The Steel Wave (71 page)

H
e changed from the civilian clothes and buttoned up his jacket, the tan tunic that bore the insignia of the Afrika Korps. It was his favorite uniform. She sat on the bed and watched him, her hands wrapped together in her lap.

“How can they do this, Erwin?” The emotions were rising in her, redness in her eyes.

Rommel glanced at his uniform in the mirror. “They do this because they believe it is the right thing to do. They are doing their job. They have evidence that claims I am in conspiracy with people I have never met. They have volumes of ridiculous proof that I am a traitor to the Reich. It does not matter if it is false.”

“Well, tell them it is false!”

“I have told them, my sweet. There is no argument here, no room for debate. This is all some sort of ceremony, and they are both good officers. I had thought perhaps they would want to extort something from me, that Hitler would still believe me useful. I had hoped perhaps he would force me to make some sort of public speech, some valiant call to arms supporting the fantasy that this war can be won. That was…optimistic of me. I know now that my fate was decided before they left Berlin. They first offered to have me stand trial, to accept public humiliation.”

“Well, yes! Do that! What does it matter now?”

His own emotions were loosening, his voice rising. “It is a sham! I would never survive long enough to reach my own trial. If I accompany them away from here, I promise you, my assassination has already been planned. They don’t dare give me a trial and will not risk having me speak out. And I would not risk it either. If I had dared to give them any kind of truth, anything they did not want to hear, it was very clear that there would be a price for
you
to pay. You and Manfred would become targets as well, enemies of the state. I will not have you suffer. There is nothing to be gained by
truth.
Not anymore.”

She began to cry now. “I cannot understand this. You are accepting death. What am I to do? How do I respond to that?”

He tried to hold back his own tears, but there was no need now. “You are the wife of a soldier. You accepted my death when you married me.”

“Father?”

Rommel turned, saw Manfred at the door, the boy staring at his mother with alarm. “What is it? Are they arresting you? I saw more cars outside…civilians.”

Rommel motioned for the boy to enter. “Yes, I know. They are Gestapo. Manfred, I must be brief. In one quarter hour, I will be dead.”

Lucie made a gasping sound, the tears flowing.

“No…that cannot be,” Manfred said. “Why?”

“It is done, Manfred. Those men have evidence that I am complicit in the plot to assassinate the Führer. It is all lies, confessions drawn from tortured men, but they must have their prizes. I am…regrettably…a prize. I have been granted assurances, that by doing this now, my family will not be harmed or disgraced.”

“Do
what
now?” Manfred moved closer to his mother, put a hand on her shoulder.

“I must go with those men.” He saw the fear in his boy’s eyes, the questions, the anger. Rommel moved closer to them both, said in a low voice, “I knew my life would end because of this war. I always knew. I have survived many times when I should have been killed. But there is nothing else that can be done now. To die by the hand of one’s own people is…difficult. But you have seen it yourself. The house is surrounded, and those men are here for one reason.”

“We can fight them, Father! I have the pistol—”

“It is of no use. We would be killed in seconds. I will not have you harmed, either of you. Obey me now.”

The boy began to cry now, soft sobs, and Rommel put his hand on the back of the boy’s neck, gripped him hard. He leaned low, Lucie looking up at him, and kissed her, tasted her tears. He stepped back, took a long breath, and fought for calm.

“I must go now.”

T
he car rolled slowly, Burgdorf in the backseat beside him, Maisel in front beside the driver. Rommel had seen Burgdorf’s pistol, knew that both men were prepared for him to resist, and that somewhere behind them the men in civilian clothes had their orders and would certainly obey them.

The car moved out through the garden gate, and Rommel stared out into darkening trees, hearing every sound: the crunch of gravel beneath the wheels, the breathing of the man beside him.

“May I inquire…where we are going?”

Burgdorf pointed ahead, spoke to the driver.

“Up the hill. Through those woods. There is an open field, enclosed by thick trees. It is very secluded there.”

How do you know that? But then Rommel thought, Of course. Every detail has been planned.

The car rolled past the narrow stretch of woods, the trees giving way to open ground, the wide field Burgdorf had described. It was familiar, a place Rommel had taught Manfred to shoot.

Burgdorf said, “This is far enough. Halt the car.”

The car stopped abruptly.

Burgdorf looked at Rommel. “This is the best way, you know. It will take only three seconds.”

Rommel saw him glance downward, saw the small capsule in Burgdorf’s hand. The hand opened wider, and Rommel took the capsule, rolled it over between his fingers. Burgdorf looked toward the front of the car.

“You may leave us now.”

The front doors opened, and the driver and Maisel left the car, another well-rehearsed detail.

Rommel watched them moving away, no talking, their backs to the car. He felt a shiver, fought the fear, and said, “I am a loyal German, Wilhelm.”

“So are we all, Field Marshal.”

Rommel stared at the capsule in his hand. “You have given me your word that no harm will come to my family.”

“I have. There is nothing to be gained by harming them. They will not be disgraced. You will always be a hero, Field Marshal.”

Rommel felt his breathing in short bursts, cold thunder in his chest, thought of Lucie, her tears. There is nothing else I can do. His jaw clenched, his only protest, and he forced himself to relax, opened his mouth, slapped the capsule inside, a brief burst of bitterness, forced himself to swallow. He stared ahead, his throat tightening, no air in his lungs, a cold hard claw curling through his chest, the car swirling, his mind holding to a brief glow of sky, sand and tanks, and Africa.

AFTERWORD

The fact that your husband, Field Marshal Rommel, has died a hero’s death as a result of his wounds…has deeply touched me. I send you, my dear Frau Rommel, the heartfelt sympathy of myself and the German Luftwaffe. In silent compassion, yours,

REICHSMARSCHALL HERMANN GÖRING
LETTER TO LUCIE ROMMEL, OCTOBER 1944

Of course Rommel, ultimately, was beaten. He lost. But, although what must matter in war is to win, that truism cannot provide the sole criterion for judgment of military talent. War may be considered as a business, open to audit, but its conduct is also an art. Napoleon was beaten. So was Montrose. So was Lee. Few could deny their genius. With all his imperfections, as a leader of men in battle, Erwin Rommel stands in their company.

BRITISH GENERAL AND HISTORIAN DAVID FRASER

God deliver us from our friends. We can handle the enemy.

GEORGE PATTON

THE GERMANS

HANS SPEIDEL

Rommel’s most valued aide testifies before two separate courts of inquiry and confounds the Gestapo prosecutors with his carefully conceived explanations. Ultimately, he cannot be linked specifically to any of the conspirators. Unable to justify his execution, the Gestapo holds him in prison for seven months. Days before the war’s end, he escapes captivity near Lake Constance, close to the German-Swiss border, and evades capture until Allied troops liberate the area. Speidel is the most closely involved participant in the plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler to survive the war.

Speidel is never implicated in war crimes and thus is not included in the Allied prosecution of Germany’s elite generals. After the war, he returns to academia and enjoys several years as a professor of history at Tübingen University. He continues to be active in political affairs, works vigorously to have (West) Germany included in the unified front that becomes NATO, and believes—as did Rommel—that the Soviets will continue to be the greatest threat to a peaceful Europe.

He writes often of Rommel and his campaigns and in 1950 publishes
Invasion, 1944—Rommel and the Normandy Campaign,
considered by military historians to be a prime resource for insight on Rommel and his command. He takes temporary leave of academia and returns to the military, rising to the rank of full general in Germany’s NATO command. In 1957, Speidel is named commander-in-chief of NATO ground forces in central Europe. He retires in 1964 and returns again to teaching at Tübingen. Speidel dies in Bad Honnef, Germany, in 1984, at age eighty-seven.

LEO GEYR VON SCHWEPPENBERG

The panzer commander who was so often Rommel’s nemesis is best known for his stubborn unwillingness to agree with Rommel’s tactics against the Allied invasion, at a time when cooperation might have turned the tide of the entire campaign. After the Allied bombing raid on June 10, which causes the near-total loss of his staff and headquarters, a wounded and demoralized Geyr begins to accept that the Allies cannot be turned back. He infuriates Hitler with what the German High Command labels the “mimicry” of Rommel’s defeatist attitudes, so his July 2 dismissal is inevitable.

Geyr is captured by the Americans at the end of the war and is imprisoned for two years. Upon his release, he writes several articles on military tactics and strategy, repeatedly engaging in a one-sided argument against Rommel’s tactics in Normandy, for which he receives little attention. Geyr dies near Munich in 1974, at age eighty-eight.

MANFRED ROMMEL

The field marshal’s only child surrenders to the French in 1945, and with the war at an end he is allowed to return to his mother’s home in Herrlingen. Within two years, he enrolls at the University of Tübingen, where he maintains a close acquaintance with Hans Speidel, but Manfred chooses a different field of study and earns a law degree. As his father’s son and by his own abilities, Manfred quickly establishes prominence in the legal profession. He pursues a career as well in politics, serves in several municipal-level offices, including a term as mayor of Stuttgart. In 1995, he is appointed by German chancellor Helmut Kohl to the prestigious (and somewhat ironic) post of supervisor of Franco-German affairs. He retires from public life in 1996 and lives today in Stuttgart. His first-person account of Erwin Rommel’s final days is arguably the most reliable and the most oft-quoted perspective on the extraordinary drama of his father’s death.

FRIEDRICH RUGE

Erwin Rommel’s closest friend during the Normandy campaign, the German admiral survives the war and writes of his experiences in a number of books and articles, most notably
Rommel and the Invasion.
He continues his service in the now-downsized German navy and serves as chief inspector of the Bundesmarine for six years, retiring in 1961. Like Hans Speidel, his reputation as an excellent officer and markedly intelligent man lands him a teaching post at the University of Tübingen. Admiral Ruge serves as president of the most prominent organization of German war veterans, the League of the Veterans of the Bundeswehr.

As a much-sought-after lecturer on naval strategies and applications, Ruge is a frequent visitor to the United States, lecturing often at the U.S. Naval War College at Newport, Rhode Island. He dies in 1985, at age ninety-one. A collection of his papers is housed today at the Citadel, in Charleston, South Carolina.

THE BRITISH

SIR ARTHUR TEDDER

Throughout his tenure as Eisenhower’s second-in-command for Operation Overlord, the British air marshal continues to serve with admirable restraint through the tumultuous weeks of controversy between the ground commanders Montgomery, Bradley, and Patton. In October 1944, he returns to a more hands-on role over his beloved tactical air force, when he is named to replace the abrasive and universally disliked Trafford Leigh-Mallory. As senior air commander in Europe, Tedder continues to impress Eisenhower and is widely regarded as the finest British air force officer of the war. As Germany becomes pressed between the advances of the Allies and the Russians, tactical coordination with the Russian air force becomes essential, and Tedder assumes he will move into that role. But he is considered “too American” for some British tastes, notably including Alan Brooke and Bernard Montgomery, and in early 1945, pressure mounts to replace him with Harold Alexander. But Eisenhower lobbies against that change, for despite Eisenhower’s affection and respect for Alexander, he knows Tedder is better qualified for the job. It is one more controversy of ego and personality that Eisenhower must wrestle with, and his loyalty to Tedder ensures a lasting friendship between the two men.

At the war’s end, in May 1945, Tedder serves as senior Allied delegate to accept Germany’s surrender in Berlin.

After the war, Tedder accepts the position of chief of staff of the Royal Air Force. He retires in 1950, to assume the post of chairman of the British Joint Services Commission in the United States, and steps down from that role in 1951 to become chancellor of Cambridge University. In 1966, he writes his memoirs and dies a year later in Surrey, England, at age seventy-six.

TRAFFORD LEIGH-MALLORY

For reasons that frustrate and perplex only him, Leigh-Mallory is never given credit for his positive accomplishments in command of the Allied tactical air forces throughout the invasion of Normandy. Seen as petty, vindictive, and generally ineffective, he is widely ignored by the men he allegedly commands. Eisenhower never warms to the man and, in October 1944, welcomes the opportunity to replace him with Arthur Tedder. But Leigh-Mallory has earned respect for his longevity of service to the air command and thus receives appointment as commander in chief of air services in southeast Asia, under the overall command of Lord Louis Mountbatten. In November 1944, Leigh-Mallory and his wife begin the arduous airplane journey to his new command in Burma. The plane crashes en route, and both are killed. He is fifty-two.