Authors: Sven Hassel
At dinner that evening, von Choltitz found himself seated to the right of Himmler. The splendid silverware came straight from the court of Rumania, but the meal itself was comparatively spartan, and the faces of the assembled officers betrayed only too clearly what they thought of it. It was Himmler himself who decided which of the guests should be entitled to second helpings. A large cavalry general, who was allowed only one meagre portion, was heard to mutter his regrets at having been dragged away from the pleasures of his own table for the undoubted honour but rather more doubtful pleasure of being a guest at Himmler's. A major pulled a cigar from his pocket and held it lovingly beneath his nostrils, but a sharp glance of horror from his host caused him at once to replace it. Himmler had a hatred of tobacco. Coffee (ersatz) was served in the next room. One cup for everybody, and only the privileged had the right to a glass of cognac. As they rose from the dinner table, the Reichsfuhrer made a sign that he wished to exchange a few words with a general who had been given the task of taking up the struggle against the underground movement in Jugoslavia.
'Oberfuhrer Strauch, I Understand that you recently granted a reprieve to a group of enemy resistance workers. This is the second time this has occurred since you were appointed to your post. This is the second proof of inexcusable weakness on your part... Why?'
'Reichsfuhrer, the group in question consisted of six women and two twelve-year-old boys--'
'My dear Strauch, you quite take my breath away! Six women and two twelve-year-old boys! And are not women and boys just as capable of acts of sabotage as grown men? Particularly if they know they're liable to get away with it? You really must rid yourself of this absurd sensibility! I don't care who it is, men, women or children, nuns or priests or babes in arms--if they dare to raise so much as a finger against us, wring their necks! You understand me?'
There was a pause.
'How many prisoners do you have in Belgrade?' asked Himmler, suddenly.
The miserable Strauch looked down at his feet.
'Two thousand nine hundred, Reichsfuhrer.'
'You are misinformed,' said Himmler, dryly. 'I would seem to know more about your affairs than you do... There are exactly 3,218 people held as prisoners in Belgrade. Your courts are dealing with only fifty cases per day. It's not enough. You'll have to double the number at least.'
Strauch opened his mouth to protest, but Himmler cut him short.
'If you're short of judges, then enrol some more! Drag them off the streets, if necessary... They don't have to be qualified in any way, for God's sake! Just remember, my dear Strauch, that a certain amount of harshness is necessary if we are to win this war. And we shall win it, never doubt that. But in the meantime it's our existence that's at stake. The Allies will show no mercy, and they've made no secret of the fact. Just remember that, in future, when you're tempted to be sentimental over women and children.'
When, later on, Himmler and von Choltitz returned to the large conference room, an ordnance officer presented himself with a large map of Paris, which he spread before them on a table. The two men leaned over it.
'According to my experts,' said Himmler, 'the entire town could be paralysed by blowing up the bridges. We've managed to lay hands on an old report which speaks of various ammunition dumps that everyone's conveniently, forgotten about. We've uncovered one or two of them and obviously they'll have their uses, but before we can actually do anything it's essential that we crush the Resistance Movement... Essential, do you hear me? After the Jews, the French people are our worst enemies. They have been for centuries.'
Himmler straightened up and stood by the table, regarding von Choltitz.
'In Paris, we know, there are two Resistance organisations. One is Communist, run by a dreamer who decks himself out in a uniform and ribbons to which he has no right. My men have run into him several times. The Communists, by the way, are by far the more dangerous of the two groups... The other is under the command of
a
group of intellectuals who claim they're working for de Gaulle. Our aim must be to turn these two groups against each other, set them to destroy each other and save us the trouble of doing it. You understand me?'
'Perfectly.'
'Good... In fact, the Communists are half-way there already. They can't stand the intellectuals and they won't take much pushing to do our job for us. We'll use them as long as we need them, then get rid of them.'
'What units am I going to have?' demanded von Choltitz, bluntly.
Himmler gazed across at him.
'Ah yes... your units... I'll give you the 19th S.S. Panzerdivision "Letland" and the 20th S.S. Panzerdivision "Estland". They're both in Denmark at the momenta And in addition to them you can have two regiments of the Feldgendarmerie from Poland and the 35th S.S. Polizei-Grenadierdivision ... My experts have estimated that it should take you approximately twelve days to mine the town. I'll let you have the 912th Engineers and the 27th Panzer Z.B.V. for the job. How does that suit you?'
'Very well indeed, Reichsfuhrer... so long as they actually arrive. If they don't, then I regret my task will be impossible.'
'General von Choltitz, don't speak to me about impossibilities! Twice already in this war you have achieved impossibilities--at Rotterdam and at Sebastopol. What you have done once before, you can do again. Remember I am relying on you one hundred per cent.'
Von Choltitz turned away and discreetly slipped a tranquillizer into his mouth. His previous exploits hung like millstones about his neck. He could foresee that if anyone had to go short of men it would be him, on the grounds that he was a proven miracle worker and what he had done once, he could do again.
In May 1940 von Choltitz had been a lieutenant-colonel, commanding the 3rd battalion of the 16th Infantry Regiment with their transport planes, the JU 52s, in the marshy hinterlands of Holland, He took over the command of various combat units of the 2nd Luftlanddivision and began the struggle in the Woolhaven-Rotterdam region. The roads and railway bridges leading to Rotterdam were immediately taken over, although at no small cost in personnel: for every few metres gained, a new river of blood was shed. Sixty-seven per cent of the officers were lost. When, after five days' hard fighting, the battle came to an end, seventy-five per cent of the division had fallen. The Dutch must have been in similar case, or even worse, but General Lehmann stubbornly refused to think of capitulating. He was given three hours for an unconditional surrender and at the end of that time, when he had received no reply to his message, von Choltitz knew that the only course left open to him was the bombardment of Rotterdam.
Two thousand four hundred bombs and incendiaries were dropped on the city. Thirty thousand civilians lost their lives. When the bombardment came to a halt it was exactly 15.05 hours, and out of the burning ruins the remnants of the Dutch Army came running, bayonets at the ready, to avenge themselves on the enemy who had destroyed their city. It was a resistance that was both glorious and unexpected; a sudden mad burst of heroism from not one man but hundreds. The Germans were taken by surprise. A young Dutch lieutenant, mortally wounded, managed to wipe out an entire combat group before he himself collapsed and died. A boy recruit, of perhaps eighteen years ran amok with a flame-thrower and created stark panic among soldiers with more than twice his experience. From out the ruined streets appeared the dark hulk of Dutch tanks, advancing majestically over the rubble. A panic seized hold of the Germans. They faltered and fell back, and it was then that Lt.-Colonel von Choltitz, minus all his officers and half his men, was himself seen to plunge into the heart of the chaos and vigorously set about restoring the flagging morale of the troops. Men on the verge of flight were pushed back into the battle. Others found their faith renewed simply by the sight of an officer. With his own hands von Choltitz helped set up a machine-gun and stayed long enough to see that it was properly manned before rushing off to give aid in another quarter. Metre by metre he moved forward, dragging his men with him. He himself was seen to wipe out a nest of enemy machine-guns with a shower of grenades, and so long as he was there men found themselves for very shame unable to turn and run.
Exactly two hours after the end of the bombardment, General Lehmann surrendered 'to avoid further excessive loss of life'. At 17.00 hours the order went out to the Army, over the radio, to cease fire, and it was at that moment that the Dutch Colonel Scharroo presented himself to Lt.-Colonel von Choltitz in his temporary headquarters on the Willemsbrucke. Von Choltitz was cold and unforthcoming. When, after some five minutes of conversation, Colonel Scharoo held out his hand, the German refused to take it: in his opinion an officer who surrendered was no longer worthy of being treated as an officer.
At the head of his triumphant troops, von Choltitz entered into Rotterdam and received the unconditional surrender of that town. He was the first German governor of Rotterdam, and a very harsh ruler he made. It was on 18th May 1940 that he received the Iron Cross from the hands of the Fuhrer in person.
Other urgent tasks were lying ahead of this triumphant officer, and he took them all in his cool, unruffled stride. In the front line of the 2nd Infantry Division, his own old regiment of Oldenbourg, he mounted the attack on Krim and was brought to a halt only by the formidable cannons of Sebastopol. But the Fuhrer knew his
man
. The conqueror of Rotterdam was now given the means by which to become also the conqueror of Sebastopol; the 60-cm. 'Thor' mortar, which weighed over
120
tons; the 43-cm. 'Gamma', weighing 140 tons; and a whole battery of Doras, 80-cm. cannons of 55 tons.
Even before the battle began, Hitler had removed one of the little red flags from the map in his office, indicating to all the world that von Choltitz had already as good as taken what was then the most powerful fortress in the world. Von Choltitz duly took it. Both town and fortress fell to him after a bombardment that can surely have had no equal in the history of warfare.
Von Choltitz received the Fuhrer's personal thanks, and the German radio blared forth his name by day and by night to his grateful countrymen. Himmler offered him a high-ranking position in the S.S., but von Choltitz was a Prussian and preferred the Army. Himmler hid his wrath behind a charming smile of regret, and von Choltitz shot onwards like a comet, overtaking even Rommel in his quest for glory.
Himmler turned his back upon the map of Paris, and upon von Choltitz. Unlike his visitor he was not armed, but he had no fears that the General would run suddenly mad and make an attempt on his life. The General was by way of being some thing of a national hero. Himmler picked up his cognac and stood calmly with the glass held below his nostrils, savouring the fumes. Already, locked away in his desk, were the papers approving the nomination of the General to the rank of Obergruppenfuhrer of the Waffen S.S. It was to be his reward following upon the total annihilation of Paris, and this time there would be no question of preferring the Army.
'Von Choltitz,' said Himmler, slowly turning to him, 'I trust you have no doubts as to our final victory? Because if so, I do assure you that they are ill-founded. Another two years is all we need. Let us just hang on for that length of time--and you know as well as I that we are perfectly capable of it--and I swear to you that victory will be ours... This latest stunt of the Allies, this invasion of Normandy----' He dismissed it contemptuously. 'The final fling of a dying man! Believe me, Choltitz, they've really had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to pull off this little trick. We have only to hold out against them, and purely and simply they'll have nothing left to fall back on. They've used up all their resources, they're staking everything on the belief that we'll collapse--which, of course, we shall not do. But in the meantime, General, while we're hanging on we must be hard; we must be brutal. We must be inhuman, if necessary... the destruction of Paris will be a demonstration of our power and a psychological blow from which the enemy will never recover... Are you with me?'
General von Choltitz took a deep, slow breath before replying.
'Reichsfuhrer, you must allow me to point out that Paris is not Rotterdam... Paris is not Sebastopol. There will be a world outcry if we destroy her--and God help us if we lose the war!'
A dark smile of pleasure spread itself across Himmler's face.
'Nero fiddled while Rome burned. And all the world still talks of it...One day, my dear General, the world will talk of you and me. In a thousand years they will still talk of us. We shall have outstripped Caesar and Attila the Hun! And if, contrary to all my expectations, we lose the battle--at least we shall lose it in a blaze of glory.' He threw back his head and gave a great, delighted guffaw. 'The world will shake in its shoes at the mere sound of our names! Himmler and Choltitz! Children shall cry and women shall scream and the strongest of men turn pale!'
Himmler's voice raged onwards in a great surge of anticipated glory. Von Choltitz took another sedative and ran two fingers round the inside of his high Prussian collar. Boldly he interrupted the Reichsfuhrer.
'And what if Patton's armoured divisions get to Paris before I have a chance to destroy the town?'
'Ah! You're thinking of your family! I knew something was on your mind!' Himmler extended a cordial hand and gripped von Choltitz hard beneath the elbow. 'Never fear for their safety, I shall personally guarantee it. Keep in contact with Model and Hausser. Don't bother with von Rundstedt. He is nothing but an old woman, you can forget him. And as for Speidel, he's already got one foot in Gemersheim.'*
* Military prison in Koblenz.
'Gemersheim? General Speidel?'
Von Choltitz jerked his head up in quick amazement and Himmler gave a secretive smile.
'My agents are quite au courant, I assure you... We shall strike when the hour is ripe.'
'But Speidel----!'