WARNING: Contains disturbing material

The work of the Einsatzgruppen was continuing apace as they followed the German army through Russia. Their method of operating was gradually evolving - at first the murder of Jews had been concentrated on men of influence, then all men, then women began to be included as a matter of course.1 Then a problem arose - if they murdered the men and women, what were they supposed to do with the children?

In the town of Bila Tserkva ( also spelt Blelaya Taerkov, Belaya Tserkov ) in the Ukraine they had murdered the men and women, shooting them on the rifle ranges of a local barracks. This left behind the children. Around ninety young children were kept locked up in an old building without food or water whilst the Germans tried to decide what to do with them.

This was just one incident amongst the multitude of other horrific crimes being perpetrated in the East. Probably no record would have been kept of the incident until the children's distress became known to a local Wehrmacht unit, the 295th Infantry Division. Men from this unit complained to their chaplains. The matter came to the attention of the Roman Catholic army chaplain who visited the house …

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Tank commander Captain Rea Leakey had only just arrived in Tobruk in the last minutes before the Germans completed their encirclement. He had then taken part in the early tank battles to defend the besieged garrison.

I was enjoying myself at the expense of the enemy. I hardly noticed the h…

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In the first of several incidents that led Roosevelt to change the rules of engagement for the United States Navy, a US-owned ship was sunk by a German U-boat in international waters. She was not part of a convoy supplying munit…

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Nigel West, the pen name of Rupert Allason, has become well known as the semi-official historian of MI5, the British Security Service, which runs counter-espionage operations. His ‘MI5: British Security Service Operations, 1909–1945: The True Story of the Most Secret Counter-Espionage Organisation in the World’ published in 2019 benefited from access to MI5 archives and interviews with former operatives.

Nigel West's book traces the history of MI5 from its modest beginnings in 1909 to 1945, focusing on its important role in World War II. By the end of 1940, MI5 had built up not only a very good picture of the Abwehr, German Military Intelligence, but was actually feeding them information. The ‘double cross system’ run by MI5 had rounded up all the German spies in Britain and was using them to communicate false ‘intelligence’ back to Germany. One of their double agents supplied the identity ‘George Rymer’ for use in future operations. When the name appeared on a radio intercept, they had good reason to believe he would arrive soon.

The following passage is one of dozens of individual cases that West addresses in this study. This is the MI5 version of their dealings with Josef Jakobs, aka George Rymer, in 1941:

The agent using the name George Rymer dropped by parachute into a field near Ramsey in Huntingdonshire on the night of 31 January/1 February, 1941. His arrival was first noted by two farm labourers, Charlie Baldock and his brother-in-law Harry Coulson, who were walking to work across their small holding, Dove House Farm, at around half-past seven in the morning. They were discussing the sound of a low-flying aircraft they had heard the previous night, and both agreed that it had been a German bomber.

Suddenly a shot rang out and both men dropped to the ground in surprise. Another shot was fired and almost immediately they spotted the source - someone lying in a potato field a few hundred yards away. They cautiously approached the figure, who began to wave his arms in the air. He was evidently injured and needed their help.

The man on the ground was middle-aged, and introduced himself as a parachutist from Germany. When the two farm labourers had recovered from their surprise, they examined the leg of the injured man. It was badly broken, and all three agreed he could not be moved without help.

Coulson elected to stay with the distressed figure while Baldock ran over to Shelton's Farm to raise the alarm. The foreman at Shelton's promptly telephoned Ramsey police station and also warned his son. Harry Godfrey, of Baldock's discovery. Harry Godfrey held the rank of Lance-Corporal in the local Home Guard so he quickly slipped on his uniform, armed himself with a rifle and went to arrest the German parachutist.

In the meantime, Coulson had taken the opportunity to talk to his immobilised captive, who began to explain that he was not, in fact, a German. He was, he claimed, a Luxembourger by birth. He had spent a miserable night in great pain and had smoked only a part of his cigarette supply before his lighter had run out of fuel.

Underneath his Luftwaffe regulation flying tunic he wore a grey pin-striped suit with spats. Beside him was a smart brown trilby, a steel helmet with some pieces of chocolate in it and a flask of brandy. A few feet away lay a small military-issue shovel and a partly concealed fibre suitcase. When this was eventually dug up and opened, a five-valve radio transmitter was found inside. Coulson also searched his prisoner's pockets and recovered a forged identity card in the name of George Rymer and an unused ration book.

At nine o'clock a single policeman from Ramsey arrived on his bicycle to take command of the situation. He borrowed a horse and cart from Shelton's Farm and transported the wretched German spy to Ramsey police station in the back of it. Once safely in his cell he was given a thorough search and relieved of some five hundred one-pound notes in two bundles.

“I am not saying this in any sense of a threat,” Stephens told one captive, “but you are here in a British Secret Service prison at the present time and it’s our job in wartime to see that we get your whole story from you. Do you see?”

There was little doubt in anyone's mind that the prisoner was a spy so he was driven the same day down to Scotland Yard, and finally [Camp] 020. There he underwent the usual intensive interrogation by Colonel Stephens and 'the Board'. The parachutist gave his name as Josef Jakobs, born in Luxembourg on 30 June, 1898.

In civilian life he had been a dentist, typewriter salesman, mortgage broker, bookseller and in a variety of other trades. When war broke out he was a Reservist and had been called up for service in the Wehrmacht before transferring to the Abwehr in Hamburg in September 1940.

For three months he had undergone wireless training until he could achieve sixteen words per minute in Morse. On 8 January, 1941, he moved to The Hague for instruction in weather reporting, and upon completing it, he was dispatched on his mission.

Jakobs also claimed to have joined the Abwehr in an attempt to escape Germany and sabotage the war effort. A mysterious Dr Burgos had asked him to join the Abwehr as an agent of a secret Jewish society. His aim was to make contact with Jews in Britain and resist the Nazis. None of this impressed 'the Board' much, and it was decided to place Jakobs on trial.

According to West, Jakobs was executed at 12 minutes past noon on the 14th August 1941 after being held as a prisoner in a special cell at the Tower of London since the end of his trial on 6th August. This is an interesting difference from other sources that give the date of his execution as the 15th August.

© Nigel West 2020, ‘MI5: British Security Service Operations, 1909–1945: The True Story of the Most Secret counter-espionage Organisation in the World. Reproduced courtesy of Pen & Sword Publishers Ltd.

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Doug Palmer had been with a Heavy Anti-Aircraft battery when he was left behind on Crete at the beginning of June, along with nearly 5,000 other British, Australian and New Zealand troops, and forced to surrender. He endured the slow, filthy journey by rail from Greece to Germany with little more than potato soup - "it went through you like a dose of salts" - to sustain him. There was some respite when they reached Germany in mid-August:

Our eventual destination was Mooseburg, Stalag 7A, near Munich where already there were hundreds of P.O.W.s, Frenchmen, Yugoslavs and Serbians. It was a large camp and about a hundred men were put into a hut.

We were safely in the net, with high wire all round, lookout towers at each corner and guard dogs patrolling the perimeter. We settled down fairly comfortably in our huts with two tier beds and mattresses filled with straw, quite a luxury after the nightmare journey from Greece.

‘We were given our gefangenen number and photographed; then we were deloused and all our hair removed. We knew what it felt and looked like to be convicts, but wondered what we had done to deserve the treatment, and how long it would have to last.’

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The unfortunate Josef Jakobs had parachuted into Britain on the night of 31st January/1st February 1941. His career as a spy was very brief.

Having been given minimal instruction in parachuting and no practice jumps, Jakobs dangled his leg out of the plane as he prepared to jump. The slipstream forced his leg back, breaking it. Despite being in great pain, the plane’s crew insisted that he continue to jump.

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Britain had been heavily dependent on imported food before the war, much of it sourced from countries in the British Empire - notably Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South Africa. The German U-Boat war was aimed at starving…

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In August 1939, Stalin had signed a “non-aggression” pact with Hitler, which stunned the world. It was scarcely believable that two such sworn enemies could come to terms.

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In Placentia Bay, Newfoundland the foundations of a new world order were being established. Churchill and Roosevelt had established a working relationship, and the US was committed to provide the UK with enormous material support, but they now set out…

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Max Kuhnert (1917-1990) was a very experienced cavalryman in 1941, having served in Belgium and France in the mounted reconnaissance troops of an Infantry Division during the invasion of 1940. As a senior NCO in 1941, he had a hugely responsible role, often right out in front for the whole Division.

‘Will We See Tomorrow’ has a graphic description of the conditions in Russia in early August 1941. Kuhnert was not involved in the fighting for Gomel, which was the site of a terrible battle and much suffering, its population reduced from 144,000 to 15,000 during 1941-1943. But an incident in the woods and swamps of Russia was burnt onto his memory. Kuhnert found himself nursemaiding a young officer, who was not only a very inexperienced horse rider but had much to learn about the skill and craft of mounted scouting …

Our destination was ‘Gomel’, though this was only the plan. On the way, we were to meet stiff resistance, and also have to make our way through the treacherous Rekidnov swamps, which occupied the whole area in between. The main objective was to go as fast as possible south - perhaps our division was needed to strengthen or at least to help out with some encirclement.

Relentlessly we marched on, and now we, the ‘lot on horseback’, really came into our own. Not only had we to scout to find the enemy, but we also had to look for a comparatively safe route for all vehicles, including tanks. You can imagine what it would be like for a heavy vehicle to get caught in a swamp. It was not just a matter of riding ahead now, but of riding ahead of the infantry point, with their scouts on foot. We, on horseback, had such advantages as having four rather than two legs, and of being able to see further; on the other hand we could also be seen more easily, and we presented a larger target. There were scout cars, but in a swampy area they were hardly a first choice.

This was no small order for us and I could see right away that we would have to work hand-in-hand with Lieutenant Weigert’s troop. Since the Lieutenant had no experience whatsoever I suggested that he might follow me. .

‘That would hardly be fair,’ Sergeant Helm said. It would sap his confidence, or at least hurt his pride. Why not take two of each of the squad of my rider troop and him. It would look much better. My five members, including Corporal Krizock, would go along with Erich Helm to the Battalion.

‘Well... all right, then,’ I said, not really agreeing, but seeing the sense. After all, I hardly knew his men, and having such a greenhorn to drag along on an important mission like this went strictly against the grain. However, just for the sake of peace, I agreed and went to Lieutenant Becker to be briefed.

Confounded bloody war, I thought. I really was worried. We parted and set off on our respective routes. The maps were not much help at all; the compass was most important now.

There were eight of us. I didn’t even know the names of Erich’s boys, so I just pointed to a young corporal to take the first stretch as front scout. Then I followed with Lieutenant Weigart, at a distance but so that we could still see one another, as we usually did in the daytime, and the rest did exactly the same behind us.

Lieutenant Weigert was like a kid, asking question after question, and really took my concentration away, for I had to keep a very watchful eye on the front scout for any signal. In the end, I asked him to keep quiet and told him that I would tell him in my own way, if necessary, what was required and when. After all, this was not a training exercise, but in deadly earnest. At most of the forest corners or any bends or groups of houses, I cantered ahead to join the front scout whose name, I learnt, was Ebert. We called it observation halt; I always consulted the Lieutenant first, out of courtesy, blast it. Several times Ebert used the drawing manoeuvre described earlier.

After one hour’s march nothing had happened, and I again called a halt. I exchanged Ebert with a rider from the rear, by the name of Henkel, a shortish blond chap, a bit scared. It was his first time at the front, and it was showing.

‘Well’, I said, ‘you have got something to look forward to,’ but then I briefed him by telling him exactly what to do. One person was learning fast, and that was Lieutenant Weigart.

It was a highly organised operation. Everyone was connected with the essential units, such as anti-tank guns, two of them from 14 Company. Our men in the rear were in touch by sight with the infantry scouts and they in turn with their company commander. The only difficulties were the flanks.

The terrain was changing constantly, and many times we were unable to keep exactly to the strait and narrow, so to speak, as the compass told us. Our orders were to stop only when absolutely necessary, and a complete halt for a rest or for the night could be made only when it was ordered from the rear, and then only if it was a safe position, whatever that meant.

We were getting rather tired after two or three hours on the march under constant tension. Plenty of wooded countryside was in front of us, but so far we had had no contact with anyone -we hadn’t even spotted a plane from either side. The countryside was beginning to turn swampy; we could see, here and there, greener patches of grass with smaller patches of reeds in between. I pointed them out to Lieutenant Weigert and suggested that we send a man back to report it to the company commander behind us. Henkel, out front, had done very well so far, until we heard rifle and machine-gun fire out front, to our right, a long way away yet, at which he came galloping back.

‘Go back,’ I shouted, ‘and keep going; they have nothing to do with us, but be very observant,’ but then I changed my mind. ‘Would you mind if I went myself to the front, and you take over here, Lieutenant?’ ‘No, not at all,’ he answered, his voice very throaty. So off I went, hoping that the time lost, about three or four minutes, had not changed anything out front. I felt a great deal better now, not having to rely on someone else. Siegfried [his horse] also seemed much more alert and his ears were telling me everything, twitching and turning at the slightest sound.

The firing had stopped and I approached smaller squarish pieces of woodland, mostly pines and very dense at that. As I stopped for a moment to skim the edges of them with the glasses, I thought I saw something, but I was not sure at first; only when I scanned the area again could I see quite clearly movements among some pines, while the other trees were quite still and there was no wind about. I signalled back to the others to stop and went on till I was in rifle range.

Observing the flank where there were also some pine patches, I signalled for an observer to be sent to the left and scout the small woods, and then galloped back to the comparative safety of the trees. Lieutenant Weigert had already gone. But I had not asked him to go, but to send someone. He had left with Ebert and Henkel to explore the woods, trotting, if you please, as if we were on Luneburg Heath, right across the plain, virtually holding hands with each other.

Well, there they go, I thought, mad with myself for having allowed such a stupid thing. What if the Russians were just waiting for them in those woods? After all, I had observed movements out front, and shooting had been going on on the right, so why shouldn’t there be any on the left?

I decided to go after them, telling the others to stop and spread. I circled first to the left to try to get a better look around the wooded edges, but could see no one and eventually went straight for the opening between the two forest islands. No sooner had I reached the first corner, than I saw them, about two hundred metres away, still together as if they were inspecting the birds. I knew I had told them to look up into the treetops from time to time, but this was ridiculous.

I observed that they had ridden along the edge of the wood, which was all right, and then had turned in the middle, towards the nice green grass, in the tell-tale reeds. Too late for me to do anything, though - fire was spitting at them from the right; instead of riding into the wood on the right, they panicked and turned, galloping like mad, straight into the green that I knew was swamp. They all went down, and the only screams I could hear were from their horses.

I froze completely, not believing what I saw. There was nothing I could do. I just stood there until they had practically disappeared. I realised that the Russians had not seen me yet because they were concentrating on those poor devils. Oh, how I hated myself.

I galloped along the edge and raced back till I was in touch with the first infantry scout. I told him what had happened and turned to signal to my men, the remainder of them, calling them in, still shaking at the knees. I dismounted then and tried very hard to control myself and not to scream.

Colonel von Gratz called me to his tent, or rather he was waiting for me outside it. What was I going to tell him? Here we go, I thought, I am really for it. Major Mauve and Lieutenant Becker were also there, with several young officers. ‘Well, all right, Kuhnert, let’s hear all about it. We haven’t got much time. By the way, we are all very sorry. Bloody bad luck.’

I told him everything and he said in a whisper, ‘I should have known better.... He was too damn young, with no sense, and the other two just lads as well. All so unnecessary. What a waste....

© Estate of Max Kuhnert 1993, ‘‘Will We See Tomorrow, A German Cavalryman at War 1939-1942’. Reproduced courtesy of Pen & Sword Publishers Ltd.

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Max Kuhnert was a mounted trooper, part of a forward reconnaissance section for his division. They were soon to be diverted south to assist Army Group South seize the rich farmlands of the Ukraine.

It was this area - the bread basket of Russia - that Hitler envisaged as the frontier land of the new German empire. In this New Order, the 'slavs' would be largely wiped out, just like the American Indians had been, and German settlers would farm the land to supply food to Germany and western Europe. He even referred to the river Volga as the 'German Mississippi'. Food sent to Germany would be food denied to the rest of Russia - which, after waves of famine and starvation, would revert to sparsely populated forests.

In contrast to Karl Fuchs, who wrote his letters home at this time, this vision of a Russia populated by subhumans was not shared with all the front line troops:

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The Russian journalist Vassily Grossman, accredited by the Soviet government, arrived on the front line on the 7th August 1941. Grossman was by no means a Communist Party man. He knew…

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The tension was mounting inside Hitler’s eastern command complex, the Wolfsschanze, the Wolf's Lair. The Soviet system had not collapsed under the surprise assault of Barbarossa, as predicted.

The Russian fightback was determined and resolute, even if inept. They seemed easily capable of absorbing enormous losses in men. German losses were unexpectedly high.

This bunker atmosphere has been getting him down for five or six weeks now.

And Hitler was falling out with the High Command. They wanted to stick to the plan of pressing on directly onto Moscow. He had decided on different priorities.

Suddenly the strain began to affect Hitler physically.

Face deathly white. “I feel very bad now,” he said, “much worse than I was earlier. …

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