For the first installment of our rousing adventure through time, we're going back to... World War II!
“But wait,” I hear you say. “I came to this blog expecting something other than the same old rehashes!” Belay your blubbering, fellow time-travelers, for I decided to aim for an event that isn't very well known, despite its importance to the course of the war as a whole.
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| German plan to repeatedly stab a giant penis. |
Did you know that before that Adolf fellow put his steel-plated boot a thousand miles up France's tricoloured derriere in the May 1940 Blitzkreig, he had extended the theatre of war north into Scandinavia? When asked in April 1942 what he thought the most decisive actions of the war had been thus far, Hitler chose only two: The Battle of Moscow, October 1941-January 1942, and the Norwegian Campaign of April-June 1940.
"Hitler!" you again rudely interject. "We know you like vikings and all but seriously man, what the hell were you thinking?" At first glance, Norway is the land of bearded Norsemen, unfortunate parrots, and not a whole lot else. Plus, at the time, Norway was completely out of vikings and so had no military to speak of. What could possess the Germans to attack here?
There's actually a few good reasons for this! Take a look on the map here at all those flaky bits on Norway's seaward edge that look like delicious pie crust. Those are the famous fjords that are the subject of much pining, and they make for excellent ports with great natural protection. Hitler reasoned that if he was able to capture this coastline, he would have a string of U-Boat bases and airfields in the ideal position to raid Allied shipping, to defend the Baltic Straits, and to prevent his mortal foe Stalin from receiving supplies through the Arctic Sea trade route over the top of Scandinavia.
However, the crucial factor behind his invasion was the so-called "Achilles Heel" of the German war effort. No matter what the Belgians tell you, one cannot build tanks out of wood. Germany had a ton of wood, but it wasn't hard enough to power the planned thrust into the Low Countries in May 1940. Germany had a major dependency on imported iron ore so its factories could crank out the hard stuff.
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| The hard stuff in action |
Germany's main source of imported iron ore had been Sweden in the years leading up to the war, with the tall blonde guys providing 55% of Germany's total iron supply. The other half came from other sources, mostly from the French. However, when the war started, France stopped sending Hitler supplies because they were not complete idiots. Hitler knew that his flow of Swedish hardness was critical to the continuation of the war, as did the Allies. Since the Swedish ports were encased in ice for half the year, (What's up with the Swedish and hard stuff?) the iron would be sent by train to Norway to be shipped to Germany. The most important port in all of Norway for sending Swedish ore to Germany was Narvik.
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| Looks kinda like sprinkles from up here... |
The lucky skunks in Narvik were right in the pathway of the Gulf Stream, which meant that even though they are up in the frozen armpit of the world, the waters there were free of ice. But don't break out the bathing suits just yet, Lars. The water may not be frozen but its still too cold to swim in them without suffering.
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| Goddamnit Lars |
The Allies knew that they had to do something to disrupt Germany's iron supplies. When Soviet Russia invaded Finland in November of 1939, the world was like "Hey Russia that ain't cool man." Public opinion in real countries like America and Britain leaned heavily towards "We should help the snowmen fight against the armed drunks". In Britain in particular, public pressure on Parliament to officially back Finland and their tiny military in their struggle against Russia gave the belligerent members of the British War Cabinet (including Winston Churchfat) to propose occupying Narvik with British and French troops, ostensibly in order to send goodies to Finland. In no way whatsoever was this a move intended to block Swedish iron from getting to Germany. Nope. Not at all.
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| What kinda name is Eduard anyway? |
Hitler didn't believe that for a second. He saw the scheme taking form and sent his boy Eduard Dietl to take Narvik before the Royal Navy did. Dietl was an old salt, and was a decorated veteran of the First World War. He actually joined the German Worker's Party around the same time Hitler did, so they were pretty tight bros. He commanded an elite force of German mountain troops called Gebirgsjaegers in German. These were tough bastards for sure, trained to fight in treacherous terrain and blinding snow.
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| Snow? Zero out of three craps are given. |
On April 9, 1940, Dietl packed 10 Kreigsmarine (German Navy) destroyers full of these hard bastards and sailed merrily up to Narvik. Once there, the Norwegian Navy was waiting for them...
With two ironclads.
It took less than sixty seconds for them to get slapped six ways to Søndag. The 1,000-man port garrison at Narvik were likewise hilariously useless. The Norwegians fired a single machine-gun burst, which missed, and didn't fire any other shots the whole time the Germans came ashore. Apparently, their commander, Colonel Konrad Sundlo, was a member of the Norwegian Nazi Party, and would not allow his men to resist the German invasion. Dietl knew Sundlo's loyalties, as well as the poor state of the disarmament-oriented Norwegian military, and so he came ashore in the first wave with his staff completely unfazed. He might as well have walked into Narvik alone. Sundlo quickly surrendered the town after Dietl gave him a mean look. The Norwegian soldiers all pussied out after that, except for 200 soldiers under Major Sverre Spjeldnaes (oh god my tongue). He and his men marched to the outskirts of town with all their weapons and gear. The German perimeter guards ordered them to gehen sie back to the kitchen. But this guy, he struck himself a toothy grin and said:
"We'll march on anyway, good day to you sir."
Not bad.
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| Actual photograph of Spjeldnaes at the perimeter of Narvik |
A few days after this display of unbridled manliness, the Pain Train arrived at Narvik. On April 13, the Royal Navy showed up and brought the wrath of God down upon the Kriegsmarine destroyers, sinking them all. Dietl was like "Oh I see," but quickly recovered his wits. He formed the surviving sailors from the wrecks into a 2,700-man infantry unit, nicknaming them "Gebirgsmarines", or "Mountain Marines".
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| Kreigsmarine ships post-slappage |
Despite the added bonus of men with guns, the Germans were still stuck in Narvik with no way out as long as the Royal Navy was chilling there. To make matters worse for Dietl and his men, the Allies began to land 24,500 dudes around Narvik the next day. The Allies had the advantage of numbers and artillery. The one true advantage that Dietl had on his side was mastery of the air. The Luftwaffe (German Air Force) worked overtime dropping supplies and reinforcements into Narvik. However, things got really bad really quickly for both sides.
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| German troops sprint through Narvik |
- Snow
- Rocks
Not exactly the Hampton Inn. At least the canned food rations were probably better than the complimentary breakfast, but it probably wasn't tuna fish so still not very good. Dietl wrote in his war diary: "Our troops are visibly exhausted, constantly in the open, in bad weather, in low temperatures and in the rain, with insufficient clothing." (Translation for Brown Students: They lived in Perkins)
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| Narvik on fire after Gunter burned the canned wurst again |
By late May, Dietl and his men had been forced into a 30km-long narrow corridor stretching from Narvik to the nearby Swedish border. Things looked especially bleak for the Germans when a sudden French push from the south forced them completely out of the town of Narvik on May 28. That's right, the Germans actually lost the battle for Narvik!
"Hold on a minute!" I hear you say with frothing indignancy lacing your utterances. "How come the Germans held onto Narvik if they lost the battle?" Good question for once, fellow time-travelers! It all boils down to delicious delicious coincidence. The same day that the Allies recaptured Narvik, Belgium capitulated after Hitler's Blitzkrieg campaign that had begun earlier in the month tore them a new asshole. France would not be long in following, and Britain decided that its resources were better spent closer to home. The Allies withdrew from Narvik after freshly haven taken the city. The Norwegian troops left behind did their best to annihilate the remaining German forces over the following weeks, but on June 8, 1940, Norway surrendered to Germany. Dietl and his men got off like lucky skunks, saved from the brink of defeat.
Germany was able to keep its vital port (although the Allies wrecked the ore handling facilities during their withdrawal), and Dietl became "the hero of Narvik". Thanks to lots and lots of propaganda, as well as the many awards and honors bestowed on him after the battle, Dietl became a military superhero on par with Rommel; a household name in Germany. He's not very well known today most likely because unlike Rommel, he was a die-hard Nazi party supporter, and some of his wartime conduct was in violation of the Geneva Convention (example being that he used forced Norwegian labor during the battle for Narvik). Narvik itself seems to have fallen into obscurity because there was no clear winner. The Allies could claim that they "won" because they captured the port and voluntarily withdrew from the field. However, the Germans ended up with both the port and the whole country of Norway under their control.
Call it what you want, but the German occupation of Narvik after the battle provided them with the freedom to acquire iron ore as necessary to feed their factories. It was no Battle of the Bulge, but it was still pretty important in its own way.
--Matt
