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Stories of Small Renown

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From the turret of a German tank, Colonel Hans Von Luck commanded Rommel’s 7th and then 21st Panzer Division. El Alamein, Kasserine Pass, Poland, Belgium, Normandy on D-Day, the disastrous Russian front--Von Luck fought there with some of the best soldiers in the world. German soldiers.



Awarded the German Cross in Gold and the Knight’s Cross, Von Luck writes as an officer and a gentleman. Told with the vivid detail of an impassioned eyewitness, his rare and moving memoir has become a classic in the literature of World War II, a first-person chronicle of the glory--and the inevitable tragedy--of a superb soldier fighting Hitler's war.


"In North Africa, Hans von Luck was fighting in the only war he ever enjoyed. He commanded the armed reconnaissance battalion on Rommel’s extreme right (southern) flank. He thus enjoyed a certain independence, as did his British opposite number. The two commanding officers agreed to fight a civilized war. Every day at five p.m. the war shut down, the British to brew up their tea, the Germans their coffee. At about quarter past five, von Luck and the British commander would communicate over the radio. “Well,” von Luck might say, “we captured so-and-so today and he’s fine and he sends his love to his mother, tell her not to worry.” Once von Luck learned that the British had received a month’s supply of cigarettes. He offered to trade a captured officer – who happened to be the heir to the Players cigarette fortune – for one million cigarettes. The British countered with an offer of 600,000. Done, said von Luck. But the Players heir was outraged. He said the ransom was insufficient. He insisted he was worth the million and refused to be exchanged".
- Stephen Ambrose, Pegasus Bridge
 
NATALIA PESHKOVA: COMBAT MEDIC



Natalia Peshkova was drafted into the Russian Army straight out of high school at age 17. She was trained with weapons that didn't work and then sent off with a unit so woefully equipped that at one time a horse ate her felt boot as she slept, forcing her to make do with one boot for a month. Peshkova spent three years at the front, accompanying wounded soldiers from the front to hospitals and trying to fight disease and starvation among the troops. She was wounded three times. Once, when the Germans moved into an area the Soviets held, Peshkova was separated from her unit and had to disguise herself. However, she could not discard her weapon because she knew the Soviet Army would execute her for losing it! Yet she made it back to her unit undetected. As the war dragged on, Peshkova was promoted to Sergeant Major and given political education duties further from the front. After the war, she was awarded the Order of the Red Star for bravery.
 


Albert Goering was the brother of infamous Nazi leader Hermann Goering, the man who famously vowed to destroy the RAF. Unlike his older brother, Albert was not a Nazi and often risked his life to save those the Nazis hated. He moved to Austria after the Nazis rose to power and often spoke out against the Nazi party, but when Austria was annexed by Germany in 1938, Hermann kept the Gestapo away from Albert.

When the Nazis marched into Vienna, Albert rushed to distribute exit visas to Jewish residents and even went head-to-head with Nazis who were forcing elderly Jewish people to do degrading things, such as washing the street. Albert managed to save hundreds of Jews as well as political dissidents during the war. He persuaded his brother to order the release of many prisoners of concentration camps, claiming they were “good Jews.” He was arrested on a number of occasions, but each time, his family connections ensured his freedom, even when a warrant for his death was issued in 1944.

Albert ran a Skoda factory in Czechoslovakia, whose employees were very grateful to him for how he treated them, even allowing passive resistance among the workforce. When two Nazi officers gave him the Nazi salute while he was stationed in Bucharest, Romania, he invited them to “kiss [his] ass.”

Ironically, Albert was imprisoned for two years after the war due to his association with his older brother. When he was released, he found himself unemployable. He died penniless, but he was looked after by those he had helped during the war. Only recently has he received recognition for his bravery.
 


Starting in 1941, an increasing number of British Airmen found themselves as the involuntary guests of the Third Reich, and the Crown was casting about for ways and means to facilitate their escape.

Now obviously, one of the most helpful aids to that end is a useful and accurate map, one showing not only where stuff was, but also showing the locations of 'safe houses' where a POW on-the-lam could go for food and shelter.

Paper maps had some real drawbacks — they make a lot of noise when you open and fold them, they wear out rapidly, and if they get wet, they turn into mush.

Someone in MI-5 (similar to America's OSS) got the idea of printing escape maps on silk. It's durable, can be scrunched-up into tiny wads, and unfolded as many times as needed, and makes no noise whatsoever.

At that time, there was only one manufacturer in Great Britain that had perfected the technology of printing on silk, and that was John Waddington, Ltd. When approached by the government, the firm was only too happy to do its bit for the war effort.

By pure coincidence, Waddington was also the U.K. Licensee for the popular American board game, Monopoly. As it happened, 'games and pastimes' was a category of item qualified for insertion into 'CARE packages', dispatched by the International Red Cross to prisoners of war.

Under the strictest of secrecy, in a securely guarded and inaccessible old workshop on the grounds of Waddington's, a group of sworn-to-secrecy employees began mass-producing escape maps, keyed to each region of Germany or Italy where Allied POW camps were regional system). When processed, these maps could be folded into such tiny dots that they would actually fit inside a Monopoly playing piece.

As long as they were at it, the clever workmen at Waddington's also managed to add:

1. A playing token, containing a small magnetic compass
2. A two-part metal file that could easily be screwed together
3. Useful amounts of genuine high-denomination German, Italian, and French currency, hidden within the piles of Monopoly money!

British and American air crews were advised, before taking off on their first mission, how to identify a 'rigged' Monopoly set — by means of a tiny red dot, one cleverly rigged to look like an ordinary printing glitch, located in the corner of the Free Parking square.

Of the estimated 35,000 Allied POWS who successfully escaped, an estimated one-third were aided in their flight by the rigged Monopoly sets. Everyone who did so was sworn to secrecy indefinitely, since the British Government might want to use this highly successful ruse in still another, future war.

The story wasn't declassified until 2007, when the surviving craftsmen from Waddington's, as well as the firm itself, were finally honored in a public ceremony.

It's always nice when you can play that 'Get Out of Jail' Free' card!
 
Thanks Sempi.
I get a kick out of looking these things up!



Lieutenant colonel Montague R. Chidson was one of the most experienced and productive officers in the Continental service of MI-6, Great Britain’s overseas intelligence operation. On May 10, 1940, the forty-eight-year old officer was seated at his desk in The Hague, Holland, when he received word that Adolf Hitler’s powerful military machine had invaded the country. The news came as no surprise to Chidson: his high-level moles in the German secret service had alerted him that the offensive was imminent. Chidson, who had been with MI-6 since World War I, rapidly changed into civilian clothes and launched a personal operation for which he had been prepared. He hurried to Amsterdam, the capital and largest city (850,000 population). Founded in about 1275, Amsterdam had been a world center of the diamond industry for centuries. At the Amsterdam Mart, where most of the Dutch diamond cache was safeguarded, Chidson found the main door locked and the place deserted. Using a key he had had the foresight to “borrow” a few weeks earlier, the secret agent entered the building. From information he had obtained a month before for just such a crisis, he spent twenty-four hours fiddling with the combination in the huge master vault.


Down the hall, he heard shouts and the scuffling of many boots on the floor. He surmised that these were German soldiers whose mission was to seize the same priceless diamonds that he was coveting … wealth to help fuel the Nazi war juggernaut. The footsteps drew closer. If caught in civilian clothes, Chidson would probably be shot on the spot as a spy. Just then, the vault opened and he fled with the entire stock of Dutch industrial diamonds. Although the Wehrmacht had swarmed all over the Netherlands, Chidson managed to sneak the diamonds, which were of colossal value to an industrial power at war, to London. There this valuable cache was turned over to Queen Wilhelmina, who, along with top members of her government, had just escaped from her country on a British destroyer. For Chidson’s incredible exploit, he was awarded the Distinguished Service Order … in secret. Public recognition would have unmasked one of Great Britain’s most skilled and innovative undercover operatives.
 
Thanks Sempi.
I get a kick out of looking these things up!



Lieutenant colonel Montague R. Chidson was one of the most experienced and productive officers in the Continental service of MI-6, Great Britain’s overseas intelligence operation. On May 10, 1940, the forty-eight-year old officer was seated at his desk in The Hague, Holland, when he received word that Adolf Hitler’s powerful military machine had invaded the country. The news came as no surprise to Chidson: his high-level moles in the German secret service had alerted him that the offensive was imminent. Chidson, who had been with MI-6 since World War I, rapidly changed into civilian clothes and launched a personal operation for which he had been prepared. He hurried to Amsterdam, the capital and largest city (850,000 population). Founded in about 1275, Amsterdam had been a world center of the diamond industry for centuries. At the Amsterdam Mart, where most of the Dutch diamond cache was safeguarded, Chidson found the main door locked and the place deserted. Using a key he had had the foresight to “borrow” a few weeks earlier, the secret agent entered the building. From information he had obtained a month before for just such a crisis, he spent twenty-four hours fiddling with the combination in the huge master vault.


Down the hall, he heard shouts and the scuffling of many boots on the floor. He surmised that these were German soldiers whose mission was to seize the same priceless diamonds that he was coveting … wealth to help fuel the Nazi war juggernaut. The footsteps drew closer. If caught in civilian clothes, Chidson would probably be shot on the spot as a spy. Just then, the vault opened and he fled with the entire stock of Dutch industrial diamonds. Although the Wehrmacht had swarmed all over the Netherlands, Chidson managed to sneak the diamonds, which were of colossal value to an industrial power at war, to London. There this valuable cache was turned over to Queen Wilhelmina, who, along with top members of her government, had just escaped from her country on a British destroyer. For Chidson’s incredible exploit, he was awarded the Distinguished Service Order … in secret. Public recognition would have unmasked one of Great Britain’s most skilled and innovative undercover operatives.

Would make a great movie.
 


If you’ve ever watched a war movie and felt unfazed by the countless dead bodies due to the survival of one precious animal, this article is for you. In the 2001 movie Pearl Harbor, after the chaos from the Japanese attack, one dog is seen amongst the wreckage, having survived unharmed. While in film this is used as a gimmick to distract audiences, it turns out it’s based in reality.

Unsinkable Sam was a cat aboard a German ship in World War II. Having cats aboard ships is something that’s been common for hundreds of years mainly due to their ability to catch rodents. He first served on the Bismarck during its first and only mission on 18 May 1941. After a sea battle on 27 May, the Bismarck was sunk and only 115 of the 2,200 crew members survived.

Sam was found floating on a board later- by the British. The British then employed him (and named him Oscar) on the HMS Cossack, until it was hit by a torpedo on 24 October and sank three days later. Though 159 people died from the torpedo, “Oscar” survived. He was officially named “Unsinkable Sam” and was transferred to the aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal, which had played a role in the destruction of Bismarck.

Unfortunately, this ship also sank just days later on 14 November, once again due to torpedo. Sam survived again, and was described as “angry but quite unharmed.” The British decided to retire Sam to a seaman’s home in Belfast. There he lived for 14 more years. Who knows why… Sam still had at least 5 more ships before he was in real trouble no?
 
SALT LAKE CITY — The little-known story of a Utah man who oversaw a secret World War II mission to reconstruct and test Japanese aircraft has a prominent place in a new heritage site in Australia.

Clyde D. Gessel oversaw the assembling of Japanese Zeros from salvaged parts — "shot up junk" as he described it — at Eagle Farm airfield near Brisbane. The operation, authorized by Gen. Douglas MacArthur, played an important role in history and possibly changed the course of the war in the Pacific.

Linda Grow and her husband, Robert, were in Brisbane on Thursday to share part of her father's remarkable military service at the dedication of an interpretive center at Eagle Farm.

Grow spent the past five years supporting creation of the heritage site, which includes an 1800s women's prison, a testing and maintenance area for Allied aircraft engines, and Hangar No. 7 where Gessel worked.

"Hangar 7 is a tangible symbol of what men from our nations accomplished together in those dark days with courage, devotion and hard work to preserve the freedom we cherish," according to remarks Grow prepared for the event. "I hope Hangar 7 will stand forever in remembrance of our shared heritage and the enduring bonds of friendship between our two nations."

While Gessel's story is known Down Under — a street in Eagle Farm is named Clyde Gessel Place — it hasn't been told in his home state.

Grow said her father was a quiet man who never talked much about his secret mission. She discovered much of what she knows after he died in 2007.

Gessel was a young first lieutenant and civil engineer in the Army Air Corps from the small northern Utah town of Providence when he received orders in early 1943 to salvage parts from downed Japanese Zeros and reconstruct them to be tested against Allied fighters.

His orders to recover planes and notifying all military personnel to give him whatever help he requested came directly from MacArthur.

In early combat, the Japanese Zero gained legendary status as a dogfighter, with a kill ratio of 12 to 1. It became less effective as the war went on.

Gessel's crew of Americans and Australians recovered Japanese airplane parts and equipment in New Guinea and loaded them on a ship for Brisbane. In his history, Gessel described life in New Guinea as a "different type of existence."

"We ate and worked in large grass shack that the natives had built for us. We slept in tents, always under carefully arranged mosquito nets. The mosquitoes at night were numerous and bloodthirsty. We also had slit trenches for air raid protection," he wrote.

In Brisbane, the crew worked 12 hours a day, seven days a week for six months to put together and test the first Japanese plane on July 20, 1943. They called the hangar the Air Intelligence Technical Unit.

"I was not an aeronautical engineer so we just used good common sense in trying to make the airframes stronger than the original structure," Gessel wrote in his history. "After getting one Japanese Zero completely airworthy, we flew it against our own planes in all sorts of tactical manuevers."

On Aug. 10 1943, he wrote in his journal, "We have flown the (Japanese) airplane six flights. Quite a feat after putting together a mass of shot up junk."

As a result of the operation, Allied planes were told to avoid dogfighting with the lighter more agile Zeros and use tactics to improve their defenses against the Japanese fighters.

Gessel's crew also identified production rates, manufacturing sites and supply lines from the engine parts, allowing Allied bombers to hit specific targets in Japan.

Their work also led to improved designs for Allied fighter planes.

Grow said her father and his crew worked with a sense of urgency to provide information that would save Allied lives and possibly bring an earlier end to the war.

 


Franz Xaver Baron von Werra (13 July 1914 – 25 October 1941) was a German World War II fighter pilot and flying ace who was shot down over Britain and captured. He is generally regarded as the only Axis prisoner of war to succeed in escaping from a Canadian prisoner of war camp and returning to Germany, although a second man, a U-Boat rating named Walter Kurt Reich, is said to have jumped from a Polish troopship (presumably the ex-liner Sobieski) in the St. Lawrence River in July 1940.[1] Werra managed to return to Germany via the USA, Mexico, South America, and Spain, finally reaching Germany on 18 April 1941.[2] Oberleutnant von Werra was awarded the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross on 14 December 1940.

Franz Baron von Werra was born on 13 July 1914, to impoverished Swiss parents in Leuk, a town in the Swiss canton of Valais. The title of Freiherr (roughly equal to Baron) came from his biological father Leo Freiherr von Werra, who, after bankruptcy, faced deep economic hardship. Because relatives were legally obliged to look after the Baron's wife and six children, his cousin Rosalie von Werra persuaded her childless friend Louise Carl von Haber to permit the Baron's two youngest, Franz and his sister, the benefits of wealth and education. The Carl von Habers did not tell the children their true origin.

In 1936, Werra joined the Luftwaffe. Commissioned as a Leutnant in 1938, at the beginning of the Second World War he was serving with Jagdgeschwader 3 in the French campaign. An able officer, he became Adjutant of II Gruppe, JG 3. He was described as engaging in boisterous 'playboy' behavior. He was once pictured in the German press with his pet lion Simba, which he kept at the aerodrome as the unit mascot.

Werra scored his first four victories during the Battle of France in May 1940. After downing a Hawker Hurricane on 20 May 1940, on 22 May he claimed two Breguet 690 bombers and a Potez 630 near Cambrai.

In one sortie during the Battle of Britain on 25 August he claimed a Spitfire west of Rochester, and three Hurricanes shot down as air victories, also including five on the ground for a total of nine RAF planes destroyed. Four airborne victories were credited by the Germans. The particulars of the actions are uncertain as no matching incident has been found in British records.

On 5 September 1940, Werra's Bf 109E-4 (W.Nr. 1480) "< + –" was shot down over Kent.


Franz von Werra's Bf 109E-4, pictured at Marden, Kent


Werra crash-landed his BF 109E-4 in a field and was captured by the unarmed cook of a nearby army unit. Initially, he was held in Maidstone barracks by the Queen's Own Royal West Kent Regiment, from which he attempted his first escape. He had been put to work digging and was guarded by Military Police Private Denis Rickwood, who had to face Werra down with a small truncheon, while Werra was armed with a pick axe. (There is no mention of this escape attempt in the book The One that Got Away.) He was interrogated for eighteen days at Trent Park, a country house in Hertfordshire which before the war had been the seat of Sir Philip Sassoon. (After the war it became Trent Park teachers' training college). Eventually, Werra was sent to the London District Prisoner of War "cage" and then on to POW Camp No.1, at Grizedale Hall in the Furness Fells area of pre-1974 Lancashire, between Windermere and Coniston Water.

On 7 October he tried to escape for the second time, during a daytime walk outside the camp. At a regular stop, while a fruit cart provided a lucky diversion and other German prisoners covered for him, von Werra slipped over a dry-stone wall into a field. The guards alerted the local farmers and the Home Guard. On the evening of 10 October, two Home Guard soldiers found him sheltering from the rain in a hoggarth (a type of small stone hut used for storing sheep fodder that is common in the area), but he quickly escaped and disappeared into the night. On 12 October, he was spotted climbing a fell. The area was surrounded, and von Werra was eventually found, almost totally immersed in a muddy depression in the ground. Werra was sentenced to 21 days of solitary confinement and was subsequently transferred on 3 November to Camp No. 13 in Swanwick, Derbyshire.

In Camp No. 13, also known as the Hayes camp, Werra joined a group calling themselves Swanwick Tiefbau A.G. (Swanwick Excavations, Inc.), who were digging an escape tunnel. The tunnel can still be seen at the Hayes Conference Centre. On 17 December 1940, after a month's digging, it was complete. The camp forgers equipped the group with money and fake identity papers. On 20 December, Werra and four others slipped out of the tunnel under the cover of anti-aircraft fire and the singing of the camp choir. The others were recaptured quickly, leaving Werra to proceed alone. He had taken along his flying suit and decided to masquerade as Captain Van Lott, a Dutch Royal Netherlands Air Force pilot. He claimed to a friendly locomotive driver that he was a downed bomber pilot trying to reach his unit, and asked to be taken to the nearest RAF base. At Codnor Park railway station, a local clerk became suspicious, but eventually agreed to arrange his transportation to the aerodrome at RAF Hucknall, near Nottingham. The police also questioned him, but Werra convinced them he was harmless. At Hucknall, a Squadron Leader Boniface asked for his credentials, and Werra claimed to be based at Dyce near Aberdeen. While Boniface went to check this story, Werra excused himself and ran to the nearest hangar, trying to tell a mechanic that he was cleared for a test flight. Boniface arrived in time to arrest him at gunpoint, as he sat in the cockpit, trying to learn the controls. Werra was sent back to Hayes under armed guard.

In January 1941, Werra was sent with many other German prisoners to Canada. His group was to be taken to a camp on the north shore of Lake Superior, Ontario, so Werra began to plan his escape to the United States, which was still neutral at the time. On 21 January, while on a prison train that had departed Montreal, he jumped out of a window, again with the help of other prisoners, and ended up near Smith's Falls, Ontario, 30 miles from the St. Lawrence River. Seven other prisoners tried to escape from the same train, but were soon recaptured. Werra's absence was not noticed until the next afternoon.

After crossing the frozen St. Lawrence River, Werra made his way to Ogdensburg, New York, U.S., arriving several months before the U.S. entered the war, and turned himself over to the police. The immigration authorities charged him with entering the country illegally, so Werra contacted the local German consul, who paid his bail. Thus, he came to the attention of the press and told them a very embellished version of his story. While the U.S. and Canadian authorities were negotiating his extradition, the German vice-consul helped him over the border to Mexico. Werra proceeded in stages to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Barcelona, Spain and Rome, Italy. He finally arrived back in Germany on 18 April 1941.

Franz von Werra became a hero. Adolf Hitler granted him the Knights Cross of the Iron Cross (Ritterkreuz des Eisernen Kreuzes). Werra was assigned the task of improving German techniques for the interrogation of captured pilots, based on his own experiences with the British system.[6] Werra reported to the German High Command on his treatment as a POW, and this improved the treatment of POWs in Germany. He wrote a book based on his experiences entitled "Meine Flucht aus England" (My Escape from England) although the manuscript remained unpublished.

Werra then returned to active service with the Luftwaffe and was initially deployed to the Russian front as Gruppenkommandeur of I./JG 53. He scored 13 aerial victories during July 1941, raising his overall tally to 21. In early August 1941 I./JG 53 withdrew to Germany to re-equip with the new Bf 109F-4 and moved to Katwijk in the Netherlands.

On 25 October 1941 Werra took off in a Bf 109F-4 (number 7285) on a practice flight. He suffered engine failure and crashed into the sea north of Vlissingen and was presumed killed.

His body was never found.
 


This Soviet WWII photograph was unidentified for 23 years until the man in it, Aleksey Gordeyevich Yeremenko, was recognized by his wife and children when they saw the photograph in Pravda. It remains one of the most iconic photographs of World War II. Yeremenko was a junior political officer serving with the 220th regiment of 4th Rifle Division. On July 12, 1942, the commander of his regiment fell during battle. Rallying his troops to the attack, Yeremenko stood and waved them on. Seconds after this photograph was taken, Yeremenko was shot dead.


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