Читать книгу The German Invasion of Norway - Geirr H. Haarr - Страница 11

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Storm Warning

A Hundred Incidents

IN 1941, THE US minister to Norway, Florence Harriman, wrote: ‘Hindsight is all we seem to have. But it is fantastic that none of the things which happened in the week preceding the fatal daybreak of April 9th awakened us to danger. A hundred incidents should have prepared us. Instead we were transfixed, still watching the war in Finland.’¹

Indeed, the almost uniform inability to see and understand the warning signals, which were abundantly available in spite of tight security, is one of the great enigmas of Weserübung. Not only were the signals overlooked in Oslo, but equally so in London, Paris and Copenhagen. Swedish authorities in Stockholm realised what was going on, but did nothing.

In the early pre-electronic part of the war, identification of relevant information in the flow of often contradictory signals arriving was demanding. All the more so, as even the ‘right’ signals were rarely unambiguous and could, more often than not, justify several rational interpretations. Thus, the psychological concept of cognitive priming must be accounted for, where the appreciation of new information is influenced by the receiver’s expectations and beliefs. Something that confirms an existing point of view is far more readily accepted than something pointing in an unfamiliar direction. This was certainly true for Norway in 1940.

Intelligence consists of four elements: acquisition, analysis, interpretation and distribution. If one is missing or weak, the others become meaningless. The Norwegian government of 1940 did not have any individuals or groups with access to all available intelligence material and tasked with assessing the threats to neutrality. The ministers would have to do this themselves, in addition to their many other tasks, without professional military analysis or management systems. Foreign Minister Koht in particular worked alone. He had a personal confidence that gave him strength, but also made him inaccessible to other people’s advice and arguments. Koht believed himself to be the best man to interpret and understand the incoming information and decide how to act upon it – or not – in most cases without seeking a second opinion. He had no group of analysts established to try to help him see the larger picture and he never took any initiatives to have incoming signals systematically verified.

As with most tasks in the Norwegian military, intelligence was handled separately by the services. The Admiral Staff had an Intelligence Office led by Kaptein Erik Anker Steen and the General Staff a similar unit: Section IV (the ‘Foreign Office’) led by Oberstløytnant Harald Wrede-Holm.² Both offices were understaffed, but worked well together and shared most of the information they received. Communication between the military and the government was never made interactive – not even after September 1939 – and no systematic assessment of the incoming information in a political context existed. Information was forwarded to the Ministries of Defence and Foreign Affairs ‘when of interest’. Similarly, information came to the intelligence offices from the ministries, but rarely with any comments or analysis. Between the Nordic countries, there was a close, but unofficial and informal co-operation regarding military intelligence, largely unknown to the politicians.³

The threat from Germany was recognised by the military, but, as the analysis of strategic intelligence rested with the Foreign Office, the Ministry of Defence and the army and navy staffs lacked the necessary political perspective on their part of the intelligence. Tactical intelligence was not recognised as a concept and neither was the need for such information to be gathered, shared and systematically assessed between the political and military administrations. Defence Minister Ljungberg did not systematically forward the assessments given to him by the military staffs to the government; nor did the military themselves forward all information they possessed to their minister.

In the report of the post-war Commission of Inquiry, Prime Minister Nygaardsvold was criticised for not having taken charge of the information flow, analysis and decision-making process after the outbreak of war. Instead, he was sidelined and remained passive, leaving assessments and decisions to others.⁴ This criticism can easily be extended to Koht, Ljungberg, Diesen and Laake – at least.⁵

Error of Judgement

In the early part of the war, British intelligence was no less fragmented than in Norway. Co-ordinated acquisition of intelligence from reliable sources was rare and the exchange of analysis and interpretations almost non-existent. Hence, the disregard of the mounting evidence that Germany was preparing to invade Norway and Denmark is almost a textbook example of lack of co-ordination and inability to conceive that the opponent could actually do something unexpected. The German readiness to face British supremacy at sea, landing troops around the coast from Oslo to Narvik, ran counter to all predictions made to the British government by its military advisers.

On 28 December, two weeks after Quisling set the wheels moving in Berlin, the British War Office sent a summary note to the Foreign Office indicating signs of possible German plans for Scandinavia, picked up by the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). Two weeks later, on 8 January, the War Cabinet received a memorandum from the Foreign Office, concluding from compiled intelligence that Germany was contemplating an invasion of southern Scandinavia. Nobody pursued the issue and when a month later the German section of military intelligence concluded that the preparations probably had other purposes, as some twenty-five to thirty divisions would be needed for such a venture and only six could be recognised in north-west Germany, few eyebrows were raised.⁶

During the spring, several reports arrived at the Naval Intelligence Staff in Whitehall, detailing amphibious exercises in the Baltic and the gathering of paratroopers, transport aircraft and troopships in northern Germany. In the middle of March the Luftwaffe bombed Hatston in the Orkneys for the first time, whereas mine-laying sorties and U-boat attacks in the Atlantic ceased altogether. Simultaneously, signals were intercepted from a German intelligence vessel operating in Norwegian waters, reporting in Abwehr code. Had information such as this been processed collectively by a group of trained intelligence analysts, supported by evidence from signals intelligence (sigint) and photographic reconnaissance, it might have created a different picture. The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) and the Operational Intelligence Centre (OIC) had been set up to ensure just such collation of assessments, but the procedures for submitting information to these was as yet in its infancy and poorly adhered to.⁷

Loading transport ships in Stettin. From right: Westsee, Antares, Ionia. This photograph was probably taken in late March. (E Skjold collection)

On 17 March, the British military attaché in Stockholm, Lieutenant Colonel Sutton-Pratt, reported visiting German officers having told Swedish colleagues that Norway ‘would be taken care of in a very short time’. A week later, on 26 March, the British Embassy in Stockholm reported an increased concentration of aircraft in northern Germany and ships in Baltic ports, which were now rapidly becoming ice free. It was added that a ‘senior naval officer in the Ministry of Defence’ had disclosed that ‘Swedish staff believe Germans are concentrating aircraft and shipping for operation which Swedish intelligence consider might consist of seizure of Norwegian aerodromes and ports. Pretext being disclosure of Allied plans of occupation of Norwegian territory, thus compelling German intervention.’⁸ Several reports followed in the coming days confirming the build-up of tension in Germany over Allied intentions in Scandinavia. On 31 March, newspaper clippings reported sources ‘in close touch with German government’ saying there was an ‘immense danger for [the] neutrals and particularly for Scandinavian countries’. The British ‘policing of Scandinavia, [with] the British Fleet controlling the Kattegat and neutral waters, through which Germany obtained her supplies from the north’, had reached a critical level and Germany now found itself ‘compelled to protect her interest, by all means at its command’.⁹

On 3 April, the War Cabinet was notified that the War Office had received reports of troop concentrations in the Rostock area and there were several troopships in Stettin and Swinemünde, believed to be ready for an intervention in Scandinavia. The deputy chief of naval staff, Vice Admiral Tom Phillips, compiled a memorandum to Churchill and First Sea Lord Admiral Pound where he concluded: ‘The Germans are all ready for some operation against southern Scandinavia, and they may be planning to carry one out in the near future.’ It was not clear ‘whether the action is taken independently by the Germans or as a result of action we may take vis-à-vis the Norwegians’. To be on the safe side, Phillips advised that the army ‘should be instructed . . . to be prepared to improvise an expedition at the shortest notice’. It appears however, that the two lords were of the opinion that the Germans were waiting for the Allies to strike first and no recommendations were made to the War Cabinet or the CoS.¹⁰

In an appendix to the orders issued on 5 April to the commanders of the R4 forces, copied to the War Cabinet, the CoS discusses ‘possible German operations in Norway’. It is concluded that at least four divisions were available in northern Germany, with some training in combined operations, and others could quickly be moved to the coast. Sea and air transport for these troops were abundantly available. The most likely German targets were considered to be Stavanger and Kristiansand, because of their airfields. An attack in Oslofjord was considered ‘most hazardous’, and, should the Germans decide to go for the capital, it would most likely be through the landing of troops on each side of the outer fjord. No German landings were considered at all north of Stavanger.¹¹

In the small hours of 6 April the British vice-consul in Copenhagen, Charles Howard-Smith, reported to London that he had been informed the previous evening by the US minister, who had a well-placed neutral source, that Hitler had given ‘definite orders to send one division of ten ships to land at Narvik on 8 April, occupying Jutland on the very same day, but leaving Sweden [alone]’. In the afternoon of the same day, a supplementary telegram said the troops had actually embarked on 4 April, but there was disagreement in the military as to the prudence of the operation and they ‘hoped to have the order rescinded’.¹²

The naval section of the Government Code and Cypher School (GC&CS) at Bletchley Park informed the Admiralty’s OIC on 7 April of a significant increase in German naval radio activity indicating several ships at sea in the Baltic and west of Denmark. The OIC had limited experience with the novel science of sigint – it was mainly run by civilian academics with little knowledge of naval matters – and, not being informed of other warning signals, did not sound the alarm.¹³

At the RAF, an increased Luftwaffe reconnaissance activity was registered in the North Sea and Skagerrak after a period of relative inactivity. By chance, the first aerial photos of Kiel harbour were taken on the 7 April, showing numerous ships and significant activity. As there were no previous photos to compare it with, and as Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were reported in Wilhelmshaven, nothing appeared urgent to the RAF analysts – not even when subsequent reconnaissance flights in the evening reported ‘intense shipping activity and brilliantly lit wharves’ at Eckernförde, Kiel, Hamburg and Lübeck.¹⁴

In Denmark, the British naval attaché Henry Denham heard rumours of German minesweepers off the Danish coast, and in the morning of Sunday 7 April drove south from Copenhagen to investigate. To his immense excitement he twice observed large warships heading west. Added to other information of recent German fleet movements, Denham had no doubt that this was serious and rushed back to Copenhagen. At 14:35 he reported to the Admiralty: ‘German warships Gneisenau or Blücher with two cruisers and three destroyers passed Langeland [in the] Great Belt northbound daylight today. Similar force now passing northward, off Møen. Through Sound at 11:00. Large concentration of trawlers in Kattegat.’ At 17:42, a second report from Denham stated he had had the report confirmed by the Danish Admiralty, but as the ships had not been sighted since midday, it was unclear if they had continued northwards.

Some months later in London, Denham met his friend Captain Ralph Edwards,

. . . who had been Duty Captain at Admiralty the evening of 7th April when my telegram, reporting enemy ships and their probable Norwegian destination, had been received. He told me he had taken it straight across to Winston Churchill who, after studying the contents, had merely remarked ‘I don’t think so.’ Months later when the two men happened to be together at sea, crossing to a Washington conference, Churchill, recognising Edwards and remembering their earlier meeting about my telegram, generously admitted his error of judgement.¹⁵

The last entry of the Admiralty War Diary on 7 April, at 23:58, notes the naval attaché in Copenhagen having reported personally sighting the cruiser Blücher and other German warships south of Gedser on a westerly course at 14:00 and again at 17:00. The report was dismissed however, with the comment ‘evidently doing exercise with ship out of sight’.¹⁶

Harry Hinsley, a historian and cryptanalyst who worked at Bletchley Park during WWII, concludes: ‘. . . given the organisation of intelligence and the state of its sources, . . . we can scarcely be surprised that the significance of the many indications Germany was preparing the invasion of Norway and Denmark eluded the individual intelligence bodies and the interdepartmental authorities.’¹⁷ Possibly, but a significant responsibility rests with the decision makers who failed to collate the growing information into a pertinent picture of German intentions while maintaining necessary flexibility to realise and act upon a strategic concept, differing from what they had expected. It was all the more puzzling as Plan R4 was to be initiated as soon as the Germans ‘set foot on Norwegian soil, or there was clear evidence they intend to do so’.

Major-General Ismay, secretary of the Military Coordination Committee later wrote:

We had suspected, that some mischief was brewing in Norwegian waters, for there had been reliable information two nights previously that a sizeable, German naval force was on the move northwards, and at the War Cabinet meeting the next morning the First Lord had reported that a few hours previously the destroyer Glowworm had signalled that she was in action against a superior force, that her signals had suddenly ceased, and that she had evidently been overwhelmed. This was confirmation that a German force was at sea, but it was thought their objective was probably limited to forestalling any action that we might take at Narvik.¹⁸

Occupied Next Week

On 31 March, the Swedish minister in Berlin, Arvid Richert, sent a note to Foreign Minister Christian Günther in Stockholm. The note said reliable sources had informed the embassy that troops, horses, vehicles and equipment had been embarked in fifteen to twenty-five large ships in Stettin and Swinemünde. The troops might be intended for a preventive seizure of key areas in Sweden to secure the supply of iron ore. Supplementary information over the next days confirmed the embarkation, but shifted the potential target of the operation to Norway, and held it would not be initiated without Allied provocation. Richert argued, though, that as troops and equipment were actually being loaded, the Germans most likely knew or expected that an Allied intervention was being planned. The embarkation, which was confirmed from several sources, took place behind guarded fences, but there was little doubt the ships were under military command. Bars and restaurants in the Stettin docks had been invaded by a large number of ‘new officers of all kinds’, unfamiliar to the regulars. It does not appear that this information was forwarded from Stockholm to Oslo in any form, but Richert discussed the news with the Norwegian minister in Berlin, Arne Scheel. Meanwhile, German disinformation had been spread that the troops and equipment were intended for east Prussia, where flooding had caused an emergency. Both envoys therefore concluded there was no reason for alarm. In a letter written on 1 April, Scheel reported to Oslo that Richert had told him the Reichskanzlei was concerned regarding imminent British actions to sever the German ore transport through Narvik, but ended the letter assuring him that the troops embarking in the Baltic ports were most likely ‘to be sent east’. Neither Koht nor Nygaardsvold saw ‘any reason for concern’ from the content of this letter.¹⁹

In the morning of 31 March, British naval attaché, Rear Admiral Boyes, called the navy Chief of Staff Corneliussen, asking about the rumours of German preparations in the Baltic. Corneliussen admitted he had received the reports, but was ‘not perturbed’, believing the activity to be related to ‘proposed Allied assistance to Finland’.²⁰

For a number of reasons, including earlier warnings of German naval operations against Norway that never materialised, Koht had limited faith in the Norwegian representatives in Berlin. Minister Arne Scheel, a diplomat of the old school, was of the opinion that in order to act as neutral as possible, it was best to attend host country arrangements as invited. Koht, however, believed attendance at official Nazi Party arrangements should be minimised. Furthermore, in March, Ambassador Scheel dispatched a rather concerned letter to the Foreign Office in Oslo claiming that Norway had come to German attention as a result of threats to the iron-ore transport through Narvik. He recommended that Norwegian neutrality be ‘upheld as strong as our utmost abilities permit’ – words Koht partly interpreted as reflecting the German point of view and partly as a criticism of him and his policy.²¹ Stortingspresident Hambro later wrote that Scheel and Koht ‘could not understand – far less appreciate each other’. To make matters worse, the vice-consul at the embassy, Ulrich Stang, had during his assignment developed Nazi sympathies. Neither Koht nor Scheel were happy with this and had discussed having him removed. Stang was still in Berlin in April 1940.²²

Arne Scheel, Norwegian ambassador in Berlin. (Aufn. Scherl/NTB/Scanpix)

In a meeting with OKM Chief of Staff Schulte-Mönting on 2 April, the Swedish naval attaché in Berlin, Anders Forshell, brought up the subject of the embarkations in Stettin. Fregattenkapitän Schulte-Mönting brushed it aside; nothing was happening in Stettin and there were no German threats towards Sweden. Still, Forshell concluded in his report to the Chiefs of Staff and Foreign Office in Stockholm that in his opinion, based on other things Schulte-Mönting had said earlier, Germany was preparing to forestall a British intervention in western Norway. The report was copied to the Swedish embassies in Oslo and Copenhagen on 4 April ‘for information’, but its content appears not to have been forwarded to the government or military authorities of the two countries, except for a brief, informal telephone call from the Swedish Naval Intelligence Office to its Norwegian counterpart.²³

In the afternoon of 3 April, Minister Colban in London sent a telegram to the Foreign Office in Oslo informing them that Noel Baker, a Labour MP in the House of Commons had ‘let him understand the British government was preparing a direct action against the ore traffic inside Norwegian sea territory, very soon’. This telegram was copied to Nygaardsvold and Ljungberg and very much focused the attention of the Norwegian government and military in the days to come. Foreign Minister Koht later wrote that the telegram from Colban made him more uneasy than any of the information that came from Berlin in the following days.²⁴

Oberst Hans Oster was one of Admiral Wilhelm Canaris’s closest associates in the German Abwehr. He was a convinced anti-Nazi and when he learned of the plans for Weserübung, it appears he saw an opportunity to cause a military defeat large enough to provide the occasion for a coup against Hitler. It has not been possible to ascertain whether Canaris endorsed Oster’s actions, but the two men had a close personal and professional relationship and it is unlikely Canaris was unaware of what was happening. Oster asked his old friend the Dutch military attaché in Berlin, Major Gijsbertus Jacobus ‘Bert’ Sas, to see him in the afternoon of 3 April. The details of what exactly was passed from Oster to Sas are lost, but Sas later insisted Oster told him that imminent German operations would be directed simultaneously at Denmark and Norway and the offensive in the west would follow shortly after. Whether this is correct and the subsequent distortions were made inadvertently when forwarding the information or remembered differently by one or more of those involved, we shall never know. Oster was treading a fine line and may deliberately have tainted the information to protect himself and to avoid unnecessary loss of German lives, or perhaps he tried to make what he did less treasonous in his own eyes by not revealing the plans correctly. Meeting briefly again next morning, Oster confirmed to Sas that the operation was set for 9 April and encouraged his friend to forward the information to the embassies of the countries involved.²⁵

Oberst Hans Oster of the Abwehr. (Bundesarchiv Koblenz)

During the morning of the 4th, Sas contacted Swedish Naval Attaché Forshell, informing him of the information he had received from Oster. Forshell, who was already aware of German planning against Norway from his conversations with Schulte-Mönting, realised the seriousness of the information brought by the Dutchman. He briefly informed his minister, Arvid Richert, of the news and hurried across to the Danish Embassy, asking to meet Kommandørkaptajn Frits Hammer Kjølsen. The stunned Danish naval attaché listened with growing unease as Forshell told him his country would be the subject of German aggression within a week, followed by an occupation of Norway and later most likely an attack on the Low Countries. Troopships had been made ready in the Baltic and soldiers, including Alpine troops, were embarking at that very moment. Unaware that Forshell had already been to the Danish Embassy, Major Sas came shortly after to share the information from Oster, asserting it came from ‘reliable sources inside the OKW dissatisfied with Hitler’. Sas later insisted he told Kjølsen both Denmark and southern Norway would be invaded simultaneously on the morning of 9 April. Kjølsen, however, categorically denied having been given any dates for the invasion other than ‘next week’, claiming the accounts of Sas and Forshell were ‘near identical’.²⁶

The Norwegian representation in Berlin was one of the few without a military attaché and Vice-Consul Stang would be Major Sas’s natural level of contact. Sas was aware of Stang’s friendly relations with a number of high-ranking German officials, and chose to ‘bump into him by chance’ at the Hotel Adlon, where he knew he would most likely have his lunch, rather than ask for a meeting. Later, Sas claimed he had emphasised in a few brief sentences that both Denmark and Norway would be attacked simultaneously on the 9 April. Stang, however, denied this, claiming Norway had not been mentioned at all and that he had forwarded exactly what he had been told (or at least what he thought he had been told). Based on what Sas told Forshell and Kjølsen, it is hard to believe he did not mention Norway to Stang.²⁷

Kjølsen informed Minister Herluf Zahle of the information he had received from Forshell and Sas and called the Norwegian Embassy, asking to be received in the afternoon to discuss ‘matters of utmost political consequence’. Unknown to Kjølsen, his telephone was tapped and his calls to Zahle and the Norwegian Embassy were intercepted by German intelligence. The information ended up in the OKW and eventually in the SKL on the 7th, where it was concluded it was possible that the Danish naval attaché ‘somehow had obtained information on the forthcoming Operation Weserübung!’²⁸

At the Norwegian Embassy, Kjølsen informed Minister Scheel. Understandably, the old diplomat was ‘very upset to learn of the serious threats to his country’. Later in the evening, Stang, who had not been present at the meeting, came to the Danish Embassy to discuss matters. Kjølsen and Undersecretary Steensen-Leth presented all the information they had to Stang. He responded that he had been informed of German plans from a ‘neutral civilian source’ without elaborating, but claimed, to the surprise of the Danes, that the attack would not be directed north, but south and west towards Holland and France.²⁹

During the afternoon, Minister Zahle at the Danish Embassy signed a memorandum to the Foreign Office in Copenhagen written by Kjølsen, and had it couriered home by one of his staff on the afternoon flight. The next day Kjølsen sent a supplementary report to the Naval Ministry, copied to Zahle and the Foreign Office, stating that he believed Major Sas’s information to be reliable. Indeed, troop concentrations and loading of transport vessels in Stettin and Swinemünde indicated something was going on. Kjølsen concluded that ‘contrary to the Norwegian Embassy’ (i.e. Stang), he believed Norway would be attacked and the possible attack in the west would be limited to Holland.³⁰

What discussion took place between Stang and Scheel in the Norwegian Embassy after Kjølsen left is not known, but Stang’s view must have won the day, as next morning, 5 April, a telegram was received in Oslo informing the Foreign Office that the embassy had ‘been informed from an attaché at one of the neutral embassies – in strict confidence – of German plans to invade Holland in the near future’. Denmark was also threatened as Germany might be seeking ‘air and U-boat bases on Jylland’s west coast’. Norway was not mentioned at all. The embassy forwarded the information cautiously, it was stressed, as it could not be verified, even though the attaché who had brought the information was ‘usually reliable and well informed’. The telegram was composed by Stang and signed by Scheel in spite of the somewhat different information he had received from Kjølsen. It must have occurred to Scheel that the message could be misleading; some hours later, a second telegram followed adding that information from Danish diplomats indicated that places on the Norwegian south coast might be threatened as well ‘to increase the speed of the war and pre-empt Allied actions’.³¹

Koht rated both telegrams as rumour and took little notice of either. They were copied to Ljungberg the next day, but not to any other member of the government. No initiatives were taken by the Foreign Office to discuss the information internally in the government or with the other Nordic foreign offices. The telegrams were forwarded to the Admiral Staff and the General Staff during the 5th and shown to relevant officers who came in the next day (Saturday), including the army Chief of Staff Oberst Hatledal.³²

Swedish Minister Richert found the information from Sas highly disturbing, even if Sweden was not directly threatened, and asked Forshell for a meeting, to which Kjølsen was also invited. In the meeting a memorandum to the Swedish Foreign Office was compiled, detailing the information received over the last couple of days. This and a similar memorandum from Forshell to the Swedish Naval Intelligence Staff were couriered to Stockholm on the first available flight. The Swedish government, Foreign Office and military intelligence were thus informed of Operation Weserübung in the evening of 4 April. Richert added information from other sources indicating that on 2 April Hitler appeared to have made ‘some important decision’, and persons in the German Foreign Office seemed ‘nervous and pre-occupied’. Forshell in his short military style summarised: ‘Denmark will be occupied next week,’ whereafter Norway would be attacked from the Oslofjord to Bergen while no aggression towards Sweden was planned. Observations of mountain troops in northern Germany confirmed in his opinion that Norway was on the list of targets.³³ Both Richert and Forshell concluded that the operation was imminent, as all the foreign military attachés in Berlin had been invited on a tour of the Western Front, starting in the evening of Sunday 7 April. Forshell had decided not to attend this tour, with his minister’s approval, believing it to be a pretext to have the attachés out of the way.³⁴

Later that same day, an official but discreet message was passed from the German Ministry of Propaganda to the Swedish Embassy stating that there was no acute danger to Sweden from Germany in the near future. Richert sent a brief update to the Foreign Office in Stockholm: ‘I have the firm impression that far-reaching actions towards Denmark and Norway are to be expected shortly; most likely within days.’ For reasons difficult to comprehend, none of this detailed and exact information was forwarded to the Norwegian or Danish governments.³⁵

On Friday 5 April, around 11:40, Minister August Esmarch at the Norwegian Embassy in Copenhagen telephoned Undersecretary Jens Bull at the Foreign Office in Oslo. The minister had been called to the Danish Foreign Office earlier in the morning, as had Swedish Minister Hamilton. Both had been questioned by Undersecretary Mohr as to their respective countries’ reactions to the recent information from Berlin of a German offensive on the Low Countries, western Denmark and southern Norway. Esmarch had no knowledge of this and made the call to Bull requesting advice on what to tell the Danes. Being careful on the open telephone line and assuming Oslo had actually received the information referred to, he just forwarded the request without going into the background he had been given by Mohr, other than to mention the danger of a German attack on Denmark and southern Norway. ‘Copenhagen was nervous,’ according to Esmarch and wanted to know as soon as possible the considerations from Oslo.

Bull did not question Esmarch in any detail, as he apparently assumed Koht would know what this was all about. When learning of the telephone conversation with Esmarch, Koht dismissed the issue as the same rumours Scheel had mentioned and took no initiatives to ascertain what the Danish request referred to. Bull returned a call to Esmarch just before 14:00, informing him that Oslo would do nothing ‘based on rumours’ – and he could say so to the Danish Foreign Office. No information of Esmarch’s conversation with Mohr and the request for a Norwegian reaction went beyond the inner circles of the Foreign Office.³⁶ Esmarch on his side reported back to the Danes that Oslo did not give the report ‘any significance at all’. The Swedish Minister Hamilton reported back, according to Mohr, that this was ‘old news’ and Stockholm had information the rumours were exaggerated.³⁷ Satisfied, the Danish Foreign Office forwarded a summary of the information to the British Embassy and did little else.³⁸

During the evening of the 5th, Oberst Carlos Adlercreutz, head of intelligence at the Swedish defence staff, called his Norwegian counterpart at the General Staff in Oslo, Oberstløytnant Wrede-Holm, informing him that Sweden had reliable information from Berlin of an imminent German attack on Denmark, followed by a similar attack on Norway.³⁹ Shortly after, an almost identical message arrived from the Danish General Staff. Reports of these communications were sent to the commanding general, the Admiral Staff and the Ministry of Defence, though Ljungberg later had ‘no positive recollection of the issue’ and could not remember having seen any of Scheel’s letters. Nobody in the Foreign Office or the government appears to have been informed. Likewise, neither the commanders nor their intelligence officers were informed of similar information coming from the embassies.⁴⁰

The Norwegian journalist Theo Findahl, stationed in Berlin for the Norwegian newspaper Aftenposten, somehow got hold of the rumours of an imminent attack on southern Norway. He was subject to strong restrictions, but managed to submit an article to Oslo over the weekend. Unfortunately Findahl stated the number of Germans to be landed in Norway to be in the order of ‘1.5 million’. The editor, while preparing a dramatic front page for Monday’s edition, contacted the office of the commanding admiral in the evening for comments, speaking to Kaptein Håkon Willoch, the duty officer at the Admiral Staff. Willoch referred the enquiry to the commanding admiral, who found the story of 1.5 million men ‘too fantastic’ and, to his dismay, the editor received a call from the Foreign Office shortly after with instructions to halt the publication of the report.⁴¹

Meanwhile, another telegram from Scheel in Berlin arrived in the Foreign Office in Oslo. It stated that according to reliable sources, fifteen to twenty large ships loaded with troops and equipment had left Stettin on the night of 4/5 April, heading west. An unknown destination would be reached on 11 April. Ulrich Stang later told the Commission of Inquiry that this new information came from Kjølsen, adding that the reference to a westerly course should have indicated to Oslo that Norway was at risk.⁴² The cipher secretary on duty, Gudrun Martius, considered the message serious enough to call Koht at home as no senior political staff were present in the office. Having the telegram referred to him, Koht reassured Miss Martius that the ships were not heading for a destination in Norway, but ‘into the Atlantic’. How Koht knew this, and what a large fleet of German transport ships loaded with troops was hoping to achieve there, was not discussed. A copy of the report was couriered to the Admiral and General Staff that evening, but no further measures were taken, as Koht had given no instructions. The next day, a copy of the signal was sent to the Ministry of Defence, but whether it reached Ljungberg or not is unclear. It appears the mentioning of the 11th, which was several days away, to a large extent affected Koht’s dismissal of Norway as the target. Miss Martius was confused after the conversation with Koht, but could only conclude that, as the foreign minister took the telegram so calmly, he had other information that put the situation in a different light. A copy of the signal reached Kaptein Willoch at the Naval Staff around 22:00 on the 7th. He called the commanding admiral and, quoting it, asked if he should initiate any measures: for example alert the districts and prepare for mines to be laid. Diesen answered no, and assured Willoch he himself would make sure those who needed to know would be informed. Willoch’s frustration was marked, all the more so as he never heard back on the issue. According to Steen, the commanding admiral and his Chief of Staff agreed the troopships were most probably related to an attack on Holland.⁴³

Kaptein Håkon Willoch (1896–1955), the brother of Odd Willoch in Narvik and Gunnar Willoch in Bergen – and father of Kåre Willoch, prime minister of Norway from 1981 to 1986. (Kåre Willoch)

Thus, the information from Oster reached Oslo during 5 April through circuitous routes while there was still time to prepare the Norwegian armed forces to meet an invasion on the 9th. Neither Koht nor Ljungberg or his commanders, however, considered the signals from Berlin to indicate a ‘clear and present danger’ towards Norway and none of them initiated investigations to have the signals verified. There are independent accounts of Koht having commented on the reports from Germany with something like, ‘Either the rumours are false, in which case there is no cause for alarm, or they are correct, in which case we will not have any useful answers.’ That might be true, but no attempts were made to compile the signals and assess them jointly. Neither was the government or the prime minister made accurately aware of the incoming warnings. No initiatives were taken to discuss the situation with the commanders or their staff and no contact was made with the other Nordic governments to hear their views on the development. Indeed, the initiative from Copenhagen to do just that was dismissed. Why this was so is less obvious. Arguably, the telegrams to Oslo were less precise than those received in Stockholm and Copenhagen, partly due to the omissions and distortion of the original message by Stang, but this cannot explain it all. Perhaps it was personal issues that made the warnings from Scheel and Stang less believable. Perhaps it was cognitive priming. Whatever the reason, the information lost its significance somewhere between Berlin and Oslo and no initiatives were taken to have it verified or assess its consequences, should it be correct.

In the meeting of the Foreign Affairs Committee on 8 April, Koht said: ‘There have been several reports in the last couple of days from Germany regarding planned actions against Norway. These are reports without any official foundation and we cannot know what they are based on or how serious they are . . .’ Koht later denied using the word ‘official’, but the stenographer asserted the minutes were correct. Either way, Foreign Minister Koht in this meeting, some eighteen hours before Weserzeit, told his government colleagues that he doubted the validity of the warnings and saw no reason to act upon them.⁴⁴

Mobilisation needed a political decision, but none was taken. How much this was affected by the relationship between Ambassador Scheel and Koht, Stang’s corruption of the initial information or Ljungberg’s incompetence in political matters, we shall never know. Neither shall we know what might have happened had Danish Foreign Minister Munch advised his government to mobilise the Danish armed forces based on the reports from Berlin. He at least had the full, undistorted information from Oster and Sas. Partly due to the rather firm dismissal of the ‘rumours’ from Oslo, however, and partly due to a subsequent telegram from Minister Zahle toning down the threat somewhat, Munch decided not to take action ‘in order not to create panic’.⁴⁵ How the Norwegian government would have reacted to a Danish mobilisation remains hypothetical, but it would certainly have brought the reasons for such a development to the surface.