A memorial plaque featuring the images of a paratrooper and a priest on
an outside wall of St. Cyril and Methodius Church in Prague [PHOTO: Adeyinka
Makinde]
In a society that lives by moral rules, assassination cannot be morally
justified. But when a nation is enslaved by murderers and fanatics,
assassination may be the only means of destroying evil. - Frantisek Moravec,
wartime head of Czechoslovakian military intelligence.
The 1942
assassination of Nazi figure Reinhard Heydrich in Prague while he was acting
Reichsprotektor of Bohemia and Moravia is often described as one of the most
daring missions of the Second World War. Conceived in Britain and executed in
Prague by Czechoslovakian commandos, Operation Anthropoid was the work of the
Special Operations Executive (SOE), the so-called ‘Ministry of Ungentlemanly
Warfare’, that had been charged by Prime Minister Winston Churchill with the
responsibility for setting Nazi-occupied Europe “ablaze”.
Espionage and
sabotage was to be its raison d’etre.
But killing a
high-level official such as Heydrich was not an
easy decision to make. Indeed, both Allied and Axis forces refrained from
specifically targeting chiefs of state for assassination. The killing of
Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto by the United States is the only other
comparable act, although a successful completion of Operation Flipper by
British commandos which had the unstated aim of killing Field Marshal Erwin
Rommel would have rivaled that and the Heydrich action.
The key
factor which would have exercised the minds of the decision-makers, among them
the president of the Czechoslovakian government-in-exile, Edvard Benes, was the
inevitable reprisals that would follow.
The Nazis had
shown no compunction in employing brutal methods of retaliation aimed at
civilian populations in response to partisan acts of sabotage and insurrection,
and this would be true in the aftermath of Heydrich’s death. The destruction of
the village of Lidice amply testified to this. The fate of Roman civilians in
the Ardeatine caves after an ambush of an SS police regiment on Via Rasella in
1944 would later provide a reminder of this form of bloodlust.
Reprisals of
this nature, although contrary to existing rules of international law, were
part of the culture of fascism. The Italian Blackshirts insisted on the
standard three-day orgy of bloody revenge against defenceless civilians in
Addis Ababa following the assassination attempt by insurgents on the
Mussolini’s viceroy, Rudolfo Graziani.
But the
British were insistent that the mission be carried out and the exiled
Czechoslovak leadership, conscious of the largely successful pacification of
the Czechlands by Heydrich’s ‘carrot and stick’ methods, and keen to be seen to
be pro-actively contributing to the resistance effort, were firmly for striking
at the reichsprotektor.
Both Jan
Kubis and Josef Gabcik, the former an ethnic Czech and the latter of Slovakian
origin were selected because of their impressive credentials as soldiers. Both
had been decorated for bravery during the Battle for France. They were warned
that they were unlikely to survive the mission, but accepted without
hesitation.
As is the
case with special forces commandos, they were chosen because of their
intelligence and ability to think on their feet: Their primary order was to
kill Heydrich, but it was left to them to formulate a plan of action. After
several months of planning, they devised it. They noted the lightly protected
Heydrich’s unvaried route into Prague involved traveling through Kobylisy in
the city’s northern suburbs where a sharp bend forced Heydrich’s chauffeur to
slow down. At this point, Gabcik was to rush onto the street and aim for
Heydrich with a Sten sub-machine gun. A nearby tram stop would provide suitable
cover while they waited for the signal of a third soldier, Josef Valcik.
When
Heydrich’s Mercedes Benz convertible finally approached the bend, Gabcik
positioned himself in front of the car but found his gun jammed. After ordering
his driver to stop, Heydrich raised himself to full height in the car and aimed
his pistol at Gabcik. But Kubis threw a bomb at the car, a modified anti-tank
grenade, which exploded and incapacitated Heydrich.
Both men fled
the scene in different directions.
They did so
under the impression that they had failed. However, Heydrich, who had been
rushed to the nearby Bukova Hospital, succumbed eight days later to the
septicaemia caused by shrapnel, seat-spring splinters and fragments of the
horse-hair used to cushion the car’s upholstery.
Gabcik,
Kubis, Valcik and four other paratroopers eventually found refuge in the crypt
of the St. Cyril and Methodius church on Resslova Street in the New Town part
of Prague. But the hideaway was discovered by the Gestapo from a trail of leads
provided a Karel Kurda, a fellow paratrooper who lost his nerve and opted to
collect the 10 million Krona-reward offered by the German authorities.
The church
was surrounded by hundreds of SS troops and when it was eventually stormed,
three of the paratroopers, including Kubis, who were on night watch on the
choir loft, engaged the Germans in a two-hour gun battle that left them dead.
The German
attempts to enter the crypt were futile as were Kurda’s efforts to make them
give up. They made good on their retort that they would never surrender by
ending their lives with their last bullets and poison.
Although the
story was retold in a number of books and films such as Atentat (1964) and Operation
Daybreak (1975) provided rousing reconstructions of the events including
the use of the site of the assassination and the church, it is only in recent
years that memorials have been officially sanctioned. The crypt of the church
now functions as a museum, the National Memorial to the Heroes of the
Heydrich Terror, while the site of the ambush now has a plaque and a
statue.
© Adeyinka
Makinde (2017)
Adeyinka
Makinde is a writer based in London, England.
No comments:
Post a Comment