During the bitter winter of 1944, as Allied forces closed in on Germany, Adolf Hitler ordered a last-ditch counterattack in the Ardennes. This risky gambit would become the Battle of the Bulge. But as tanks battled and cannons bellowed, a secret battle raged in the background—a sneaky mission of trickery and sabotage named Operation Greif. Under the command of SS commando Otto Skorzeny, German troops infiltrated behind the Allied lines wearing American uniforms, driving modified U.S. vehicles, and creating confusion with false information and sabotage.
The concept of the operation was audacious. Hitler was wagering everything on quickness—namely, seizing at least one intact Meuse River bridge before the Allies could mobilize. If successful, the Germans could split the American and British armies, menace Antwerp, and drive the Allies to negotiate the peace.
To make it happen, Hitler enlisted the services of Skorzeny, a burly, battle-scarred officer who already had a reputation for daring special operations—most notably, the 1943 kidnapping of Benito Mussolini from his Alpine prison. In October 1944, Hitler personally ordered Skorzeny to create a special force that could keep pace with the front lines, capture strategic bridges, and undermine Allied efforts through deception and sabotage.
The operation involved German soldiers who spoke English, wearing American uniforms, driving into Allied lines in American tanks. Hitler felt this didn’t violate international law, provided the men didn’t fight while masquerading as Americans. However, as Skorzeny soon discovered, Germany’s limited resources made it hard to implement the plan. Although Hitler vowed him twenty Sherman tanks, he received only two, of which only one was operational. To circumvent this, German soldiers gave a dozen Panther tanks the appearance of U.S. M10 tank destroyers by altering their turrets to resemble them with sheet metal, painting them olive drab, and marking them with white stars. From afar, the camouflage succeeded, but close up, it was easy to tell the difference.
Recruiting the appropriate men was also a challenge. A call for English speakers was put out throughout the army, but just ten were native speakers of American English, and fewer than half a dozen could have even a basic conversation. None were adequately trained in commando techniques. Skorzeny organized the best into an elite unit known as Einheit Stielau and provided them with some crash courses in sabotage, radio operation, and American customs. The remainder of the force—rechristened Panzer Brigade 150—was drawn from across different units and armed with an assortment of equipment, much of it repainted or counterfeit to resemble American.
Secrecy was paramount, but early leaks began. The Allies detected German interest in English-speaking soldiers and intercepted communications suggesting a pending operation. While the specifics were unclear, the Allies had no conception of the problems on their horizon.
On December 16, 1944, when the Ardennes Offensive started, Skorzeny’s commandos started infiltrating Allied positions. Cloaked as U.S. military police, traffic police, or plain ordinary soldiers, they provided false directions, re-routed road signs, interrupted communications, and disseminated rumors. Perhaps the most believable was that there existed assassination groups after Allied generals.
This rumor, repeated by captured commandos when interrogated, created panic. General Eisenhower and the others were placed under strict security and remained farther back from the front than customary, which impacted how soon the Allies could respond. Suspicion spread quickly—American soldiers started interrogating one another with trivial information such as baseball teams and state capitals to identify fake soldiers. Some of these meetings resulted in false arrests or even a shootout between friendly troops.
While there was some initial success at creating confusion, the bigger plan then broke down. The German breakthrough was halted by tough resistance, and the camouflaged Panthers were discovered and eliminated. Skorzeny was hit by gunfire, and the greater part of his commando unit was killed or taken prisoner. Only a single commando unit returned behind German lines. U.S. military intelligence subsequently conceded that the attempt was impressively innovative—had circumstances been otherwise, the camouflaged tanks could have inflicted significant harm. But under the conditions of war in late 1944, the mission was short of its objective.
Following the operation, a number of legal and ethical issues arose. Three of the captured commandos—Günther Billing, Wilhelm Schmidt, and Manfred Pernass—were brought before U.S. courts, found guilty of breaching the laws of war by wearing enemy uniforms, and executed. Skorzeny himself was arrested after the war and tried at Dachau in 1947. His defense, aided by British Wing Commander Forest Yeo-Thomas, contended that the Allies had employed similar tactics, and that Skorzeny had instructed his troops to abandon their disguises before combat. The court concurred and acquitted him, ruling that deception in and of itself wasn’t against the law unless combat was engaged in while disguised.
Operation Greif is still an intriguing example in the annals of wartime deception. It revealed weaknesses in Allied intelligence and demonstrated how a small unit could have disproportionate disruption if applied wisely. Yet it also highlighted the limitations of such measures—without sufficient resources or a factor of surprise, the most devious schemes can go awry. Skorzeny’s involvement continues to be contentious. To some, he was a war criminal; to others, a mastermind visionary of special forces operations. What is certain is that Operation Greif made a lasting impact, not only in the annals of military history but on the development of the laws of war and the morality of battlefield deception.