year-old Sub-Lieutenant H.C. Eyers, a shipping clerk beforethe war. The young naval officer did not believewhat Cargill saw was an enemy submarine butturned his boat’s searchlight on the area. Theyspotted the midget about 250 meters away, butEyers announced it looked like nothing morethan some wreckage.

Cargill argued, “It’s not. It’s moving back-wards and forwards. You’d better hurry up orwe’ll have no bloody navy left.”

The Scotsman even offered his rowboat to

31AUGUST 2014 WWII HISTORY



ABOVE: The depot ship HMAS Kuttabul was serving as a floating barracks in Sydney Harbor on the night ofthe attack by Japanese midget submarines. A torpedo passed beneath the vessel and detonated nearby.Twenty-one men were killed in the explosion. LEFT: A second Japanese torpedo from the same midget sub-marine that damaged HMAS Kuttabul missed the cruiser USS Chicago by a scant four meters and slitheredto the eastern side of Garden Island, where it ran aground.


Eyers for a closer look. The Navy man not onlyrefused the offer but would not move his patrolboat closer for fear it might be a magnetic mine.

In addition to his unwillingness to take actionor investigate, Eyers did not even report whathe had seen until over an hour later. All he sentwas a description of a “suspicious object innet.” Headquarters took the matter more seri-ously and ordered him to investigate. Eyers stilldid not move his boat closer but did send oneof his sailors with Cargill in his rowboat to havea closer look. The pair rowed alongside themidget sub, and Cargill used his flashlight tolook it over. They could see the conning towerand periscope and the outline of the hull, partof which was about six feet out of the water.

Cargill said, “We could see … it was a sub-marine which had almost surfaced…. Therewas a light in the periscope…. By the time wegot there the submarine had stopped strugglingto get out of the net.”

While they were inspecting the sub Eyers,back on his patrol boat, made another reportstating the object was “metal with a serratededge on top, moving with the swell.”

Cargill and the sailor quickly rowed back tothe Yarroma and told Eyers what they had seen.Another patrol boat, the 18-ton HMAS Lolitaarrived, and Eyers ordered its commander,Warrant Officer Herbert Anderson, to move infor a closer inspection. Anderson was an expe-rienced sailor but had not been in the Navy forlong. Nevertheless, he took his boat in, stop-ping a mere six meters from the midget. Look-ing it over with his spotlight, it was obvious tohim the object was a submarine. The front endstuck out of the water with the stern still underthe surface. The periscope was plainly visible,and it was rotating as though the submarine’soccupant were looking around. Lolita’s spot-light beam reflected in the periscope’s lens.

Unlike Eyers, Anderson took immediateaction. While he could have backed away andmachine-gunned the sub, instead he turnedstern-first to it and dropped three depth chargesset to explode at 50 feet. None of themexploded; the water was too shallow. As Ander-son pondered his next move, the Japanese crew-men must have decided the game was up. Theydetonated their scuttling charge, the explosionripping a huge hole in the forward section andsending debris flying through the air. Bothcrewmen were killed instantly.

The Lolita was lifted by the bright orangeblast, and chunks of the midget’s quarter-inchsteel hull tore through the air over it. Cargillfelt the Japanese had tried to take the Aus-tralian patrol boat with them. The sound of thedetonation carried across the harbor; citizens

came out of their homes to see what had hap-pened.

As the drama of Chuma’s midget was unfold-ing, Lieutenant Ban’s submarine passed thedetection threshold at 9:48. No one noticed.Ban followed a ferry through the nets. Slowly,his midget made its way into the harbor. Bynow Admiral Muirhead-Gould was awaresomething was going on and ordered a generalalarm, instructing all ships to enact precautionsagainst submarine attack. The port was alsoclosed to outbound ships. The alarm orderwent out twice, at 10:27 and again at 10:36,about the time Chuma scuttled his sub. Theadmiral had been at dinner with Captain H.D.Bode of the Chicago and a few of his officers.

As Ban’s midget moved deeper into the har-bor, it began to have problems staying sub-merged and kept popping up to the surface.Aboard the Chicago, Electrician’s Mate Art“Hank” King was the lookout on the 36-inchsearchlight platform. His shift had been bor-ing, and Hank had kept himself entertainedthinking about an upcoming three-day shoreleave. After a while, the duty electrician,“Moose” Clendenen, joined Hank on the plat-form. King remembered being amused byMoose, who had apparently never been thathigh on Chicago’s superstructure before. Theman was taken by the spectacular view andkept talking about everything he saw.

Suddenly, Moose called out that he saw asubmarine! Hank thought Moose had only seen

a buoy a few hundred yards off Chicago’s sternand told him so. Moose replied that he saw thebuoy and the submarine was farther to star-board and more distant than the buoy. Hanklooked where Moose was directing him and,“Sure enough, I saw something resembling asmall conning tower or large periscope comingup the channel at a slow rate of speed and leav-ing a tiny wake. Actually, its wake is what gaveit away. The above water structure appeared tobe black and barely discernible.”

Hank immediately reported the sighting tothe officer of the deck and turned on the spot-light. The deck officer authorized Hank to openthe light’s shutters, and in seconds the midgetwas illuminated. Momentarily, it disappearedbelow the surface and then reappeared closer tothe ship, running parallel to it. One ofChicago’s 5-inch guns was manned, and thecrew opened fire. The sub was too close, andthe gun could not depress low enough to scorea hit. One of the ship’s quad 1.1-inch antiair-craft guns tried hitting the midget, but theseshots went over it as well.

For a short time the submarine disappeared,only to break the surface again slightly aheadof the cruiser’s bow. Hank turned the spotlighton it, and the gun crews poured fire into thesubmarine. The red tracers from the quadskipped across the water as the large 5-inchshells burst in geysers. From what the crewscould tell, no hits were scored, and the midgetagain slipped under the water. Searchlightsplayed across the bay trying to locate the sub.Red flares lit the smoky air.

As the Allied sailors searched, the midgetchanged course toward the Harbour Bridge.Ban’s sub was about 200 meters north of Gar-den Island when a small motor launch, theNestor, spotted it directly ahead and had toswerve to avoid colliding with it. Afterward,sailors aboard two corvettes docked nearby,HMAS Geelong and Whylla, spotted the sub200 meters away. Geelong’s captain ordered hiscrew to open fire with a 20mm cannon, butthey had to wait until a passing ferry clearedthe zone of fire. Once the ferry was out of theway the 20mm started banging away, sendingover 100 rounds at the midget. It was notenough, and Ban was able to get his sub sub-merged again. He set course for a position tofire his torpedoes at Chicago.

As Ban was setting his attack, Matsuo, alsorunning far behind schedule, had finallyreached the harbor. At about 10:52 an unarmedpatrol boat, the Lauriana, spotted the sub’swake as it popped to the surface. Turning ontheir spotlight, the crew sighted its conningtower only 25 meters away. Unable to attack,



Two of the Japanese submarines that attackedSydney Harbor were recovered and their crewsburied with military honors. A complete submarinewas put together using parts of the two recov-ered craft put on display at Bennelong Point, nowthe site of the famed Sydney Opera House.


Lauriana lost sight of the midget. Anotherpatrol boat, HMAS Yandra, fortunately armed,moved over and spotted Matsuo’s craft. Itrammed the sub but apparently struck only aglancing blow. The crew did get a good look atthe sub but then lost it for a few minutes.

At 11:03, Yandra’s crew once again pickedup the sub, this time some 600 meters away.The ship raced over, and six depth charges wereheaved into the water. Each exploded at thepreset depth of 30 meters, sending great plumesof foamy water into the air and shattering win-dows ashore. The midget was not spotted afterthat so Yandra’s crew thought their attack hadsunk it.

Despite the fighting going on across the har-bor, the ferry boats were still running aroundthe bay. Admiral Muirhead-Gould had specifi-cally told them to keep active, reasoning thatmore ships moving through the bay would helpkeep the attackers suppressed until daylight,shifting the advantage to the defenders. At11:14 a further order was issued for all ships toturn off their lights. The lights on the docksstayed on until ordered shut off some 71 min-utes later, at 12:25 AM.

Four minutes after the dockyard lights wentout, Ban was ready to attack Chicago. Hismidget was at a right angle to the cruiser, leav-ing its long flank wide open for a shot. The dis-tance was only about 800 meters, and themoonlight kept the warship visible even afterthe lights were turned off. The ship looked likeit was starting to move; smoke poured from itstwo stacks. Ban aimed slightly ahead ofChicago to compensate and fired.

The first torpedo lurched from its housing,dipped slightly to a depth of six meters until itspropulsion system spun up, then it stabilized at2.4 meters at a speed of 45 knots. It should takeabout 40 seconds for the torpedo to impact itstarget. After the underwater missile left, thesubmarine became much lighter at the bow andsurged to the surface, causing Ban to lose trackof his weapon. It took several minutes to getthe midget underwater again.

Meanwhile, Ban’s aim had apparently beenfooled by Chicago’s supposed movement. Thetorpedo soared ahead of the cruiser’s bow andcontinued toward Garden Island. Along theway it sailed under the K9, a Dutch submarine,before going on to pass beneath a depot ship,the Kuttabul. A former ferry, Kuttabul wasdocked alongside Garden Island and served asa barracks for a number of Australian sailors.

After passing under the floating barracks, thetorpedo struck the retaining wall stretchingalong the shoreline of Garden Island. Theexplosion thrust Kuttabul out of the water in a

torrent of spray, killing 21 sailors sleepingbelow decks. The blast also did severe damageto K9. Chunks of timber from the depot shipflew in all directions; half the ship’s wheel wasconsumed in the explosion. The concussionknocked out power and telephone serviceacross the entire island. Kuttabul quickly beganto settle by the stern.

Aboard the midget, Ban and Ashibe broughttheir craft under control again and launchedtheir remaining torpedo. The deadly projectileraced through the dark water, missing Chicagoby only four meters before continuing acrossthe bay to the eastern side of Garden Island.There, it ran aground on some rocks andstopped without detonating.

As Chicago steamed out of the harbor, look-outs spotted a periscope alongside the ship at2:56. The crew signaled the harbor defenses,and at 3:10 a pair of patrol boats, HMASSteady Hour and Sea Mist were ordered to thearea. The periscope had been spotted outsidethe torpedo net. The commanders of the twoconverted pleasure craft, Lieutenant AtholTownley and Lieutenant Reginald Andrew,respectively, cast off and got moving.

Townley was in overall command of the twoboats as Andrew had just taken command ofSea Mist 11 hours earlier. Andrew was under-standably unsure and only had three of his eightcrewmen aboard; the rest were ashore thatnight. Nevertheless, he set out right away.

Townley told him to set his depth charges for15 meters, likely to ensure they would explodeif dropped in shallow water. This would giveprecious little time for the boat to get clear,however.

Nothing happened until 3:50, when Kanim-bla, a British armed merchant cruiser, spottedwhat it thought was a submarine several hun-dred meters to the east of its stationary posi-tion northwest of Garden Island. This was farinside the torpedo net. About an hour later, theminesweeper Doomba reported a submarinesighting farther east, indicating Matsuo hadturned around and was heading back to themouth of the harbor.

The Japanese sailors’ luck ran out at 5 AM,when Steady Hour and Sea Mist, joined byYarroma, were patrolling near Taylor’s Bay onthe northeast side of the harbor just inside thetorpedo net. Sea Mist spotted a dark shape inthe water, and Lieutenant Andrew moved in fora closer look. Andrew spotted the midget’s con-ning tower jutting above the surface.

It was Andrew’s first action and he was takenaback, describing it as a “shattering experi-ence.” Years later, he said, “It caught me verymuch off guard and I was far from ready todeal with the situation.”

Despite his admission of distress at his firsttaste of combat, Andrew acted decisively. Thesubmarine started submerging again. It seemed



A crowd of onlookers gathers to witness the lifting of one of the Japanese midget submarines from itswatery grave in Sydney Harbor. The bodies of two Japanese crewmen were found in this craft and anothersub that was recovered.



DURING THE Battle of the Bulge, the largestbattle America has ever fought, Hitler chose theSixth Panzer Army for the German juggernaut’smost important role. The decisive spearhead wasgiven to a combat group commanded by a younglieutenant colonel namedJochen Peiper. The plan-ning for the Ardennesoffensive of 1944 wasconducted with suchsecrecy that Peiper did notreceive his formal missionbriefing until two daysbefore the assault.

The offensive wasHitler’s last desperategamble in the West. Hisplan was to overrunlightly defended portionsof the Allied line in theArdennes Forest anddrive across the RiverMeuse all the way to theBelgian port of Antwerp. The capture of themajor port would effectively split the Alliedarmies in the West in two while disrupting sup-ply and troop movements. The Western Alliesmight be compelled to sue for peace.

Although Peiper had over 100 tanks underhis command, two pieces of disturbing newswere brought to his attention. First, the routeHitler selected for him was, Peiper said, “notfor tanks, but for bicycles.” Second, he would

have to rely on capturing American gasolinealong the way to help meet the demands of histhirsty Panzer IV, Panther, and Tiger tanks.Peiper’s corps commander SS Lieutenant Gen-eral Hermann Priess reassured him, “If you getto the Meuse with one damned tank, Jochen,you’ll have done your job!”

When the offensive began on Saturday,December 16, 1944, Peiper’s tanks weredelayed by the onrush of traffic and a minefieldthe Germans had laid down in retreat monthsearlier. It was not until Sunday that Peiper’s taskforce reached the town of Honsfeld, Belgium.There it surprised an array of American forces

from the 394th Infantry Regiment and 32ndCalvary Squadron to the 801st and 612th TankDestroyer Battalions. Four German tanks wereknocked out, but Peiper captured 15 U.S. tankdestroyers and 50 reconnaissance vehicles.

The Americans whowere not killed or cap-tured were forced into adesperate retreat. Hear-ing about an Americanfuel dump in Büllingen,Peiper proceeded there.The town was quicklyoverrun, and severalAmericans from the 2ndInfantry Division’s Quar-termaster Company anda recon platoon of the644th Tank DestroyerBattalion were captured.Peiper’s task force alsoseized about 50,000 gal-lons of gasoline and

forced the American prisoners to refuel the Ger-man tanks at gunpoint.

When Peiper’s task force arrived south ofMalmedy at the crossroads hamlet of Baugnez,it encountered American trucks from Battery Bof the 285th Field Artillery Observation Bat-talion. When the German column opened fire,the Americans abandoned their vehicles inpanic. As the men began to surrender, Peiperpassed by in his command vehicle. Moving

westward, he neared the town of Ligneuville,where General Edward Timberlake and hisstaff were about ready to enjoy a hot lunch atthe Hôtel du Moulin. It was the headquartersfor the U.S. 49th Antiaircraft Artillery Brigade,which protected Liege from V1 buzz bombattacks. General Timberlake and his men wereso surprised by the speed of Peiper’s advancethat they narrowly escaped capture.

Meanwhile, at Baugnez American prisonerswere being assembled in a field near the CaféBodarwé. Lieuteant Raphael Schumackerremembered escaping from the Germans withtwo other Americans. He heard either two pis-tol or rifle shots followed by machine-gun fire.The two men attempting to escape with himwere killed along with many other unarmedprisoners. The SS troopers, according to sworn


National Archives

National Archives

SS fanatic Jochen Peiper led Hitler’s desperatespearhead during the Battle of the Bulge.

InPeiper’s Path

BY JOSH QUACKENBUSH

W-Aug14 Peiper_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:48 PM Page 34

statements from 21 American survivors, thenstepped through the bodies lying in the snow,stopping to shoot those who showed any signsof life. At least 86 Americans were killed and 25wounded in what became known as the Malm-edy Massacre.

After the war, Peiper said, “I recognize thatafter the battle of Normandy my unit was com-posed mainly of young, fanatical soldiers. Agood deal of them had lost their parents, theirsisters and brothers during the bombing. Theyhad seen for themselves in Köln thousands of


National Archives

ABOVE: Smoke from his cigar curls upward as an SS officer and his detachment pause at a road sign directingtraffic toward the village of Malmedy, Belgium, during the opening hours of the German Ardennes offensivethat came to be known as the Battle of the Bulge. In a field near Malmedy, troops under the command of SS Colonel Jochen Peiper committed one of the most infamous battlefield atrocities of World War II. LEFT: SS Colonel Jochen Peiper was a ruthlessly efficient officer who drove his armored spearhead toward theRiver Meuse as rapidly as possible. OPPOSITE TOP: During the early phase of the Battle of the Bulge, advanc-ing German SS troops overwhelmed forward American positions in the Ardennes Forest. In this photo, anAmerican prisoner gestures toward a group of SS officers to ask if he and his fellow captives are marching inthe right direction.


mangled corpses after a terror raid had passed.Their hatred for the enemy was such, I swear it,I could not always keep it under control.”

By Sunday evening, Peiper was near Stavelot.He was confident of reaching the River Meusethe following day. General Courtney Hodges,commander of the U.S. First Army, had goodreason to be concerned. Peiper’s advancing taskforce was about 18 kilometers southwest of theHotel Britannique in Spa, which served as hisheadquarters. Between Spa and Stavelot laytwo major Allied supply depots containing oneof the greatest concentrations of gasoline on theContinent. Depots No. 2 and No. 3 containedmore than three million gallons of motor fuel,enough to power Peiper’s panzers all the way toAntwerp.

A task force led by Major Paul Solis was sentto Stavelot to assist Captain Lloyd Sheetz of the291st Combat Engineer Battalion in establish-ing roadblocks near the Ambléve River. By 3:45AM on Monday, December 18, elements of the526th Armored Infantry and 825th TankDestroyer Battalions had passed near the fueldepots and arrived in Stavelot.

Captain Charles Mitchell, commander of the526th Armored Infantry Battalion, remembers,“Major Solis, Captain Sheetz, LieutenantDoherty, and I proceeded by jeep to CaptainSheetz’s command post near the bridge crossingthe Ambléve River. We discussed the situation,and Major Solis ordered my company to defendthe bridge.... I was not informed, nor was Iaware that the bridge was supposed to have

been mined for detonation.” Company C of the202nd Engineers had quit guarding it beforemidnight.

At 4:30 AM on Monday, Mitchell ordered his2nd and 3rd Platoons to proceed in their half-tracks across the Ambléve River bridge. The 2ndPlatoon, under Lieutenant Harry Willyard, madeits way up a hill on a road called the VieuxChateau and established a roadblock and listen-ing post. The men radioed Captain Mitchell withnews of troop movement and the noise ofarmored vehicles. He then ordered them toreturn toward the bridge. On the way the menencountered some of Peiper’s panzergrenadiers.

John Sankey, an enlisted man with the 2ndPlatoon, recalled, “There was Germans stand-ing at the buildings firing machine guns at eachhalf-track as they went by.” Two half-tracksfrom the 2nd Platoon were lost, but Willyardmanaged to lead the rest back across the bridge.

Lieutenant Doherty, commanding the 1st Pla-toon of A Company’s 825th Tank DestroyerBattalion, sent two gun squads commanded bySergeants Jack Armstrong and Jonas Whaleywith their half-tracks across the bridge. JamesHammons, who served under Whaley wrote,“Sergeant Armstrong’s unit was first up the hilland we followed.... In just a few minutes as wereached the top, a flare went up from a trip wireand the Germans opened up with fire power.Our own troops back across the river began toshoot and we were caught in the crossfire. Wetried to retreat but the Germans had pulled atank or an ‘88 in a curve and began to shoot,

hitting Sergeant Armstrong’s unit, setting it onfire. We were behind them and trapped so wehad to leave our unit for cover. I was handed a30 caliber M.G. from the pedestal mount andfour of us took shelter inside a tin shed.Momentarily, the German infantry came indroves and we ran into a house and upstairs bya window. The only weapon we had was themachine gun and a carbine with the barrel filledwith mud. Naturally, we had to hold our fire aswe were outnumbered by the Germans. Wewatched as they used a burp gun to killSergeant Armstrong and part of his crew, try-ing to get out of the burning unit.”

Anthony Calvanese was shot in the left thighwhile jumping from the half-track. Fellowsquad member Bernard Gallagher was shot andfell on top of him. “He was huge,” rememberedCalvanese. “I had to struggle to get out.” Cal-vanese dashed into the nearest building andpropped his leg up on a chair to dress hiswound. Outside he saw flames coming from hissquad’s half-track.

Calvanese would never forget what he sawnext. “There was a German officer, he had along trench coat on ... he’s got a gun. He’spointing it directly at me.” The German firedhis Luger, hitting Calvanese in the left ankle.

In desperation, Calvanese looked for anescape. “I tried to go out the side window, Icouldn’t; there was a machine gun nest there. Ididn’t have a hand grenade or nothing. Therewas nothing I could do. So I jumped out theback window into a courtyard. I tried to getinto the building down below. There were theseelderly people, they wouldn’t let me in. Theywere telling me to get away from there. I couldunderstand that.”

Calvanese was unable to put any weight onhis left leg now and began to crawl for his life.“And along came this fellow, Marcel Ozer. Hetold me to follow him, which I did. I crawledin back of him all the way to the dairy, wherethey were using it as a shelter for the civilians.”The Belgians tended to his wounds, hiding himfrom the Germans.

Enlisted men William Kenny, Jim Landgren,and Steve Howell from A Company, 526thArmored Infantry Battalion had crossed theAmbléve River to set up a machine-gunemplacement. “We heard a lot of rifle fire andmachine-gun fire,” remembers Kenny. “So werealized real quick that we were in a bad spot.We were between our fellows and the Germansup behind us on the hill.” The trio made theirway to the bank of the Ambléve River whereLandgren decided to go one direction, Kennyand Howell the other.

To escape the German threat, they were


National Archives

The shattered Belgian town of Stavelot is shown during the Battle of the Bulge. In the center at left is thebridge over the Ambléve River.


going to have to cross the river. Howell did nottake to this idea so well. Kenny remembered, “Isaid, ‘What’s the matter,’ and he said, ‘I can’tswim.’ Holy gee-wiz, so can you imagine underfire like this giving instructions on how toswim.” The river was frozen about a half-inchthick. “We broke through into the water andswam as far as we could, holding our breathunder the ice until our air exhausted. We hadto come up and break the ice again to get up tothe surface, to get air again.”

Kenny and Howell reunited with their battal-ion. Jim Landgren, who had taken the alternateroute, failed to return to friendly lines and washidden by a Belgian family and later captured.

In downtown Stavelot things were heatingup for the rest of its defenders. “The Germanshave a way of scaring you to death before theykill you,” remembered Captain Mitchell. In thewake of a terrifying rocket and mortar assault,Peiper’s infantry force began to charge towardthe Ambléve River bridge. “I told the machinegun squads to wait till they got close over on[our] side of the bridge and then open up onthem. Then here comes the troops across thebridge. So we could handle that, with themachine guns and my men. We stopped that,right then, and they retreated back across thebridge.”

At about 8 AM, Peiper’s tanks began theirassault. “I listened and I heard a big rumble andI heard them tanks coming down. I knew wecould not handle the tanks!” said Mitchell.

Two 76mm antitank guns under LieutenantDoherty were moved into position to fire onthe German tanks. Sergeant Martin Hauser,commanding one of the gun squads, remem-bered, “When them tanks started coming downoff the hill they scared the hell out of everybody.Seeing them great big monsters, we did the bestwe could to put them out of business.”

From across the river, Hauser’s squad aimedits gun at the tracks of the enemy tanks, dis-abling two of them. “And the guys got out ofthe tanks. We could see them. They jumped upon the roofs of the buildings over there. So wejust started peppering the building, started cut-ting the building down,” he recalled.

Lou Celentano, who commanded the othergun squad, remembered, “We decided to cutdown more of the buildings because theyseemed to be hiding behind them. We reallytore those buildings down. The .50-caliber[mounted on the half-track] did a heck of a joband we were shooting some 3-inch rounds intoit and finally cleared it enough so that westarted seeing the turrets. Eventually we got sothat we had demolished the homes completelyand we were able to see the tanks themselves,

the entire tanks. So we concentrated on knock-ing out either the turret or the tracks. Thetracks were the best first shot and fortunatelywe had two great gunners. My gunner was Cor-poral Roy Ables and Hauser’s was CorporalPaul Lenzo. We managed to stop the first andthe last tanks almost immediately.... The sec-ond tank was the one that started turning itsturret toward us. And I don’t know who hit theturret but he was within a few feet of being ableto hit one of us when the turret was stoppedand he fired, he actually fired. One shot went

completely over our heads.... If he had beenable to lower his gun he would have gotten me.I’m almost sure of that. When I say me I’m talk-ing about my crew. But he wasn’t able to get offanother shot and that’s when the turret openedup and a man started to climb out.

Celentano continued, “There was smokecoming out of it ... out of the hatch.... And bynow that’s when [Ben] Bodziner was on the[half-track’s .50-caliber] gun, and unfortunatelyhe froze. It was extremely cold and he hadtaken off his gloves. His fingers were on thetrigger, but he couldn’t move them. And I wentup and hit him on the hands to try and wakehim up. And one shot went flying. I say one

shot because I don’t remember whether therewas anything following up on it. And it hit theman coming out of the tank. It hit him squarein the center of his forehead.”

With a pair of binoculars, Celentano saw theGerman fall from the tank. The antitank guncrews continued to load and fire the 76mmshells. Celentano remembered, “We were firingrapid fire and needed a constant supply ofshells. The ammo truck was quite a distancefrom us and the shells we used had to be car-ried for quite some distance and it was here that

a comic relief was added to the horrible sce-nario of the moment. Lives were being lost andbuildings were falling to the ground. While Iwas giving firing directions to my crew andworrying about the tanks coming down the hillto battle us, yelling above the roar of our fire,out of the corner of my eye I saw a sight thatcould have been shot in a keystone [KeystoneCops] comedy film. Our ammo was beingdelivered to us by Jol Torre at 4 feet, 9 inchestall, and his closest friend from their first day inthe 825th TD, Alex Aleskavitch. Picture abouta 6 foot box weighing at least 80 pounds beingcarried by a 6-plus footer trying to come downto match a less than 5 footer’s level. This was


National Archives

A German PzKpfw. V Panther medium tank rolls forward across a snow-covered road during the Battle of theBulge in December 1944. The Panther mounted a high-velocity 75mm cannon and was considered one of thefinest tanks of World War II.


Hollywood comedy, but I didn’t stop tolaugh.... I have no idea how many [shells werefired] but I know there was an awful lot ofbrass laying on that ground afterwards.”

The shelling took its toll on the German col-umn as witnessed by Karl Wortmann, whocommanded a flakpanzer self-propelled anti-aircraft vehicle in 10th Company’s Panzer Reg-iment 1. “It had cost us several panzers andwounded, but the bridge over the Ambléve wasopen,” he remembered. A Panther tank com-

manded by Eugene Zimmermann of the 1st SSPanzer Company had been selected by Peiper tolead the attack through Stavelot. In his briefinghe was told an American antitank gun wouldcontest his advance.

“Noticing a tank approaching the bridge, Ialerted Sergeant Smith of the antitank squad,”recalled Mitchell. “We watched as it slowly

crossed the bridge,” he said. “Just as it left thebridge, my antitank gun fired, but unfortu-nately caused no damage.” Three more shotswere fired at the German Panther with no effectbefore it overran the crew’s position.

Although the Panther had an excellent com-bination of speed, armor, and firepower, it wasthe Tiger that gained the reputation as the mostfeared tank on the battlefield during World WarII. As the enemy armor rolled into Stavelot, aTiger tank turned on the Avenue Ferdinand

Nicolay, where Sergeant Martin Hauser’s guncrew was positioned.

“At first I couldn’t see him go across thebridge but I could hear him coming,” remem-bers Hauser, “and the first thing I see when hecame around the building was that big 88 stick-ing out there. Then they turned and faced usand we were standing there. We were on one

end of the street and they were on the other endand they start firing with their machine gunsand that’s when we cut loose with a couple ofrounds of our ammunition off our 3-inch gunand we hit him up in the turret.”

Nearby, Lieutenant Doherty and his driverescaped from their jeep just before it was setablaze by the Tiger’s machine guns. Hauserremembers, “I had my half-track right behindhis jeep and if they would have shot in therewith an 88 they would have got both of them.”

The massive Tiger backed into a building,sending bricks crashing down upon it, andHauser witnessed the enemy crew exiting thedisabled tank. Hauser and Celentano wereawarded the Bronze Star for knocking out ordisabling four German tanks. As reported inthe newspaper Stars and Stripes, Doherty’s pla-toon sergeant, Vestor Lowe, remarked, “Hitlerwould be damned unhappy if he knew that thetwo guns which caused so much trouble werecommanded by an Italian and a German—Celentano and Hauser.”

Peiper’s column continued passing throughStavelot. “My troops did their best as theyfought street by street,” recalled Mitchell. Someof the men from his 3rd Platoon withdrewnorth on the Francorchamps road toward fueldepot No. 3, the smaller of the two depots inthe region holding 1,115,000 gallons of 80-octane gasoline. Evacuation of the fuel hadalready begun. Fearing that German forceswere going to seize the fuel, Belgian guards andmen from the 3rd Platoon of Mitchell’s com-pany set a section of the depot on fire. Peiperknew nothing of these depots, and as 124,000gallons of fuel were going up in flames his maincolumn was advancing toward the crucialbridges of Trois Ponts, where the Amblévemeets the Salm River.

As Peiper’s task force lunged for the cross-ings at Trois Ponts, Company C, 51st CombatEngineer Battalion detonated charges on thekey bridges, sending them crashing into theAmbléve and Salm Rivers below. With thefavored route now denied, Peiper’s main col-umn detoured northwest to the town of LaGleize and then southwest into the village ofCheneux. With clearing weather, Allied fighter-bombers took to the skies, and as U.S. Repub-lic P-47 Thunderbolts and British HawkerTyphoons struck the German task force, Peipertook cover in an old concrete bunker.

The Germans returned fire with their four-barreled Wirbelwind 20mm antiaircraft gunsthat were mounted on type IV tank chassis.One P-47 was shot down and eight others dam-aged. About eight vehicles were hit during theair attack, but the major loss for Peiper was


National Archives

ABOVE: German soldiers loot an American camp that has been deserted and overrun. The Ardennes offen-sive was undertaken without an adequate supply of fuel, and soldiers in the background have located anumber of jerry cans. OPPOSITE: The armored spearheads of Kampfgruppe Peiper came near their goal ofestablishing a bridgehead across the River Meuse during the Battle of the Bulge. However, pockets ofdetermined American resistance disrupted the delicate German timetable for the advance and causedPeiper's tanks to burn precious fuel.


precious time. The Allied air attack delayed the German

advance, providing time for A Company, 291stEngineers to prepare charges on the Neuf-moulin bridge. As the lead Panther approachedthe bridge over the Lienne River, it was blownin their faces. With no other bridges in the vicin-ity capable of handling the weight of heavyGerman tanks, Peiper was forced back towardLa Gleize. His fuel was critically low, and anumber of his tanks ran out of gas. Belgianobservers reported 125 German vehicles includ-ing 30 tanks passing through the town ofRahier. Peiper spent the night resting in theChateau Froidcour just east of Stoumont.

Throughout the night of December 18, menfrom the 119th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Battalionsettled into Stoumont. James Pendleton of Head-quarters Company recalled, “We just parked ourvehicles in the street, went in the buildings, andlaid down. We had been on the road for twodays and most of two nights. And along about... two o’clock in the morning I was awakenedby ... Lieutenant Goodman.... He came up andnudged me with his foot and he said, ‘Jim youhear that noise out there?’ And I said, ‘Yes sir, Ido. Why don’t those so and so’s lay down andgo to sleep?’ And he said, ‘Those so and so’s areGerman Royal Tigers….’”

Lieutenant Walter J. Goodman orderedPendleton and two machine gunners from ICompany to prepare a roadblock with antitankmines. Staff Sergeant Walter Kos, 1st Platoon,I Company, received orders from CaptainGeorge D. Rehkoph, “There’s somebody out

there running around with a lot of tanks and Iwant you to find them.”

Kos and four others traveled by jeep to thearea east of Stoumont. The driver stayed behindwhile the others proceeded through a woodedarea on foot until they came upon the enemyfrom a concealed position. “They were wash-ing up, eating, making a fire, and changing theirclothes,” remembers Kos. “There were 30 ...tanks there.” Kos reported the findings to hiscompany commander, who relayed them up thechain of command.

The previous night Robert Hall and two oth-ers with Headquarters Company had beenordered by Lieutenant Goodman to set up anobservation post on a hilltop overlooking theeast side of Stoumont. They found a small farmhouse, and Hall remembered, “We tried to geta little sleep and then at the break of dawn welook out and here comes the whole GermanArmy, tanks and soldiers.... I ran down intoStoumont and I couldn’t go any further becausethey were coming right at us. So I went into thishouse and went down to the cellar. There was20 to 25 of us soldiers there. I knew they werecoming now, so I went to the cellar windowand looked out and I could see about 10 feetaway an infantry soldier with his rifle.”

Hall, who had received a Silver Star whileserving in Normandy, looked around for someplace to take cover. Without no other option,Hall and the others surrendered.

Meanwhile, Sergeant Kos and the men wereordered to stall the enemy’s advance intoStoumont. The lieutenant in charge abandoned

the platoon. “He had it planned, I think, to getthe hell out,” said Kos. “He knew that place washot and I did too. We were in front for a delay-ing action.” Over the radio Kos rememberedCaptain Rehkopf informing him, “Don’t forgetnow, you’re in charge.... If you get out of this, I’llmake sure you have your own platoon.”

For the actions that followed, Kos would bedecorated with a Silver Star, undergo five backsurgeries, and receive decades of psychiatrictreatment.

When German tanks approached the 3rd Pla-toon’s position, Kos helped direct the fire oftwo Sherman tanks from C Company, 743rdTank Battalion. He gave the signal as soon asthe lead German tank was about to comearound a corner.

“So the two Shermans fired at the lead tank,knocked the track off of it and damaged theturret,” said Kos. Gallantly moving through amurderous hail of machine-gun, small-arms,and tank fire, Kos continued directing fire thatdestroyed two enemy half-tracks. The heroicaction delayed the enemy long enough for anew defensive line to be established.

When an advancing enemy tank rammed itsown disabled tank off the road, Kos’s positionwas jeopardized. He recalled, “That’s whenthey started coming after us. We were fightingthem house to house and then I got separatedfrom the other guys.”

Kos ducked into one of the houses and wentupstairs. “I could see the tank and six Germans,six SS guys coming down the road,” he said. “Iknew that if I shot a couple of them, which I


Map © 2014 Philip Schwartzberg, Meridian Mapping, Minneapolis, MN


could of, that they were going to get me any-way.” When one of the SS troopers came to thefront door of the house, Kos decided to escapeout the back window of the second floor. TheSS trooper threw a grenade into the room, andas Kos opened the window the blast sent himflying to the ground below.

Kos landed on his back hard, but with adren-aline masking the pain he ran into a nearbyhouse. Inside about a dozen men from 3rd Pla-toon were hiding from the enemy. As the Ger-man tank approached, the men decided to runfor it. Kos remembers. “The guys started cross-ing the road. The Germans were picking themoff left and right. They wanted to escape. Theyheard about ... the massacre at Malmedy. Sothey figured they didn’t want to get shot.... Butthey had that road zeroed in, I told them don’tgo, don’t cross that road.... So they start cross-ing it. Jeez! They were getting shot and we triedto pull them back in. They were wounded. Wecouldn’t, because as soon as you went out there,hell ... they were shooting and their Tiger wascoming down.”

The German tank stopped outside the houseand an SS trooper called out in German,“You’re surrounded.”

Kos remembered, “We knew what the hellthat meant—put your hands on your head—sowe came out. They lined us up and they startmarching us to the rear and they were kicking us,gave us all a whack. As they were marching usup the German troops start coming in. Every-body took a whack at us, oh with the guns andevery damn thing, my neck, my back.”

As German tanks in Peiper’s column forcedtheir way through the streets of Stoumont,

James Pendleton of Headquarters Companyplaced his allotted antitank mines in the path ofthe oncoming enemy. He saw a German tankrun over one of the mines and burst into flames.

“I had two I Company machine gunners withme,” Pendleton said. “I had a guy from Hager-stown, Maryland, by the name of Red Aldrichand also a guy from Memphis, Tennessee ... wecalled him Memphis, that’s the only nicknameI knew him by.”

When the Germans opened their hatches inan attempt to escape the burning tank, Aldrichand Memphis “took care of them as theycrawled out….” With the onslaught of Germantanks and infantry pouring into Stoumont, themen were soon forced to take cover in a store-room with a large front window.

“A German tank rolled up and stuck the bar-rel of the 88 through the glass front,” recalledPendleton. “And a guy raised the turret and aGerman said, he had on a G.I. uniform, ‘Yougive up, or you want me to blast you.’ And Isaid, ‘Well, I’ll give up.’ And the jeep wasparked at a side door. So we had to come outthe side door anyway and the jeep was sittingthere idling. And I told the guys, I said, ‘I’lldrive it. You guys ride it.’ The two guys thatwere with me, Aldrich and Garrison, they filedin the back of the jeep and I jumped in the dri-ver’s side.”

Pendleton sped off in a desperate attempt toput as much distance between the jeep and theGerman tank as possible. He recalled, “Well thistank, he backed out and he started shootingpoint-blank, 88 shells at us. And I got down theroad about 50 feet and there sat a German half-track with twin mounted 20s on it. And as I

passed him, he shot down on the side of me andI pulled the jeep from second gear down to highgear and that time the shell hit my right arm.”

The antiaircraft shell took off about fourinches of the radius and ulna bones near theelbow of Pendleton’s forearm. The jeep lostcontrol as it neared a curve in the road andflipped over, throwing its occupants throughthe air. Aldrich and Memphis scrambled totheir feet and managed to take cover behindsome bushes.

“It was humanly impossible to get out of thesituation I was in after I was shot,” said Pendle-ton. “I said, ‘Lord if you won’t save my body,save my soul,’ and that gave me courage....Well, I get on my feet and there was a buildingnext door and I ran in that door. The room wasfull of Germans.... And a big red-headed Ger-man stuck a burp gun in my face and I grabbedit with my left hand and shoved it away and heeither fired it empty or it jammed. I don’t knowwhich and when it quit I sailed out the dooragain. But the street was moving with tracers.You could see it, just like sheet metal movingdown the street. Anyhow there was a wiremannearby by the name of Joe Duval. He was fromIndiana and he stopped just a second and cutmy sleeve off and tied a tourniquet on me andon he went. I stood there and I was gettingweak. There was no place to go.”

German vehicles and infantry continuedthrough Stoumont. Pendleton leaned against abuilding to rest and gazed at the street cornerwhere his jeep had overturned. Aldrich andMemphis were nowhere to be seen. Then fromaround the corner a Sherman tank appearedand fired its gun. The Sherman withdrew and


Nat

iona

l Arc

hive

s

Moving into position to defend thetown of Stoumont, Belgium, tanksand soldiers of the U.S. 740th TankBattalion and paratroopers of the82nd Airborne Division are confront-ed by the grim task of stemmingPeiper's SS tide.


then reappeared to fire again. It continued thisstrategy for some time, and finally Pendletonwas able to attract the tank crew’s attention byleaping out in the middle of the street.

Pendleton yelled, “Come and get me, I’m anAmerican!” The tank fired and then withdrewagain. When it returned one of the tankers yelledfrom an open hatch, “We can’t get you in, but wecan get you on the left side of the road if youcould ride the barrel out. When I rev it threetimes you’ll know I’m coming all the way.”

The tank continued to maneuver from aroundthe corner. Upon hearing the Sherman’s enginerev three times, Pendleton moved to the locationas instructed, and when the tank reappeared thebarrel was positioned for him to grab.

“I hooked my left arm and grabbed a hold ofmy belt and he rode me back around thecurve,” says Pendleton. “I was suspended in the

air on the opposite side of the road from wherethe Germans were. They sandblasted thetank.... They shot all the paint off of it.” Withexhaustion setting in, Pendleton’s grip aroundthe barrel loosened, and he fell to the ground,nearly being crushed by the tank that had justsaved his life. The 119th Infantry Regiment’s3rd Battalion suffered 267 casualties defendingStoumont. Most of the 152 left behind to coverthe battalion’s withdrawal were captured.

Peiper sent a small probing force west pastthe hamlet of Targnon until three of the lead-ing Panthers were destroyed. By Tuesday,December 19, his task force had advanced over100 kilometers, farther than any other Germanunit. However, supply shortages, particularlyfuel, were becoming critical. “We began to real-ize,” he said, “that we had insufficient gasolineto cross the bridge west of Stoumont.”

In an ironic twist of fate, that very afternoonone of Peiper’s reconnaissance groups probinga secondary road from La Gleize to Spa hadnarrowly missed 2,226,000 gallons of gasoline.To prevent fuel depot No. 2 from falling intoGerman hands, a minefield had hastily beenlaid and Headquarters Company of the U.S.9th Armored Group had been ordered to pro-

vide a radio security net for the First Army. When radio net officer 1st Lt. Walter R. Butts

heard enemy activity in the area he requestedadditional support. The 110th AntiaircraftArtillery Battalion sent in two 90mm antiaircraftguns and four M-51 quadruple .50-calibermachine guns. Peiper’s reconnaissance group oftwo armored cars, two trucks, and two self-pro-pelled 88mm guns reached a point about a milenorth of Cour, near the southern edge of theminefield. Two Germans got out of the leadingarmored car and walked to the minefield.

An American opened up with a .50-calibermachine gun, and the Germans immediatelyreturned fire, killing the gunner. Then all themachine guns opened up while other Ameri-cans let loose with small arms fire.

“Jerry must have thought he hit a regiment,”Butts said. “I don’t know how much damage wedid; we made a hell of a lot of noise. After 10minutes, the [German] column pulled out….”

By Wednesday, December 20, Peiper facedhis enemy on three fronts. Throughout the dayand into the night the main concentration ofhis forces, spread through Stoumont, Cheneux,and La Gleize, fought off elements of the U.S.30th Infantry, 82nd Airborne, and 3rdArmored Divisions. Three separate task forcesfrom the 3rd Armored Division’s CombatCommand B were involved. Task Force Love-lady was given the important job of cutting offthe Stavelot-Stoumont road to prevent suppliesfrom getting to Peiper. Task Force Jordan madea thrust toward Stoumont and was beaten back

when two American tanks leading the columnwere knocked out.

Task Force McGeorge attempted to advanceinto the northeastern outskirts of La Gleize.Charles Ley, a loader in a Sherman tank with ICompany of the 33rd Armor Regimentrecalled, “We were at the crest of the hill ...waiting for our armored infantry to come up....It was so foggy down below, you couldn’t seeanything.... All of a sudden the Lieutenant getson the horn and says, ‘Okay fellows button up,prepare to fight.... We got up to the corner andthe road turned to the right leading into thetown. Our lead tank got hit and knocked outand that was the end of our push up that hill.”

When the fog lifted for a short time a Germanknocked out another Sherman commanded byLieutenant Wanamaker. When the Shermanadvance toward La Gleize stalled, the infantrycontinued. “We got the daylights kicked out ofus, boy we ran into an ambush,” remembersRobert Kauffman who served in D Company,36th Armored Infantry Battalion. Under thecover of darkness, the men crossed a small nar-row bridge and then made their way up a hill.

Kauffman recalled, “We had just crossed overa brook, and when we heard the bolt of amachine gun being put into the firing positioneverybody hit the ground. All of a sudden therewas firing all over the place, and they were drop-ping grenades in on us. Fortunately, the machinegun had been preset to fire on the bridge andthat’s where the fire was going, the bridge that


National Archives

ABOVE: Two American soldiers advance down a muddy road near the Belgian village of La Gleize and glanceat the smoking hulk of a German Panther medium tank that has recently been destroyed. LEFT: Americanartillery played a key role in blunting the initial drive by the Germans during the Battle of the Bulge. Thisphoto was taken on December 21, 1944, during desperate fighting to support infantry positions contestingthe German offensive.

National Archives



42

NAZI U-BOATS BROUGHT WORLD WAR II TO AMERICA’S SHORES AS THEY RAVAGED MERCHANT SHIPPING OFF THE EAST COAST.

A Roll of the Drums

WWII HISTORY AUGUST 2014

BY MICHAEL D. HULL

AFTER REFUELING IN the mid-Atlantic and suffering bow damagefrom being rammed by a tanker, a 769-ton German submarine reachedits destination, the American East Coast, early on Monday, May 4, 1942.

U-333 stayed submerged off the balmy southeastern Florida shoreduring the daylight hours and then surfaced when evening came. Climb-ing one after another to the bridge for a breath of fresh air, Lt. Cmdr.Peter Cremer and his 43 crewmen rubbed their eyes in disbelief.

“We had left a blacked-out Europe behind us,” reported Cremeer, oneof Admiral Karl Dönitz’s bold “gray wolf” submarine skippers whowreaked havoc on Allied convoys throughout World War II. “Yet herethe buoys were blinking as normal, the famous lighthouse at Jupiter Inlet

was sweeping its luminous cone far over the sea. We were cruising off abrightly lit coastal road with darting headlights from innumerable cars.”

Laden with 14 torpedoes and mines, the Type VII submarine moved inso close to the Florida coastline, said Cremer, that “we could distinguishequally the big hotels and the cheap dives, and read the flickering neonsigns…. All of this after nearly five months of war! Before this sea of light,against this footlight glare of a carefree new world, we were passing thesilhouettes of ships recognizable in every detail and sharp as the outlinesin a sales catalogue. Here they were formally presented to us on a plate:please help yourselves! All we had to do was press the button.”

Cremer’s first victim the following day was the 13,000-ton American

W-Aug14 Drumbeat_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:41 PM Page 42

43AUGUST 2014 WWII HISTORYLibrary of Congress

In this painting by German artist Adolf Beck, a U-boatis buffeted by wind and waves on the surface of theAtlantic Ocean. British Prime Minister Winston Churchillonce said that the only time he was truly concernedabout the outcome of the war was during the height of the U-boat menace.

tanker Java Arrow, followed by the unarmed 11,000-ton tanker Halseyand a smaller freighter. The U.S. submarine chaser PC-451 pursued U-333 without success. Meanwhile, the other U-boats nearby were enjoy-ing an equally satisfactory second “Happy Time.” The first was in 1940,when the first wolfpack operations wreaked havoc on shipping aroundGreat Britain.

America had been at war for five months in May 1942, but her defensesstill needed time to galvanize. The Pacific Fleet had been savaged at PearlHarbor on December 7, 1941, many warships were mothballed on theWest Coast, and the Navy Department was slow to act. While the EasternSeaboard was virtually unprotected during the first disastrous six months

of 1942, the U-boats sank thousands of tons of Allied and neutral ship-ping from Newfoundland to the Caribbean. British Prime Minister Win-ston Churchill called it “a terrible massacre.”

Yet, although the East Coast was vulnerable, U.S. Navy ships had beenon active duty in the Atlantic long before the Pearl Harbor attack. Hew-ing to President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s policy of “all aid short of war,”the Navy Department and the British Admiralty had agreed that Amer-ican ships would help escort North Atlantic convoys.

“The situation is obviously critical in the Atlantic,” declared AdmiralHarold R. “Betty” Stark, chief of naval operations, on April 4, 1941.Roosevelt warned on May 27, “The war is approaching the brink of the


Western Hemisphere itself. It is coming veryclose to home.”

U.S. Navy patrol bombers flew convoy cov-erage from Iceland and Newfoundland, and inJuly a U.S. Marine Corps contingent startedrelieving the British garrison in Iceland.

The shooting phase of America’s undeclaredwar began on September 4, when the destroyerUSS Greer was attacked by a U-boat. Rooseveltdenounced the “piracy” and ordered his shipsto fire on any vessel that interfered with Amer-ican shipping. First blood was drawn on thenight of October 17, 1941, when the destroyerUSS Kearny, escorting a slow convoy, was tor-pedoed. She made it back to port, but 11 of hercrew were killed. Two weeks later, on October31, the aging flushdeck destroyer USS ReubenJames, also on convoy escort, was ripped apartby a U-boat’s torpedo. The death toll was 115,and the American people were shocked. Sevenmerchant ships, meanwhile, were sunk whilethe nation was still neutral.

When Japanese carrier planes swept overPearl Harbor on the fateful morning of Sunday,December 7, 1941, thrusting a woefully unpre-pared United States into World War II, the Ger-mans were as shocked as the Americans. Gen-eral Hideki Tojo, the scrawny, owlish Japanesewar minister, had not informed Adolf Hitler ofhis expansionist war plans in the Far East orabout the strike on Pearl Harbor. The Germanhigh command was caught off guard, and noone was more surprised than U-boat chief

Admiral Karl Dönitz.Hitler had barred operations off the Ameri-

can coast and the sinking of U.S. warships, butGrand Admiral Erich Raeder, the GermanNavy chief, informed Dönitz on December 8,that the restrictions had been rescinded. Dönitzwas anxious to extend operations to the West-ern Hemisphere. When Nazi Germany declaredwar on the United States on December 11, heintroduced two new types of submarines, the1,100-ton Long-range Type IX and the 1,700-ton “milch cow” tender, which would replen-ish U-boats far from their bases. Dönitz swiftlydrew up plans to renew a campaign which, likethe wolfpacks and surface night attacks, hadbeen tried out in the last year of World War I.

After more than two years of devastatingattacks on British shipping since September1939, he intended to take the war to the Amer-ican East Coast. Dönitz, himself a submarineveteran of World War I, wanted such an oper-ation to prove more destructive than the impru-dent blockade of the summer of 1918, whenthree U-boats sank the cruiser USS San Diego,damaged the battleship USS Minnesota, sank28 steamers, and destroyed more than 50 small,unarmed tugs, barges, yachts, and motor boats.As the U.S. official history of the naval warnoted later, “Admiral [Alfred von] Tirpitz’scoastal campaign of 1918 was a very faint tasteof the foul dose that Admiral Dönitz adminis-tered in 1942.”

Dönitz asked Hitler for permission to divert

a dozen long-range U-boats from the Mediter-ranean area and send them against the UnitedStates. He proposed to greet America’s entryinto the war with “a roll of the drums.” But theFührer was unwilling to weaken the Germanand Italian forces in the Mediterranean, so heallowed Dönitz to divert only six boats.

At the time, Dönitz had under his command91 submarines, of which 55 were available.Sixty percent of these were in dock being refit-ted or repaired, which left 25. Twenty-two wereat sea, so this left only three boats at hand. Thefrustrated Dönitz, who had told Hitler in 1939that he could starve the hated British into sub-

mission with a fleet of 300 U-boats, never hadenough of them at his disposal. But he meant tomake the most of those he had.

By December 1941, Dönitz was ready tocommit five long-range U-boats to the longAtlantic voyage and six-week patrols off theAmerican coast. The boats would be on stationfor two weeks. He called the five captains intohis office and gave them their orders. Lieu-tenant Heinrich Bleichrodt, Lieutenant UlrichFolkers, Lieutenant Reinhard Hardegan, Com-mander Ernst Kals, and Commander RichardZapp were told not to attack shipping unlessthe target was more than 10,000 tons until theyreached their assigned patrol areas. They wereto stay out of sight of enemy forces and to makeonly surprise attacks.

Dönitz was sure that the American coastaldefenses were fragmentary and disorganized,and he wanted the submarine skippers to usemaximum shock tactics. They broke into grinswhen their chief told them that he dubbed the


Bundesarchiv Bild 101II-MW-4260-37; Photo: Kramer

National Archives

ABOVE: The U-boat arm of the Kriegsmarine wasunder the command of Admiral Karl Dönitz (aboveleft). Captain Reinhard Hardegan (above right)became one of the most successful German subma-rine commanders during Operation Drumbeat. LEFT: With their crews standing topside and officerswaving to the crowd gathered along the docks, theGerman submarines U-123 and U-201 exit the portof Lorient, France in June 1941. The U-boat warpatrols were extended affairs, and at times supplysubmarines were able to rendezvous and replenishfood, water, and torpedoes.


campaign Operation Paukenschlag, or “Ket-tledrum Beat.” The Allies would know it asOperation Drumbeat.

The U-boats were made ready in newly builtconcrete pens at Lorient and in the nearby Brit-tany fishing port of Keroman, on the Bay ofBiscay in occupied France, in December 1941.The captains were told little about their mis-sion. Supervising the cramming of a maximumsupply of ammunition, food, fuel, and 15 tor-pedoes aboard his U-123, the tall, thin Harde-gan reported, “We were given an envelope thatwe were only supposed to open after receivinga specific radio message. We were just told tomake the U-boat ready for a long trip.” Addi-tional space had to be made for a reporter fromthe Propaganda Ministry.

The first of five U-boats set off in the thirdweek of December. Hardegan chose to getunderway on December 23, not wanting toleave on Christmas Eve because his crewmenwould probably be drunk and homesick. A largecrowd gathered to cheer U-123’s departure onDecember 23. Soldiers from a nearby Army bat-talion presented the crew with a Christmas treeand a cake, short speeches were made, and tearswere shed. Then, to the strains of the Nazimarch “Sailing Against England,” the U-boatslipped her mooring lines and eased down theRiver Scorff and into the Bay of Biscay.

Submerged at a depth of 50 meters the fol-lowing day, the U-123 crew celebrated Christ-mas. Lieutenant Hardegan read the Bethlehemstory, carols were sung, weak punch waspoured, presents from home were opened, andcontrol room mechanic Richard Amstein played

his accordion. Then the boat surfaced andheaded westward. Beyond the Bay of Biscay,Hardegan made radio contact with Dönitz’sheadquarters at the Chateau Kernevel near Lori-ent and was ordered to open his envelope.

The admiral had decided that the first waveof boats would operate between the St.Lawrence River in Canada and Cape Hatterason the North Carolina coast. The five sub-marines were to reach their stations and awaitDönitz’s final order to go into action simulta-neously. Hardegan’s mission was to patrol offNew York City, which he had visited as a naval

cadet in 1933. When the destination wasannounced over the U-123 loudspeaker,Amstein reported, “A few of the crew won-dered whether we would get back from there inone piece, but most of us were enthusiastic.”

The U-boats approached their assignedpatrol areas early in January 1942. Dönitzplanned to launch Operation Drumbeat on the12th, but on January 2, he broke his ownorders and authorized New York-bound U-123to intercept a Greek steamer with a broken rud-der drifting in thick fog 200 miles east of New-foundland. Hardegan located the ship, but twoCanadian destroyers lay in wait. The water wasshallow, and the German skipper decided not torisk losing his boat. He withdrew and “felt verybad about it.” The U-boat was 300 miles offcourse and had wasted much fuel.

Hardegan was luckier on January 12, whilehe was off Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and stilldistant from his assigned area. Sailing alone,the 9,100-ton British steamer Cyclops was atarget too tempting to pass up, so U-123 sankher with two torpedoes. All but two of theship’s complement of 180 escaped, but 84 frozeto death in her lifeboats. By the evening of Jan-uary 14, Dönitz’s U-boats were on station, andOperation Drumbeat was underway.

The sinkings mounted swiftly. CommanderKals’s U-130 had dispatched the Norwegiansteamer Frisco in the Gulf of St. Lawrence onJanuary 13, and the Panamanian freighter FriarRock in the same area eight hours later. Lieu-tenant Hardegan soon added to his grim score.Cruising 60 miles off Montauk Point, LongIsland, on the morning of January 14, U-123


National Archives

National Archives

ABOVE: Admiral Ernest J. King (above left) com-manded the U.S. Fleet at the time of OperationDrumbeat and was soon named chief of naval opera-tions. Vice Admiral Adolphus “Dolly” Andrews(above right) commanded the Eastern Sea Frontierduring Operation Drumbeat and reported that hisforces were inadequate for defense. BELOW: Its backbroken, an oil tanker bound for Britain billows smokeas it sinks into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Ger-man submarines torpedoed Allied shipping at analarming rate during Operation Drumbeat, forcing theU.S. Navy to employ new methods of antisubmarinewarfare to keep the tenuous supply line to GreatBritain open.


surfaced and sank the 9,600-ton tanker Norness.That night, Hardegan boldly edged his boat

into the outer reaches of New York Bay. “Wecould see the cars driving along the coast road,and I could even smell the woods,” reportedwatch officer Horst von Schroeter. Hardeganobserved, “They simply weren’t prepared atall.... After all, there was a war on. I found acoast that was brightly lit. At Coney Island,there was a huge Ferris wheel and roundabouts—could see it all. Ships were sailing with navi-gation lights. All the light ships, Sandy Hookand the Ambrose lights, were shining brightly.To me this was incomprehensible.”

Unhindered and undetected close to the Amer-ican coast, Dönitz’s gray wolves picked off theirtargets at leisure. Hardegan sank the tankerCoimbra on January 15 and the steamer SanJose on January 17. Commander Zapp’s U-66dispatched the tanker Allan Jackson on January18, followed by another tanker and threefreighters. On January 19, Hardegan made moreattacks in broad daylight, sinking three ships anddamaging another. He had made a habit of lyingon the ocean bottom during daylight hours butrealized that this was unnecessary because thecoastal defenses were nonexistent.

Hardegan’s fellow skippers continued thecarnage. U-130 sank the tanker AlexanderHoegh south of Cape Breton, followed by twofreighters and four more tankers. Zapp’s U-66

destroyed another tanker and three freighters,and Lieutenant Bleichrodt’s U-48 dispatchedthe Canadian tanker Montrolite and threefreighters. Hardegan used his last torpedoagainst the tanker Malay off Cape May, NewJersey, on January 19, but the damaged vesselmade it into port. On the voyage back toFrance, U-123 sank the 3,000-ton freighterCulebra with gunfire.

The first five U-boats to penetrate Americanwaters returned to base after sinking 23 shipstotaling 150,000 tons. Hardegan’s share wasnine ships totaling 50,766 tons. Admiral Dönitzwas pleased and signaled U-123, “To theDrumbeater Hardegan. Bravo. You beat thedrum well.” Hardegan was awarded the cov-eted Knight’s Cross.

Back in Lorient, the skipper was able to con-firm Dönitz’s belief that the American watersconstituted a happy hunting ground and sug-gested that he step up the campaign and sendminelayers. Dönitz had already dispatchedmore U-boats, and the sinkings continued,although he never had more than a dozen craftin action at one time along the American coast.

Although there were some sightings ofperiscopes and rumors of an imminent invasionby enemy ships, most Americans were still inthe dark about the underwater threat close totheir eastern shores. But the British were awareby the end of January 1942 that the Germans

had suddenly turned their major U-boat effortwest. With one exception, convoys in the west-ern approaches to Britain were now untouched.From Enigma intelligence decrypts, the subma-rine-tracking room at the Admiralty in Londonwas following the gray wolves’ movements.

Information was passed to the U.S. Navy, butno serious action was taken. Blame for the woe-ful lack of preparedness on the EasternSeaboard lay with Admiral Ernest J. King, com-mander of the U.S. Fleet and soon to be namedchief of naval operations. Although he had hishands full with Japanese aggression in the FarEast, he had been warned in December 1941by Vice Admiral Adolphus “Dolly” Andrews,commander of the Eastern Sea Frontier, that“should enemy submarines operate off thiscoast, this command has no forces available totake adequate action against them, either offen-sively or defensively.”

The U.S. Navy had built no subchasers andlacked an antisubmarine flotilla. Most of itsdestroyers and other small craft were attachedto the fleets or committed to oceanic convoyprotection. Like the Royal Navy in 1939, theU.S. Navy had entered the war with an acuteshortage of escort vessels. President Rooseveltcommented that the Navy “couldn’t see anyvessel under a thousand tons.”

The able, 62-year-old Andrews, a battleshipveteran of World War I, had been trying to


Bundesarchiv Bild 101II-MW-42006-31; Photo: Tölle


round up ships since December 7, but by earlyJanuary he had available only 20 vessels and103 aircraft, most of them obsolete, to guardthe 1,500-mile coastline. His largest vessel wasa 165-foot, 16-knot Coast Guard cutter, andthe others were small tugs, yachts, trawlers,schooners, and motor cruisers. AdmiralAndrews’s fleet was officially called the CoastalPicket Patrol, but many of the enthusiastic ama-teurs who served in it dubbed it the “HooliganNavy.” Others called it the “Donald DuckNavy.” King’s response to Andrews’s appealwas to dispatch minelayers to mine theapproaches to New York, Boston, ChesapeakeBay, and Portland, Maine.

From the bleak Canadian coast and eventu-ally to the balmy Caribbean, the U-boatsroamed at will, sinking unescorted freightersand tankers with ease. They struck at night onthe surface with both torpedoes and deck guns.Their hapless targets were virtual sitting ducks,etched sharply against the glare of New York,Atlantic City, Miami, and other coastal citiesthat refused to impose blackouts for fear of los-ing tourist trade.

The official history said later, “One of themost reprehensible failures on our part was theneglect of the local communities to dim theirwaterfront lights, or of military authorities torequire them to do so, until three months afterthe submarine offensive started. When thisobvious defense measure was first proposed,squawks went up all the way from Atlantic Cityto southern Florida that the ‘tourist seasonwould be ruined.’ Miami and its luxurious sub-urbs threw up six miles of neon-light glow,against which the southbound shipping thathugged the reefs to avoid the Gulf Stream wassilhouetted. Ships were sunk and seamendrowned in order that the citizenry might enjoybusiness and pleasure as usual.”

Ships were sunk 30 miles or less offshore, andsometimes three or more vessels went down ina day. Passengers landing at airports in the NewYork-New Jersey area saw flaming wrecks fromtheir windows, and sunbathers along VirginiaBeach watched two ships go down in front ofthem. Burning tankers became a familiar sightoff some coastal resorts, and black oil seepedonto beaches.

“Our U-boats are operating close inshorealong the coast of the United States of Amer-ica” boasted Admiral Dönitz to a Germanreporter, “so that bathers and sometimes entirecoastal cities are witnesses to the drama of war,whose visual climaxes are constituted by thered glorioles of blazing tankers.”

The German Propaganda Ministry wasquick to report the U-boat attacks in Ameri-

can waters, and a photograph of the Manhat-tan skyscrapers taken from the conning towerof Hardegan’s submarine appeared in Germannewspapers long before the boat returned tobase.

A brutal one-sided war was being waged onAmerica’s doorstep, but the public was told adifferent story. Hardegan reported, “We lis-tened to the American radio transmissions andwe heard, ‘We have sunk a U-boat.’ We weresupposed to have been sunk three times. Everytime we sank a ship, we were sunk again. TheAmericans obviously needed this as a consola-tion—the idea that they had done something.

But it wasn’t true.”On November 17, 1941, Congress had

amended the Neutrality Act of 1939, permit-ting merchant ships to be armed and to enterwar zones. But most of the vessels sunk wereunarmed. Hundreds of seamen had to stand byhelplessly while their ships—many of themaged and rusting—were attacked with nomeans of fighting back. The vessels that werehastily armed were not much better off. Oneseaman reported, “That rust-pot I just cameoff, they must have got her out of the Smith-sonian Institute [sic]. Sure, we had a gun on her.

But, holy mackerel! If we’d ever of had to fireit, the whole ship would have fallen apart.”

Admiral Andrews was fighting a losing bat-tle against the offshore raiders, which wereaveraging three kills a day. In mid-February, hehad available nine protective vessels that couldmake 14 knots or better and another 19 thatcould run at 12-14 knots. Most of the U-boatscould make 18 knots. Andrews had no anti-submarine aircraft available.

The only underwater predator sunk in theAtlantic that month was U-93, dispatched bythe Royal Navy destroyer HMS Hesperus.Unable to cope with the losses off their coast,

the Americans neither sank nor damaged anyGerman submarines. By the end of February,327,000 tons of shipping had gone down, mostof the vessels off the Eastern Seaboard. Dönitzwas elated and was able to send more boats totake station off the United States and in theSouth Atlantic and the Caribbean.

The campaign in the Caribbean escalated ashalf a dozen U-boats and several Italian sub-marines marauded with alarming temerity. OnFebruary 16, Lt. Cmdr. Werner Hartenstein’sU-156 slipped into the port of Aruba in theDutch West Indies and torpedoed a tanker,


U.S. Navy

ABOVE: Happy to have survived an attack by the German submarine U-123 off Cape May, New Jersey, crew-men of the tanker SS Malay give the “V for Victory” gesture as they gather around damage inflicted on theirship. OPPOSITE: Reinhard Hardegan was one of several German U-boat commanders who terrorized the U.S.East Coast during Operation Drumbeat. In this photo crewmen of Hardegan's U-123 engage the Britishfreighter Culebra with their deck gun on January 25, 1941. The Culebra was sunk by the Germans, and thevessel's crew was offloaded into lifeboats and given the proper course for Bermuda.


damaged two others, and shelled the harborinstallations. Three days later, U-161, com-manded by Lieutenant Albrecht Achilles,entered the harbor at Port of Spain, Trinidad,and torpedoed an American freighter and aBritish tanker. Both sank at anchor. Other U-boats sank shipping, mostly tankers, off Portof Spain and in the Gulf of Venezuela.

British Prime Minister Winston Churchillwas alarmed at the mounting losses in Ameri-can waters, and on February 6 he suggested toHarry L. Hopkins, Roosevelt’s trusted specialenvoy, that his chief give the crisis special atten-tion. In a letter to Churchill, Roosevelt admit-ted that the Americans had a lot to learn butthat he hoped to have an adequate patrol sys-tem working by May 1. Admiral Sir DudleyPound, the British First Sea Lord, meanwhile,cabled Admiral King in Washington and sug-gested that the proven convoy system was theonly way to defeat the U-boats. The RoyalNavy had learned that patrols were not effec-tive. Pound offered to help the Americans bylending 22 armed trawlers.

Churchill and the Admiralty pressed the con-voy idea, but King was unreceptive. The bluff,Anglophobic King mistrusted Churchill and theBritish and did not relish heeding their advice.He told Pound tartly that a convoy system wasunder “continuous consideration.” King

believed that ships sailing independently wereless vulnerable than when bunched together inconvoy without strong escort protection. Butthe British experience in World War I and in1939-1941 had shown that a poorly escortedconvoy was better than no convoy at all.

Churchill offered Roosevelt some Lend-Leasein reverse, 24 armed trawlers and 10 corvettes,with officers and crews experienced in anti-submarine warfare. “It was little enough, butthe utmost we could spare,” said the primeminister. Roosevelt accepted, and the RoyalNavy craft were on station by the end of Feb-ruary. These were the first effective weaponsmade available to Andrews.

Eventually, under pressure from Army Chiefof Staff General George C. Marshall, who toldhim, “The losses by submarines off our Atlanticseaboard and in the Caribbean now threaten ourentire war effort,” Admiral King relented. Thelosses in merchant shipping and oil continued,and they were severe. Officials in Washingtoncalculated that the sinking of a freighter’s cargowas equivalent to the loss of goods carried byfour railroad trains with 75 cars each.

Although the British were preoccupied withground actions against the Germans and Ital-ians in the Western Desert and East Africa, andwith naval operations in the North Atlantic, theMediterranean, the North Sea, and the English

Channel, Churchill and the Admiralty kept aclose watch on the continuing destruction ofshipping along the American coast. U-boatmovements were monitored, but there was lit-tle that Admiral Andrews’s motley patrol fleetcould do in response. Churchill pressed thematter with Roosevelt and urged “drasticaction.”

Admitting that the U.S. Navy had been“slack in preparing for this submarine war,”Roosevelt assured the British leader that everyvessel over 80 feet long was being pressed intoservice, that there soon would be “a prettygood coastal patrol,” and that orders had beenplaced for the building of 60 antisubmarineships.

The slaughter continued in March, with thetonnage sunk equaling that of January and Feb-ruary combined. At this rate, Admiral Andrewsestimated that the U-boats would destroy twomillion tons of shipping in a year. On March11, Churchill told Hopkins that unless Amer-ica could provide escorts to stop the sinking of

tankers in the Caribbean, he would have to pre-vent or delay sailings. Twenty-three tankers hadgone down in February, and the PetroleumIndustry War Council warned that if the situa-tion did not improve, America would run outof oil in six months.

On the night of March 17, four tankers anda steamer in an unprotected convoy were tor-pedoed off Cape Hatteras by youthful Lt.Cmdr. Johann Mohr’s U-124. Andrews wentto Washington to plead with Admiral King forhelp. He asked for destroyers. The AtlanticFleet had 73, but only two were available to


ullstein bild / The Granger Collection, NY

ABOVE: Crewmen of a German U-boat watch a blazing tanker burn to the waterline after their torpedoattack. During Operation Drumbeat, U-boats ranged along the U.S. East Coast, attacking merchant shippingwith impunity. RIGHT: Captain Johann Mohr of U-124 is shown wearing the Knight's Cross at his throat. On asingle night during Operation Drumbeat, Mohr successfully torpedoed four tankers and a steamer sailing in anunescorted convoy.

National Archives


Andrews on a loan basis. King flatly refused,and Andrews agreed with Churchill that thesailing of tankers would have to be halted. AfterU-boats sank seven tankers in the first sevendays of April, sailings were canceled. A total of129 tankers were lost in American waters inthe first five months of 1942.

The Allied situation began to improve grad-ually. As the great wheels of American industryturned, a “60 vessels in 60 days” escort build-ing program was proclaimed to overcome theshortfall in antisubmarine craft; 201minesweepers that could be drafted to escortwork were completed, and a subchaser trainingschool was established in Miami. On April 1,Admiral Andrews set up a “bucket brigade” sys-tem whereby lightly escorted convoys proceededonly by day, stopping for the night in protectedanchorages. Meanwhile, antisubmarine aircraft,such as long-range Consolidated B-24 Liberatorbombers and PBY Catalina seaplanes, werepressed into service.

Finally, on April 18, Andrews and Lt. Gen.Hugh A. Drum, feisty chief of the Army East-ern Defense Command, ordered a shorelineblackout and a dim-out of coastal cities. TheU-boats were deprived of their sitting ducks,and ship losses along the Eastern Seaboarddropped to 23 that month. In July, there wouldbe only three sinkings, and then none for therest of the year.

The Americans were now able to start hit-

ting back at Dönitz’s predators. After a deter-mined chase south of Norfolk, Virginia, the olddestroyer USS Roper sank U-85 with gunfireon April 14, 1942. It was the first U-boat killof World War II by a U.S. Navy surface craft.On May 9, the Coast Guard cutter Icarus dam-aged U-352 with depth charges in shoal wateroff Cape Lookout, North Carolina. The sub-marine, on her maiden voyage, was then scut-tled by her captain. Two more U-boats weresunk in June by the cutter Thetis and a MartinMariner flying boat.

May brought another dramatic turnaroundin Allied fortunes. With new construction andthe release of destroyers and other escorts fromthe U.S. Atlantic Fleet, Admiral Andrews wasable to organize the first strong offshore con-voys, shepherded by more than 300 patrolplanes based at 19 airfields. Dönitz startedshifting his wolfpacks southward, and only sixmerchantmen were sunk along the East Coastthat month.

The gray wolves now found profitable hunt-ing in the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico,torpedoing 41 independent vessels totaling220,000 tons in May. Almost half of these weretankers sunk off the Passes of the Mississippi.“U-boats showed the utmost insolence in theCaribbean, their happiest hunting ground,”said Navy historian Samuel Eliot Morison later.The southern onslaught was checked, however,when a complex of interlocking systems was

set up to enable ships to transfer at sea fromone convoy to another.

Dönitz’s gray wolves then retaliated byattacking independent ships off Panama,Trinidad, Salvador, and Rio de Janeiro. The U-boat operations were lengthened by the arrivalof Dönitz’s 1,700-ton “milch cow” submarinetenders. The sinking of five Brazilian freightersoff Salvador in August provoked Brazil intodeclaring war against the Axis. Escorts weredrawn from the U.S. South Atlantic Fleet, andthe convoy system was extended to Rio.

In the next three months, 1,400 vessels wereescorted through Admiral Andrews’s highlysuccessful interlocking system, and only threewere sunk. Realizing, meanwhile, that happytime in the Western Hemisphere was over,Dönitz had started shifting his U-boats back tothe North Atlantic for a renewed blitz on Alliedconvoys.

Operation Drumbeat was a coup for Dönitz’sgray wolves and an appalling episode for theAllies. During the first half of 1942, in coastalwaters from Canada to the Caribbean, morethan 360 merchant ships and tankers totalingabout 2,250,000 gross tons went to the bot-tom. An estimated 5,000 lives, mostly merchantseamen, were lost.

Michael D. Hull is a frequent contributor toWWII History. He resides in Enfield, Con-necticut.


National Archives


EARLY IN THE 20th century, the population of NewZealand was just under a million. According to officialsources, 20 percent of New Zealand’s eligible manpowerserved in uniform during World War I. Of that 20 percent,100,000 served overseas, and of that 100,000 more than 60percent became casualties. During World War I, the UnitedStates had roughly four million in uniform with 8.2 percentbecoming casualties.

A generation later, the population of New Zealand wasapproximately 1.6 million. New Zealand men of military age(18-45) numbered roughly 355,000. Of that number, 135,000served overseas during World War II during six long yearsfrom 1939 to 1945. This small nation also had a Home Guardof 124,000 men at its peak, many of whom had served inWorld War I. The majority of New Zealanders who servedduring World War II served in the Army (127,000). Another6,000 served in the Navy, 24,000 in the Air Force. In addi-tion, 9,700 New Zealand women also served in their coun-try’s armed forces. Altogether, 10,130 New Zealanders losttheir lives in World War II and another 19,345 were wounded.This was quite a sacrifice for such a small nation.

Soon after New Zealand declared war on Germany in1939, the 2nd New Zealand Division was formed and sentoff to fight alongside its British counterparts in Greece, Crete,and North Africa. With the Japanese attack on Pearl Harboron December 7, 1941, Japanese forces moved rapidly south,taking British strongholds such as Hong Kong and Singapore.New Zealanders and Australians alike, with most of theirfighting men on the other side of the world, felt vulnerable tothe new approaching threat. Many people in both countriesfeared an actual invasion as a result of Japan’s conquests.

At the behest of British Prime Minister Winston Churchilland in agreement with Prime Minister John Curtin of Aus-tralia, President Franklin D. Roosevelt directed U.S. Armydivisions to Australia in early 1942. Some of these early U.S.arrivals down under were originally trained and destinedfor Europe, but with Australia and New Zealand threaten-ing to bring their forces home from battlefields in Europeand North Africa, Roosevelt redirected the U.S. troops to the

Pacific. Other U.S. Army units, along with U.S. MarineCorps and Navy personnel, were sent to New Zealand. Hadthis not happened, Prime Minister Peter Frazer of NewZealand, like John Curtin of Australia, would have beentempted to bring New Zealand forces home.

The U.S. 37th Division arrived in Auckland in June 1942.That same month Lt. Gen. A.A. Vandergrift’s 1st Marine Divi-sion landed in Wellington in preparation for the plannedcounteroffensive against the Japanese in the Solomon Islandsset for August with landings on Guadalcanal. In February1943, the 3rd Marine Division arrived in the Auckland areafor a five-month stay before heading off to Bougainville inthe Solomon Islands, followed by the Army’s 25th Division.At the same time elements of the 2nd Marine Division thathad fought in the Solomons with the 1st Marine Divisionrejoined the balance of their parent 2nd Marine Division in

50 WWII HISTORY AUGUST 2014Authorʼs Collection

BY BRUCE M. PETTY

W-Aug14 2nd Marines in NZ_Layout 1 6/5/14 3:33 PM Page 50


On their way to camps and weeks of intense training,elements of the U.S. 2nd Marine Division march throughthe streets of Wellington, New Zealand. The AmericanMarines went on to participate in the difficult fightingagainst the Japanese in the Pacific after leaving anindelible impression on the people of New Zealand.

The Invasion of New Zealand

IN PREPARATION FOR AMPHIBIOUS OPERATIONS IN THEPACIFIC, U.S. MARINES TRAINED IN NEW ZEALAND.


camps around Wellington.With U.S. entry into World War II, the Pacific

became an American theater of operations. Themajority of Allied forces in that theater cameunder U.S. command. This might sound sim-ple enough, but it was not for those unfamiliarwith the U.S. military’s way of doing things.Mackenzie Gregory was a young ensign in theAustralian Navy when the war broke out. Hewas one of the survivors when his ship, thecruiser HMAS Canberra, was sunk at the Bat-tle of Savo Island along with three Americanheavy cruisers in August 1942.

Gregory was trained in the tradition of theBritish Royal Navy. Almost overnight he had toreeducate himself: “The first few times I had tochange to a new course while part of a U.S. Navytask force were an absolute nightmare. It meantliterally picking up the fleet formation steamingon a specific course, rotating that force [forexample] through fifty degrees, and then putting

it down again so that the ship maintained its rel-ative station just as if you had not moved.”

This proved to be the situation for all Alliedforces serving in the Pacific under U.S. com-mand. Everybody had to start doing things theAmerican way. And not having trained togetherbefore the war proved fatal in the early days,especially in the early naval battles.

An agrarian nation, New Zealand was cutoff from the rest of the world in terms of for-eign travelers. Tourism was not part of NewZealand’s economy the way it is today. How-ever, following the Japanese attack on PearlHarbor and the friendly invasion of U.S. mili-tary personnel, that changed. Most NewZealanders knew about the United States inthose days because of the plethora of Holly-

wood movies that inundated the country,movies mostly about cowboys and gangsters.Radio programs from the United States werealso popular imports to New Zealand beforethe war. However, few Americans of that dayhad ever heard of New Zealand.

Robert Dunlop, who served in the 3rd NewZealand Division (the only New Zealand Armydivision to serve in the Pacific) before it wasdisbanded in late 1944, was in Fiji when U.S.Army troops first arrived there before headingoff to New Zealand. He remembered that a lotof the young Americans they met in Suva didnot know where Auckland was.

“These Americans didn’t know anythingabout New Zealand,” recalled Dunlop. “Somedidn’t even know if they had to get on a truckand drive to the other side of Fiji from Suva toget there, or get back on the boat. We had thesetrucks with a Kiwi bird stenciled on the doorpanels, and it was frequent that a Yank asked,

‘Say guy, what’s that chicken on your truck?’”When elements of the 2nd Marine Division

left Guadalcanal to join the rest of the divisionin New Zealand, they were not told where theywere going when they boarded ship. Joe Wetzel,a Marine of the 2nd Marine Division, Head-quarters and Service Company, 2nd Battalion,said they just assumed they were on their way to“another stinking island to fight more Japs!”However, to their pleasant and unexpected sur-prise, when they entered the Cook Straits andsaw a modern city before them, the capital ofWellington, and some of those hardenedMarines started crying. They knew then theywere not going to fight on another stinkingisland but have some time to rest and recuperate.

Even before the Japanese entered the war,

New Zealand sent troops to Fiji, Tonga, andSamoa to secure what they considered theirnorthern frontier. When Japan attacked, hold-ing and reinforcing those islands became evenmore important. The United States shared thisconcern, and within the first four months ofAmerica’s entry into the war it had over100,000 military personnel south of the equa-tor to protect the sea lanes between the UnitedStates, Australia, and New Zealand. OneMarine brigade was sent to Pago Pago, Amer-ican Samoa, in January 1942, followed byanother in March. This relieved New Zealan-ders of some of their concerns.

Carl Matthews of Dawson, Texas, was 16when he enlisted in the Marine Corps beforePearl Harbor and was a member of that firstMarine brigade sent to Pago Pago in January1942. However, he came down with an undi-agnosed tropical disease while there and wasinvalided home, missing out on Guadalcanal

later that year. After recovering from the stillundiagnosed illness he had acquired in Samoa,he joined the 4th Marine Division and sawcombat in the Marshalls and Saipan in theMarianas. He was wounded on Saipan andinvalided home for a second time.

Many U.S. Marines and sailors coming toNew Zealand from Guadalcanal were sick withrecurring bouts of malaria and other tropicaldiseases, and others suffered from post-trau-matic stress disorder. By this time, most of NewZealand’s young men had been gone for threeyears or more while parents, wives, children,and friends worried about whether they wouldever see them again. Most of the U.S. militarypersonnel coming to New Zealand were young.For many of these Americans this was their first


Both: National Archives

ABOVE: Marines try their version of a Maori wardance, contorting their faces in the spirit of thenative tradition. RIGHT: U.S. Marines go about theirbusiness at the entrance to Camp McKay, home ofthe 2nd Marines during their stay in New Zealand.The post was 30 miles away from Wellington, andmany Marines found lasting friendships or spousesamong the people of the area. Camp Russell, thehome of the 6th Marines, was located nearby.


time away from home. A lot of them werehomesick and frightened.

New Zealand families with sons of their ownthey had not seen, and might not see, for yearstook in these young American servicemen andgave them homes away from home. Today,these aging veterans consider New Zealandtheir second home. The 2nd Marine DivisionAssociation made this clear in the 1960s whenit began having its reunions in New Zealandevery fifth year. During these reunions the vet-erans reconnected with New Zealand familiesand in some cases old girlfriends.

Stan Martin spent the war years in the NewZealand Navy but was on loan to the RoyalNavy throughout, routine in those days of theBritish Commonwealth. He became involvedwith the 2nd Marine Division Association andhelped these veterans reconnect with those whohelped make them welcome in New Zealand.He was made an honorary member of the asso-

ciation and attended many of their reunionsboth in New Zealand and the United States.

With so many New Zealand men off fightingthe war, New Zealand women took over runningthe farms, working in factories, and doing otherwork that had traditionally been done by themen, just as American women were doing. Therewas little in the way of romance for many NewZealand women during the early war years, butthat all changed with the arrival of young andseemingly exotic Americans, who came courtingwith flowers, boxes of chocolates, and hard-to-find nylon stockings. The Americans also intro-duced the population to things like doughnuts,

milkshakes, and the latest dance grazes from theUnited States, such as the jitterbug.

Relationships between New Zealand womenand American men were kindled almost as soonas the men stepped off their ships. According tothe official record, 1,400 war brides resulted

from the American presence in New Zealand.More than a third of those war brides marriedmen of the 2nd Marine Division. Some NewZealand war brides moved to the States afterthe war. Some American servicemen elected tomake New Zealand their home after the war.

Joe Wetzel of Monroe, Louisiana, met andmarried Peggy Whiting of Elthem, a small farm-ing community in central North Island, while inNew Zealand. Wetzel survived the fighting onGuadalcanal, Tarawa, Saipan, and Tinian.Since his bride did not want to live in the UnitedStates, Wetzel decided to make New Zealandhis home. He was one of four former Marines

to settle in New Plymouth after the war andwas the last one in that city until his death afew years ago.

Robert Clinton Libby of the 2nd MarineDivision, who married a local girl before ship-ping off to Pacific battlefields, spent his forma-tive years bouncing from one foster home toanother until he escaped to the U.S. MarineCorps. He had no problem making NewZealand his home. As a former foster child, hehad nothing to go back to in the United States.

Clifford Carrington of Chicago, Illinois, alsofrom the 2nd Marine Division, was one ofmany Marines taken in by New Zealand fam-ilies. The Whitehouse family of Otaki, north ofWellington, lived close to Carrington’s camp atTihati Bay. They adopted Carrington and someof his buddies. Carrington and Sylvia White-house, the family’s teenage daughter, developeda relationship. They lost contact during the war,and Sylvia and her family assumed that Cliff

had died. However, in 1989 he made an unan-nounced visit to New Zealand and looked upSylvia’s number in the telephone book. The twowere married in 1990.

During World War II, the number of childrenborn out of wedlock and the number of hushed-up abortions increased in New Zealand. Somechildren were put up for adoption while otherswere raised by single mothers and stepfathers ifthese women married after the war, and mostdid. However, many of these children did notlearn for years that their biological fathers wereAmerican servicemen; others probably never


National Archives

ABOVE LEFT: During eight months in New Zealand, U.S. Marine Joe Wetzel married Peggy Whiting of Elthem, a small farming community on North Island. Wetzel went on to fight at Tarawa and during other amphibious operations against the Japanese. After the war, he and Peggy made their home in New Zealand. ABOVE RIGHT: A sales girl in the city of Auckland, New Zealand, beams as she completes a transaction for a U.S. Marine while two U.S. Navy corpsmen look on.

Authorʼs Collection

Both: Authorʼs Collection

American Marine Clifford Carrington, right, lived withthe Whitehouse family of Otaki, north of Wellington,New Zealand. After losing contact with one another,Carrington found Sylvia Whitehouse in 1989, and thetwo were married the following year.




American infantrymen and supporting Shermantanks advance through the jungle of Biak nearMokmer airstrip in June 1944. The Japanesewho occupied the island put up a tenaciousdefense, fortifying many caves on the island andforcing the Americans to root them out or sealthem inside with explosives.

“Score 109 to 1”

W-Aug14 Biak_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:39 PM Page 54

“All I knew about Biak was that it wasan island a degree south of the equa-tor, one of the Schouten group lying

north of Geelvink Bay toward thewestern end of New Guinea.”

Colonel Harold Riegelman made thisadmission of ignorance toward the middle ofJune 1944, shortly after coming ashore on theisland. By that time, the U.S. Army’s 41st Divi-sion had been fighting its way inland fromBiak’s southern landing beaches for nearlythree weeks. In the coming weeks and months,Colonel Riegelman would learn more aboutBiak than he ever could have bargained for.

The landings took place on May 27, 1944,near the town of Bosnik. Opposition from theJapanese troops occupying the island is usu-ally described as “light,” something of anunderstatement. Resistance was so insignifi-cant that some senior officers speculated thatthe Japanese had evacuated the island. Actu-ally, the defending Japanese troops had beencaught off guard by the landings and were notprepared to make any sort of counterattack.They held their fire, reorganized, and waitedfor the following day to begin their resistance.

Soldiers asked why this God forsaken heapof jungle rot, coral, and caves had to be occu-pied. Soldiers in every army, in every era, haveasked this question, but senior planners hadan answer this time. Strategically, Biak had tobe taken. The Japanese had built three airfieldson the island—at Mokmer, Sorido, andBorokoe. Capturing these air bases would notonly deprive the enemy of their use, but wouldalso put American bombers within 800 milesof the Philippine Islands, where American

troops were to land in October 1944. But the high-level planners underestimated

Japanese resistance on Biak. Enemy troopstrength was thought to be about 4,400, butactually more than 11,400 Japanese were onthe island—well over twice as many as esti-mated. Planners also thought the occupationof Biak would take about a week. They werewrong about that as well.

A coral reef just off the landing beaches cre-ated a problem that the naval planners knewsomething about. The reef ruled out using con-

ventional landing craft for the landings.Instead, amphibious LVTs and DUKWs wereemployed. Both of these were able to cross thereef, land the troops, and return to LSTs off-shore for more troops and supplies. Usingamphibious vehicles might have been slightlyunorthodox, but the LVTs and DUKWs didthe job. All 12,000 troops—the 41st Division,along with the 162nd Regiment—as well asartillery and 12 Sherman tanks were putashore on May 27. The landings went a loteasier than expected. But, as one officerphrased it, “the worst was yet to come.”

The troops began moving toward the air-fields the following morning. Patrols from the162nd Regiment had advanced to about 200yards of Mokmer airstrip when defendingJapanese opened fire with machine guns andmortars. Limestone caves about 1,200 yardsnorth of Mokmer airstrip constituted the keyto the defense of Mokmer village. Another lineof caves formed natural defenses north of thevillage, and a third section of caves to the westof the landing beaches, in an area known asthe Parai defile, was fortified with pillboxes.These caves gave the Japanese a great advan-tage, allowing them to hold up the Americanadvance toward the airfields for nearly amonth.

The destroyers USS Wilkes and USS Nichol-son came as close to shore as their captainsthought prudent, firing 5-inch shells into theJapanese positions near Mokmer, but theJapanese relocated to the Parai defile, wherethey held their ground and opened a witheringfire against the advancing 162nd Infantry. Thedestroyers came under fire from shore batter-

ies, which damaged at least one of the ships.“Artillery, machine-gun fire, and mortars

plastered our troops,” remembered ColonelRiegelman. “The forward battalion was cutoff by an invisible, deadly wall of steel andlead.” The advance of the 162nd had beenstopped dead.

By this time, it had become clear that theairfields would not be taken until the Japanesewere driven out of the caves that dominatedthe landing area. Dense jungle vegetation, thecloseness of American troops to the target

55AUGUST 2014 WWII HISTORYAll photos: National Archives

IN THE SPRING OF 1944, THE SMALL ISLANDOF BIAK—A STEPPING STONE TO THE

PHILIPPINES—WAS TAKEN BY THE AMERICANS.BY DAVID ALAN JOHNSON


area, and especially the cover being given bythe caves made it impossible for naval gunfireto rout out the enemy. The 162nd Infantry washemmed in on three sides and under constantfire from concealed Japanese positions. Themen would have to be evacuated from theirposition if they were not to be annihilated, andthere was only one way out—the sameamphibious landing craft that brought the

troops ashore would have to take them off thebeaches.

All available amphibious craft were pressedinto service. Under cover of artillery, naval gun-fire, and air support, the men were taken offthe beaches during the afternoon of May 29.By nightfall, the regiment had been evacuatedfrom Parai and landed about 500 yards awayto set up a new position. It had been a near dis-

aster, but the evacuation had succeeded. The Japanese launched a counterattack the

next morning with infantry supported by sixlight tanks, but Sherman medium tanks fromthe 603rd Tank Company were on hand to facethe attack, having moved up from Bosnik tosupport the infantry. One soldier compared theappearance of the tanks with a scene from aHollywood film, with the Shermans coming tothe rescue of “the surrounded dogfaces” just inthe nick of time.

The Japanese Type 95 tanks, equipped with37mm cannon, could not do much damage tothe Shermans, but the 75mm guns of the Sher-mans punched holes right through the sides ofthe Japanese tanks. A 37mm shell hit the turretof one of the Shermans, locking its gun in place.The driver backed into a shell hole, which ele-vated the front end of the tank along with itsgun and allowed the gunner to bring his 75mmto bear on a Japanese tank. The Shermanknocked out the Type 95 in spite of the dam-age to its turret.

Stopping the Japanese tanks provided areprieve for the 162nd Infantry. The men werehaving enough problems with the island itself.Jungle trails slowed forward movement to asnail’s pace, while equatorial heat slowed themen just as effectively, and fresh water wasscarce. The men were limited to one canteen ofwater per day, which everyone soon discoveredwas ridiculously inadequate.

The caves gave the Japanese a system of nat-ural defenses that was much more effective thananything they could have built themselves.They allowed Japanese troops to pop out intothe open, fire on unsuspecting Americans, anddisappear again. Mortars and artillery werealso brought into the caves, both to protectthem and to keep them out of sight. The “cavedefense” was brilliantly effective, much to thefrustration of the men of the 41st Division. Itquickly became evident that taking Biak wouldbe a long and grim business.

The caves were not just holes in the sides ofmountains. Some of them were equipped withelectric lights, wooden floors, and kitchens.Some were two and three levels deep. A seriesof tunnels connected the caves and led to hid-den exits. The Japanese “laid ambush afterambush,” one soldier remembered.

The 163rd Regiment arrived on June 1 toreinforce the 41st’s drive toward the airfields.Mokmer drome was captured on June 7, butthe airfield was still of no use to American air-craft. Japanese troops in nearby caves kept theArmy engineers from making the field opera-tional with steady mortar and artillery fire.

Some of the smaller caves were sealed by a


ABOVE: Smoke billows from the shells of the U.S. Navy destroyers Wilkes and Nicholson, providing closefire support for the American infantrymen fighting the Japanese onshore at Biak. This photo was taken onMay 27, 1944, the day the U.S. troops landed on the island in the Schouten group near the western tip ofNew Guinea. BELOW: Amphibious DUKW vehicles, popularly known as Ducks, transport U.S. infantrymenfrom their troopship to shore on the island of Biak. The fight for Biak was intense, but the island was con-sidered an important stepping stone for General Douglas MacArthur’s return to the Philippines.


sort of skip-bombing technique by Curtiss P-40 Tomahawk fighter-bombers. Closing otherswas going to be a long, slow process for theinfantry.

The capture of Biak was progressing tooslowly for General Douglas MacArthur, whohad expected to have at least one of the airfieldsoperational by this time. He decided to relieveGeneral Horace H. Fuller of task force com-mand. General Fuller was also commander ofthe 41st Division and was originally to havestayed on. However, he refused to stay since hefelt that he had lost the confidence of GeneralMacArthur. Fuller was reassigned outside theSouthwest Pacific Area on June 15. The divi-sion was taken over by Brig. Gen. Jens A. Doe,who had commanded the 163rd Regiment.

Soldiers went about the business of clearingthe caves with grim determination. Some usedflamethrowers, crawling within point-blankrange of the entrance under the cover of riflefire and burning out the cave interiors with longstreams of fire. Sometimes the flames would hitone of the cave walls and bounce back at theAmericans.

Flamethrowers were unable to reach farenough inside some of the larger caves. Satchelcharges, hand grenades, and gasoline were usu-ally employed for these. Gasoline was some-times poured into one of the openings and thenset on fire. After a few minutes, dull thuds andrumblings could be heard coming from thecave’s interior—ammunition supplies wereexploding, destroying the cave along witheveryone inside it.

The effect of satchel charges was every bit ashorrific as that of gasoline. After one cave wasblown apart, a private went inside to see whatwas left. He came out a few minutes later, nau-seated and vomiting. “My God, it looks like ascene from hell,” he said. “Pieces of men allover the tunnel floor! Bodies with bellies blownopen by concussion! Blood running from theears, noses, mouths, and eyes of dead Japs! It’sawful!”

In late June the Americans attacked the WestCaves, north and west of Mokmer. Theinfantrymen used gasoline, hand grenades, andexplosives to neutralize them one at a time. Thedeadly work took nearly 10 days and some-times required the support of Sherman tanks.The caves were finally cleared by the end of themonth. Now that they were no longer beingharassed by enemy fire, the engineers were ableto make Mokmer drome operational. On June22, the airfield began landing fighters.

Colonel Riegelman had the chance to take alook around the vicinity of the West Caves andspoke with some of the men who had beenengaged in the heavy fighting. He was matter offact in his evaluation. “I saw the disabled Japtanks, inspected a nearby mortar platoon,talked to the men, noted their drawn, beardedfaces and eyes, red from lack of sleep. They did

not complain.”Riegelman also made a study of the caves on

Biak and divided them into four types. TypeOne consisted of a “cavern in a cliff” from threeto five feet in depth, which was used either fora machine-gun emplacement or a storage areafor food and ammunition. Type Two was larger,20 to 30 feet high, facing the sea, with a rearopening from the landward side for access. Thecave’s forward opening was “usually improved”by a “concrete machine-gun port” that served tomake the already formidable position even moreformidable. Type Three was made up of “aseries of connected open cavities four to eightfeet in height and three to six feet in depth.”Type Four caves were the largest, “more or lesscircular in shape, up to 50 yards in diameter, 15to 60 feet deep, with sheer or steeply slopingsides.” The Type Four cave might also be “theentrance to a succession of chambers and inter-connecting galleries,” actually a cave networkwith multiple entrances as much as 100 yardsapart. The caves were defensive marvels, but theAmericans were becoming experts at improvis-ing methods for neutralizing them.

An artilleryman remembered that one cavewas “impervious to all calibers we could bringto bear. Its entrance defied demolition.” Thiswas clearly a job for the engineers.


ABOVE: Throughout the month of June, American forces battled Japanese defenders on the island of Biak.The Japanese had fortified a labyrinth of caves, and many fought to the death rather than surrender. LEFT: Brigadier General Jens A. Doe took command of the U.S. 41st Infantry Division on Biak after the division's original commander, General Horace Fuller, was relieved of duty.

Map © 2014 Philip Schwartzberg, Meridian Mapping, Minneapolis, MN


A party of engineers arrived at the cave withwhat was described as “a quarter-ton trailer”carrying 850 pounds of TNT. A winch was setup, and the TNT was lowered into the cave. “Ihad no idea what 850 pounds of TNT woulddo,” an observing officer admitted. “I onlyknew it was a lot of TNT.”

Nobody else knew what the TNT would doeither, but nobody was taking any chances. All

troops were ordered back 100 yards from thecave entrance, and nearby Shermans werepulled back to safer ground. Everyone gotdown on their stomachs, flat on the ground,and waited for the explosion.

When the TNT went off, a cloud of dust andsmoke billowed out of the cave, followed bythe thud of hundreds of falling rocks. After thesmoke cleared, the men and the Shermans were

ordered back into position. The men advancedtoward the cave’s gaping mouth and stared intothe blackness.

“The blackness stared back,” said oneobserver. The troops sent into the cave wereordered to bayonet every Japanese soldier theycould find, whether they were breathing or not.

On June 20, both Borokoe and Soridoairstrips were taken by American troops. Themajor objectives on Biak—the three airfields—had been captured, but there was still a sizableJapanese force on the island.

About 1,000 Japanese troops occupied theEast Caves, situated close to the original land-ing beaches. They kept up sporadic artillery firedirected at the three air bases. Initially, the firefrom these caves had been considered a nui-sance. After the West Caves were cleared, theEast Caves became the primary objective.

Artillery began firing at the caves shortlyafter Borokoe and Sorido were safely in Amer-ican hands. Engineers and infantry from Mok-mer moved into the area under the cover of75mm fire from the Shermans and began clear-ing the caves using the same methods that hadbeen successful against the West Caves.

Most of the caves had been neutralized byJuly 5. Their occupants had either been killedor had slipped away into the jungle.

Not all Japanese troops took cover in thecaves and waited for the enemy to attack. Onthe night of June 21-22, a counterattack wasattempted against the American positions nearthe West Caves. According to Lt. Gen. RobertEichelberger, who had been sent to Biak toappraise the situation for General MacArthur,an attack was made by 109 Japanese officersand men against one of the 186th Regiment’soutposts.

“What a racket,” Eichelberger reported.“They came crowding down the moonlit trailin a mass, shouting their banzais.” The 186th’sposition was occupied by 12 men who heldtheir fire until the charging enemy was only afew yards away. Machine-gun fire killed manyattackers. One Japanese soldier was shot try-ing to bayonet an American sergeant. Anotherjumped into a foxhole with one of the Ameri-cans and pulled the pin on a hand grenade. Thegrenade exploded, killing both men. Every oneof the attacking Japanese was killed.

“Score 109 to 1,” General Eichelberger said. Other attacks were made all along the line

that night. Each had the same result. Machine-gun fire shredded the Japanese.

“It was mass execution,” one Americanremembered, “mass suicide of men who wantedto die.” Stories began to circulate about a singlesquad of Americans killing nearly 200 Japanese.


ABOVE: Knocked out by an American Sherman tank during one of the few armor versus armor encountersof the Pacific War, the hulk of a Japanese light tank smolders on Biak. The Japanese tanks mounted 37mmguns that were capable of inflicting only limited damage on the Shermans, while the American tanks mount-ed heavier 75mm guns with greater penetrating power. BELOW: An American M4 Sherman medium tankfires its 75mm gun at a Japanese position on Biak. The American tanks were superior to their Japanesecounterparts but were often required to draw up to point-blank range to reduce fortified Japanese posi-tions. The Shermans were also susceptible to artillery fire and anti-tank weapons.


None of them would surrender. They wouldrather die than give up. One American said,“Usually a sure sign that the Japanese knew thatthey were licked.”

If the Japanese knew they were beaten, theywere not letting it show. The next objective forthe American troops, specifically the 163rdRegiment, was the Ibdi Pocket, about 4,000yards east of Parai. The attack began in mid-June and continued until the end of July. Over40,000 mortar and artillery shells were firedinto Japanese positions during the first twoweeks, but the enemy managed to put up stub-born resistance.

By July 10, American patrols reported thatthe constant shelling had considerably weak-ened the enemy. The pocket had been method-ically blasted away. This was encouraging newsfor the men of the 163rd as they renewed theirattack on July 11. Backed up by artillery, air-craft, and Sherman tanks, infantrymen usedflamethrowers and bazookas against the weak-ened enemy positions.

Progress was slow and costly in humanterms. Besides losing more killed and wounded,the Americans were coming down with debili-tating illnesses such as typhus and “fevers ofunknown origin.”

Senior officers began looking for a way toend the fighting as quickly as possible. Poisongas was considered and discounted. “We cap-tured a lot of it,” one man said, “just the thingfor these caves.”

Colonel Riegelman was asked, “How aboutit, Chemical Officer? What do you do withthose caves?” Riegelman answered, “We got alot of Jap gas that isn’t being used, sir.” Theconversation stopped for a moment. Nobodywas sure whether the exchange was supposedto be funny, but it resumed a short while lateras if nothing had happened. The joke, if it wasa joke, had been dropped.

Sometime after this, the subject of the capturedgas came up again. This time, there was no lev-ity. Colonel Riegelman’s commanding officerasked him, “How much Jap gas do you have?”

“Plenty, sir,” the colonel replied. “We havetaken great quantities, mostly poison smoke.”

The officer asked Riegelman if the gas couldbe used against the Japanese and explained thathis staff disagreed with his intent to do so ifpossible.

Riegelman responded, “Sir, in my opinion thestaff is right, and I believe you’d be relieved in24 hours after you used gas. In the end thatwould cost us more in time and casualties thanif we keep on as we are.”

Riegelman did not explain exactly what hemeant by “casualties.” He was probably refer-

ring to the officers who would face punishmentif they elected to use poison gas. He returned tohis tent and went to bed. “I never thought Ishould see the day when I would oppose the useof gas against the Jap, especially his own gas,”he reflected. “Yet I could not think I had beenwrong in this.”

The American forces on Biak kept up theiroffensive through the month of July, in spite ofthe heat and the jungle diseases. All organizedresistance on Biak ended in mid-July, althoughmopping-up operations continued until July 25.The island was declared secure on August 20.

Nearly 500 Americans were killed on Biakand more than 2,400 wounded, while another1,000 were incapacitated by diseases. Japanesecasualties were up to 6,100 killed, 450 cap-tured, and an unknown number wounded.

Among the dead was Colonel NaoyukiKuzume, the Japanese commander. No one isexactly certain what happened to ColonelKuzume. Some reports claim that he commit-ted ritual suicide after the failed counterattackon June 21-22. Others say that he was killed inaction afterward or that he committed suicidetoward the end of the campaign.

In his narrative of the Biak campaign, navalhistorian Admiral Samuel Eliot Morison hadnothing but praise for Colonel Kuzume and his

defense of the island. “Realizing the hopeless-ness of his position, this brave and resourcefulofficer caused his regimental colors to be burnedduring the night of 21-22 June. Whether he thentook his own life or was killed in action is notknown, but his death marked the end of a well-directed and stubborn defense.”

Not everyone agreed that the defense of Biakwas admirable, no matter how stubborn itmight have been. “Biak was a battle that gavea terrifying glimpse into the soul of mankind,”wrote another observer. “For all man’s vauntedcivilization and culture, he still retreats into thecaves when deadly danger threatens. Under thethin veneer of civilization lurks the caveman—a human animal at bay.”

The Biak operation was a success, which wasall that mattered to the military planners. Mori-son wrote, “MacArthur’s prompt and vigorousinvasion of Biak proved to be a serious embar-rassment to the enemy on the eve of the Battleof the Philippine Sea. That alone made theoperation worthwhile; but, in addition, Biakbecame an important Allied air base for thesubsequent liberation of the Philippines.”

David A. Johnson is the author of several booksand has written extensively for WWII History.He resides in Union, New Jersey.


After retreating from a barrage of Japanese hand grenades, American combat engineers return to the mouthof a fortified Japanese cave on Biak. Often the engineers used satchel charges to seal the entrances to themany caves on the island, trapping the enemy occupants inside.


WORLD WAR II made a disparate trio of allies—British Prime Minister Winston Churchill,Soviet Marshal Josef Stalin, and American Presi-dent Franklin D. Roosevelt—military as well aspolitical leaders in turn.

They were guilty of monumental strategic mis-takes in 1941, showed considerable resilience in1942, and won great victories in 1943. But the“Big Three” had not yet all met together to planthe future course of the war and consider the shapeof the postwar world. So, when Churchill andRoosevelt met for discussions at the palatialChateau Frontenac in Quebec on August 17-24,1943, they realized the need to include Stalin intheir next round of talks.

On August 18, during their first Quebec con-ference code named Quadrant, the British andAmerican leaders telegraphed the Soviet dictator,“We fully understand strong reasons which leadyou to remain on battlefronts where your pres-ence has been so fruitful of victory. Nevertheless,we wish to emphasize once more importance of ameeting between all 3 of us.” They suggested aconference in Fairbanks, Alaska, which was lessthan 600 miles from eastern Soviet territory.

Replying to Roosevelt alone, Stalin agreed thatsuch a meeting “would positively be expedient,”and conceded, “I do not have any objections to thepresence of Mr. Churchill at this meeting.” But hesuggested as a site Archangel in northern Russiaor Astrakhan in the south. The wily, ruthless Stalinwas seemingly reluctant to travel far and abandonhis people then battling the German armies on theEastern Front, but in fact he seldom left the Krem-lin and paid only one brief visit to a war front, inAugust 1943.

Churchill, who had flown to Moscow in August1942 and who made numerous perilous missionsthroughout the war, became frustrated by theSoviet leader’s backpedaling. Telegraphing his warcabinet from Quebec, the prime minister com-plained about the “bearishness of Soviet Russia”and the fact that Stalin had “studiously ignoredour offer to make a long and hazardous journey inorder to bring about a tripartite meeting.”

By mid-September 1943, the idea of Tehran, acity in mountainous north-central Iran, had beenraised as a site for the talks. It was outside Rus-sia, but close enough for Stalin to get back quickly

to Moscow if needed. Churchill was ready to goanywhere, but Roosevelt balked. Citing restric-tions placed on him by the Constitution, hefeared that the difficulty of reaching Tehran byair would seriously hamper his vital legislativebusiness with Congress.

Averell Harriman, Roosevelt’s able ambassadorto the Soviet Union, pressured Stalin to no avail.The southeastern Iraq port of Basra was suggestedas a compromise. Roosevelt would not have tocross the mountains, and secure links could be setup between there and the Soviet Union. But Stalininsisted that the telegraph line between Tehran andMoscow, guarded by Red Army troops, was essen-tial to his conduct of the Eastern Front campaigns.

Eventually, the Americans came around andTehran was agreed upon as the venue for the conference. Code named Eureka, it was sched-uled for November 28 to December 6, 1943.Churchill and Roosevelt,meanwhile, agreed on apreliminary meeting inCairo, code named Sextant.

Traveling respectively inthe aging 31,988-ton bat-tlecruiser HMS Renownand the new 45,000-tonbattleship USS Iowa, theBritish and American chiefsand their military staffsconverged on the Egyptiancapital. Joined by ChinesePresident Chiang Kai-shek and his stylish wife,Churchill and FDR held two lengthy meetings onNovember 23-26 at Cairo’s spacious MenaHouse Hotel, near the Pyramids and the RiverNile. It was agreed that the British would con-duct an amphibious offensive in the Bay of Ben-gal to coincide with a Chinese intervention innorthern Burma and that Japan should bestripped of all Far Eastern territory it had seizedsince 1914.

General Alan Brooke, the shrewd British Chiefof the Imperial General Staff, noted that the Chi-nese leader looked like “a cross between a pinemarten and a ferret” and had “no grasp of warin its larger aspects,” while Madame Chiang Kai-shek had “a queer character in which sex and pol-itics seemed to predominate.” The likelihood of


Soviet Premier JosefStalin, U.S. Presi-dent Franklin D.Roosevelt, andBritish Prime Minis-ter Winston Churchillmet in the Iraniancapital of Tehran inlate 1943. Amongthe topics of discus-sion was the open-ing of a second frontin Western Europe.

Big Three in The

BY MICHAEL D. HULL

W-Aug14 Tehran_Layout 1 6/6/14 2:11 PM Page 60


ROOSEVELT, CHURCHILL, AND STALIN HAD A PIVOTALMEETING IN THE IRANIANCAPITAL IN LATE 1943.

Libr

ary

of C

ongr

ess

Tehran


Turkey joining the war on the Allies’ side wasdiscussed in Cairo, while FDR informedChurchill that he was considering naming Gen-eral Dwight D. Eisenhower to command theplanned invasion of northern France. But theBritish and the Americans left Cairo early onSunday, November 28, without having decidedhow to deal with Stalin.

The jaunty, optimistic Roosevelt, however,was sure that he had a better chance of gainingthe confidence of “Uncle Joe” than Churchill.In March 1942, he had written to the primeminister, “I know you will not mind my beingbrutally frank when I tell you that I think I canhandle Stalin personally better than either yourForeign Office or my State Department. Stalinhates the guts of all your top people. He thinkshe likes me better, and I hope he will continueto do so.”

Somewhat naive about foreign relations,FDR told William Bullitt, his former ambas-sador to Moscow, “I have just a hunch thatStalin doesn’t want anything but security forhis country, and I think that if I give him every-thing I possibly can and ask nothing from himin return, noblesse oblige, he won’t try to annexanything and will work for a world of democ-racy and peace.”

Flying to Tehran early on Sunday, Novem-ber 28, 1943, in a converted four-engine AvroYork transport named Ascalon, Churchill—then feverish and not in his best health—con-fided some misgivings to his doctor, LordCharles Moran. The Americans wanted a quickinvasion of France, he said, and might throwaway “shining, gleaming opportunities in theMediterranean.” The Allied campaign in Italywas flagging and allowing the Germans todraw their breath. As for Stalin, one ofChurchill’s aides had warned, “To make friendswith Stalin would be equivalent to makingfriends with a python.” The prime ministerforesaw a difficult time in Tehran.

The arrival there for the most significant andfar-reaching top-level Allied talks of the warwas not encouraging. Churchill’s daughter,Sarah, a section officer in the Women’s Auxil-iary Air Force, described the slow ride throughnarrow, crowded streets to the British legationas “spine-chilling.” She said, “Anyone couldhave shot my father at point-blank range or justdropped a nice little grenade into our laps.” Shefound the ramshackle legation, guarded by 350men of the East Kent (“Buffs”) Regiment, “coldand cheerless.” Olive Christopher, one ofChurchill’s administrative aides, observed,“Tehran itself we all thought was the mostfilthy place. All the drains are open and runthrough the streets…. It took a week to get the

smell of Tehran out of our clothes.” President Roosevelt landed in Tehran on the

afternoon of Saturday, November 27, after a1,300-mile flight from Cairo. He had planned totake up quarters in the American legation, butMarshal Stalin invited him to stay in the Sovietlegation, across the road from the British.Shortly after the president had settled in, Stalinwalked over and they chatted informally for anhour. The two heads of state were amiable, andthis did not bode well for Churchill.

Products of the late 19th century, the threeleaders meeting in Tehran were physicallyresilient and, though amateur diplomats, eachunique in the political forum of his own coun-try in the first half of the 20th century. Roo-sevelt and Stalin were, respectively, seven and

five years younger than Churchill.Cherubic, pugnacious, and the most scholarly

of the three, the British prime minister was aparliamentary maverick, staunch imperialist,prolific writer, and the only one with combatexperience and a happy marriage. He ate anddrank copiously, was seldom without a Havanacigar, and never exercised. His bulldog courageand resounding oratory had inspired his peoplewhen they stood alone against the Axis powersin 1939-1941. His trademark V for victory signbecame a universal symbol of freedom.

The handsome, idealistic Roosevelt was awell-to-do upstate New York patrician whostubbornly overcame crippling poliomyelitisand whose bold leadership helped his countrymobilize against the Great Depression and thengird for war. He and Churchill enjoyed a uniquerelationship, but he was suspicious of the Britishand their sprawling empire. Roosevelt watchedhis diet, collected postage stamps, and swamregularly. He could be both charming and devi-ous, and, like Churchill, was intensely interestedin naval affairs. His trademarks were a Navycape and a long cigarette holder.

Short, paunchy, and mustached, Stalin was acoarse Georgian peasant and former seminarystudent who used the apparatus of the Com-munist Party to reach the pinnacle of politicalpower in the Soviet Union. He ruthlessly liqui-dated all in the party, government, and armedforces who might oppose his dictatorship. Hehad black teeth and yellow eyes, and, likeChurchill, avoided exercise. Stalin drank wine,toyed with a pipe supplied by the London firmof Alfred Dunhill (which provided Churchillwith cigars), and, like FDR, was a chain smoker.

At their private meeting on the afternoon ofNovember 28, Roosevelt told Stalin, “I am gladto see you. I have tried for a long time to bringthis about.” The Soviet leader admitted that hewas partly responsible for the delay, being “veryoccupied with military matters.” Accompaniedby their interpreters, the two chiefs discussedthe Eastern Front and the global situation andagreed that France should be punished for col-laborating with Germany. Both overlookedStalin’s eager alliance with Nazi dictator AdolfHitler in 1939-1941. Roosevelt advised Stalinnot to discuss the question of India withChurchill and made it clear that he had ideasabout the conduct of the war and its aftermaththat differed from those of the British leader.

Sensing that Roosevelt wanted to appearindependent of Churchill’s influence, Stalin pro-ceeded to encourage it. He started by proposingthat FDR should chair all sessions. On leavingthe meeting, Roosevelt said he appreciated theopportunity to meet the Soviet leader in “infor-


Both: National Archives

ABOVE: During a ceremony at the Soviet embassy inTehran, Josef Stalin is presented the Sword of Stalin-grad by the British delegation to the Big Three con-ference. Prime Minister Winston Churchill is visible tothe left of the sword. BELOW: The fact that NaziGermany and Soviet Russia had conspired to invadeand partition Poland in 1939 was convenientlyignored during discussions of the future of Polandfollowing the coming Allied victory in World War IIat the Tehran Conference in 1943. In this photo, Ger-man and Soviet soldiers share a ride during opera-tions in 1939.


mal and different circumstances.”At 4 PM on November 28, the three Allied

leaders and their aides sat in the conferenceroom of the Soviet Embassy for their first ple-nary session. The meeting represented “thegreatest concentration of power that the worldhad ever seen,” Churchill reported. For him, theTehran talks were the last time he was able toconfer with FDR and Stalin on equal terms. Inmore than four years of war, British manpowerand resources had been severely strained.

Churchill pointed out that the three men heldthe future of mankind in their hands, and Stalinagreed, “History has given us a great opportu-nity. Now let us get down to business.” GeneralAlan Brooke said of the Sunday afternoon ses-sion, “This was the first occasion during the warwhen Stalin, Roosevelt, and Winston sat arounda table to discuss the war we were wagingtogether. I found it quite enthralling looking attheir faces and trying to estimate what laybehind.” He decided that Stalin, unlike manyother World War II leaders, possessed “a mili-tary brain of the highest caliber.” Alan Brookesaid later, “Never once in any of his statementsdid he make any strategic error, nor did he everfail to appreciate all the implications of a situa-tion with a quick and unerring eye.”

Taking the chair, President Rooseveltannounced that the three chiefs would talk“with complete frankness on all sides, withnothing that was said to be made public.” Hewas confident of the success of the talks, thatthe three nations would cooperate in prosecut-ing the war, and that they would “also remainin close touch for generations to come.”

Roosevelt reported on operations in thePacific Theater and stressed the American effortto keep China in the war, which did not inter-est Churchill and was opposed by Stalin. TheSoviet dictator had excluded Chiang Kai-shekfrom the Tehran conference.

Turning to the European Theater, Rooseveltexplained that a shortage of sea transport, par-ticularly landing craft, had prevented the settingof a date for Operation Overlord. At Quebec, heand Churchill had tentatively agreed on May 1,1944, as the date for the invasion. Stalin andGeneral George C. Marshall, chairman of theU.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff, had pressed for a sec-ond front as early as 1942. Stalin wanted pres-sure taken off his armies on the Eastern Front,while Marshall, though a brilliant organizer,was a flawed strategist. The necessary man-power, shipping, and other resources were sim-ply not available in 1942 or even in 1943.

Churchill, who reported experiencing night-mares of Allied bodies piled high on Frenchbeaches in a premature invasion as shown in the

ill-fated Dieppe raid, advocated an assaultagainst the Balkans, the “soft underbelly ofEurope.” For this, he was accused by Stalin andothers of stalling and lacking conviction inOverlord.

Harry Hopkins, the frail but tireless interna-tional security surrogate for both FDR andChurchill, vigorously opposed operations in theBalkans. The prime minister wanted Overlordlaunched only under the most favorable cir-cumstances. He had served in the Western Fronttrenches during World War I when a generationof British manhood was sacrificed, and he knewthat his country could not endure another suchbloodbath.

During the first plenary session in Tehran,Stalin promised that once Germany was con-quered he would help Britain and America

defeat Japan. He dismissed Italy and the Balkansas bases for launching assaults against Germanyand agreed, “Northern France is still the best.”He thus threw his support behind the U.S.Chiefs of Staff, much to their delight.

Churchill stated that the North African andItalian campaigns were clearly secondary, butthe best that could be managed in 1943. Withthe fall of Rome, he said, Allied troops would beavailable for use in a planned invasion of south-ern France, code named Operation Anvil. Inter-ested only in the invasion of northern France,Stalin maintained that the dispersal of Alliedforces in the Mediterranean area would not aidOverlord. He wanted the Normandy assault

launched, and soon. Churchill returned to thequestion of drawing Turkey into the war, butFDR and Stalin offered no encouragement, andthe session ended.

On the evening of November 28, Roosevelthosted Churchill and Stalin at dinner in his quar-ters. The Soviet dictator argued that Francedeserved no special treatment, “had no right toretain her empire,” and should not play a sig-nificant role in the affairs of the postwar world.Roosevelt concurred in part, with only Churchilldefending the nation and voicing his hope for a“flourishing and lively France.” Stalin then saidthat Germany, once defeated, must be kept weakso that she could never again plunge the worldinto war. Churchill suggested disarmament mea-sures, but the Soviet leader dismissed them asinadequate and said he had no faith in the refor-

mation of the German people.Then arose the question of Poland, the inva-

sion of which had precipitated the war. Stalinsaid he thought the Poles should have the OderRiver for their western frontier, while Churchillproposed the Curzon Line as the postwarSoviet-Polish border, with Poland receiving ter-ritorial compensation from Germany. Namedafter Lord George Curzon, the British foreignsecretary in 1920, the line was advocated at the1919 Paris Peace Conference as the easternboundary of Poland. When Roosevelt suggestedinternational control of the approaches to theBaltic Sea, the Soviet leader declared curtly,“The Baltic states had, by an expression of the


Libr

ary

of C

ongr

ess

Chinese leader Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, seated left, joins President Roosevelt, Prime Minister Churchill andMadame Chiang during their conference in Cairo, immediately before the meeting of the Big Three at Tehran. Mili-tary officers behind the national leaders include U.S. General Brehon Somervell, U.S. General Joseph Stillwell,U.S. General Dwight D. Eisenhower, British Field Marshal Sir John Dill, and British Lord Louis Mountbatten.


will of the people, voted to join the SovietUnion, and this question was not therefore onefor discussion.”

After FDR went to bed, Churchill and Stalinagain discussed postwar Germany. The lattersuggested restraints on German industry, whilethe British leader said he believed that the Ger-man people could be re-educated within a gen-eration. Stalin was pessimistic, but historywould prove Churchill right. The prime minis-ter stressed the British intention to reestablish astrong and independent Poland, and Stalininsisted that he did not want Poland but wouldbe satisfied with some German territory. On thatnote, they parted for the evening.

Churchill asked for a private meeting withRoosevelt on the morning of November 29, butit was refused because the president did notwant to arouse Soviet suspicions. Instead, Roo-sevelt continued to meet privately with Stalin.The prime minister had become the odd manout at Tehran, but he stood firm while hispatience and customary good humor wereunder siege.

Roosevelt was determined to establish a per-sonal bond with Stalin, who had initiallyappeared “correct, stiff, solemn, not smiling,nothing to get hold of,” so he made a point ofteasing Churchill during the conference. “Win-ston is cranky this morning,” Roosevelt whis-pered to Stalin at one point. “He got up on thewrong side of the bed.” When FDR needled theprime minister about his cigars, habits, andBritish attitudes, Stalin smiled. Roosevelt con-tinued until Stalin was laughing and Churchillscowling. The prime minister had been fore-warned, but he failed to see any humor in Roo-sevelt’s remarks. The president persisted until itceased to be amusing, but he claimed later thatteasing Churchill made his relations with Stalinmore personal.

On the afternoon of November 29, in theirsecond private meeting, Roosevelt presented toStalin his idea of an executive committee—theUnited Nations Organization—to maintainworld order after the war. It would comprise theUnited States, the Soviet Union, Great Britainand the Commonwealth, China, two Europeancountries, a South American nation, and coun-tries in the Middle East and Far East. “The FourPolicemen”—America, Britain, Russia, andChina—would deal with any threat to peace.Stalin opposed the inclusion of China.

The conference’s second plenary session wasconvened later on the afternoon of November29. The British and American military adviserswere present, and Marshal Stalin was accompa-nied by his hard-bitten, stammering foreign min-ister, Vyacheslav Molotov, and incompetent

Marshal Klimentii Voroshilov. Alan Brooke andMarshall reported on a morning meeting of themilitary staffs and briefed the Big Three onpreparations for the invasion of Normandy.Stalin asked who would command OperationOverlord, but Roosevelt replied that no one hadbeen chosen. “Nothing should be done to dis-tract attention from that operation,” urged the

Soviet leader, adding that the date should be setand also an invasion of southern Francemounted.

Churchill called for a strong Allied offensivein central Italy and increased aid to the Balkans,both aimed at pinning down German forces andthus aiding Overlord. He assured Stalin thatBritain had no territorial ambitions in theBalkans. Stalin continually interruptedChurchill and asked if the British really believedin Overlord or were just trying to placate theSoviets. Growing impatient with the sneeringdictator, the prime minister replied that such aventure had been his country’s intention sincebefore the French collapse in 1940. If conditionswere right, said Churchill, “it was the duty ofthe British government to hurl every scrap ofstrength across the Channel.”

At 3:30 PM on November 29, the British del-egation went to the Soviet Embassy to watchChurchill present the Sword of Stalingrad toStalin. Forged in England, the ornate silver, gold,and crystal ceremonial sword represented a trib-ute to “the steel-hearted people of Stalingrad”and the climactic victory there, one of the turn-ing points of 1942. After a speech, the prime

minister gave the sword to Stalin in the name ofKing George VI. Stalin kissed it and handed itover to Marshal Voroshilov, who promptlydropped it out of its scabbard. General AlanBrooke reported that it was finally given to thecommander of the Soviet honor guard and“marched off securely.”

That evening, Stalin hosted Churchill andFDR at dinner. The Soviet leader taunted theprime minister over his dogged argument dur-ing the afternoon talks; stout opposition was anew experience for the dictator. He inferred sev-eral times that Churchill “nursed a secret affec-tion for Germany and desired to see a softpeace.” Stalin, who had liquidated millions ofhis own people in the 1930s, advocated that50,000 German military officers be shot, andthe humane Churchill was outraged. Heprotested “the cold-blooded execution of sol-diers who had fought for their country.” Whileagreeing that war criminals would have to standtrial, he added, “I would rather be taken outinto the garden here and now and be shot myselfthan sully my own and my country’s honor bysuch infamy.”

Churchill’s anger was not abated when Roo-sevelt tried to ease the tension by joking that only49,000 officers needed to be executed. AlthoughForeign Secretary Anthony Eden hinted thatStalin and FDR were not being serious, Churchillleft the dinner table and did not return until theSoviet leader clapped him on the shoulders andassured him that it had been a joke.

The talks resumed. Stalin admitted that hisRed Army had fought poorly against the gal-lant, outnumbered Finns in the winter of 1939-1940, and that it had been woefully unreadywhen the Germans invaded Russia on June 22,1941. The dictator was to blame for thisbecause he had purged 10,000 senior officers ofthe Red Army in 1938. Stalin said he favoredincreases in British strength in the Gibraltar areaand suggested that America and Britain installmore friendly governments in Spain and Portu-gal. When Churchill inquired about Soviet ter-ritorial ambitions, the marshal replied, “Thereis no need to speak at the present time aboutany Soviet desires, but when the time comes, wewill speak.”

On the following day, Tuesday, November 30,the prime minister—disturbed by Roosevelt’srefusal to confer with him privately—sought outStalin to explain his stance on the delayed sec-ond front. He wanted to dispose of any idea that“Churchill and the British staffs mean to stopOverlord if they can, because they want toinvade the Balkans instead.” He outlined Britishpreparations for the massive cross-Channelassault and offensives in Italy and insisted that


National Archives

ABOVE: At the conclusion of the Tehran Conference,British Prime Minister Winston Churchill approvedPresident Franklin D. Roosevelt’s choice of GeneralDwight Eisenhower to lead the Allied invasion ofNormandy in 1944. Roosevelt then flew to Tunis toinform Eisenhower of his selection. OPPOSITE: Alliedlanding craft and transports along the beaches ofNormandy unload men and materiel during the open-ing of the second front in Western Europe. During theweeks after D-Day, thousands of troops and tons ofsupplies poured into France.


Mediterranean operations would draw Germanstrength away from the north. Stressing theshortage of ships and landing craft, Churchillsaid he wanted some U.S. naval units detachedfrom the Pacific Theater. But, he noted, “theAmericans are very touchy about the Pacific.”

Stalin told the prime minister that the moraleof the Red Army was greatly dependent onOverlord and that once he knew the date, heavyblows would be inflicted on the Germans. At alunch meeting that day, Roosevelt briefed hisAllied colleagues on military recommendations.The Italian offensive would be continued to thenorthern Pisa-Rimini line, he said, and Over-lord and the invasion of southern France wouldjump off in May 1944. Stalin was pleased.Churchill ended the session by voicing hope thatthe nations governing the postwar world wouldhave satisfied their territorial aims in order toensure peace.

At the afternoon plenary session on Novem-ber 30, General Alan Brooke confirmed that theBritish and American staffs had agreed tolaunch Overlord and Anvil in May 1944.Churchill promised to keep the Soviets informedof Anglo-American plans, but Stalin did notmake a similar pledge. He did, however, vow tostart a simultaneous offensive from the east topin down German forces and prevent theirtransfer to France. Roosevelt endorsedChurchill’s call for coordinating Allied plans,but Stalin was again silent. The president said hewould name the Overlord commander within afew days after consulting Churchill. Eisenhowerwas appointed the following month.

Prime Minister Churchill turned 69 on

November 30, so Roosevelt and Stalin wereinvited to a birthday dinner party that eveningin the British legation, which had first been thor-oughly searched by Soviet agents. After threedays of grueling and sometimes acrimoniousdiscussion, it was a cheery interlude of goodhumor made memorable to Churchill. Eleganttable crystal and silver gleamed, and candleswere lighted on a birthday cake as the primeminister sat flanked by FDR and Stalin. Glasseswere raised in many toasts.

Stalin toasted Churchill as his “great friend,”the latter toasted “Stalin the great,” and Roo-sevelt graciously toasted Sarah Churchill. Whenher father said during one of his toasts that“England is getting pinker,” Stalin replied, “It isa sign of good health.” This triggered a roar oflaughter. Stalin toasted FDR for his commitmentto democracy and paid tribute to Americanindustry, while Churchill said he admired thepresident’s bold actions in 1933, which “pre-vented a revolution in the United States.” Justbefore the party wound up at 2 AM, Rooseveltproposed the loyal toast saying, “We haveproved here at Tehran that the varying ideals ofour nations can come together in a harmoniouswhole, moving unitedly for the common goodof ourselves and of the world…. We can see inthe sky, for the first time, that traditional sym-bol of hope, the rainbow.”

The three leaders gathered for a lunch con-ference on December 1. Churchill again pressedthe enlistment of Turkey in the Allied war effort,but FDR and Hopkins tried to dampen hisenthusiasm while Stalin said little. That after-noon, Roosevelt and Stalin huddled privately

for the last time, and the Big Three and theiraides sat for their final session in the evening.The fates of Poland and postwar Germany wereagain discussed.

Roosevelt proposed that Germany be brokenup into five self-governing states, Churchill sug-gested that Prussia be separated from the rest ofGermany, and Stalin advocated a thorough dis-membering of the country. He feared a rebuiltGermany and wanted an international groupformed to make sure that she remained neu-tralized. The perceptive Churchill asked Stalin ifhe “contemplated a Europe composed of littlestates, disjointed, separated, and weak,” and themarshal answered, “Not Europe, but Ger-many.” Roosevelt seemed to approve. Stalinwanted Germany to cease to exist as a politicalentity, with the Soviet Union filling the vacuumand dominating central Europe.

Churchill returned to the question of Poland,seeking a frontier formula he could present tothe exiled Polish government in London. Polandwould have the Curzon Line and the Oder Riveras frontiers, together with part of East Prussia,and Stalin agreed, providing that the SovietUnion gained northern East Prussia. Then hewould accept the Curzon Line as the Soviet-Pol-ish border.

The three leaders agreed on a resounding dec-laration that left many issues vague but heraldedthe founding of the United Nations as a postwarwatchdog. They declared themselves commit-ted to “the elimination of tyranny and slavery,oppression and intolerance,” though historywould show that Stalin’s definition of such evils


Nat

iona

l Arc

hive

s



CORPORAL MANNING HANEY SAT ATOP A DIKE NEAR RANDWIJK, HOLLAND, ONOctober 7, 1944, manning a .50-caliber machine gun. The young paratrooper had found the gunearlier and set it up, thinking it might come in handy. From the dike he could cover a large fieldof fire, which interlocked with several .30-caliber weapons nearby.

A Kentucky native, Haney frequently wore a raccoon skin capunder his helmet or instead of the helmet when he could get awaywith it. The machine gun soon proved its worth when Germantroops advanced against his company’s position. Pressing the but-terfly triggers, he sent round after round of thumb-sized bullets sail-ing into the enemy group, turning the attack back almost as itstarted. The Germans returned the next night, this time with mor-tars. Haney opened fire again, but this time his efforts drew the

response of every German soldier in range. Still, he kept up a brisk fire, tearing into

I By Christopher Miskimon I

Fox Company’s AirborneSaga

The troopers of F Company, 506thParachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division fought theirway across Western Europe.

the enemy until a direct mortar hit on his posi-tion killed him. Haney was just one of severalcasualties that day for Fox Company, 506thParachute Infantry Regiment, a sister unit tothe now famous Easy Company.

The book and subsequent miniseries Band ofBrothers created a contemporary surge of inter-est in World War II, particularly in the para-troopers. Several Easy Company veterans havewritten their own books, and fans follow themon websites. Easy was one of three companies inits battalion and one of nine in its regiment.While the men of Easy Company did their jobsand deserve gratitude, other units performedtheir duties equally well. Fox Company was onesuch outfit. It went everywhere its sister compa-nies went throughout the war, fought the samebattles, and made the same sacrifices. Its story istold in Fighting Fox Company: The BattlingFlank of the Band of Brothers (Terry Poyser andBill Brown, Casemate Publishing, Philadelphia,PA, 2014, maps, photographs, appendices, bib-liography, index, $32.95, hardcover).

In many ways, this book is familiar to anywho have read Stephen Ambrose’s bestsellerBand of Brothers. The men of Fox Companywere a cross-section of America. They trainedat Toccoa, Georgia, after volunteering tobecome paratroopers. During this time theylearned the basics of soldiering and parachut-ing before moving on to Fort Benning, Georgia,for jump training and more advanced infantrytactics. Eventually, they boarded ship for Eng-land, where their training stepped up in antici-pation of the invasion of Normandy. Along theway the company bonded into the tight-knitteam it had to be to survive what was coming.

On June 6, 1944, Fox Company parachutedinto the Normandy countryside and enteredcombat for the first time. Like other airborneunits, the men found themselves scattered acrossa wide area where they fought singly and in smallgroups until the company could reform dayslater. After several weeks of fighting, they werefinally withdrawn from the front and returned toEngland to prepare for their next action. Thatbattle came in September 1944, with OperationMarket-Garden, the ultimately failed attempt to

pierce deep into Germany and endthe war before Christmas 1944.Fox Company suffered more casu-alties there than in Normandy,including the loss of CorporalHaney. After a miserable time in thesodden mud of Holland, it againwithdrew to reconstitute.

In France the company absorbed

In this famous photograph, GeneralEisenhower speaks tomembers of the 101st

Airborne Divisionshortly before they

board their transportplanes to launch the

D-Day invasion.


BooksNational Archives

W-Aug14 Books_Layout 1 6/5/14 1:45 PM Page 66

Advertisement

W-Flame FP Aug14_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:34 PM Page 2

replacements, trained, and took furloughs toParis. All that came to a halt in December withthe German offensive in the Ardennes, the Bat-tle of the Bulge. Hastily thrown into action inthe defense of the key crossroads town of Bas-togne, Belgium, Fox Company suffered througharmored attacks, artillery bombardment, and abitterly contested counteroffensive in January1945. From then on the unit spent most of itstime in the final Allied advance into Germany,ending its war in the Alps at Berchtesgaden.

This book’s general similarities to Band ofBrothers are admittedly apparent, as it tells thesame story with a different company of thesame battalion. However, this is also one of thiswork’s strengths. The authors intentionally relyheavily on first-person accounts of Fox Com-pany veterans to tell the story. Some battles arerecounted through several participants, eachwith their own perspective. They went the same

places as Easy Company, but Fox’s war wasuniquely its own. The focus is kept on the sol-diers and their experiences during one of his-tory’s greatest conflicts.

Back From Tobruk, CroswellBowen and Betsy ConnorBowen, Potomac Books, Wash-ington, D.C., 2013, 221 pp.,photographs, appendices,$29.95, hardcover)Before America’s entry into

World War II, Croswell Bowen, a writer andphotographer, left New York City for thedeserts of North Africa. He had volunteered togo with a unit of Americans willing to act asambulance drivers for the British Army thenembroiled in bitter fighting across the sands ofEgypt and Libya. A train took the men to Hal-ifax, Nova Scotia, and a ship transported them

to the war. Leaving port in November 1941,the ship’s crew and passengers learned of theattack on Pearl Harbor as they sailed across theAtlantic, taking the long route around the Hornof Africa to India and eventually Egypt.

By May 1942, Cowen and his camera wereon their way to the front. Training in desertwarfare and a leave in Cairo ensued. Withindays, he was in Tobruk, mixing with soldiersfrom across the Commonwealth. Tankers,infantrymen, medics, and sappers all told theyoung journalist of their experiences, givinghim a broad look at the war he was so eager tocover. As the fighting around Tobruk contin-ued, Cowen began to experience pains and ill-ness, which the doctors decided was a case of“combat exhaustion.” As it seemed Tobrukwould fall to the enemy, he was evacuated eastto Bardia and then Mersa Matruh. As the tripback to Egypt continued, Bowen shared anambulance with a 19-year-old German pris-oner. The American writer came to see this


WOLFENSTEIN: THE NEW ORDERDespite the franchise’s age, Wolfenstein remains inthe category of “new nostalgia” for some. While it hasdeeper origins—starting with 2D adventure game

Castle Wolfenstein, which madeits Apple II debut in 1981—theseries is well known for its semi-nal contribution to the first-personshooter genre with 1992’sWolfenstein 3D. For some of usthat doesn’t really seem like solong ago, does it? But it stillimmerses the 3D aspect of thefranchise in a history over 20years old, and while that historyhas been a rocky one at times, it’sone of the best examples of a fan-tasy twist on World War II videogames have to offer.

We last saw Wolfenstein in the2009 sequel to 2001’s Return to Castle Wolfenstein,an average adventure that at best served to keep thefranchise name relevant. Perhaps it was that teeteringrelevancy that made everyone raise their eyebrowswhen the latest entry, Wolfenstein: The New Order,was first announced. I know we wrote about it in thesepages, but at that point it merely seemed like more ofthe same mix of Nazi villainy and mad science, withprotagonist William “BJ” Blazkowicz returning tomow them down with an overloaded arsenal ofweaponry.

However, there’s more to The New Order than that,and that’s all thanks to developer MachineGames.Even if the name doesn’t ring a bell, the talent thecompany employs has a killer track record. Based inUppsala, Sweden, MachineGames was founded in2009 and includes key members of Starbreeze Stu-dios, which was responsible for games like theremarkable The Chronicles of Riddick: Escape fromButcher Bay (2004) and The Darkness (2007), whichadapted the comic book of the same name. Thatshould be enough to convince those familiar to at leastgive Wolfenstein a shot, and after playing through it

I can definitely say the team lived up to its reputation. Wolfenstein: The New Order picks up after the

events of Wolfenstein, kicking off with BJ and pilotFergus Reid taking part in an intense Allied raidagainst a Nazi fortress and weapons laboratory. It’sJuly 1946 so it’s safe to say the war is still goingstrong, thanks in no small part to the Nazi develop-ment of advanced technologies that helped them turnthe tide against the Allies. Leading the forces of evilis General Wilhelm “Deathshead” Strasse, and BJ isdetermined to put an end to him and snuff out thisever-expanding war once and for all.

The setup makes it seem like The New Order isgoing to be the repeat historical fantasy action weexpected, with our hero infiltrating fortresses and tak-ing out Nazis in rote fashion. The opening momentshave a few nods to Wolfenstein to let the player knowwhere things stand—passageways hide behind paint-ings and, from the very beginning, those familiar dif-ficulty levels can be selected, including the easy “CanI play, Daddy?” setting—but the game doesn’t eventruly start until the raid goes absolutely sideways, leav-ing BJ and the rest of his squad hung out to dry and,in BJ’s case, left for dead with a critical head injury.

BJ’s condition lands him in a Polish asylum in avegetative state. Head nurse Anya Oliwa takes himunder her care, but it appears even this quasi-hellwon’t last forever. Nazis are removing patients bit bybit, and when the asylum is eventually shut down,they hastily decide to wipe everyone out. This is whereBJ kicks back into action, performs a daring escape,

Simulation Gaming BY JOSEPH LUSTER

It’s 1960, the Nazis won World War II, but William “BJ” Blazkowicz is hereto put them back in their place.

PUBLISHER

Bethesda Softworks

DEVELOPER

MachineGames

SYSTEM(S)

Xbox 360, PS3, Xbox One, PS4, PC

AVAILABLE

Now



and discovers, much to his bewilderment, that it’snow 1960. The war is over. Germany won andseized control over the majority of the world, andeven the resistance has been quelled in the process.With Anya by his side, a recovering BJ helps bringthat resistance back to life, and Deathshead remainsat the top of his list.

Wolfenstein: The New Order uses this setup tofantastic effect, creating a detailed “What If?” worldbased on the concept of victorious Nazis. Their tech-nology is even greater now, and the player is taskedwith taking BJ through daring mech-assisted prisonescapes, undersea U-Boat theft, and an impressivenumber of missions that keep things fresh frombeginning to end. The shooting action itself isn’t any-thing ground-breaking, but it’s challenging andthrilling enough to keep you motivated,moving from one engaging set piece tothe next.

What actually happened duringthe time leading to Germany’s victory in the war isn’t spelledout in lengthy faux-his-torical movies,but you canpiece it alltogether thanksto newspaper clippings scattered aroundthe environment. That’s one of the mostinteresting facets of The New Order. Eachlevel has a lived-in feel to it, and you cantake that and run with it if you like, orjust ignore the underlying facts behind thegame’s world and blast your waythrough the levels. At times Wolfenstein’s

story can get a little heavy handed—which is kindof odd coming from a game that has you dual-wield-ing automatic weapons within the first 10 minutes—but for the most part it’s handled with admirableaplomb with a fine cast behind the characters.

The only major caveat would go to anyone look-ing to pick up Wolfenstein on a last-gen console likePlayStation 3 or Xbox 360. PC players will enjoy ahearty laugh at this, but it’s the first time I’ve reallyfelt the gap between those systems and the current-gen platforms. To make sure the game runs smoothly,the developer made some visual sacrifices, mostnotably in the textures, which take an inordinateamount of time to generate and often return to bare-bones state once you turn your back on them. It’s nota deal-breaker, and Wolfenstein is very much worth

playing on all platforms, but I think it’sabout time we stop kidding our-

selves and work on moregames focused solely on thenew systems and PC.

Despite its ‘90s roots,Wolfenstein: The NewOrder is a refreshingshooter that doesn’tattempt to squeeze inmediocre multiplayer,instead focusing all of

MachineGames efforts on astellar single-player cam-

paign. It totally paid off, and it’s niceto have BJ Blazkowicz back in anearnest outing that doesn’t wink,nudge, or jab us in the arm with

tired irony.

enemy as a man much like himself.In time Cowen returned to America and tried

to publish his memoir of North Africa withoutsuccess. Apparently, his portrayal of a Germansoldier as just another person caught up in thewar was not a characterization wartime Amer-ica wanted, so Cowen went on with his life asa writer. As attitudes have softened with theintervening decades, his daughter Betsybelieved the time had come to share thisaccount of one man’s experience of war andhow it affected him.

Unsung Eagles: True Stories ofAmerica’s Citizen Airmen inthe Skies of World War II, Lt.Col. (Ret.) Jay A. Stout, Case-mate Publishers, Havertown,PA, 2013, 288 pp., pho-

tographs, index, $32.95, hardcover)On October 25, 1942, Lieutenant Julius

Jacobson, U.S. Army Air Corps, took off from

Henderson Airfield on Guadalcanal. He waspart of a flight of five Bell P-39 Airacobra fight-ers assigned to attack the Japanese light cruiserYura near the island. The sleek aircraft was notthe best American plane of the war, but in 1942it was available and Jacobson found it an easyplane to fly. That would help him this day. Thefirst four planes made their diving runs, but allof them missed the target.

Jacobson began his own dive but quicklyrealized his attack was ill conceived. He halfrolled out of his dive and came around foranother try. As he went into a near vertical dive,he discovered he was far too low. The cruiserloomed large in his sights as he released his500-pound bomb and frantically pulled backthe stick to get his plane level and away. Theaircraft recovered but flew so low that his cock-pit filled with condensation, clouding his vision.Luckily, the speed the P-39 built up during thedive kept enemy antiaircraft guns from findingtheir mark.

SOVEREIGN MEDIA COMPANY, c/o: Customer Service,2406 Reach Road,

Williamsport, PA 17701

FAX US: 570-322-2063, c/o: Customer Service.CALL US: 800-219-1187. EMAIL US: [email protected]

WWII HISTORYHave a question about your subscription? Need To Change Your Address?


As Jacobson flew away, his flight leader calledout a hit. The young pilot’s bomb had struck theYura in the stern. This added to damage thecruiser suffered earlier from other air attacks.Later the ship was scuttled after the crew aban-doned ship. Jacobson went on to fly on the mis-sion that shot down the bomber carrying Japan-

ese admiral Isoroku Yamamoto in 1943. Such stories fill the pages of this book, telling

the experiences of average American airmenfighting in all theaters of the war. Each chaptercovers a different flyer, providing rich detail ontheir lives before the war and service during it.While full of technical detail, it is written in a

clear, easy to follow style, making the book funto read.

The Fifth Field: The Story ofthe 96 American SoldiersSentenced to Death and Exe-cuted in Europe and NorthAfrica in World War II,Colonel (Ret.) French L.

Maclean, Schiffer Publishing, Atglen, PA,2013, photographs, notes, appendices, bibli-ography, $39.99, hardcover)

During World War II the United States Armyexecuted 96 soldiers for various crimes, mostlymurder, rape, and desertion. The best known isperhaps Private Eddie Slovik, a soldier from the28th Division who went before a firing squadin January 1945 for desertion. He had appar-ently left his unit as a replacement before enter-ing combat, was caught, and turned over fortrial. Since he was the only American soldierexecuted for desertion since the Civil War, hiscase stands out.

There were many other executions. However,most of them were for far more infamous crimesthan Slovik’s desertion. These are relativelyunknown today. The case of each soldier exe-cuted is summarized in this book to provideinsight, spelling out crimes not very differentfrom those of civilian offenders. One drunk sol-dier murdered an MP who had angered him.Another, also drunk, shot his British girlfriendafter discovering she was seeing other men. Athird raped a French woman in front of her hus-band.

This book is an interesting glimpse into themilitary justice system of the war. Most ofthose convicted came from rear-echelon units,in particular quartermaster outfits. Of the 96,a disproportionate number came from the92nd Infantry Division—an all African-Amer-ican unit, providing commentary on the stateof race relations and justice at the time. Severalappendices provide interesting informationthat rounds out this fascinating study of theArmy dealing with crime during the largestwar in its history.

Warsaw 1944: Hitler, Himmler,and the Warsaw Uprising(Alexandra Richie, Farrar,Strauss and Giroux, New York,2013, 738 pp., maps, pho-tographs, notes, bibliography,

index, $40.00, hardcover)The Warsaw Uprising is a tragedy that

stands out even among the innumerablecalamities of World War II. It is a microcosmof Poland’s history. Centered on the northern


New and NoteworthyTHE NEW YORK TIMES COMPLETE WORLD WAR II 1939-1945(Edited by Richard Overy, Black Dog and Levanthal Publishers,2013, $40.00, hardcover) This is a compilation of New York Timesnewspaper articles covering the war. A DVD with digital copies of 98,367 articles is includedwith the book.

THE BATTLE OF THE BRIDGES (Frank Van Lunteren, Casemate Publishing, 2014, $32.95, hard-cover) During Operation Market-Garden, the 504th Parachute Regiment fought for severalbridges in Holland. This account uses participant interviews to cover the battle.

JAGDPANTHER VS. SU-100: EASTERN FRONT 1945 (David R.Higgins, Osprey Publishing, 2014, $18.95, softcover) These vehi-cles were successful tank destroyers of similar design. Their devel-opment, performance, and effectiveness are compared.

DEATH OF THE LEAPING HORSEMAN: THE 24TH PANZER DIVI-SION IN STALINGRAD (Jason D. Mark, Stackpole Books, 2014, $39.95, hardcover) This is thestory of the division’s role during the Stalingrad campaign. Well illustrated, this new history con-tains many veteran accounts.

HE GAVE THE ORDER: THE LIFE AND TIMES OF OSAMI NAGANO(F.J. Bradley, Merriam Press, 2014, $44.95, softcover) This biog-raphy reveals the life of the man who ordered the Pearl Harborattack. His life began during the end of the Shogunate era andended in a prison cell after World War II.

THE DEAD AND THOSE ABOUT TO DIE, D-DAY: THE BIG RED ONE AT OMAHA BEACH (John C.McManus, Penguin Books, 2014, $27.95, hardcover) The 1st Infantry Division’s D-Day assaultis well known, but this book includes new veteran interviews and source material to shed newlight on the battle.

D-DAY IN HISTORY AND MEMORY: THE NORMANDY LANDINGS ININTERNATIONAL REMEMBRANCE AND COMMEMORATION(Michael Dolski, Sam Edwards, and John Buckley, University ofNorth Texas Press, 2014, $24.95, hardcover) Participants rememberthe invasion of Europe in various ways. Each nation’s particular cer-

emonies and views are covered here.

FATAL DIVE (Peter Stevens, Regnery Publishing, 2014, $24.95, hardcover) The submarine USSGrunion disappeared in July 1942 in the North Pacific. The story of its discovery decades lateris revealed along with theories on its fate.

PANZER DIVISIONS OF THE WAFFEN-SS (Rolf Michaelis, SchifferPublishing, 2014, $45.00, hardcover) The SS raised seven armoreddivisions during World War II. The formation, operations, and fateof each are given attention.

WAR AT SEA: A NAVAL ATLAS 1939-1945 (Marcus Faulkner, NavalInstitute Press, 2012, $35.98, hardcover) Maps of the war at sea are divided into sections oneach major theater. Specific battles receive more detailed attention.


European Plain between Germany and Rus-sia, bereft of geographic defenses, for centuriesPoland has been fought over and conqueredby its neighbors to the east and west. Thiscame to a horrible climax in Warsaw inAugust 1944, as two ideological jugger-nauts—Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union—brought their war to the city gates. The Poleswithin the city, desperate to throw off the fas-cist yoke, rose up against the Germans,expecting the approaching Soviets to aid intheir liberation.

The Soviets, however, stopped short of thecity, leaving the Polish Resistance on its own.Hitler saw a chance to strike down the Polesand destroy their small home army of resistancefighters. For their part, though unassisted bythe Soviets and with only token aid from theWestern Allies, the Poles fought back in a heroicthough ultimately futile effort and faced utterbrutality from their occupiers. Horriblereprisals and petty vengeance followed.

The strength of this new work on a famousbattle is its rich detail and background infor-mation. The author strives to relate the big pic-ture while telling the small stories of the com-batants and their experiences, blending them ina flowing narrative. A complete picture of theWarsaw’s fateful fight for its life can be gainedthrough this book.

Fortress Rabaul: The Battle forthe Southwest Pacific, January1942-April 1943 (Bruce Gam-ble, Zenith Press, Minneapolis,MN, 2013, 416 pp., maps,photographs, notes, bibliogra-

phy, index, $19.99, softcover)Without a doubt, Rabaul was Imperial

Japan’s greatest bastion in the SouthwestPacific. After seizing the island of New Britainin January 1942, the Japanese quickly builtRabaul into a major base supporting thousandsof troops and hundreds of warplanes. It was akey supply base and defensive position inJapanese strategy and planning for the region.Eventually, the Allies chose to encircle thefortress, leaving it to wither.

This is the second volume in Bruce Gamble’strilogy on Rabaul’s history. Beginning with theill-fated Australian defense of the port in thefirst days of 1942, this edition carries throughto the death of Japanese Admiral IsorokuYamamoto in April 1943. The book tells of thebitter struggle of the Japanese, Australian, andAmerican warriors who flew and sailed aroundthis strategically vital port, locked in mortalconflict as the Japanese advance across theSouth Pacific was slowly blunted.

Mission at Nuremberg: AnAmerican Army Chaplain andthe Trial of the Nazis (TimTownsend, William MorrowPublishing, New York, 400 pp.,photographs, notes, bibliogra-

phy, index, $28.99, hardcover)Henry Gerecke joined the U.S. Army as a

chaplain in 1943 at the age of 50. Sent to Eng-land, he was assigned to tend the spiritual needsof thousands of wounded American soldiers inhospitals near London. When the war endedGerecke was transferred with a hospital unit toMunich, Germany. Soon after, the fluent Ger-man speaker was asked to take on another har-rowing assignment: acting as a chaplain for thehigh-ranking Nazis facing trial at nearbyNuremberg for the war crimes.

During the famous trial Gerecke tended tosuch infamous figures as Hermann Göring,Albert Speer, Joachim von Ribbentrop, andWilhelm Keitel. He spent time talking to thesemen, once potent figures but now powerlessand in fear for their lives. After their convic-tions he remained as they prepared for deathor imprisonment. Witnessing Göring’s emo-tional last meeting with his family left Gereckedizzy and sweating. He was listening to a base-ball game when Göring committed suicide inhis cell and rushed in to see Göring’s finalmoments. It was a difficult duty in the midst ofhistoric events.

Capturing the Women’s Army Corps: TheWorld War II Photographs of Captain Charlotte

T. McGraw (Fran-coise Barnes Bonnelland Ronald KevinBullis, University ofNew Mexico Press,Albuquerque, 2013,

90 pp., photographs, maps, appendix, $39.95,softcover)

The Women’s Army Corps, frequentlyknown as the WACs, was a new organizationduring World War II. Though women hadbeen involved in warfare throughout humanhistory, it was during this conflict that theybegan to see wide service. The WACs had oneofficial photographer, Captain CharlotteMcGraw. She traveled across the globe dur-ing the war documenting what women in uni-form were doing in service to their nation. Shetook over 73,000 pictures, which were seen inofficial publications, newspapers, and maga-zines of the period. While some show scenesof civilians in a given theater, her prime focusis on the women themselves, both on duty and

off, doing the work that earned them theirplace in the United States military.

Accused American WarCriminal (Fiske Hanley II,Texas Tech University Press,Lubbock, 2013, 280 pp.,maps, photographs, appen-dices, bibliography, index,$24.95, softcover)

Texan Fiske Hanley was a flight engineeraboard a Boeing B-29 Superfortress bomberduring the final year of World War II. OnMarch 27, 1945, his aircraft was shot downon its seventh bombing mission over theJapanese mainland. Eight of the crew per-ished; Fiske parachuted to the ground but wasquickly captured by an enraged Japanese mob.This was the beginning of a harrowing five-month ordeal for the young American. As amember of a B-29 crew, he was considered awar criminal by the Japanese, a “special pris-oner” rather than a prisoner of war. He wastold he would be tried and executed forattacks against civilians. Confined under hor-rible conditions, mistreated, and starved, Fiskeand his fellow prisoners endured horrible suf-fering until the Japanese surrender broughtliberation. Though not the only story of thebrutal treatment prisoners experienced underImperial Japanese control, this firsthandaccount sheds a personal light on it.

Swastika Nation: Fritz Kuhnand the Rise and Fall of theGerman-American Bund(Arnie Bernstein, St. Martin’sPress, New York, 2013, 368pp., notes, bibliography,index, $27.99, hardcover)

The Nazi Party’s rise in Germany is welldocumented, and literally hundreds of booksexist to educate the world on the topic. Therewas a Nazi party in America as well, however,slowly rising from the same inauspiciousbeginnings as its German cousin. Taking itslead from Hitler and his followers, the Amer-ican version used much of the same pomp andceremony. Its leader, Fritz Kuhn, was a Ger-man who had come to America through Mex-ico in the late 1920s.

Despite the movement’s dedicated innermembership, Americans opposed to the Nazisbanded together and destroyed the movement,crushing its hopes. An amalgam of politicians,journalists, lawyers, and even Jewish gangstersended the threat and sent Kuhn packing backto Germany. How it happened is a fascinatingand at times humorous tale.



to have the same problem staying underwateras the other subs. Andrew fired a red flare, sig-naling nearby ships to stay clear of the area. Hethen ordered Sea Mist ahead at full speed,directly over the descending midget. He orderedthe crew to drop a depth charge. The explosionthrew up a wall of water, which lifted Sea Mistand flung it forward.

With a loud splashing noise, the midget subpopped out of the water. It was upside down andthe stern jutted out, revealing its twin screws,now turning nothing but air. The submarinebegan to sink again, so Andrew dropped anotherdepth charge. The blast threw Sea Mist about,and one of the engines was knocked out. SeaMist could now only make five knots and wasunable to continue the attack. Andrew withdrew,and Steady Hour and Yarroma moved in. Forover three hours they dropped depth charges. Atleast 16 attacks were made.

The Japanese raid accomplished little; thetiny midget subs were clearly not up to the taskof effectively attacking such a large and well-defended harbor. The Australians learned someharsh lessons about their preparedness at a costof 21 lives and some damage to the ships andfacilities within the port area. Despite warningsabout submarines and the scouting flights bythe Japanese floatplanes, nothing had beendone to increase the security of the harbor.

Further, the initial response was slow. Lieu-tenant Eyers’s slow response to Cargill’s sight-ing was “deplorable and inexplicable,” wroteAdmiral Muirhead-Gould in his official report.

In the aftermath, the hulks of the destroyedmidget submarines were raised from the bay’sfloor. On the afternoon of Monday, June 1,divers found Matsuo’s sub resting at a depth of18 meters. The twin screws were still turningslowly, and oil leaked from the hull. The tor-pedoes were still in their racks, and the steelcage over them was crumpled, preventing themfrom being launched or removed. The torpe-does needed to be disarmed, and this maderecovery risky.

The sub was not brought to the surface untilJune 4. Crowds lined the shore as the wreckwas hauled out of the water. Some were sailors,who removed their caps out of respect for thedead men inside. The sub was in two parts,requiring a second line to be attached. The bod-ies of both Japanese sailors were recovered.Each had a gunshot wound to the head, indi-cating suicide. Matsuo still wore his thousandstitch belt, and his sword was recovered. Theremains were taken to the Sydney city morgue

to await burial. The day before, Chuma’s submarine was

found still tangled in the net. The bow had bro-ken off and sunk to the bottom. Divers dis-patched to find it also recovered Japanesesailors’ bodies. The remains of Ban’s sub werediscovered in November 2006 near the North-ern Beaches, just a few miles northeast of Syd-ney Harbor.

On June 9, a funeral was held for the fourJapanese sailors. They were cremated andburied with full military honors, including asalute of three volleys and Japanese navalensigns draped across their coffins. AdmiralMuirhead-Gould attended, accompanied by theConsul-General from the Swiss embassy. Theevent was covered by the local press, and theadmiral was admonished by many at the timefor allowing enemy combatants such honors ofwar. Muirhead-Gould defended his actions byrecognizing the courage it took for anyone toattempt such a mission in a tiny submarine. Itis also possible he and others in the Australiangovernment thought the gesture might have apositive effect on Japanese treatment of Aus-tralian prisoners.

The ashes of the four sailors were later givento Tatsuo Kawai, the Japanese ambassador toAustralia. He had been interned since the warbegan, but in August 1942 he was exchangedand sent home. Thousands of mourners greetedthe ship carrying him on its arrival in Yoko-hama, including Matsuo’s former fiancée. Hehad broken their engagement before he left onhis one-way mission.

The Australian minister of the interior sug-gested displaying one of the submarines at theAustralian War Memorial in Canberra.Another group asked for a sub to be displayedto raise money for the Australian ComfortFund, which provided relief items for Aus-tralians serving abroad. A single complete sub-marine was assembled using parts of the tworecovered craft, and it was put on display atBennelong Point, now the location of thefamous Sydney Opera House. Admission was20 cents, and reportedly a great deal of moneywas raised. Eventually the sub was taken on atour of southeastern Australia.

Even more money was made selling post-cards and models of the midget submarine.Today the sub sits on display at the AustralianWar Memorial along with other artifacts of thefateful night when Sydney harbor became thefocus of Australia’s war for a brief few hours.

Christopher Miskimon is a regular contributorto WWII History. He is an officer in the Col-orado National Guard’s 157th Regiment.


s y d n e y h a r b o rContinued from page 33

we had crossed. We were all, of course, flattenedout, and then they were yelling at us to surren-der. That becomes very disconcerting when theenemy starts yelling at you, and word waspassed up the line that we should pull back. Oneof our guys crawled in the wrong direction, andhe was captured. I don’t know why he did that,but anyway we had to cross this little streamand there was a barbed wire fence that went ...parallel with the stream. It was too low to gounder it, too high to go over it. So the guy thatwas behind me became impatient, and he liter-ally pushed me over the barbed wire across tothe other side of the brook.”

With intense fire still coming from the Ger-mans, Kauffman began to crawl down the hill.“I was passing guys lying there, and I was surethey were dead,” said Kauffman. When he wasout of the trajectory of fire, he got up. “Finallythere was another guy and I ; we made it downthe hill, but we couldn’t use the bridge to getout of there. We had to ford the stream that thebridge ran over, and this is December you knowso it was pretty chilly water. I seen a lot of theguys come through the stream, but I don’tknow how many got off the hill.”

Fighting on three sides, Peiper’s task forcewas considerably weakened. By Thursday,December 21, Peiper consolidated his forces tothe more easily defendable hilltop village of LaGleize. Task Force McGeorge continued topress an attack on the village, making littleheadway. To avoid the tragedy of forcing Sher-man tanks into La Gleize, where the heavy Ger-man tanks waited, the Americans relied onartillery. An intense artillery barrage blanketedthe town as Peiper established his commandcenter in the cellar of a large house.

Major Hal McCown, the commander of the2nd Battalion, 119th Infantry Regiment, hadbeen taken prisoner. He met with Peiper in hiscommand and later wrote, “I have met few menwho impressed me in as short a span of time asdid this German officer.... He was completelyconfident of Germany’s ability to whip theAllies. He spoke of [SS Reichsführer Heinrich]Himmler’s new reserve army at quite somelength, saying that it contained so many newdivisions, both armored and otherwise, that ourG-2s would wonder where they all came from.He did his best to find out from me of the suc-cess the V-1 and V-2 were having and told methat more secret weapons like those would beunloosed.... The German Air Force, he said,would now come forth with many new typesand which—although inferior in number to the

p e i p e rContinued from page 41



Allies—would be superior in quality and wouldsuffice their needs to cover their breakthroughin Belgium and Holland and later to the Frenchcoast.”

At 5 AM on Friday, December 22, followinga six-hour meeting with Peiper, MajorMcCown was taken to a cellar with four otherAmerican officers. He vividly remembered, “Allthat day American artillery pounded the townincessantly, even the guard detachment—con-sisting of 5 Germans—came down into our cel-lar with us, which was heavily overcrowdingthe tiny room. In the afternoon a 105 shellmade a direct hit on the wall of our cellar,throwing the German sitting beside me half-way across the room. A hole approximately 2½feet in diameter was knocked in the wall. Lieu-tenant Henley and Lieutenant Youmans of myregiment helped pull the German out fromunder the rubble and got him on the floor of theundamaged part of the cellar. Within a few min-utes another shell landed a few feet outside thehole in the cellar wall, and shrapnel and stoneflew through the room. Lieutenant Henley waskilled instantly, and three Germans werewounded. One of the Germans died withinabout 30 minutes. We administered first aid aswell as we could. For several hours then theshelling continued without appreciable letup,and the dead and wounded together with thosewho were unhurt were cramped close togetherin the unharmed half of the small cellar.”

Late in the afternoon, parties of Americanenlisted men came to the cellar and removedthe dead and wounded; the litter bearers toldme that German casualties had been heavythroughout the town.

The Germans engineered the most powerfultanks of World War II, but without the fuel torun them they were useless. Between 2 and 3AM on Sunday, December 24, Peiper and about800 of his unwounded men walked out of LaGleize. Most of the vehicles they left behindwere out of fuel.

On Christmas Day, elements of the 740thTank Battalion recovered an unwrapped gift, aTiger II left behind by the 3rd Company ofPeiper’s 501st SS Heavy Tank Battalion. It wasshipped to the United States and examined atMaryland’s Aberdeen Proving Grounds. Thetank was later displayed at the Patton Museumin Fort Knox, Kentucky, and now rests in awarehouse at Fort Benning, Georgia.

Author Josh Quackenbush is a writer andeducator residing in Cary, North Carolina. Heconducted extensive research, including morethan 140 interviews with veterans, to producethis story.

knew. Since the end of the war, many Americanveterans have returned to New Zealand to tryto locate children they left behind. Likewise,New Zealanders have been trying to locate theirAmerican fathers. In both situations there havebeen heartwarming successes as well as heart-breaking failures.

Leonard S. Skinner graduated from highschool in 1941 and enlisted in the Marine Corpssoon after Pearl Harbor. After boot camp, hewas assigned to Company K, 3rd Battalion, 2ndMarine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division. Hewas among those of the 2nd Division wholanded on Guadalcanal with the 1st MarineDivision. He fought the Japanese on neighbor-ing islands for five weeks before returning to themain battle that raged on Guadalcanal. Thecampaign for control of the island concluded inFebruary 1943. One of the relative few who didnot come down with malaria, he eventuallyjoined the rest of the 2nd Marine Division liv-ing the good life in New Zealand, that is, whenthey were not on maneuvers.

While camped at McKay’s Crossing outsideWellington and before the division shipped outfor the landings on Tarawa in the GilbertIslands that took place in November 1943, hemet and became friends with a New Zealandgirl named Peggy Seerup. He spent many week-ends and leaves with her family in the smalltown of Ohura in central North Island. Theyremained friends throughout the war, exchang-ing letters. They continued to stay in touch afterthe war, with many visits back and forthbetween the two families They had both mar-ried in their respective countries by this time.This relationship extended into second andthird generations and continues to this day.

Norman Hatch, a Marine combat photogra-pher, came to New Zealand with the 2nd Divi-sion and followed it around the country,recording its adventures on film. Along withother Marine combat photographers, he tookfilm footage of the bloody fighting on Tarawa.After editing, the documentary film won anAcademy Award the following year. Norm wasnever able to make it back to New Zealand,but he has stayed in touch with friends he madethere during the war.

Although it may have been a memorable timefor New Zealand women and American ser-vicemen stationed in New Zealand, the homefront situation was cause for concern amongNew Zealand fighting men both at home andoverseas. It was of special concern when someof them started receiving “Dear John” letters

from girlfriends and, in some cases, wives. In1943 when some New Zealand servicemenstarted coming home on furlough to find theYanks had taken over, there were a number ofalcohol-fueled fights and riots. Much of the dis-cord had to do with women and the racial atti-tudes of some Americans. The U.S. military wasstill segregated in those days, and Maori homeon leave did not take kindly to some of theseAmerican attitudes.

In spite of these confrontations, few Ameri-cans who spent time in New Zealand duringthe war had unkind things to say about thecountry or its people. In fact, both NewZealand and U.S. military authorities were keptbusy throughout the war years rounding upAmerican deserters who preferred life in NewZealand to combat in the Pacific. However,according to information released to the pressin those days, the number of American desert-ers was in the hundreds, not the thousands.When the 2nd Marine Division left for the inva-sion of Tarawa, only two Marines were not pre-sent and accounted for.

During one of their efforts to round up desert-ers, American Military Police and New Zealandcivilian authorities were surprised to comeacross an American sailor who had jumped ship25 years earlier. After spending so much timetogether, members of the 2nd Marine Divisionand the people of New Zealand had become soclose that New Zealand newspapers printed notonly the names of New Zealand casualties fromthe war, but also the names of Americans killedon Tarawa.

Between 1942 and 1944, there were from50,000 to 60,000 Americans in New Zealandat any given time. When they started leaving asthe war moved north, the Americans left behindmore than broken hearts and adoptive families.They left over a dozen hospitals and clinics tobe used by the New Zealand government as itsaw fit. They also left a lot of military equip-ment. Even today, throughout New Zealandthere are clubs dedicated to preserving andshowing jeeps and other vehicles left behindduring the war.

Unlike the Americans who came to NewZealand during World War II, there are fewAmericans today who have never heard of theisland nation. The living veterans of World WarII are well into their 80s and 90s. For those stillstanding there are few friends and comradesleft with whom to share their memories.

Bruce Petty is the author of five books, four ofwhich concern World War II in the Pacific. Hislatest is New Zealand in the Pacific War. He isa resident of New Plymouth, New Zealand.

n e w z e a l a n dContinued from page 53


Assam Front) or the Northern Combat AreaCommand (NCAC) front in the Hukawng andMogaung River valley commanded by GeneralStilwell, stated: “This airborne operation hadno direct effect on the Central Assam front, butit shortened our supply of reserves ... it com-pletely cut off 18th Division’s [opposing Gen-eral Stilwell] supply route, thereby makingimpossible that division’s holding operationagainst the enemy in North Burma.”

General Numata observed, “The advance ofthe airborne forces did not cause any change inJapanese operational plans on either the Cen-tral Assam front or the NCAC front. Opera-tions continued according to plan, but these air-borne forces proved to be a devastating factorin cutting lines of communication. The diffi-culty encountered in dealing with these air-borne forces was ever a source of worry to allthe headquarters staffs of the Japanese Army,and contributed materially to the Japanese fail-ure in the Imphal and Hukawng operations.”

Major Kaetsu, Naka’s general staff opera-tions officer, added, “The big effect of the air-borne operations was on the administrative sit-uation of the main offensive into Assam.... Thesupply dump hidden in the jungle [for theIndaw-Homalin northern supply route to theChindwin] was found by one of Bernard Fer-gusson’s RAF officers.... While the RAF officerin a light aircraft marked out the extent of thedump with smoke flares, USAAF Mitchells andMustangs came again and again to wipe itout.... The 31st Division Infantry Group usedthe northern route on its initial advance onKohima. It carried 21 days’ supplies initially.This group came through Ukruhl and cut theKohima road to the south. The result of thenorthern line [Indaw-Homalin] going out andthe consequent lack of food and ammunitionfor all of the 31st Division had a vital effect onthe Kohima operation.”

Mutaguchi concluded, “The airborne landingswere made during the night previous to the dayon which we were to begin the Imphal opera-tion. Some staff officers in the Burma Area Armywere of the opinion that the Imphal operationshould be temporarily suspended, but my reso-lution remain unchanged, and I carried out theoperation as planned.... I was therefore notimmediately concerned with this airborne threat,and I devoted myself to my previous intentions.It was a matter of great regret and concern tome that Burma Area Army switched one entiredivision [53rd Division] to cope with the enemyairborne force, especially at a time when the pro-

vision of one regiment of 53rd Division for theImphal front might well have ensured the successof the operation.”

As Michael Calvert, one of Wingate’sbrigadiers for Operation Thursday, asserts, “Itshould be remembered that it was not the orig-inal task as laid down at Quebec for GeneralWingate’s force to assist the British Indianforces forward from Assam. The role given wasto help General Stilwell with his Chinese Amer-ican forces to take Mogaung and Myitkyinaand an area south in order to allow communi-cation through to China by road and thus keepChina in the war.”

Thus, even though Wingate was not specifi-cally tasked with directly assisting General Slimin Assam, his strategy of interdicting Japanesesupply routes, in particular the Indaw-Homa-lin route to the Chindwin River, with his rov-ing Chindit columns supported by their strong-holds, enabled Special Force to indirectly tipthe scales of victory toward Slim as the effectsof diminishing manpower, dwindling ammuni-tion, and starvation took their toll onMutaguchi’s troops during Operation U-Go.

According to Sir Robert Thompson, whoserved with Wingate during Operation Thursdayas a senior RAF officer, “It has been easy enoughto list the Japanese units and manpower drawnoff by the Chindits which otherwise might havebeen used to reinforce the attack on Imphal. Intotal it may not seem much (probably equivalentto a division and a half) but at times it was touchand go both at Imphal and Kohima. Any extraforces or reinforcements could have tipped thescales and given Mutaguchi the victory.... If therehad been no Chindit landings all the divisions inImphal would have been in the bag, the Assamairfields would have been lost and China mighthave collapsed.”

In conclusion, Wingate’s supporters inter-preted the evidence of statements by Mutaguchiand other senior Japanese officers that Opera-tion Thursday drew off vitally needed units fromthe fighting in Assam and contributed to thedefeat of the U-Go offensive by disrupting linesof communication and hampering distributionof rations to troops that possessed only a mea-ger three-week supply. To this day, Wingate’scritics counter that these Japanese officers weretouting Operation Thursday as a success in orderto provide an excuse for their defeat.

Jon Diamond practices medicine and lives inHershey, Pennsylvania. He is a frequent con-tributor to WWII History. His Osprey Pub-lishing Command Series monographs on OrdeWingate (#20) and Archibald Wavell (#28)were both released in 2012.


t o p s e c r e tContinued from page 27

differed from those of Churchill and Roosevelt.In their declaration, the Big Three parted as“friends in fact, in spirit, and in purpose.”

The Tehran Conference was the most impor-tant of the Allies’ top-level wartime meetings,including Yalta and Potsdam. By agreeing to theOverlord plan, with Soviet forces advancingfrom the east, the Big Three shaped futureEurope. Soviet armies would control EasternEurope, and the other Allies the West. The opti-mistic Roosevelt, who left Tehran believing thathe had won Stalin over, did not see the poten-tial dangers. While FDR and Churchill neverwavered in their determination to defeat theAxis powers, only the prime minister was awareof the clouds sure to move in on the postwarhorizon. The Tehran talks paved the way for the1945 Allied victory, but other decisions madethere would plague Europe for many years.

Taking off from Tehran early on Thursday,December 2, 1943, Roosevelt, Churchill, andtheir staffs flew over the Persian Mountains andheaded southwest to Cairo for another confer-ence. Wearing his Blitz-era siren suit and a RoyalAir Force great coat, the prime minister lunchedon quail and white wine aboard his Avro York,sat in the copilot’s seat, and was in good spirits.

During their second meeting in the Egyptiancapital, Churchill persuaded FDR to take a driveout to see the Sphinx. On the way, Rooseveltmentioned that he could not spare General Mar-shall to command Operation Overlord, andasked Churchill if General Eisenhower wouldbe acceptable. Churchill said it was the presi-dent’s decision but that the British would gladlysupport Ike. Alan Brooke had also coveted theassignment, but Churchill similarly felt that hecould not be released from his Whitehall powerbase. The two leaders gazed silently at theSphinx for a few minutes. “She told us noth-ing,” Churchill reported later, “and maintainedher inscrutable smile.”

The president and prime minister parted onDecember 7. After a fruitless 15-hour discus-sion with Turkish President Ismet Inonu inCairo, Churchill went on to convalesce in Mar-rakech. He was suffering throat pains, conges-tion, and a temperature of 101. Roosevelt,meanwhile, flew to Tunis, where Eisenhowermet him. After they had climbed into a staff car,FDR turned to the general and said, “Well, Ike,you are going to command Overlord.”

Michael D. Hull is a frequent contributor toWWII History. He writes from his home inEnfield, Connecticut.

t e h r a nContinued from page 66


W-Ambrose FP Aug14_Layout 1 6/5/14 2:35 PM Page 2

M-Schiffer FP Jul14_Layout 1 6/6/14 10:50 AM Page 2

Documents

WWII History - August 2014