“Polish agents and a British aircrew would join forces to spirit the innards of one of the Third Reich’s most fearsome weapons out of the heart of Nazi-occupied Europe right under the noses of the German army.” 

By Donna B. Gawell

THE SECOND WORLD War reached a new and frightening phase when the first German V-1 flying bomb struck London on June 13, 1944. The attack, which killed six and injured 30, was just the beginning a terror campaign by Hitler against Great Britain.

The V-1, nicknamed the “buzz bomb” for the distinct sputtering drone made by its engine, had a wingspan of more than 16 feet and carried a 1,700-pound, high-explosive warhead. They were inexpensive to produce compared to a manned bomber and could fly through both bad weather and darkness to reach their targets. Launched from a fixed ramp, once airborne, they were susceptible to anti-aircraft fire and fighter interceptors. Yet over a span of just three months, V-1s killed more than 6,000 in Britain and injured tens of thousands more.

Even more sinister was the V-2. A liquid-fuelled ballistic missile armed with a 2,000-pound warhead, it could travel at supersonic speeds and drop onto targets without warning. Launched from an upright mobile platform, V-2s killed an estimated 9,000 civilians over a six-month period beginning in September of 1944.

British intelligence was aware of both weapons’ existence as much as a year before the first attacks. Photo reconnaissance flights over Germany’s top-secret test site at Peenemünde revealed details, while spies in Nazi-occupied Europe had also been bringing back photos, sketches and documents. Meanwhile back in England, Ultra code-breakers were eavesdropping on enemy radio chatter about the project. Allied commanders soon became obsessed with finding out as much as they could about the weapons and, if possible, shutting the program down. Their effort was codenamed Operation Crossbow.

In August 1943, the Germans relocated missile production after British bombers began targeting Peenemünde directly. Design operations were moved to an underground cave complex near Austria’s Traunsee Lake, while the experimental research and test-launching of the missiles was shifted to Camp Heidelager near Blizna, Poland, the largest SS training facility outside of Germany.

Unable to stop the enemy’s efforts, British and American war planners became increasingly desperate to somehow get their hands on one of these top-secret super weapons, or, at the very least, examine the advanced technology that made them tick. Amazingly, the relocation of Hitler’s missile program would result in a V-2 quite literally falling into the hands of Allied intelligence. And London would have the Polish resistance, known as the Home Army or simply the AK (Armia Krajowa) to thank for it.

The highly organized Home Army included partisans who worked in the wooded areas around Blizna. Underground units stationed near the test site went to extraordinary lengths to gather information about the missiles, while teams of specialists scoured the wilderness to collect wreckage from crashed rockets. It was risky work; the penalty for possession of a missile fragment was summary execution. Yet it was partisans who were the first to discover the revolutionary hydrogen peroxide turbo-pump that injected fuel into the engine of the V-2.

But the real breakthrough came on May 20, 1944. That’s when a fully intact V-2 missile splashed down in a marshy area near Sarnaki on the Bug River. AK operatives located the crash site and promptly hid the rocket under reeds. AK scientists from Warsaw soon set about dismantling the weapon. The recovered components were transported in potato carts along rural roads shadowed by armed partisans. Scientists and engineers working with the resistance recorded, diagramed and photographed all 25,000 parts. Nineteen suitcases of the specialized equipment were soon readied to be smuggled to London.

A top-secret operation to extract the cache, codenamed Wildhorn III, would be out on July 25, 1944. It would become one of the most audacious covert missions of the Second World War. Polish agents and a British aircrew would join forces to spirit the innards of one of the Third Reich’s most fearsome weapons out of the heart of Nazi-occupied Europe right under the noses of the German army.

The plan was devised with meticulous coordination between the Allies and the Home Army. A C-47 Dakota V of the RAF’s 267 Squadron from Brindisi, Italy, would touch down at night in a beet field near the Polish town of Zaborow, some 37 miles east of Krakow. Once loaded up, the plane would ferry the secret cargo into the hands of Allied intelligence.

The mission seemed simple enough on paper, but a series of problems soon arose that threatened its success.

First there was the weather. Originally slated to be executed in late June, heavy rains inundated the proposed landing area. It would take weeks for the terrain to become dry and firm enough to hold the weight of a C-47. In late July, London finally gave the signal to Warsaw to commence the operation.

Then just a day before the operation was set to begin, a detachment of 100 German troops with two to three anti-aircraft guns, fresh from fighting the Red Army, unexpectedly arrived in the area to recuperate. The enemy soldiers encamped at a school in Wal Ruda not far from the airstrip. Things got even worse from there. A trio of German light observation planes, known as Fi-156 Storches, landed near the same beet field where the Dakota was scheduled to arrive the following evening.

The AK passed the news of the enemy activity onto commanders in Warsaw who suggested using horses to drag the planes off the airfield in the dead of night. Fortunately, the German aircraft took off the next morning, leaving just the enemy soldiers nearby. It was decided to carry out the mission despite the risk of detection. AK reinforcements were rushed into the area to defend the runway if enemy troops stumbled across the hand-over.

The British Dakota required 200 meters to land and take off, while lights would be needed to guide the plane in the dark. To help, AK soldiers were issued oil lanterns rigged with black shrouds, which made their light invisible at ground level, but easily seen from the air.

On the night of July 25, the partisans took their positions on the pitch-black field. Their gruff, 24-year-old field commander, Col. Zdzislaw Baszak, remembered that the men were trembling in nervous anticipation. He threatened to shoot anyone attempting to light a cigarette.

As the British plane drew near in the darkness, the pilot flashed a quick signal to the ground team. Baszak blew a whistle and the AK troops removed the cylinder covers from the lanterns. The Dakota circled to the field to shed altitude and lined up for touch down. Baszak reported that the huge two-engine plane “wailed like the devil.” Surely the Germans could hear the noise, he thought, yet the enemy took no action.

Finally, the Dakota put down on the make-shift airstrip and rumbled to a halt. As the engines died, AK teams rushed forward and quickly loaded the captured missile parts aboard. Once laden with the secret payload, the pilot hurried to get airborne again. It took several tries before the C-47 roared back to life. With the propellers spinning, the pilot increased the throttle to taxi forward. To his horror, the plane refused to budge. The wheels had settled into the still-wet field; the Dakota was stuck.

The pilot immediately recommended aborting the mission. The cargo could be unloaded, the plane torched, and the AK soldiers could escort the crew into hiding. Baszak refused. The young colonel explained how the Germans would retaliate against local civilians once it was discovered the AK was operating in the area. The landing gear would have to be unstuck, he insisted.

After more than an hour working the problem, Baszak finally ordered his men to bring planks from the slanted sides of wooden carts to use as makeshift ramps to get the Dakota out of the mud. With the wood in place, the pilot fired up the engines again, gunned the throttle and the plane rolled out of the mud. Within minutes the C-47 was airborne and had disappeared in the darkness.

With dawn breaking, the AK troops scrambled for cover. To their amazement, the entire operation had taken place just over 1,000 meters from the German-occupied school. The partisans guessed that the weary enemy sentries must have assumed the engine sounds were from another flight of Storches and raised no alarm.

The Dakota returned safely to Brindisi, Italy. The crew, in possession of the precious cargo, arrived in London two days later. Soon, British and Polish scientists were poring over the captured missile parts and discovering several of the V-2’s astonishing secrets. The most significant was the weapon’s homing gear. Since the rocket could be radio controlled from the ground, Allied researchers deduced that signals could be transmitted to V-2s high over the North Sea instructing them to drop harmlessly into the water.

Although V-2s continued to strike England up until the end of March, 1945, countless civilians would be saved from more devastating attacks thanks to the incredible bravery of the Polish Home Army and Allied intelligence.

Donna B. Gawell is an author of War and Resistance in the Wilderness: A Novel of WWII Poland. Details of this story and many other true stories set in Poland during the Second World War are included in it. Her other book of military interest is Poland Under Nazi Rule: 1939-1941. The author’s website also has many articles related to WWII in Poland. Visit her at www.DonnaGawell.com.

(Originally published on Oct. 16, 2019)

 

 

 

Sources:

The Polish Underground 1939-1947, 2012, David G. Williamson

Operation Crossbow: The Untold Story of Photographic Intelligence and the Search for Hitler’s V Weapons, 2013, Allan Williams

Impact: The History of Germany’s V-Weapons in World War II, 1998, Benjamin King and Timothy J. Kutta

Blizna Park History Informator (Informant) by staff at Blizna Historical Park

Story of the V-2- H-Frame, 2015, Professor Patrick Vaughn (includes an interview with Colonel Zdzislaw Baszak, Operation Wildhorn III Home Army Officer)