The Incident at Condé-Folie On the morning of June 5, 1940, the momentum of the German “Blitzkrieg” faced a literal roadblock. After successfully crossing the Somme under heavy French artillery fire, the 7th Panzer Division’s advance was halted by a mechanical failure. At approximately 7:30 a.m., a Panzer IV (designated number 321) threw its right track while attempting to cross a small bridge over a road near the Paris-Calais railway line.
The disabled 20-ton machine effectively corked the crossing, stalling the armored column behind it.
Leadership from the Embankment Major General Erwin Rommel, the division’s commander, was not miles behind the line in a command bunker. He was on a nearby hill, watching the operation unfold. True to his reputation for direct intervention, Rommel descended the embankment to take charge of the situation personally.
The recovery was grueling. After several failed attempts to tow the tank back onto the bridge, the decision was made to haul the Panzer IV down the steep embankment onto the lower road to clear the path for the rest of the division. It was in the aftermath of this successful, albeit messy, recovery that this informal photograph of Rommel was taken.
The Leica and the Legend Noticeable in the photograph is the camera slung over Rommel’s uniform: a Leica III. This camera was reportedly a gift from Joseph Goebbels, and Rommel used it with the enthusiasm of a professional correspondent.
While most generals relied on official propaganda units (Propagandakompanie) to document their victories, Rommel created his own extensive visual record. His collection of photographs from the French campaign offers a unique, first-hand perspective on the “Ghost Division”. These images weren’t just for personal scrapbooks; they helped build the “Rommel Myth”—the image of an invincible, modern commander always at the heart of the action.
Conclusion The photo of Rommel standing before the very tank that had just delayed his division captures the essence of 1940 warfare: a mixture of high-tech machinery, unpredictable mechanical failure, and the dominating personality of commanders who refused to stay behind a desk. Rommel’s Leica captured the war as he saw it, but this photo captures the man as history remembers him—composed, confident, and always moving forward.
