Christmas in the Reich

Christmas in the Reich

History is often ugly, and physical pieces of history are sometimes very creepy.  To demonstrate this, I offer this article regarding Christmas in Hitler’s Third Reich.  In a small antique store, I recently came across a little collection of some of the creepiest pieces of history I’ve ever seen. Hidden away in a dimly-lit cabinet and packed in a musty old box were a tree topper and six glass ornaments. Unlike ornaments that evoke joy and happiness, these ornaments bore–of all things–a swastika. img_1160While I had seen a few photos of relics like these, I had never seen any of the actual pieces. My immediate reaction was strong and emotional. A feeling of sadness and bewilderment hit me. Seeing these creepy Christmas ornaments took me back to graduate school and memories of conversations I had with Dr. John Haag about how the Nazi government monitored public support for its initiatives, and how it cultivated support for programs and positions that, today, we find to be completely antithetical to human decency. Those discussions touched on how Nazi Leadership consciously sought to transform German society and how it indoctrinated the population to accept the State as the preeminent moral authority, with citizens as subordinate pieces. Dr. Haag talked about how religions posed a problem for the Nazi authorities since they taught that God was the ultimate authority and that the State and everything else was subordinate to Him. Christmas, the preeminent Christian holiday, posed a number of challenges for the Reich. Beyond the inconvenience of Jesus’s Jewish origins, a population that maintained an allegiance to God and Christ could not wholly give itself over to the Nazi State-first ideology. For the Nazis, this was unacceptable.

While many in the Nazi leadership circle wished to destroy Christianity quickly and outright, pragmatists knew that a direct assault on organized religion would cost the regime dearly in public support. Early actions to eliminate Christmas proved the pragmatists right, as many wives and sweethearts resisted efforts to change their traditional Christmas practices. A nation that had embraced Christianity for centuries would not abandon faith in God and Christ on orders from the State. The population would need to be indoctrinated to accept the Fuhrer as the ultimate authority, and old Christian practices would need to be erased. While attempts to transform a celebration of Jesus’s birth into a celebration of the Winter Solstice (Julfest) gained some traction–especially among the most committed Nazis–most Germans continued to celebrate Christmas and churches were allowed to perform traditional Christmas services. Unable to kill Christmas, the Nazis then sought to appropriate it for their own use. With careful and conscious efforts, the Nazis attempted to change everything about the celebration of Christmas. Discussions of the true meaning of Christmas disappeared from official German media. Lyrics to traditional Christmas songs were amended to remove references to God, Jesus, or familiar Christian themes. In their place, references to pagan figures and mystical themes appeared. In later years, the Nazis introduced new songs that emphasized their despicable racial ideology, the military, and the importance of service to the State. Traditional Christmas ornaments featuring bells, stars, birds, and angels gave way to the Nazi golden eagle, sun-burst symbols and other runes, toy cannon and tanks, and–of course–the swastika. Christmas trees were rebranded as “Light Trees” or “Yule Trees.” All of these moves were deliberately designed to move the German population away from Christ and ever closer to the State and its Führer.

Despite all of these efforts, Christmas endured. Indeed, once the war started, the focus on military and economic demands put the attack on Christianity on the back burner and active Nazi hostility towards Christmas faded away–there simply wasn’t time to devote to killing Christmas. Indeed, during the war, many Germans who had drifted away from traditional Christmas celebrations before the war came to appreciate them again. There is much evidence of troops in the field celebrating Christmas in a spirit of love, family, and a hope for peace. Letters and diaries of soldiers in foxholes and civilians on the home front continued to reflect an understanding of the meaning of Christmas, expressions of hope for peace, and wishes for joy, love, and happiness.  Wartime photos of civilian Christmas celebrations and small services in the military include traditional trees with familiar symbols. In the end, for all of the things the Nazis destroyed, they could not kill Christmas.  I hope that this post will remind everyone–regardless of your faith–that we should be mindful of and thankful for the gifts that God has given us, and we should all be thankful for those of the Greatest Generation who defended the world from those who would have us replace symbols of peace, love, and joy with this hideous monstrosity.

For more photos and discussion of history, follow me on Instagram at @oldmauserman.

Bringing the Nambu Back to Life

Bringing the Nambu Back to Life

Of all the firearms I own, one has generated more comments and cautious advice than all of the rest of them put together. In itself, it might not have surprised me that one model drew such criticism, but the fact that all of that criticism has been concentrated into a two month period indicates that there is real concern about the old warhorse. The pistol in question? The Nambu Type 14.

You’ve all heard (or maybe even said) the following:  “Cases won’t eject.”  “The firing pin breaks.”  “You can fire it by putting it in a holster.”  “I can’t find ammunition for it.”  “It is a suicide machine.”  On and on, the complaints continue.  Every now and then, someone offers some useful criticism, and a few folks have even expressed satisfaction and even admiration for the old firearms, but the majority of the feedback I’ve seen has been markedly negative.  So, you can imagine that it was not with a lot of enthusiasm that I purchased this Nambu.

Before I took the Nambu plunge, I did do a little bit of research.  Generally, the Nambu

Nambu Type 14 produced in 1930 at Tokyo Arsenal

series of pistols dates back to 1902, when Lieutenant General Kijiro Nambu introduced the Type A, followed in 1909 by the Type B (the Baby Nambu).  The Type 14, on which this article focuses, was introduced in 1925, and adopted by the Imperial Japanese Army in 1927.  The Type 14 utilized an 8x22mm cartridge.  The 102gr bullet left the muzzle at around 950 feet per second, making it a weaker round than the 9mm Parabellum and somewhat equal to the 7.65 Browning Short (.32 ACP) rounds.  Using a recoil spring action, the Nambu operated very differently than the P-08 Luger, to which it is often mistakenly linked.  While outwardly the Nambu and the Luger appear similar, they are quite different designs.  Over the course of its production, approximately 400,000 Type 14 pistols were manufactured between 1925 and 1945.

Beyond some of the historical background, one of the first things I learned is that the Nambu Type 14 is not the dangerous and awkward pistol many claim it to be.  The Type 94, produced later, featured an exposed sear on the port side that, if pressed with enough pressure, can cause the pistol to fire unexpectedly.  The Type 14, however, would need a little more intricate pressure on the rear of the trigger bar to cause an unexpected discharge.  I also learned that the “exploding Nambu” is largely a myth.  As with any firearm, there are almost sure to be some mishaps–especially in hurriedly-produced pieces such as those produced by Japan in the later stages of the war and especially when

The Nambu Type 14 with the magazine empty and bolt open.

individuals unfamiliar with the operation of the firearm find themselves using it.  The Nambu Type 14, however, does not have a track record of catastrophic failure, especially if handled appropriately and when using correct ammunition.  Ammunition, of course, is a common theme among those who have chosen to own a Nambu.  Finding ammunition, in itself, is a challenge.  Finding the right bullet weight and combining it with the right propellant seems to have been a challenge for modern commercial ammunition makers and for reloaders alike.  My understanding is that the Japanese military ammunition used a 102gr bullet–something that is not widely available to reloaders.  One company, however, offers 8x22mm Nambu with a 100gr bullet, and several individuals who have used that ammunition have reported success.  Not so with the small variety of 83gr bullets that are available.  I would note, however, that just last week, Steinel Ammunition Co. (@steinel_ammo on Instagram) introduced a new version of the 8x22mm Nambu with an 83gr bullet that reportedly performs as well as the 100gr bullet.

My research also left me with the understanding that original springs on most Nambus have weakened over time and use.  Replacing the recoil springs with some modern springs has proven to be helpful to many Nambu owners.  Another helpful hint was that a light coating of gun oil on the magazine feed lips helps alleviate some of the feeding issues that many have experienced.

Historically, I learned that–like many Japanese weapons–the pre-war and early-war Nambu pistols were generally of a higher quality than their mid-war and late-war brethren.  The war took a particularly heavy toll on Japanese industry, and both production materials and quality control suffered as a result of bombings and resource shortages.

So, armed with all of this information, I set out to find the perfect Nambu.  During my search for the Nambu, I focused on just a few key elements:  1) it had to be of pre-war manufacture to ensure quality materials were used and production standards were high, 2) it had to be all-matching to minimize the chance that parts would not work together, and 3) the appearance of the pistol had to be acceptable and not indicate overuse.  Price, while certainly a factor, was not a driving concern.

In February, I found this Nambu.  It was produced in 1930 at the Tokyo Arsenal.  It bears all matching serial numbers, and while there is some wear, it is in very good condition for an eighty-nine year old pistol.  With the pistol in hand, I ordered a set (two) of recoil

Nambu Type 14

springs and a replacement firing pin.  While there is nothing wrong with the original firing pin, I did not want to take a chance on breaking it, especially as I would be firing it for the first time and I have heard many complaints about broken firing pins.  Springs and the firing pin were readily available from the good folks at Numrich Gun Parts (@numrichgunparts). I did have to grind the firing pin guide a bit to allow it to slide freely in the bolt body, but once smoothed out with some 000 steel wool and lightly oiled, it operated fine.

With new springs and a substitute firing pin in place, it was time to look for ammunition.  Fortunately, I have been following @forestfirearms on Instagram for some time, and he has been on a quest to bring his old Nambu to life.  I watched each of his videos and noted the challenges he faced.  I also noted his successes–namely the better performance of the 100gr bullets versus the 83gr.  So, I ordered up a small supply of 100gr ammunition.  When it arrived, I disassembled the Nambu and slipped a few rounds into the chamber and drove them home with the bolt by hand to check the extractor and ejector. Both seemed to be working just fine. While it was disassembled, I also gave it a very good cleaning from end to end and from top to bottom.  While the pistol appeared to be in pretty good shape, this exercise revealed some debris that might have dated back to the Sino-Japanese War.  Reassembly was relatively easy (you might want to keep a pair of tweezers and a watchmaker’s screwdriver handy), despite many of the accounts I’ve read.

Disassembled and ready for cleaning.  The Type 14 is not as difficult to reassemble as many believe.

So, with a clean and shiny Nambu and a degree of hope, but still with expectations of disappointment, I headed off to the range with fifty rounds to see if there was life in this old pistol.

Across the internet, I’ve seen videos and read accounts of Nambu owners experiencing all kinds of feed, cycle, and ejection problems with their pistols.  When someone was able to fire four or five shots in a row without incident, they mostly claimed victory.  I was hoping to get that kind of performance, but expecting problems.  Applying a very small amount of gun oil to the feed lips, and loading five rounds in the magazine, I chambered the first round and held my breath.  Bang!  I glanced at the top of the pistol.  It had fully cycled and chambered another round.  I repeated this four more times.  On

The first twenty shots with the Nambu Type 14 and 100gr ammunition.

the ejection of the last shot, the bolt remained open, just as it was supposed to.  I loaded five more shots and ran through them without incident…then five more…and five more.  I checked the target, hoping that at seven yards, I at least managed to hit the paper.  Not only were all shots on the paper, they were in a reasonably tight group for a first outing.  After fifty shots without any malfunctions, I contacted @forestfirearms to report my success.  I also relayed some information to the good folks at Steinel Ammunition hoping that it would help in development of their new 83gr rounds.

I am hopeful that my experiences, coupled with the input that @forestfirearms and others are providing to the Steinel Ammunition folks will result in a high-quality and reliable cartridge.  Used in a Type 14 that has sufficiently-strong springs and is otherwise in good working order, it is my hope that these cartridges will give Nambu owners good reason to look forward to taking their old pistol to the range.  If you have been inspired to pull that old Nambu out and take it to the range, let us know how it goes.  There is a small, but growing group of us who are rethinking our opinions of the Nambu, and finding that our appreciation for their simplicity is growing.  So, what do you think?


In Defense of the French Soldier

For Sale:  One pre-war MAS-36 rifle.  Mint Condition.  Never fired. Only dropped once.

So goes one of many snarky remarks aimed at the French soldier of World War II.  Since joining some online discussions regarding France’s conduct of war during the 1940 campaign, I’ve seen plenty of disparaging remarks regarding the French military, often general and rarely identifying which particular policies or practices deserved criticism.  Sometimes, and after a challenge, the critic will provide some semblance of an argument or concede that their comment was a joke.  After several weeks of trying to present individual counter arguments, I am now resorting to this space.

The end of the Great War found France victorious, despite having been bled white by four years of brutal combat.  The northeast French countryside was devastated, the army was exhausted, equipment was worn out, and while morale had recovered from the near-disaster of 1917, it was not exceptionally high.  As a nation, France reflected the state of the military–exhausted.  Politically, France staggered through the interwar period bitterly divided.  This environment did not encourage great innovations or investments in the military.

After the war, French military planning evolved without much imagination–largely depending on the massive fortifications of the Maginot Line and a concentrated and massive advance into Belgium were Germany’s armies to advance that way.  Despite successful French innovations in the use of light tanks in the Great War, military doctrine still centered on infantry as the key to success.  Tanks were viewed more as a novelty that future enemies would be able to counter with new weapons or their own tanks.  While armor still figured in French planning, they were mostly relegated to infantry support or reconnaissance roles.  In the air, France could boast a very large, but obsolete fleet of aircraft.  Modern designs were just starting to come off of the assembly lines when the Germans invaded Poland on September 1, 1939.

Thrust into this environment was the French soldier.  On mobilization, France gathered five million soldiers into the ranks of the army.  Front line troops were armed with modern rifles and equipment.  Armored units were fitted out with tanks that were for the most part superior to German tanks.  In terms of numbers, France outnumbered the Germans in almost every significant category, from aircraft to tanks to soldiers to anti-

Surrendering French Soldiers – Reinforcing the Common Image
tank weapons.  Training was thorough, even if tactical doctrines did not prepare most soldiers for the type of warfare that was about to fall on them.  Unit cohesion, at the time of the German attack in May 1940, seems to have been reasonable.  So, how did it happen that the performance of the French soldier came to be criticized so greatly?  As is often the case, there isn’t a single answer.  I am not going to pretend that I know all of them.  I am not even going to discuss all of the reasons that I think may apply.  I will, however, try to make a quick and convincing case that the French soldier of 1940 was not the ineffective figure that many post-war critics have dismissed as cowardly and incompetent and encourage discussion as to whether we need to revisit our collective assessment.

  1. Strategy and Tactics:  As mentioned above, French strategic doctrine focused on infantry and infantry support as the centerpiece of military strategy.  Lessons that should have been learned regarding the concentrated employment of tanks seem to have been lost on most French military minds.  Fortifications, ever stronger and deeper, protected the valuable infantryman.  Maneuver units, including armor, were expected to engage in the same way as their Great War predecessors–frontally.  Infantry units were minimally motorized, and unable to redeploy quickly.  The German attack, when it came, was not something that had been envisioned by French military planners.  The attack, relied on a fast-moving armored and motorized force, which quickly swept past the immobile frontier troops and seized vital road junctions and bridges.  Taking these points not only allowed the Germans to continue moving troops and supplies forward, it also prevented French countermoves.  The French soldiers, unable to keep up with the German advance, continued to fight in pockets–often tenaciously.  German field commanders, including Guderian and Rommel, remarked at how ferociously the French solder fought–even when hopelessly outmaneuvered and outgunned.  Eventually, without hope for resupply, troops ran out of ammunition and other critical supplies and had few options other than to surrender.
  2. Leadership:  While French army equipment was generally of a high quality, field leadership was not.  Likely because of post-war doctrine and the incessant political infighting, French military field leadership did not demonstrate a high degree of either initiative or imagination.  Plans were rigid and contingencies were not contemplated, or they insufficiently accounted for the tactics that the Germans had developed.  The fluid nature of the war being fought required imaginative responses and flexibility in command.  With few exceptions, the French command structure simply did not foster these qualities.  For the average French soldier, this meant that he received orders that did not make sense given the tactical reality he could see.  It also meant that his confidence in leadership was undermined.  Finally, it meant that he likely entered battles feeling like he was already beaten–knowing that his leadership had put him in the wrong place and with unrealistic expectations.
  3. Post-War Analysis:  After World War II, not a lot was written about the French veteran of the 1940 campaign.  French historians tended to concentrate on the glorious exploits of Charles De Gaulle, the French resistance, and the Free French operations in North Africa, Italy, and France.  The French soldier of 1940 was a part of a story that very few French citizens wanted to tell or hear.  A defeat on the scale of the French collapse in 1940 had to be laid at someone’s feet, and while the
    Médaille Militaire
    French soldier was not directly accused, he had few defenders.  Lost in the spectacular German victory was the fact that the Germans lost hundreds of tanks
    and aircraft, and over 150,000 casualties (killed, wounded, and missing) during May and June of 1940.  These numbers are significant, especially when one considers what Germany might have done with more aircraft in the summer of 1940 and with more tanks and troops in North Africa the following year.  Even if one considers that British, Belgian, and Dutch troops inflicted their share of casualties, the numbers testify to the effectiveness of the individual French soldier.  Certainly, they do not support the idea that the French solder was a coward who threw away his weapon or waved a white flag at the first opportunity.

Recognizing that a single short blog entry is not likely to change many opinions on the quality of individual French soldiers in the 1940 campaign, I hope that it will at least make some thoughtful people think a little longer before they continue to heap criticism on the millions of troops who fought for their country, and for the tens of thousands to died doing so.  Courage is not a word that is often heard when discussing the French soldier of 1940, but it is one that I am coming to more closely associate with him.

Italian Armor – M11/39

Last week, I saw an interesting post on Instagram with a picture of an Italian M11/39 tank.  That made me think that the subject of Italian tankers in World War II might be a good subject to spend some time with.  I will not get too far into the technical data of Italian armor.  If you are reading this, you already know that the quality of Italian tanks left a lot to be desired.  Still, I would like to get the ball rolling on a discussion of Italian armor and the men who took them into battle.

For as long as I have been studying World War II, I’ve admired the Italian tankers.  Imagine going to war with equipment that you knew to be inferior to almost anything that the enemy could field.  Such was the lot of the Italian tanker.  The M11/39 is a very good example of substandard armor design.  While most advanced nations were building tanks with main guns in turrets (one exception being the French Char B1–

M11/39  For the Record

which mounted a 47mm gun in a turret and a 75mm howitzer in the hull), the M11/39 mounted its main gun in the forward hull.  This limited its traverse, and required aiming the whole tank at potential targets.  The M11/39 turret, mounting two 8mm machine guns, provided minimal defense against infantry, and next to no attack value when facing enemy armor.  Armor protection on the M11/39 was relatively light at 10 to 30 mm.  Such armor might be useful against some of the 20mm weapons employed early in the war, but would not hold up against the 37mm and larger guns being mounted on most contemporary tanks.  Compounding the weaknesses in fighting capacity were the facts that the tank was slow–topping out at 20 miles per hour–and subject to mechanical breakdowns, particularly in the harsh desert conditions in which it was principally deployed.  Nevertheless, the Italian army fielded 100 of these vehicles.  Most of the M11/39s fielded during served in the North African campaigns of 1940-1941.  Almost all of them served in the Gruppo Maletti, organized in two medium tank battalions.  The Italian offensive of September 1940 saw the M11/39s meet with mishap after mishap.  After initially getting lost trying to move to their jumping off positions, Gruppo m11-39-09Maletti then found itself hampered by supply and organization problems more than the enemy.  By the time the offensive stalled at Sidi Barrani, roughly 50 miles inside Egypt, M11/39s were breaking down and straggling to keep with the main body.  So far, however, there were few casualties due to enemy action.  That would change when, on December 9, Commonwealth forces counterattacked.  Attacked by the superior British tanks, the M11/39s did not fare well, with large numbers of them being destroyed or captured.  The tank simply did not hold up against the British 2-pounder guns that were carried on the cruisers and Matildas.  The Italian’s 37mm main gun also fared poorly against the thicker armor of the British tanks.  Only against the Vickers Mk. VI did the M11/39 have any success.

Unfortunately for Italian tank crews, serving in an M11/39 did not offer very good chances for longevity.  Contemporary enemy anti-tank weapons easily pierced the tank’s armor, and even small arms fire could cause crew casualties if a bolt or rivet were img_0047hit.  Crews courageous enough to climb into equipment like this deserve respect–something not often given to Italian soldiers in World War II.  Unfortunately, Italian tankers could not count on newer designs to level the playing field, as the successors M13/40 and M14/41 were obsolete before they ever fired a shot.