The Battle of Krojanty was a face-off between the Polish Army and the Germans at the onset
of World War II in 1939. As the story goes, the woefully unprepared Polish cavalry rode
in on horses and wielded lances, jousting-style, to meet German tanks. As anyone who has played
with both G.I. Joe and My Little Pony toys knows, horses are a bad match-up for armored
vehicles, and the Polish forces were soundly defeated.
That story has been repeated for decades. But is it really true, or just a product of
one of warfare’s most powerful types of ammunition—propaganda?
I’m Justin Dodd, and today we’re taking a look at some of the most common misconceptions
about World War II. Let's get started.
When Nazi Germany invaded Poland on September 1, 1939, the Polish stood their ground in
the Pomeranian village of Krojanty and met a German infantry with a cavalry, which, by
definition, involves men on horseback. Polish forces were actually able to force the German
battalion to scatter, but then the Germans summoned machine guns, which turned the tide.
The Polish suffered losses, though the confrontation allowed them time to retreat. By that point,
the Germans had also gathered tanks, and German and Italian journalists arriving on the scene
made some inferences—namely, that the Polish had pitted pony against panzer to their everlasting
regret.
While you can certainly make a sweeping generalization of this story to make Polish forces look foolish,
the fact is that no tanks were on the battlefield during the skirmish and no horses ever actually
charged them. But that narrative was a benefit to Germany, which began circulating the tanks
vs. Mr. Ed scenario in order to portray Polish forces as inferior to a German military on
the forefront of mechanical warfare.
This erroneous narrative undermines the very real contributions made by the Poles during
the war. Polish codebreakers had cracked an early Enigma code, and over 250,000 Polish
soldiers stood side-by-side with the British during battle and were some of the most successful
pilots during the Battle of Britain..[a] Despite these contributions, the Polish have been
saddled with this falsehood for decades.
Saddled. Yep, I just heard it. I'm part of the problem I'm sorry.
The Polish can actually lay claim to a much better and more flattering animal story. In
1942, Polish soldiers moving through Iran befriended a young boy who had a bear cub.
Sensing the boy couldn’t properly care for, you know, a bear, the soldiers agreed to take
him in exchange for some money, chocolate, a Swiss Army Knife, and a tin of beef. Every little boy's dream.
The bear, which they named Wojtek, became a mascot for the 22nd Artillery Supply Company
Wojtek learned to salute, drank beer, smoked, and, in a very 1980s zany
comedy movie scenario, once stole an entire clothesline full of women’s underwear. Wojtek
even discovered a trespasser in camp, who began screaming when Wojtek wandered into
the shower tent.
Later, when soldiers were dispatched to Italy, Wojtek was supposedly made a private and
given a service number. Soldiers there have sworn they witnessed Wojtek carrying ammunition
during battles. He retired to the Edinburgh Zoo, where he lived for several decades. If
you’re going to remember a good Polish war story, make it this one.
The story about Polish horses fighting tanks lent weight to the idea that Nazi Germany
was on the cutting edge of military weaponry and technology. Allied forces that ran up
against German opposition were in for some intimidating displays of pure firepower. The
so-called “Nazi war machine” supposedly produced a dizzying array of machinery designed
to make the enemy explode with devastating efficiency.
Yeah, not really true. Of the 135 German divisions that were operational in the West in May 1940,
only 16 were mechanized—that is, had things like armored vehicles used for transport.
The remaining 119 were on foot or using a horse and cart to move supplies. It was all
very Oregon Trail of them.
Obviously, the Germans did have some destructive assets. Their Tiger tanks definitely outclassed
the American Sherman tanks. But in terms of numbers, that kind of operational sophistication
wasn’t really widespread. The Germans were thought to have built 1347 Tiger tanks, while
the U.S. had about 49,000 Sherman tanks. And while the Tiger tank, was impressive, it
was also prone to malfunction and ate up a lot of fuel, like a giant bodybuilder that
eats too many calories and then just sort of stands there looking impressive.
Of course, if you’re in a foxhole, and a Tiger tank nearly crushes you like a potato
chip, you might come back home with some stories about superior German technology.
It’s a day seared into the minds of virtually every American, even though most of us try
to forget Michael Bay movies. On December 7, 1941, Japanese forces carried out a surprise
attack on the Pearl Harbor naval base near Honolulu, Hawaii. Hundreds of Japanese planes
damaged 20 American vessels and caused the deaths of more than 2400 Americans. It’s
believed this assault motivated the United States to join the fight, even though the
war had been going on for the past two years. President Franklin Roosevelt even declared
war the very next day, December 8. So, it had to have been Pearl Harbor, right?
Sort of. Roosevelt declared war, that’s true, but only against Japan. The United States
didn’t turn its sights on Germany and Italy until those countries declared war on the
U.S. on December 11. That's when Congress declared war on—look, there were a lot of
declarations being tossed around, but it wasn’t a straight line between the Pearl Harbor attack
and fighting Nazis.
Indeed, America had already been fighting Nazis. Months before the attack on Pearl Harbor
the USS Greer was fired upon by a Nazi submarine. The circumstances were complicated, but FDR
soon proclaimed that “when you see a rattlesnake poised to strike, you do not wait until he
has struck before you crush him. These Nazi submarines and raiders are the rattlesnakes
of the Atlantic.” More commonly known as the ‘shoot-on-sight’ speech, many historians
argue it marked an undeclared naval war with Germany. Before Pearl Harbor ever happened
There are a couple of other things people tend to overlook about Pearl Harbor. For one
thing, people remember it as an attack that came completely out of the blue. But tensions
between the U.S. and Japan had been rising for some time prior to December 7. Pacific
military commanders had even sent warnings to Washington about a possible move by Japan.
There wasn’t any concrete information to act upon and no indication that Pearl Harbor
was the specific target, but the U.S. government knew Japan was becoming a looming threat.
Another misconception? Pearl Harbor was the only target that day. It wasn’t. Japan also
attacked areas in the Philippines, Wake Island, Guam, Malaya, Thailand, and Midway. Indeed,
in the first draft of his “Day of Infamy” speech, Roosevelt talked about how “Japanese
air squadrons had commenced bombing in Hawaii and the Philippines,” the Philippines being
largely independent but still American at the time. In editing that became Oahu, and
then “the American island of Oahu” as he was trying to focus the speech as close
to the Mainland as possible.
When we think of World War II, we tend to conceptualize it as being far removed from
American soil. Even Pearl Harbor was 2000 miles from the mainland. You may know that
Japanese Americans were held in so-called “relocation centers” on U.S. soil, a euphemistic
term for the rounding up of 120,000 people who weren’t charged with disloyalty and
had no method to appeal their loss of property and personal liberty, a heinous violation
of their civil rights. But even if we restrict the conversation to enemy combatants who were
legitimate prisoners of war, it’s worth noting that actual German soldiers stepped
foot in the United States.
From 1943 to 1945, over 400,000 captured German soldiers were relocated to the U.S. to live
and work in barracks set up at over 400 sites across the country. One such detention center
was in Hearne, Texas, which was considered prime real estate for prisoners due to its
available space and warm climate.
There was another reason to host German prisoners in America—labor. With so many Americans
sent to the front lines, there were lots of job shortages that Germans could help fill.
But despite the expectation the POWs would work, these camps didn’t operate under the
harshest of conditions. Here, prisoners could sunbathe, play soccer, take warm showers,
drink beer, and have plenty of space to stretch out. Locals who observed Germans being treated
so well even gave the camp a derogatory nickname—the “Fritz Ritz.”
The conditions were so accommodating that, at least in Texas, most prisoners wouldn’t
try very hard to escape. Those that did were usually found strolling down highways, not
really caring all that much if they got caught. By the time the war ended and Germans began
to be sent back home, some had lost the ideology that had fueled them in wartime. A few even
asked to remain in Texas.
The atomic bombs dropped on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki represented a huge
evolution in how wars could—or should—be fought. Obviously, a nuclear weapon that could
decimate such a large area and create civilian casualties introduced a lot of philosophical
and moral issues. American military leaders argued its use ended the war early and
may have spared up to one million American lives. Remember: at least 80,000 people died
in Hiroshima, with 40,000 perishing during the bombing of Nagasaki three days later,
and those numbers don’t even include those that died due to radiation poisoning later.
These are terrible numbers, and some Americans at the time found solace in the fact that
it was the hard price to pay for saving so many Americans. The idea was that if the bombs
hadn’t been dropped, a military invasion of Japan was unavoidable and would have led
to up to a million soldiers perishing. But did it really save that many lives? This one
we have to attribute to some old-fashioned American propaganda.
The bombings had, understandably, rattled the collective conscience of a portion of
the United States. While many Americans supported the use of the bomb, a 1946 New Yorker article
by John Hersey, which detailed the human devastation in Japan, left doubts. So, in 1947, former
Secretary of War Henry L Stimson wrote an essay for Harper’s magazine in which he
justified the bombings by asserting it had saved a huge number of lives. But Stimson
didn’t actually write the essay. Instead, a government employee named McGeorge Bundy
wrote it. And Bundy later admitted that the one million number was pure invention on his part.
There was no data or evidence to substantiate it. He used it because the essay was intended
to alleviate the public’s unease about the bombings. What better way to do that than
to claim thousands of lives lost saved over a million?
The bombings probably didn’t end the war all by themselves, either. While it’s true
Japan surrendered after the attacks, Japanese officials were very concerned with the imminent
threat of Russia targeting them. The Soviets had joined the fray in the Pacific on August
8, in between the two bombings. Some historians believe it was that threat—not nuclear power—that
forced their hand. One man close to Japanese Emperor Hirohito said the bombings did aid
the pro-surrender faction within Japan, so the A-bombs were likely a big reason, but
not the only reason, that Japan accepted defeat.
The Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombing myths have endured. During the 50th anniversary of the
end of the war in 1995, an exhibition at the Smithsonian Institution drew controversy for
reasserting the “one million lives saved” narrative. It was part of the display for
the Enola Gay, the plane that dropped the first nuclear bomb. The exhibit also said
residents of the cities had been warned of the pending attacks with leaflets that
were air-dropped. There were leaflets, but they were dropped in other cities, and only
after Hiroshima and Nagasaki were attacked.
One of the most dramatic components of World War II was the presence of Japanese kamikaze
pilots who intentionally dove their fighter planes into American warships in an effort
to disable or destroy them, even if it meant their own death. Kamikaze, which means “divine
wind,” has come to be associated with any act of self-sacrifice for a perceived noble
cause.
But not all kamikaze pilots were excited about deliberately crashing their airplanes. The
call for kamikaze activity didn’t go out until 1944, as America was rapidly gaining
ground in the pacific. With dwindling resources, it was decided that suicide missions would
be appropriate.
Despite what you may have seen in popular culture, kamikaze pilots were not running
to the front of the line for the job. Many pilots were farm workers still in their teens,
not seasoned military officers. Some had even originally signed up for air service to avoid
violent combat on the ground. Those soldiers did not all of a sudden decide they were happy
to sacrifice themselves before they had even reached the age of 20.
In 2017, the BBC spoke to two surviving kamikaze pilots who were told they would be joining
this most unfortunate unit. One of them, 91-year-old Keiichi Kuwahara, said, quote, “I felt myself
going pale. I was scared. I didn’t want to die.”[l] He was just 17 at the time.
During his mission, Kuwahara’s engines failed and he was forced to turn back. Ultimately,
3000 to 4000 Japanese pilots crashed their planes on purpose, which resulted in roughly
3000 Allied deaths. How many of those kamikaze pilots were true volunteers and how many felt
forced into the role, we’ll probably never know.
While service as a kamikaze pilot was said to be voluntary, many officers were asked
to join in front of a large group by raising their hand. Sure, you could technically not
do that, but the unspoken peer pressure was hard for many Japanese pilots to ignore.
Since we don’t want to end on a down note, I want to remind you that a bear was a member
of the Polish armed forces. And when the 22nd Artillery Supply Company captured a major
German fortress in 1944, their superior officers let them change their uniform badge into an
image of a bear holding an ammunition shell. Wojtek, you’re the hero bear the world could
use right now. Thank you for your service. And thank you for watching. Make sure to subscribe
to stay up to date with all things Mental Floss. I’ll see you next time.