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
