WesWorld

Fliegerhorst Pillau, Tuesday, 3 May 1949

Kapitän zur See Walter Nowotny had led his composite unit eastward for its short flight from their home station at Barth.

“Gefechtsverband Nowotny! What an inspiring name for a training cadre.”

One of the Marineflieger’s more experienced and senior pilots Nowotny was distressed at the fact that his new command had been assigned to work with the Kriegsmarine’s Lehrdivision in bringing the new escort aircraft carriers Westfalen and Pommern to operational status. His men had sailed in Unternehmen Pegasos, bearding the English at their own games and matching, if not besting, their French allies during that extended exercise the year before. Now he commanded a much smaller and more varied group – a division of Fw190 fighters each from Marine-Jagdstaffel 311 and Marine-Jagdstaffel 321, and a division of Fi168 torpedo bombers each from Marine-Sturz-kampfstaffel 311 and Marine-Sturz-kampfstaffel 321 – a handful of experienced pilots and aircrew.

Most of the personnel assigned to his unit were yet to arrive, though he had been assured that an advanced portion of them had arrived at Pillau and were awaiting for him. The fact that they would be operating, for the time being, from a Luftwaffe airfield did not inspire confidence in him. Nevertheless, as they approached their destination they began to receive instructions for approach and landing on the station’s hard-surface runway. He himself was the first to enter the landing pattern and without consequences made a safe landing. The fact that unlike the deck of Wallenstein the runway did not pitch and roll was a point in its favour.

Half an hour later the last of the sixteen planes had landed and taxied to their new revetments. Nowotny himself made his way to the aerodrome’s operations centre in search of the personnel promised him.

Fliegerhorst Pillau, Wednesday, 4 May 1949

Kapitän zur See Nowotny had been mollified by the discovery that as promised the first group of personnel assigned to his command had indeed arrived at the Pillau air station, and more were en route from training centres across the Reich. He was pleased to discover that in addition to green pilots fresh from school he had also been assigned a number of reactivated reservists, some of whom he had served with before; this meant that he had a greater base of experience upon which to build. But he we unsure how to deal with the assignment of an exchange officer from the Russian Federation Navy.

He had heard that the exchange of officers between the Kriegsmarine and the Russians was quite common in the Lehrdivision, and aboard ship it had proven quite workable. But this was the first instance he had heard of where an aviator had been assigned in that capacity.

Picking up the personnel jacket from the desk before him he reviewed the man’s service record – Kapitan-leytenant Sergei Kramarenko – naval aviator with five years’ experience, last assigned to the aircraft carrier Afonskoye. The file indicated the appropriate mix of commendations, as well as his expertise as a fighter pilot.

“As least we will have a common frame of reference.”

Nowotny made a note to make certain of seeking Kramarenko out as soon as the man arrived.

French cruiser Lafayette, Copenhagen Harbour, Tuesday, 10 May 1949

The Lafayette rested easily at anchor, her consort Nürnberg a cable-length distant. A beautiful spring sun shone on the peaceful scene; Capitaine de vaisseau Delcroix imagined that at Gothenburg across the Sound Boulanger’s Latouche-Tréville and the Leipzig were similarly blessed. The cruisers had arrived the previous Sunday as a part of their regular exercises, and Copenhagen was a popular place for the sailors to take a well-deserved liberty. But as Delcroix knew, matters had not always been so tranquil.

He had been naval attaché in Denmark during the so-called Great Belt Affair – in which a British submarine, the Wolverine, had sailed submerged through the Belts and into the Baltic. This violation of Danish territorial waters had not set well with the Germans, nor the Russians – and his own government had been concerned that it marked a significant change in British policy. Thankfully it had all blown over – and as he understood the story, the embarrassment caused by the Wolverine’s discovery had disabused the Rosbifs of attempting another such venture. Yet he was very much aware that the presence of the Lafayette and her consorts in the area were a reminder to the Danish and Nordish governments to their obligations.

The arrival of a liberty barge alongside broke his reverie. Several dozen lucky members of the Lafayette’s crew would soon have their chance to sample the more than adequate joys of Copenhagen; first, their somewhat tired, saddened, and perhaps somewhat tipsy shipmates had to file aboard before the expectant seamen could go ashore.

Berlin, Embassy of the Russian Federation, Saturday, 14 May 1949

Konstantin Khrenov absent-mindedly drummed the desk with his pencil as he read through the latest newspaper reports of German shipbuilding activity. Less than a week ago the Viennese Kronen Zeitung had reported on the launch of two small amphibious landing vessels, while yesterday’s Elbinger Volksstimme had noted the completion of two slightly larger such vessels at the Schichau works.

On a sheet of foolscap he began to do sums.

“Four landing vessels completed this month.”

He picked up one of his agent reports and scanned it. Though it was done without much fanfare, the Germans had also launched an octet of their new Ronneburg class frigates. The press had been permitted, he surmised, to report the launch of four smaller Acheron class corvettes.

“Twelve light surface combatants launched this month.” Then he remembered that two corvettes of the Nymphe class had been completed last month at Memel. “Plus two completed.” The completion of the air defence cruisers Szina and Temesvar earlier in the month had made headlines in the German press. He added them to his running count.

“Twelve surface combatants launched so far this month, four combatants and four landing ships completed.” He drew a line under the summary. From all the information at his disposal there would be a further eight vessels completed in German yards before the end of the month, not counting several auxiliaries being converted on merchant hulls.

How the Kriegsmarine planned to employ this mass of shipping was unclear to him. His polite inquiries had garnered rather guarded replies, which he had passed to his superiors in Petrograd, who seemed satisfied with his reports. Perhaps there were ongoing matters for which he was not cleared; such was the double-edged nature of intelligence operations.

Holtenau, Wednesday, 18 May 1949

The submarines Nagelhai and Eishai had completed their operational training but a few days ago, and already they had orders to deploy. They waited now at the entrance to the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal for the tugs Norderoog and Bullenriff that would escort them through to the North Sea. For the moment their orders said little beyond reporting to the Commander of the North Sea Naval Station; many aboard expected that they would eventually join their sisters at Heligoland and join the watch kept on the British Isles.

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Saturday, 21 May 1949

Captain First Rank Khrenov had made the journey from Berlin to the Baltic coast frequently – dealing with aspects of the joint training effort with the German Kriegsmarine, and, like as often, evaluating the new ships his allies were bringing into service. The latter aspect was the occasion of today’s visit, for several recently completed amphibious vessels of the Kriegsmarine had arrived in the Baltic to enter the training programme.

Classed as “Infanterie-Landungsschiff”, or infantry landing ships, the Nordstrand and Vogelsand had made their way across the continent via the German canal system from the shipyard of their birth in Vienna. They were small, barge-like things designed for beaching, intended to land troops or small vehicles. He imagined that the four-score of soldiers that would be carried by such craft – to think of them as ‘ships’ might be overly generous – would be inspired to charge on to a hostile shore after a crossing in such confined spaces. Compared with ships of his own service like the Stepan Novikov the Nordstrand and his brother were puny.

The other two vessels somewhat larger, and haled from the Schichau yard at Memel. The Kampenwerder and the Kaninchenwerder were classed as “Angriffs-landungsschiff”, or assault landing ships. Compared with their ‘cousins’ from Vienna they were larger, able to carry a substantial number of small tanks or other vehicles and land them on the beach via a bow ramp. Much more ship-like he could see their utility as part of an overall landing force. He recalled Becker telling him the German premise on developing their amphibious force - Legen Sie nicht alle Eier in einen Korb – spreading risk. He remained to be convinced that these sort of vessels were worthy of such ideas.

Fliegerhorst Pillau, Monday, 23 May 1949

The promised pilots and aircraft that would fill out the basic establishment of Gefechtsverband Nowotny had arrived in dribs and drabs over the last several weeks, and his command approached the size of the air group that would normally operate from one of the Westfalen-class escort carriers. Some of the pilots assigned even had carrier experience, though many were fresh from flight school.

For Kapitän zur Zee Nowotny things were looking up, like the flying weather, which permitted more hours of daylight as summer approached. He was also happy enough with the Russian Federation Navy officer assigned to his unit Kapitan-leytenant Sergei Kramarenko. The latter seemed to lack that stereotypical Russian trait of needing to assert that all things Russian were superior to all things non-Russian; there were times that Nowotny wondered whether this was merely good manners on Kramarenko’s part but generally the Russian projected few airs. Moreover, he had thrown himself into the task of helping to shape up the newly assigned pilots and aircrew into something better than a scratch team.

Learning to operate from an aircraft carrier’s deck was nothing to be taken lightly. Uncertain wind, the pitching deck, the manifold risks of operating in all weather conditions were daunting indeed. These were magnified when operating from such a small deck as those on the Westfalens. According to the timetable passed down from the headquarters of the Lehrdivision his group were due to start exercising aboard the carriers no later than June 15 – little more than three weeks away. Nowotny hoped that they would be ready.

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Friday, 27 May 1949

Fregattenkapitän Heinrich Wulle had the somewhat enviable job of composing the training programme for each ship assigned to the Lehrdivision, and for the major, and minor, warships that task presented few problems. The assignment of auxiliary vessels would pose greater challenges, but for tankers and supply vessels their programme could easily be cast around their primary purpose of supporting combatant warships. But the latest ship assigned left him frustrated on the matter of providing practical training in the ship’s primary function.

“Bottsand – a port repair ship. Who in their right mind in the Admiralstab decided that the German Navy needed such a ship? Our ports are in good order and are being extended to cater to the growth of the fleet. I suppose if Greece or Turkey suffered an earthquake that damaged a port such a ship would be invaluable but why invest in it now?”

The more he read about the vessel filled with him with concern. Her crew was to be composed mainly of specialists – divers, artificers, engineers. He wondered if any of her officers would be deck rated, if her engine room would have enough qualified personnel to stand watches. And deck crew? The files forwarded to him were silent on the subject. The ship herself had been built as a timber carrier and acquired a few months ago for conversion – he would have to trust to the workmanship of German shipyards in the hope that she was sound.

Wulle set himself to roughly sketching out a programme – he would finalize it once the ship herself arrived from the yard and he could at least see what was there to be seen.

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Tuesday, 31 May 1949

The report that the ‘port maintenance ship’ Bottsand had formally arrived at Warnemünde to begin her training with the Lehrdivision coincided with the arrival of the personnel jackets of her officers – and these had piqued Wulle’s interest. The ship’s captain was listed as Korvettenkapitän Walter Warzecha, with whom Wulle had served in the Imperial Navy during the Great War. He recalled Warzecha as a good shipmate and promising officer who had ‘retired’ to the reserve to pursue a career in marine salvage. That he had been reactivated to command this odd ship began to change Wulle’s thinking. Moreover, several of her deck officers had held reserve commissions as well – giving Warzecha a good nucleus upon which to build.



Wulle had come down to the docks to inspect the Bottsand and discuss with her captain the training programme that had been sketched out. The former timber carrier seemed unprepossessing enough, though the massive cathead at her bow screamed his purpose of lifting heavy weights from beneath the sea. So too did the heavy derricks on her foremast. After being piped aboard Wulle was accorded the courtesy of a brief inspection, wherein Warzecha pointed out the arrangements made for workshops, storage of salvage equipment and materials, and the accommodations for her work crews, which, Wulle was pleased to discover, were a part of the Kriegsmarine’s own naval construction troops, rather than the Army engineers he had originally feared. That was one less potential problem avoided.

After his inspection Wulle and Warzecha sat down in the wardroom to review the schedule of exercises for the next month that would shape the ship’s crew into a naval unit, as opposed to a collection of individuals. The question of practical training opportunities remained to be resolved, but Wulle left the meeting confident he could assure Admiral Glaser that the challenge of the Bottsand would be overcome.

Marinestützpunkt Swinemünde, Saturday, 4 June 1949

Following orders Korvettenkapitän Warzecha had brought his ship down to Baltic coast to the small naval base of Swinemünde, where to his surprise he found a recently constructed cargo handling facility and several of the Kriegsmarine’s latest supply vessels tied up. Upon reporting to the port captain he learned that Swinemünde was where the Kriegsmarine carried out training for its cargo carriers and port handling personnel. Here at least the Bottsand would have opportunity to exercise her assigned function, in effect assisting in the extension of the base’s capabilities.


Warzecha marvelled at the ‘stone ship’, a warehouse building which duplicated on land the layout of a ship’s hold and mounted on its roof the same sort of derricks and winches that on a real ship would be used to load and unload her. There were also shore-side piers where barges were loaded and discharged by trainee stevedores under the watchful eye of experienced personnel. For the re-activated reservist, this was a real eye-opener.

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Thursday, 9 June 1949

Vize-admiral August Becker, fresh from attending the launch ceremonies at Memel for another pair of assault landing ships, looked forward to inspecting the Nordhinderbank as she entered the mid-phase of her operational training.


Like many of the Kriegsmarine’s larger amphibious vessels she had been converted from a mercantile hull, a compromise between the strength and purpose of a naval vessel and the rapidity of getting a useful ship into service. Her purpose was to carry the personnel and specialised equipment of a naval construction battalion to destinations where they would support the build-up of forces in the wake of an amphibious landing. Her sister, Doggerbank, had nearly been rush to the Far East in the wake of the recent ‘Banc Macclesfield’ confrontation; fortunately cooler heads had prevailed in Beijing.

His inspection went forward without serious incident. He could see that her crew was still learning their trade – the training schools had done their job of teaching officers and crew the necessary naval punctilio – but he was more interested in their ability to deploy and load the landing craft that was, in effect, the Nordhinderbank’s main battery. Here there was still much to for the crew to learn, but that was the purpose to her assignment to the training division. His departing remarks to the ship’s captain were positive rather than negative; a carrot being more efficacious than a stick.

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Sunday, 12 June 1949

A quiet Sunday morning found Konteradmiral Maximilian Glaser at his desk taking stock of the Lehrdivision’s training programme; with all the new construction coming from the yards there were many, almost too many, ships cycling through the various phases of working-up.

Operational training of the escort aircraft carriers Westfalen and Pommern was progressing nicely. At the moment they were in the upper Baltic accompanied by the French cruisers Lafayette and Latouche-Tréville, engaging the squadron-level evolutions while beginning the landing training of their air groups. So far at least that was progressing well enough. The recently assigned air defence cruisers Szina and Temesvar were, for the moment, moored in the outer harbour, awaiting return of the Russian cruiser Admiral Kolchak before beginning simple cruise-in-company training for basic ship handling.

Captain Kozyukhin of the Thirteenth Destroyer Flotilla had taken the destroyers Plauen, Frankenhausen, Naumburg, and Helmstadt in hand and was already teaching their commanders and crews the finer points of escort and screening duties. Glaser was certain that by autumn they would be ready for active service and a credit to the Lehrdivision.

Wulle’s report on the training of the numerous auxiliaries assigned to his command was a testament to the diversity of a well-balanced fleet. The support tankers Lauter and Lesum would soon be ready to undertake replenishment-at-sea training with other elements of the training command. He hoped that this month’s reports to Admiral Becker on the progress of training the amphibious ships would be acceptable. When he scanned the reports on the new escort vessels nothing struck him as extraordinary, for which he was much relieved.

Marinestützpunkt Swinemünde, Saturday, 18 June 1949

Fregattenkapitän Heinrich Wulle had come to Swinemünde as the personal representative of Admiral Glaser to attend the ‘graduation ceremonies’ for the port maintenance ship Bottsand. Not that she would be leaving Swinemünde to join the fleet any time soon – her metier was salvaging and clearing harbours choked with wrecked ships and thankfully Germany had none at the moment on which the Bottsand could practice her trade. Indeed, in all of Europe there were no harbours that would require the Bottsand’s attention at the moment.

“At the moment…” The thought stuck in his mind.

Playing with fire the Chinese had nearly provoked a shooting war in the Far East. In such a scenario a ship like the Bottsand could well prove invaluable – clearing damaged ships from a port like Saigon or Hong Kong, or, if necessary, Canton, Shanghai, or Tientsin. No, he did not credit the Admiralstab with prescience to have foretold the Chinese threat; but obviously the need had been foreseen for some other purpose.

Nevertheless, if push had come to shove, little Bottsand might have played an important role.

Training Ship Roon, The Gulf of Bothnia, Monday, 20 June 1949

Fregattenkapitän Johann Mohr reflected the irony of his current mission. His ship, commissioned only four months ago, was still officially in training status – her ship’s company learning their business; but as a permanent training vessel the Roon’s mission to teach cadets their business. And the first batch of cadets to pass through the Roon had arrived six days ago. Therefore, while still a part of the Lehrdivision’s training group, she had begun her primary mission. For the next two months crew and cadets would learn together.

And Mohr was doing his best to assure that all went well in this final phase of the ship’s working up. He had been informed that, subject to an evaluation at the end of their operational training, that the ship was expected to embark on an extended cadet cruise. The possibility of taking his ship to South America, or the Mediterranean, appealed to his professional and personal inclinations. He therefore drilled his crew daily in different aspects of ship-handling and operation of the Roon’s many engineering systems, including cross-training insofar as possible.

French cruiser Lafayette, Off the Prorer Wiek, Friday, 24 June 1949

Admiral Glaser was the guest of Capitaine de vaisseau Philippe Delcroix as the latter’s ship served as flag-and-headquarters ship for the exercise that would mark the ‘graduation’ of several of the Lehrdivision’s auxiliaries as well as good operational training for those ships which would remain in his care for many weeks to come.

The engineer landing ship Noordhinderbank was the centrepiece of the exercise, alongside the naval cargo ships Kellerwald and Lichenswalde; these would soon depart the Baltic to join the growing fleet in the North Sea. Their mission was to simulate the follow-up phase of an amphibious assault – landing construction troops to sustain an assault. The smaller landing ships Nordstrand, Vogelsand, Kampenwerder, and Kaninchenwerder, had opened the exercise by depositing several hundred troops ‘borrowed’ from the local garrison to simulate the initial waves of landings.

Delcroix watched the ballet of small craft with interest. With the powerful glasses on the bridge wing of the Lafayette he could clearly see the small boats being lowered by each of the transports – some partially loaded with equipment and some with supplies – and watched them slowly make their way to the beach. Then his attention was caught by the splashes made when Nordhinderbank dropped two long strings of pontoons into the water – and with fascination observed them being nudged shoreward until taken in hand by the engineers on the beach and tied off.

From the reports he had read Delcroix knew that his allies had received their initial exposure to amphibious operations from the Marine Nationale, but what he was seeing was far beyond the scope of what he knew of his own service’s capabilities. Having served principally in surface warfare assignments when not serving ashore in diplomatic ones, his own experience was, he had to admit, limited.

Training Ship Roon, Stockholm Harbour, Monday, 27 June 1949

Fregattenkapitän Mohr, the Roon’s captain, was unsettled. During the course of their cruise in the preceding days the ship had been followed by an inquisitive fishing trawler. He had been briefed when taking command of the Roon that there were suspicions of an intelligence-gathering network using such vessels to observe the Kriegsmarine’s operations; however, there had been no sightings since the previous summer.

It was entirely possible that the matter was a figment of his imagination. The trawler was certainly smaller than the craft that had caused such concern to the Lehrdivision, and it exhibited no great turn of speed in tracking the Roon. It flew Lithuanian colours, but that meant little to Mohr. Its persistence was its primary characteristic.

He checked his logs and began to draft a report to Admiral Glaser. He would report his observations and let higher headquarters interpret the rest. His job was to make the Roon operational, not chase phantoms.

Fliegerhorst Pillau, Wednesday, 29 June 1949

Sergei Kramarenko had a rare evening to himself, which he was enjoying by writing a report for his superiors – an assessment of the successes, and shortcomings, in training the pilots assigned to the escort aircraft carriers Westfalen and Pommern.

“The pilots assigned have shown technical competence in flying – none had less than six hundred hours flying experience before arriving here – and the training tempo has significantly improved their proficiency in carrier landings and take-offs. I have little doubt that by the completion of the ships’ operational training phase that their air groups will be ready. Thus far though the pilots fail to exhibit much ‘spirit’. They know that their ships are intended to function in a support role, either in providing an antisubmarine screen or acting as maintenance vessels, and that they are looked upon a secondary force. Too many of them hope that when the ships themselves become operational that they might be reassigned to the larger fleet aircraft carriers.”

“Kapitän Nowotny has sought to instill in the appropriate pride and cohesion for their support role, but the prima dona attitude is all too familiar in pilots, carrier pilots in particular; it is not unique to the German Navy. I have proposed that exercises be held that would pit our pilots against those of the German Air Force, and this matter is under consideration. If our pilots were bested in such an exercise, I believe it would inspire them to train harder; if they were successful, no doubt it would burnish their pride and strengthen their sense of purpose. Kapitän Nowotny has strongly supported the idea, though formal approval from Konteradmiral Glaser is still awaited.”

Training Ship Roon, Copenhagen Harbour, Saturday, 2 July 1949

Mohr had brought the Roon into the lower Baltic for exercises with several of the small U-boats assigned to the Lehrdivision, giving the ship’s instructional crew and her cadets the opportunity to practice with the underwater detection equipment. After several successful days at these particular games, the Roon had called at the Danish capital.

A delegation of officers of the Royal Danish Navy had been invited aboard, shepherded by Korvettenkapitän Hans Bartels, the naval attaché assigned to the German Embassy in Copenhagen. The visit gave Mohr and his crew the opportunity to show off the modern equipment with which the ship was equipped. Sufficient security was maintained to assure that the cursory observations carried out by the Danes would reveal little of importance. After he had escorted to delegation to the dockside, Bartels returned to the Roon and met with Mohr regarding the latter’s reports.

“You reported you suspected you were being trailed by an intelligence gathering vessel. Can you describe it?”

Mohr did so – a rather grimy and otherwise non-descript fishing trawler flying Lithuanian colours, but which did not, insofar as could be observed, actually fish. One of Mohr’s petty officers had even snapped some photographs of the craft.

“May I keep these,” Bartels inquired. “While this vessel does not resemble any that we’ve previously had interest in, they could be related. I have no doubt that Berlin would like to add these to their files.”

“They are copies,” Mohr explained. “If you consider them sufficiently important, I will ask Bootsmann Schmidt for the negatives.”

“That would be very helpful; enlargements could reveal additional details.”

That evening Schmidt was called to Mohr’s cabin, where the insignia of a Stabsbootsmann were pinned to his uniform, as a reward for his initiative.

Well, the Russian SRKs seem to fit the description, but none of them are in the Baltic.

Or rather, none are deployed in the Baltic... ;)

The Kurisches Haff, Wednesday, 6 July 1949

For the crews of the small amphibious vessels Nordstrand, Vogelsand, Kampenwerder, and Kaninchenwerder the day was just another training exercise – at least it was a warm summer’s day with bright sunshine; the fact that this was the fifth day in a row that they had taken aboard troops, equipment, and vehicles of Marine-Schützen Brigade 3 seemed unimportant to them. They would take on a contingent of Marine-Schützen at Memel in the morning, sail along the lagoon to a designated landing beach, run their vessels to shore and drop their ramps, and land the troops as fast as could be done – their officers stood by with stop-watches, noting to the minute how quickly the landing had been accomplished. Then, while the troops marched across the width of the Kurische Nehrung, the ships would sail back to Memel, out into the Baltic, and down to another beach, where the same troops would be picked up and taken back to Memel, where, it seemed, the process was repeated.

According to the ships’ klatsch und tratsch they were due to be at this routine for at least another week.