The Rise and Fall of HaupteFeldwebel Hans von Werner

By Bob French

My story begins in 1972 when Sergeant Alexander Johnston Hastings, AJ for short, and myself passed the All Arms Royal Marine Commando course at Lympstone.  AJ was an absolute head-case; quick-witted, very fit and exceptionally intelligent and what he didn’t know about combat communications wasn’t worth worrying about.

          AJ came from Kingston, Jamaica and was proud of it, and like all the men who attended these courses, if didn’t matter where you came from or what rank you were; the only thing that mattered was if you could pass the course. 

          Now Germany, being part of NATO, were permitted to send selected senior non-commissioned officers on the Commando courses and on our course we had Feldwebel Hans von Werner of the German Army Engineer Corps.  I suppose if there was a more arrogant, bombastic, racist man on the course, it had to be von Werner and it didn’t take those on the course long to recognise this.

          Like all arduous military courses where one had to work hard on your own stamina and physical fitness and excel as a team player, von Werner was the exception.  He was a year or two older than most of us and not as fit as he should have been, and as for working as a team member, he was abysmal to say the least.  He also seemed to dislike AJ, not because AJ shone at anything he did, but because he was a cocky Jamaican.

          Down the George Public House outside that camp one night Von Werner, who had had a little too much to drink tried to explain to our Royal Marine instructor that being a von, he was equivalent to our English Dukes and in the Germany Army he was held in great esteem.  Sadly this did little to impress our instructor, who already had his doubts whether von Werner would pass the course, but knew that his masters, to show willingness in embracing the brotherhood of NATO Special Forces, would pass him even if he failed at everything.

          At 0600 hours the next morning as the squad formed up outside the block, ready for our usual five Kilometre trot before breakfast, AJ was informed that for the next three days, he would be our Squad Leader.  We started gently and before long von Werner had begun to drift off the end of the pack and AJ had to keep going back to encourage him.  It was as we climbed up the dunes before heading off across the moors, AJ called a halt and turned and ran back down the dunes to drag our German colleague back up to the pack.  We waited for a good three or four minutes when suddenly von Werner came staggering over the ridge of the dunes, his nose bleeding, closely followed by AJ with a huge grin on his face.

          “What happened to you Werner?” Our instructor called out, but before he could answer, AJ explained that he had fallen over out of sheer exhaustion.

          During dinner that night AJ was asked to explain to our instructor what happened in the dunes.  All AJ said was that whilst trying to encourage von Werner, he had been met with some very foul language particularly about his colour.  At one point he was hysterical so I clouted him.  Our instructor nodded and the matter was forgotten.

          For the next few weeks, von Werner constantly snipped and criticised AJ outside earshot of the training staff, but AJ let it slide.  ‘The German’s behaviour is beneath me; not worth bothering about.’ he told me.

          A couple of weeks later AJ was nominated as Squad Leader again.  Now one of the tasks of the Squad Leader was to pin up Daily Routine Orders in every squad rooms.  What we didn’t know was that AJ had quietly spoken to one of the girls responsible for typing up Daily Routine Orders and explained what he wanted to do.  She was more than happy to assist.  So Friday afternoon a copy of Routine Orders were pinned up in every squad room declaring on the front page that AJ was the Orderly Sergeant the coming Saturday, when in fact it was Feldwebel von Werner.  The language von Werner used when he was dug out of his pit at 1000 hours on Saturday morning still hung-over from a serious nights drinking was unprintable.  The Orderly Officer, some Rodney from the Household Cavalry had walked into von Weber’s room and tipped him out of bed, then took down the Routine Order from the notice board and read it out. 

          “Are you Feldwebel von Werner?  If you are then I suggest you get your ass up and dressed and present yourself to the guardroom in double quick time or I shall recommend that you are returned to your unit in disgrace.” 

          What AJ had done was ask the secretary to produce a second front page to Routine Orders; this page declared AJ as the Orderly Sergeant on Saturday. Then at midnight on Friday, he had gone around and replaced all the fake front pages with the original, stating that the Order Sergeant for Saturday was von Werner.  No surprises when a very irate and hungover von Werner started to rant and rave in the Guardroom that the Daily Routine Orders were wrong.

          Out of the 48 officer and men who attended the Commando course, two officers and fourteen men were awarded the coveted Green Beret.  What didn’t surprise us was that von Werner’s name was amongst those names.

          I was posted to 42 Commando whilst AJ was posted to 3 Commando Brigade who were about to deploy to The Sinai Desert for a year, whilst von Werner was posted to the German Marine Kriege in Kiel, North Germany.

          After a delightful stint at the northernmost part of Norway on artic warfare training I received my orders to report to the NATO Commando Unit in Flensburg and who should be there but AJ with a load of Oppos from 3 Commando Brigade.  That night, once we had settled down with some of the other NATO Special Forces lads, the beers began to flow, followed by the rude jokes.  Suddenly the Mess fell into silence and some of the German sergeants stood.  Now in the British Armed Forces, you only stand when an officer enters the room, so the Brits and American just carried on talking.  AJ suddenly gave out a yell of laughter.

          “My God, they’ve made the turd a bloody Sergeant Major.”

          There standing in his pressed combat fatigues was no other than Hauptefeldwebel Hans von Werner. He ignored the gibes from AJ and after a sharp nod, the Germans’ quickly sat down.  I could see that if AJ wasn’t careful he could end up blotting his copybook, so a couple of us decided to go into Flensburg for a curry.

          Now unbeknown to most of us, AJ had a problem which materialised the following morning and when it did, one never forgot the experience.  AJ had a problem with flatulence, which occurred only when he ate curry.  The stench was so foul that those with a weak constitution would quickly retch or throw-up if they couldn’t vacate the vicinity quickly enough.

          August was approaching and Jim Henderson our Boss, knew that without a challenge or an incentive to keep the men sharp, we would rot and when the balloon went up, we’d not be fit or eager enough for the task, so he asked the Commandant of the NATO Commando Base if he could organise a two mile assault course and shooting competition, run over two days.  The Commandant was over the moon and instantly gave permission. 

          Now unbeknown to us low life, the Commandant had telephone The Deputy Supreme Allied Commander at NATO Headquarters, General Manfred von Clausendorff, the highest ranking German officer in their military and asked if he would present the trophy, thinking that his boys would win the competition. Then he had ordered Hauptefeldwebel von Werner to select the youngest and fittest men under his command and prepare them.  They were to be the best of the best; invincible even and with it the threat that if he failed, there would be consequences.  

          At our prep briefing a few days before the start of the competition, our Boss explained that the Deputy Supreme Allied Commander would be presenting the winning trophy then receive a briefing on the unit’s readiness before returning to Supreme Headquarters in Belgium.  I don’t know why, but I casually glanced sideways and caught that devious look on AJ’s face and I could see that he was planning some dastardly plan to bury von Werner for good.

          The day of the competition was hot; hardly any breeze, but we put up a good time on the assault course coming in second behind von Werner’s boys by four seconds.  The Boss was more than pleased with our efforts and he knew that tomorrow would be our day, as most of the lads held marksman’s badges including AJ who also had the snipper’s badge.  Boss’s last words before closing the team talk that evening was ‘stay in camp tonight and get an early night’.

          The next thing we all see is AJ walking in from the front door of our billet with several take-out tubs.

          “Who’s up for a Vindaloo then?”

          It was a night to remember.  We were joined by the lads from the French and Dutch teams including some of the German Navy girls. The jokes were thick and fast; the singing was totally disgraceful and the drink was plentiful

          The following morning, as expected, the British, French and Dutch teams looked a sorry state, but by the end of the day, we had beaten all-comers’ by a huge margin and according to the Umpires, the British Team had won the competition on points gained in the shoot-off, pushing von Werner’s team into second place.  As we received our crate of beer, I noticed that AJ was missing. 

          AJ was aware that von Werner was responsible for greeting visitors and giving the opening brief before handing over to the Commandant, and had gained access to the Operations Briefing Room before von Werner had time to set up.  When von Werner suddenly entered the room, AJ had just pulled across the curtains that covered the maps on the briefing wall.  AJ had stood there staring at von Werner until he heard voices coming down the corridor, then grinned at von Werner, he left the room via a back door though not before leaving a small present.

          The smell festered for about four seconds until its full and foul smell filled the room.  Von Werner turned as the door opened and then he smelt AJ’s passing gift and froze.  First through the door was General Manfred von Clausendorff, the Deputy Supreme Allied Commander, followed by the Commandant of the NATO Commando Base and his American Deputy plus a couple of senior staff officers.

          Von Werner had nowhere to go and frantically looked around hoping to see AJ who, by this time, had left the Headquarters building un-noticed. That night in the Mess we were joined by one of the Master Sergeants of the US Seals Team who relayed with great detail how the Commandant berated von Werner in front of the Deputy Supreme Allied Commander for not only losing the competition but for the disgusting stench in the room.  We all laughed until he said that wasn’t the last straw.  When the Commandant pulled back the curtains to begin his brief, someone had created large photos of von Werner holding hands with General Clausendorf, with the wording, ‘I Love Manfred.’  That was it, the place fell into hysterics. AJ kept a straight face as though it had nothing to do with him.

          You know, we never saw or heard of Hauptefeldwebel von Werner again.  Some say he was working as a rations clerk down on the Turkish border.          

Copyright Bob French