Splish splash I was taking a bath

With the warm temperatures in Sweden right now, it’s not without some envy I look at the German Pioniere (combat engineers) having a battle on the water in the summer of 1941. They play around in two große Schlauchboote (large inflatable boats), of which there were twelve in a Pionier battalion. Used for river crossings, they could take about 12-15 soldiers each, or be used as ferries (two or more with added wooden decking) or for provisional bridges. The combat engineer battalion also had assault boats and pontoons, which made for speedier crossings and sturdier structures, respectively, but the inflatable boats were easier to bring up to the frontline. It took some courage to cross a river with enemy troops on the other side, as inflatable boats aren’t exactly known for being bullet-proof… The soldiers in the photo would soon experience the crossings of many rivers in the USSR, under circumstances far removed from that summer day.


Three friends of mine

Berck-sur-Mer, France, summer of 1940. Three combat engineers from the 10. Panzer-Division take a look at a defused British Mk XIV (or possibly the upgrade, Mk XVII) naval mine, the contact horns removed and the 145 kg TNT charge lying next to it.

Mine warfare was very much a thing during WW2, all nations with coasts using naval mines both to protect their territory, to disrupt enemy shipping (as part of a blockade), and to sink enemy warships and merchant ships. There were several types of mines, the most common being the contact mine like the one above. That type was moored and submerged just under the surface, a mechanism adjusting the length of the mooring wire as the tide rose and fell. The mine had a number of horns, and when one of those was struck by a ship, the main charge exploded, the resulting damage crippling or sinking the ship. Other types of mines reacted to the magnetic field of a ship, or the sound of its propellers. Naval mines were the cause of loss of ships and lives long after the war, as unswept mines continued to be a danger to shipping.

Berck-sur-Mer was a small fishing town in the Pas-de-Calais region which had become a resort in the mid-19th century, when a hosptial for the treatment of tuberculosis was built there, the sea air thought to be beneficial for the patients. The town was damaged in 1944, as Allied air raids in preparation of D-Day hit German coastal installations, mainly as a diversion in order to draw German attention from the landing beaches in Normandy. The town recovered, and is now a holiday resort.

Maas Effect

May, 1940: motorcycles, probably of a Kradschützen-Bataillon (“motorcycle rifle battalion”) belonging to a Panzer-Division, cross the Maas river on ferries built by the divisional combat engineer battalion. The Kradschützen were used for reconnaisance, able to range fast and far on their sidecar motorcycles. Later in the war, they were upgraded with armored cars.

Maas (or as it is also known by in French: Meuse) is a river that runs through France, Belgium and the Netherlands. It was a major hurdle for the German armies attacking on 10 May, 1940. Where they didn’t manage to capture bridges intact – in some cases through coup de mains by Brandenburg commandos – they had to assault across the river in rubber dinghies, sometimes under heavy fire.

Fast forward 4½ years. The Germans launch another offensive – the last major one – in the Ardennes. Crossing the Maas/Meuse was the first step towards the port city of Antwerpen and the objective to cut the Allied front in half. A German unit managed to come within sight of the river, but that was the furthest they got during the Battle of the Bulge. The Wehrmacht of 1944 – bled white after five years of war – couldn’t achieve what it did in 1940. Hitler’s Reich was done for.

Forging ahead

A lieutenant watches as horse-drawn wagons bring baggage and supplies to the front, using a pontoon bridge built by the Brückenkolonne of a Pionier (combat engineer) battalion. It’s probably during the first weeks of Operation Barbarossa. The retreating Soviets blew up any bridge they could, and those had to be replaced. In some cases, rivers were bridged in unexpected spots in order to make flanking attacks possible. The company-sized bridge-building unit could build longer or shorter bridges, depending on what load they were to handle. The pontoons could also be used when building ferries, as some rivers were simply too wide to be bridged in time. There were inflatable boats, too, which together with assault boats were used for attacks across rivers. Without the combat engineers, the armies would have a much harder time moving forward.

This is the last post in the five-part series about my WW2 interest and the ways it manifests itself. I will return to different aspects of it in future posts, elaborating on the themes that I find interesting.

In June 2014, I and some friends went to Normandy for the 70th anniversary of D-Day. We spent a week looking at bunkers and tanks, walking invasion beaches and battlefields, and even had the good fortune to meet and talk to a couple of Allied D-Day veterans. Hopefully I’ll get the opportunity to make similar trips in the future. Over the years, I have met people who experienced WW2 first hand, and I hope to incorporate their stories in one way or other in my posts. I have a project brewing, where I plan to read and analyze the articles published in the German propaganda magazine ”Signal”, comparing how the Germans presented the fighting in Normandy with what really happened. Then I have this blog, which has turned my collecting of original German photos into a way of expressing myself through research and writing, presenting the photos together with capsule histories and trying to put them in a historical context. Hopefully it will broaden the readers’ understanding of the war just as it has broadened mine. That’s my excuse, anyway.

There are times when I get the question “Why waste time on dead people?” Well, the people in the photos are long gone (except perhaps the odd 90+ years old), but they lived during a tumultous period in our history. They would’ve been happier if they had been allowed to live their lives in peace, but that wasn’t to be. Their stories and fates are too often untold and forgotten; I’ve met people who lived through those years and who experienced things that they haven’t even told their own children. While most of the people in the photos I post here will remain anonymous, I want to put them in a context. In a way, if circumstances had been different, we could’ve been them. That alone makes it worth telling about the people and events all those years ago.

Threat from above

“Luftgefährdet – Verschwinde! – Tarne u[nd] Verdunkle” A warning sign, which roughly translates as “Danger from the air. Take cover! Camoflage and black out [headlights]”. The terrain around Shchigry, a town in Kursk Oblast, Russia, is mostly flat farmland with occasional gullies cut by streams, offering little cover from enemy aircraft. Shchigry is located between the Shchigra and Lesnaya Plata Rivers, 60 kilometers northeast of Kursk. During WW2, the town was occupied by German troops from 21 November 1941 to 5 February 1943. This photo of a Pionier squad resting by the roadside, some soldiers enjoying a smoke, was taken on 31 July, 1942. While the Germans enjoyed aerial superiority most of the time, Soviet attacks were a reality. Half a year later, the Soviet airforce had wrested the control of the skies from the Germans.

Going south

This bright young man is Stabsgefreiter (Senior Lance Corporal) August König of Panzer-Pionier-Bataillon 49. He’s wearing the tropical uniform prior to the deployment of the 10. Panzer-Division to Tunisia. His uniform tells a lot to someone versed in reading German uniform insignia and medals. Apart from the rank chevrons on his sleeve, there’s the black Waffenfarbe (branch of service piping) on his shoulderboards that tells us that he’s in an engineer unit. On his pocket is the Reichssportabzeichen (Reich Sports Badge) in bronze, and the Allgemeines Sturmabzeichen (General Assault Badge) in silver, which was awarded for participation in three assaults on different three days. In his buttonhole is the ribbon of the Eisener Kreuz, 2. Klasse (Iron Cross, second class), which was usually awarded for battlefield bravery. The Iron Cross was a prestigious award early in the war, but during the last years it was awarded more liberally as a morale booster. Anyway, his uniform tells us that he has displayed courage in combat in support of infantry and armored assaults on several occasions.

The 10. Panzer-Division arrived to Tunisia in December, 1942. It was a part of Fifth Panzer Army, and participated in the Battle of Kasserine Pass and several of the other early battles. It also took part in the failed Axis offensive of Operation Ochsenkopf in late February 1943. When the Axis line collapsed in May 1943, the division was trapped. It surrendered on 12 May and was never rebuilt.

I’m fairly certain that August König went into captivity, returning to Germany a couple of years after the war ended. He was the owner of the photo album that was obtained by someone who cut it up and sold off the loose photos on eBay. Much of the context has been lost, and I suspect the best photos were sold off for big money. Still, those I got hold on tells a story, some of which I’ve relayed here.

On the right halftrack

This is the next to last photo of soldiers from Panzer-Pionier-Bataillon 49. The guy whose album the photos are from is sitting behind the wheel of this Zugkraftwagen (tractor truck). It was a bit of a mystery to me, as I wasn’t able to identify the exact model at first, but this is the artillery version of the Sd.Kfz. 6, the Sd.Kfz. 6/1. It is recognized by the absence of the third outer roadwheel.

The family of halftracks of the German army were used to tow artillery, like howitzers, field guns, anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns. They were also used for recovering vehicles, like knocked-out tanks that were to be repaired. Some of them were used as gun platforms, like the AA variant Sd.Kfz. 10/4. Being halftracks, they could negotiate terrain that ordinary trucks would get bogged down in.

I haven’t been able to identify the unit marking on the front fender. It isn’t that of the 10. Panzer-Division, so if anyone knows anything, please leave a comment.