Category Archives: WW2 German Army uniform

This stuff has marks all over it!

Uncategorized, US WWII Uniforms, WW2 German Army uniform

From time to time we do get some fussing about marks, spots or other unwanted “blemishes”, typically on US fieldgear. This post is to show that many of these markings are necessary and intentional as they are part of the production process, not a flaw or error.

Nearly all gear and garments are marked after they’re cut to show the workers exactly where to place pockets, make folds, straps, sew button and eyelet holes, or to indicate layers and shades. Others appear to be lot or inspector numbers so any flaws can be traced back to their origin and fixed.

The markings are applied in a number of ways. Chalk, colored pencil, ink stamps or stencils may be used to apply them. Many of these marks, particularly the first two, will fade or rub off after the item has been used for a time. Others are more resilient and may survive for the life of the item.

Blue and red pencil marks on original MP40 pouches.
These marked the sew lines to close the cells for each magazine.

Colored pencil marks: This is one of the most common means that WWII gear and clothing were marked for assembly. One can often find traces of them on German field gear, some uniforms, and occasionally on US uniforms. The Germans seemed to have an affinity for green, blue and pink colored pencils.

Original smock with chalk marks…how can they be wrong?

Chalk marks: At times the workers used chalk rather than colored pencils. This specific thing has caused us grief from outraged customers a number of times.

All those squares, U’s, tick marks, dots, dashes and other blemishes were applied at the factory in WWII to show the workers where to sew the parts- not offend the tender sensitivities of those keeping history alive 80 years later.

Stencil marks: US fieldgear is the most common place these are found. They were applied at the same time as the “US” and other markings as this is far faster and more efficient than laying a template over each piece and tracing the design with a pencil or chalk. Being printed with the same ink as the rest of the stencils, these tend to survive even on well-worn examples. We do this too and it’s one that creates the most complaints of “there’s black chit all over my pack”.

Various stamps on the parts of original MP44 pouches.

Number/ letter stamps: These are commonly found on German gear and uniforms. When present, they’re typically 1-3 digits or a letter plus numbers “R26”. Their exact purpose is unknown, but an educated guess is that they indicate the worker or group of workers who made the parts. Others may be inspector numbers.

On a few Waffen-SS items, the manufacturer was identified by number codes, such as “933” on some smocks. This will typically only be found once, such as under a pocket flap.

Shade marks (“226”) were stamped in black ink on all the wool parts of this original WSS M41 Feldbluse to indicate the layer of fabric they were cut from. The cloth wouldn’t have been stacked 200+ layers deep- but there were likely multiple cuts on the same table being done that day, so this might represent 2nd cut, layer 26 or something similar.

Shade marks: Some German wool uniforms are shade marked which is an alternative to shade tags. Garment fabric is stacked and cut many layers deep, and several rolls of fabric may be used to make the spread, making it likely that different shades will be in the same cut.

To avoid garments being assembled with mixed shades, all parts in each layer are stamped with the number of the layer. All the pieces on completed garments should then have all matching numbers which will indicate that they all came from the same layer of cloth in the cut, and should therefore match in shade and color.

Shade tag on a original jump jacket. 09 is likely the layer, 36R the size, and the other two numbers could be any number of things. The info on the tags varies from factory to factory.

Shade Tags: Commonly called “cutter tags”, these serve the same purpose as the shade stamps above. But, in this case, a small paper tag is printed from some sort of gizmo (we’ve never found out what it was) and stapled (occasionally glued) to each part. These often have more information- such as the size of the item, the cut layer, batch number, and some others we are unsure of their meaning.

Typically found on US uniforms, they can be found on some gear. Years ago, I saw a German M44 tunic with them- they almost looked like tiny punch cards and were affixed with glue rather than staples.

Inside flap of original MP44 pouches. We assume the “CON” is the first part of “Continental” (a major rubber and tire maker) as that’s what these flap sides are made from.

Manufacturer marks: One sometimes finds the name, logo, or address of the firm that made the material. These areas are typically on the inside of garments or gear and are considered a very cool plus by collectors.

Guide marks on our cartridge belts.

Our reproductions: We do stencil the location points on our US gear as they make things so much simpler during production. We do not offer “mark free gear”. (A few have really gone ballistic over these.) Some of our German gear does have chalk or pencil marks, and we dooccasionally add some numbers to uniform parts or MP pouches just for giggles.

On a few items, such as Texled slings, I use the month and year (such as “223”) on a small stamp as my own inspection mark to ensure that all steps have been completed. This mimics those found on many original slings.

As for shade tags, I have looked around over the years to see if whatever contraption made them turns up. Wise me (the minority part of my brain) knows those would cause little but trouble due to the “huge holes” the staples would put in the uniforms…but it’d still be cool to do on some level.

Waffen-SS Helmet Covers

WW2 German Army uniform, WW2 German camouflage, WW2 German helmets

This is the last installment on the ins and outs of the most expensive helmet decorations in the universe.

Made from scraps: Over the years, I have read and heard much yammering about covers and caps being made from scraps left over from smock production, attempting to explain the tendency for the use of parts in multiple shades and patterns on most Waffen-SS camo items. There are two reasons this is not likely nor even feasible.

First, most garment manufacturers specialize in one or two types of garments. Cap companies make caps, tent companies make tents (and shelter quarters) and garment companies often make just one thing- such as shirts or jackets or trousers- a few make multiple items, but it’s very common for it to be one. This is for reasons of efficiency as they literally count every second of production time when computing their costs. Thus it’s very probable that these items were not made in the same places.

Second, and more importantly, efficient cutting is one of the most important aspects to garment manufacture. The scraps remaining from cutting smocks and Zeltbahns are minimal- typically just slivers. I know because I’ve personally laid out the patterns and cut them.

Shading: It’s extremely rare to find original covers (or any WWII German camo) on which all parts are the identical shade or even pattern. The logical explanation for the mixed shades is quite simple.

In factories, fabric is cut many layers deep (up to 100) with a power knife or dies. To do a spread on a cutting table typically requires multiple rolls of fabric, and even the same run of fabric will have shade changes. When one has thousands of parts, in multiple shades, from multiple cuts, keeping them in matching color order is a nightmare and was obviously not a requirement.

Markings: Occasionally, one does find legitimate markings on original covers. These are exclusively related to the size of the cover. I have never, ever seen a maker mark, a year nor the much sought after Buffalo Wings stamp.

If marked, one usually finds an Arabic 1, 2 or 3 stamped in black or violet ink, typically toward the rear of the cover. Others have the size range of the liner, such as 56-59. The handful of those I have encountered were stamped on the lower front. Most covers are unmarked.

Profile: Some ado has been made about how the cover follows the profile of the helmet- namely along the lower edge of the sides. This is more a reenactor argument than one among collectors.

There is no one and only here. Some covers follow the lower edge of the helmet nicely (bottom cover), while others are practically “flat” (top cover). This trait is dependent upon how the parts were cut as well as how the worker folded the bottom seam.

Double needle seams: Some WWII covers are made using a two-needle machine. One will see two perfectly parallel rows of stitches on both sides of the fabric on the two seams that join the center panel to the sides. Many covers were also made with normal single need machines which produce one visible row of stitching on one side and two imperfectly parallel rows on the other.

I have never seen true double needle stitching on a reproduction. Not yet anyway.

Note that at least one faker has attempted to recreate the two-needle stitch with a single needle machine. This produces two visible rows on both sides, but it’s impossible to keep them perfectly parallel. Look for railroad tracks- even when they curve, they stay evenly spaced. If one finds an imitation double needle stitch, the item is fake. Period.

Original spring covers are typically folded by rotating the piece rather than sides and ends together. Why? It may be a few seconds faster.

Spring Covers: The rectangular covers that encase the rocker clips vary in width and length and are frequently a different shade or pattern than the main panels. On a few helmet covers I have seen, one or more of the spring covers was flipped green side out.

On early helmet covers, the top of the top of the spring is secured with hand stitched heavy cord to the top of the spring cover, and only the sides are sewn down. On later covers, a sliver of fabric is threaded through the top of the spring, and this is then stitched down along with the top of the spring cover.
One small revelation here- on nearly every original I have fondled, the spring covers are folded by being rotated- side, end, side, end as opposed to doing both ends and both sides. (photo above)This may have been an attempt to save a few seconds of production time.

.

A very well made fake, but the maker cut the fabric on the bias (diagonally to the grain.)

Direction of grain: The weave of a fabric creates a “grain”. In the case of helmet covers, the fibers of the cotton poplin run horizontally and vertically. Standard practice is to cut parts either perpendicularly or parallel to the sides of the cloth. If cut diagonally, the parts tend to stretch and deform when sewn making the ends not meet evenly and so forth. Cutting parts diagonally to the grain is referred to as “on the bias”. Parts that do need to stretch, such as sleeve binding and neck bands are cut this way.

If one sees the grain of the fabric running diagonally on an “original” cover, it’s a bad sign. Although I have seen this on one or two originals, I consider legitimate, only one of their three main panels was cut this way. (This isn’t relevant on the visors.) This is a red flag, but not a complete panacea.
Why would anyone cut a cover on the bias? Either they failed sewing 101, or, most likely they have limited fabric and are trying to fit the pattern to the piece they have. This can happen if one is say working along the edge of a triangle…or when they wanted to utilize a smaller piece of cloth- such as the leftover end of a roll or the good portion cut from an area of damaged fabric. Thus, it’s not impossible to have happened in 1943, but it’s atypical.

This is hard! Sadly, if someone is skillful, has real fabric (a Zeltbahn), and excellent repro clips (or original) it can be very difficult to discern a fake. There is no easy-one-and-only-magic bullet. The determination of yay or nay is made by observing multiple details. I remain undecided on probably 10-20% of the covers I handle.

Summation: As with many things, your first warning is always “too good to be true”. A real cover for $1500 that’s been on ebay for 6 months is not real. (In 25 years I’ve seen a grand total of ONE real cover on ebay- and that was in the last year.)

If it’s oddball (brass clips, drawstring, 44 dot) walk away no matter how good the story. Speaking of stories, never base authenticity on the seller’s yarn. I recommend sticking with reputable sellers with right of return policies even though one will not get a steal deal.
Conversely, if it’s $10 at a yard sale, go for it. Simple.

Trying to lose…

WW2 German Army uniform

The reasons the Allies won WWII have been debated and bandied about for decades and always will be. There are obvious factors, and the not so obvious ones.

Ever since I began making reproductions in the late 1980’s, this one has always stood out. Many enthusiasts are unaware that the Germans stitched much of their equipment by hand, even in 1944-45 when every minute of production time counted. The reasons are not entirely clear, but I assume they were characteristically allergic to abandoning traditional manufacturing methods.

For most of history, garments and gear have been hand stitched. Sewing machines weren’t widely available until the latter half of the 19th Century, but by 1914 the United States and Great Britain were already machine sewing the bulk of their troops’ equipment. This meant largely switching from leather to cotton webbing and canvas for their packs, pouches, and other field gear. Many other militaries continued using leather and retained the older assembly methods.

Nearly all field gear used by the Wehrmacht, is entirely or mostly stitched by hand. K98 pouches, service belts, Y-straps, bayonet frogs, shovel carriers, canteen and equipment straps, holsters, slings, along with nearly all fittings on packs and bags- the list is nearly endless. Even when they did use to webbing, most of those components are still hand stitched.

Saddle stitch

Saddle stitching is definitely sturdier than any machine stitch, and typically better than rivets. However, it takes an infinitely longer amount of time to do.

Example: On average, each short seam one sees- D-ring retainers, the stud disc on an MP pouch, a keeper on a rifle sling, or the buckle on an equipment strap, figure it will take around 5 minutes to sew by hand. As the number of stitches increases so does the labor time.

Bayonet frogs are relatively easy, K98 pouches a bit worse, and folding shovel carriers are a special kind of hell. To attach the straps to a pair of Gamaschen takes around 40 minutes.

One pair of MP44 magazine pouches has about 50 individual hand sewn points. Just to do those takes around 4 hours for a skilled worker, far more for one who is out of practice- it took me 6 hours. Then one still has to assemble all the rest with a machine.

How long would it take to make two Thompson pouches? Maybe 30 minutes?

Keeper and crossovers

How to distinguish hand sewing? First off, this is nearly always done with heavy cord, not regular sewing thread. Next, look for slightly irregular stitches- 99% of the time, the holes are punched by hand with an awl. (It’s funny to read the snorting about “lackluster work ethic” on Amazon reviews from ninnies whining about imperfect stitches on their $12 sling.)

Many parts of this gear simply cannot be sewn by machine- things such as MG tool kits and holsters must be done almost entirely by hand no matter what.

Keepers also can only be done by hand. This holds true on the US M1907 and BAR slings, although the loop end is usually machine sewn on those. Leather holsters are usually hand sewn regardless of nationality.

Note that when one sees “crossovers”, where the worker has twisted the thread and crossed over to the next set of stitches, this is definitely hand done.

One does encounter machine work as well on German field gear. Most of the seams on the canvas areas are done by machine, but fittings are attached by hand about 95% of the time- even if they’re made from webbing instead of leather. Occasionally belt “tongues” are machine sewn, some G43 pouches (look for presser foot tracks), and I’ve seen one or two straight shovel carriers that appeared to be. Other items definitely exist but they’re in the minority.

Some will say that this was due to the Germans having so much “free” labor. The cost of that labor is irrelevant- time was the problem here. Those same workers could have made many times more equipment had it been designed for machine sewing.

It will always boggle my mind that they persisted with such archaic, time consuming production methods. Production of larger equipment such as aircraft and armor was dramatically streamlined as the War went on, but very few changes were made to the soldiers’ gear with respect to making it more “mass production friendly”.

For years I’ve meant to attempt to calculate and compare the labors hours required to equip an American soldier and a German one. I suspect the difference would be 3-4 times higher for the Wehrmacht. Not that this alone cost Germany the War, but it was one more nail in the coffin.

As for reproductions: Being hand sewn can, on one hand, be a boon for home based businesses since a couple of needles, an awl and a spool of cord is a bit cheaper than an Adler 205 walking foot machine.

However, that’s offset due to one having only so many hours in a day…plus the fact that the machine really can’t do much correctly. Over the past 25 years, like many others, I tried every which way to find a means to use it to sew German gear- but it just never looks right. The best one can usually do is use it to punch the holes, then go back and stitch by hand.

Last thought: When you look at reproduction gear, keep in mind that a skilled worker can make only 2-3 Luger holsters per day; and I suspect they will be crippled with carpal tunnel by the age of 45. Even on those gems made with orange leather that smell like the wrong end of a hyena- some poor soul spent 4+ hours of their life hand sewing it for a fraction of the pay that the grumpy barista that made your latte gets.

Smock Cutting Facts

WW2 German Army uniform, WW2 German camouflage


As many readers are aware, the field of German WWII camouflage is overpopulated with countless experts (Wizards) who pump out facts on social media with little or no experience with originals much less actually making this stuff.

One of the oldest fairy tales is that caps and helmet covers were made from scraps and leftovers from cutting smocks and shelter quarters. This is highly unlikely, to the point I’m comfortable putting it in the total fantasy category.

When one cuts smocks and shelter quarters (which I have personally done), there is little left aside from slivers. First off, factories do not cut garments one by one with scissors. The cutter determines how long a stretch of cloth they need for what they are cutting, then the fabric is rolled out and stacked in multiple layers. The pattern is laid or drawn on the top layer, and cutting is done with a power knife. Small parts are sometimes cut with dies on a press. With this cotton poplin camo fabric, it’s possible to cut up to 50 layers comfortably.

As a side note, regarding the shading of most camouflage items. The cutting tables in factories are often dozens or hundreds of feet long. Fabric typically comes on rolls of no more than 100 yards (to keep it manageable) which means each roll may only yield a few layers in a spread. Thus, one spread could be made up of 5-10 different rolls, possibly in multiple shades or patterns of cloth. Hence the mix-match on WWII items.

Keeping how cutting is done in mind, with regards to shelter quarters, if one has had second grade geometry it’s not too difficult to envision how two triangles, joined at the hypotenuse, make a rectangle. That takes up almost the entire width of the cloth (the Germans had a about 5cm extra on each side). All that remains from cutting Zelts is narrow strips or slivers on the side. This explains why the borders and neck flaps are so often different from the Zeltbahn– they were cut separately.

But smocks?? Pretty much the same situation. Above is a photo of the cutting of the “Long” sizes we just did. Note that original fabric is about 6 inches narrower than ours is, so the ends of the smock sleeves go all the went to the edge, leaving even less than what one sees here.

With the smock body being a large cross shape, there remains space in the four corners of the cutting block, giving just enough space to yield the sleeves, cuffs, and plackets. Camo loops and waist bands would have been cut separately in long strips for efficiency which is why they typically don’t match the smocks at all on originals. The leftovers are typically odd shaped and too short to be useful for much of anything.

And yes, of late we really have been using MP44 mags for pattern weights simply because they work well.



Neck bands: This is one piece that cannot be efficiently cut with the smocks at all. How can I know such a thing? Simple. Just like sleeve binding and collars, neck bands are cut on the bias (diagonally). Otherwise, they will bind and end up puckered and wrinkled when the workers try to sew them around the neck hole. They are not cut in a “C” shape. This is basic garment sewing 101.

For incredulous types, the photo above is of an original smock- one can actually see that the grain of the fabric of the band is running diagonally. Moreover, note that it has been made from two pieces of fabric and that the seam joining them is also diagonal. Why? Again, simple geometry. I’ve had original smocks with neck bands made from as many as 3 pieces.

I’ve learned this both from making the things as well as fondling and loving on original smocks for the past 30 years. It’s basically forensics, not something I pulled out of my rear or determined by zooming in on photos online.

German Helmet Cover Fit

WW2 German Army uniform, WW2 German camouflage, WW2 German helmets

The two original covers used for our patterns.

German camouflage is one of the most popular categories of militaria both in the collector market as well as among reenactors/ living historians. With originals being some of the most expensive clothing in the universe, knowing what’s what can potentially mean thousands of dollars made or squandered for those attempting to hoard it. It also means that many people don’t have access to the authentic examples aside from images on the internet and in reference books.

Naturally, this has led to much expertise posted online being based on such photos or, amusingly, examination of reproductions that were supposedly copied directly from originals. When one has actual WWII examples in hand, it’s often obvious that there might have been some exaggeration somewhere along the line.

Due to some enthusiasts being loyal fans of particular brands of reproductions, we occasionally get lectured on the shortcomings of ours due to them not matching up to this or that other reproduction.

This is easily refuted by showing the old junk I copied, something rarely seen elsewhere- which actually surprises me a bit. As a bonus, I know that many others enjoy these displays and keeps the spam less boring than simply “here’s our stuff- please buy it.” Ugh.

OK, helmet cover details. WWII Waffen-SS covers have a somewhat distinct fit. Unless one has made helmet covers (or hats) it’s probably not obvious how a very small difference (like 1cm) in the size of a panel or a minute change in a radius can make a night and day difference in the end result. In other words, it’s much harder to get this right than it appears.

The photo above shows the two original covers used for our penultimate patterns we now use. The size 3 is a late War type with every time saving change possible used in its construction. The size 2 is a typical early example.

I made my first helmet cover in 1988, using a reproduction I cut up for the pattern- one that, luckily, turned out not to be not too far off of the originals. Years later when I became a militaria merchant, I tweaked that pattern down a bit to create a size 2.

The three main panels of a cover

As time went by and I began to acquire original covers, I noticed that they had a better fit than ours. I could see that the center panel was narrower and more flared at the ends than mine. So, I set out to perfect the pattern based on actual WWII covers.

My pattern-making training is largely by experience- decades later I’m still only a novice. This, combined with originals being too expensive to disassemble meant endless trial and error. It turned out to be be far more difficult to reverse engineer the curves of the center panel and particularly the forward faces of the sides than I dreamed. At one point I was seriously contemplating disassembly of a damaged size 2 that I had. (Not pictured).

Would anyone notice? Probably not. Would we sell more if I got the curve right? Doubtful. It just triggered my side of the spectrum and drove me nuts. Luckily for the damaged cover, after a dozen or more tweaks and test covers, we got it right.

The center panel is notably flared at the ends. On WWII covers, the center panel is about 9-10cm wide at the top of the helmet and it broadens out to 19-22cm (depending on the size) where it meets the visor. The side panels are far more squarish than one might expect.

As stated above, a small change can wreck the cover- if the seam allowance isn’t observed (1.5cm) or the cutter slices off too much of a panel the cover will instantly become one size (or more) smaller than intended.

This is why we sew the blasted things here- the overseas contractors can make a nice tunic, but they jack up helmet covers every try.

Yes, originals do vary some but not as much as one might assume considering the circumstances under which these were likely made. Despite WWII covers, particularly the late ones, having rather erratic visors, spring covers and camo loops, with stitching that often looks like chit, the manufacturing tolerances where it counted appear to have been adhered to pretty closely.

One punch = 30 panels

For more insurance, we went the extra mile and had cutting dies made for helmet covers (and camo caps.) This prevents any cutting errors and keeps the parts totally consistent year after year.

Was this done in WWII? There’s no way to know, but it’s been fairly common practice at sewing factories for over a century so I consider it likely. It can save several minutes per item which is an eternity for a garment contractor.

Feldblusen: Suitcoat Shoulders explained

WW2 German Army uniform

The skirt on a properly patterned Feldbluse does not fly up when one raises their arm(s) to aim, salute, climb or fasten the rear clip on their helmet cover. (Texled tunic shown.)

What are “Suitcoat Shoulders”?

This is the name given some years ago to the tendency for the skirts of many reproduction Feldblusen to ride up, sometimes almost to one’s chest, when the wearer raises their arms. Originals do not do this – they were designed as a field/ combat uniform, and they allow a full range of motion.

The name “suitcoat” came about due to the apparent cause of this- many reproductions, both old and new, at all ends of the price spectrum, appear to have based their patterns on a generic suitcoat design, not a WWII tunic.

But, but, but…they say they used an original! Maybe for some of the pattern yes. However, if the uniform behaves like Marylin Monroe’s dress on a subway grate when one tries to reach upward, the maker either started with a suit pattern or simply didn’t design it properly. The problem lies in the shape and cut of the armhole, sleeve, and shoulder area. It need not be off by more than an inch or two to cause a train wreck.

Here’s a decent article that explains it in some detail.

Other random facts

 

Some manufacturers…

To date, I have found at least one manufacturer that made uniforms for the Luftwaffe, Waffen-SS, and Heer. G.g. Schwert in Bamberg. (They also made Panzer tunics.)

Note that this is the only legitimate VA contract M36 I have ever found.

Georg Possner also made Heer and SS Feldblusen.

Are chest pockets supposed to be angled like Jungle Fatigues?

Yes, just not as dramatically. The specification is a tilt of 1.5cm from one side to the other.

On some tunics, particularly late War examples such as Erbsentarn, it can get tough to even discern this as things were getting sloppy, but they are always slightly rhomboidal in shape.

Why? It’s a tailoring trick. When worn, the curve of one’s chest makes them appear level. If the pockets were rectangular, it will appear that they angle upward toward the center.

The pockets are too short/ long/wide!

The chest pockets are supposed to grade with the size of the tunic. Wartime tailoring guides specify which width corresponds to each chest size and which height for each body length. Measuring original uniforms proves this was one the few specifications to have been routinely ignored. It’s possible to measure 5 different original tunics of the identical size and find 5 different size chest pockets between them.

Heer tunics tend to use the smaller sizes of pockets no matter how large the uniform, while those made by the Waffen-SS (as opposed to those assembled for them by “civilian contractors”) tend to use the largest pockets no matter how small the tunic.

Hip pockets were specified to be one size. However, originals vary in height, width, and taper about 10%…which is also the approximate deviation I’ve found on US WWII uniforms. Must be a conspiracy amongst the worldwide garment cabal.

How does one know where to put the pockets?

Chalk marks or drill holes. The paper patterns have pre-punched holes (above) for the corners of the pocket flaps and pockets, as well as the start and end points of each dart. This can be laid over the cut panel and a chalk pencil used to mark them.

A drill?

Yes. Fabric drills have a hollow needle and are used when one has cut stacks of fabric, thus multiple garments (up to 50 is manageable) and this is far more efficient than chalk marking every single piece. The holes are small and are covered up by the pockets or rolled closed in the darts.

Smock Sleeves

WW2 German Army uniform, WW2 German camouflage

Some (or many) may shake their heads at some of these posts. Do people really care about tunic pocket angles and smock sleeve diameters? Yes, there is a pretty diehard group of uniform enthusiasts who get amped up over such things. Is this only in regard to German militaria? Not really. There are niches like this in the world of GI stuff as well.

German camouflage is extremely popular and much of the information regarding it on the internet is interesting to put it mildly. “Wishful thinking” or “their own truths” would be a better describe much of it. Occasionally giving the can a kick with some photos of originals and tape measures is informative and good sport to boot.

Smock sleeves

Today’s exciting fact regards the size of smock sleeves. (Get the popcorn out.) Those on most reproductions are too narrow- they’re not baggy enough.

I discovered this in the early 1990’s when I acquired an original overprint smock which I wore to countless events for the next 15 years. The first time I tried it on, the size of the sleeves stood out immediately- I had total freedom of movement and they did not pull at all. Even with a greatcoat on.

At 5’10”, 190lbs I was a bit larger than the average guy in 1943, but the smock was totally comfortable with room to spare. I had what were considered the best reproduction smocks at that time (today as well) and none had sleeves as baggy or long. I knew the manufacturer and asked repeatedly for a repro with sleeves like the original but that went nowhere. It drove me nuts.

Over the years, both due to us manufacturing such things, as well as my own nerdy obsessions, I have measured just about every original smock I have come in contact with. At one point I started a spreadsheet, but there was so little deviation I decided that was pointless. I’ve owned about 30 smocks since then, so adding in the others that were measured at shows and in collections I’m likely over 100 by now. They’re very consistent.

Poplin vs. HBT

Whether M38, M40, M42, Splinter or Marsh, the circumference of the arms on originals is 50cm. When measured flat, that’s 25cm or about 10 inches (9.84 to be exact).

Most of the smocks were Waffen-SS poplin types so I was checking this at the forearm seam. For HBT smocks, that point is about 20cm above the cuff seam. Once in a while, one sleeve (rarely both) will be a bit less, but I think 9.25″ was the smallest, and that can be chalked up to really sloppy sewing or cutting.

I currently have 11 original smocks and every one of their 22 sleeves are almost exactly 25cm wide.

For comparison, original Feldblusen sleeves run 7-9 inches (depending on size) measured in the same location.

Most reproductions are 8-9 inches, occasionally less. Yes, one can very much tell when they try one on. Regarding reproductions, the worst offenders are the ones from ebay that come in 5 sizes. However, it is very rare to find any reproductions that are as large as the originals- even the “creme de la creme” of repro pullovers are usually smaller. Either they copied a copy (that was “just like an original”) or perhaps they had a real one, but the pattern maker was incompetent.

Why do some smocks have sleeve seams at the shoulder? Simple. Those are almost always the ones made from HBT (Drillich) fabric. That cloth was much narrower making it impossible to put the seam at the forearm.

Drillich cloth width:

The pieces of original HBT I have measured range from 30-34 inches in width. By comparison, the cotton poplin used for Zeltbahns, Waffen-SS smocks and so forth was 53-55 inches in width.

Assumedly with every loom in central Europe making fabric for the German military at this time, a bit of variation is understandable. Did wide Drillich exist? Hell if I know. Ask Elon for a ride in his time machine and let us know.

Planetree

WW2 German camouflage

 


“Plane Tree” Camouflage
All items pictured on this page are original, WWII production except the tree and the SPW (it’s partially original).

During WWII, the German military developed, produced and utilized well over a dozen unique camouflage designs for their troops. The majority of these designs were created and worn by the SS formations. Today, authentic wartime examples are some of the most popular and expensive pieces in the military (and camouflage) collecting world.

The “Plane Tree” patterns are among the most famous, yet the reason for their design and specific purpose are often poorly understood. Their large size also makes them quite difficult to accurately reproduce. This article will seek to clear up some of the myths and mysteries regarding these patterns.

The Name: To date, despite quite a bit of archival, wartime SS correspondence regarding their patterns being available, the actual names or designations of the various camouflages have not been found. All names currently used to distinguish the various patterns are late 20th century collector inventions.

In the case of Planetree, the name refers to the significant similarity to the camouflage pattern and the bark of Planetrees, known by that name in Europe and “sycamore” in the USA.

Development: Shortly after the SS-VT units were established, one of the battalion adjutants conceived the idea to create camouflage jackets and helmet covers for the new troops. His idea was accepted and in 1935, a man named Linnekogel was hired to oversee the project. The design team quickly rejected the geometric patterns then in use by the Army as ineffective and decided to create their own. However, before much work was done, Linnekogel died, and Professor J.G. Otto Schick was hired to fill his position. Schick, in turn, hired Adolf Schmid, an artist who had previously worked for the German Army as his assistant. Together they would create some of the most famous and effective camouflage designs in history.

Schick’s team spent considerable time in the field, studying and testing colors and shapes to determine the best combinations to break up outlines and conceal troops. Manufacturing firms were consulted to explore all available printing methods, and great effort was expended developing the fabric. The goal was to recreate the appearance of natural foliage as closely as possible, on a tough and hard wearing fabric.

During their research, the team determined that the most effective design would have a natural, irregular flowing form, without repetitions. These goals, random flow and avoiding repetitions, would come to dominate nearly every one of their designs in the coming years. The Planetree patterns would actually be the penultimate designs, with those following them seeking to maintain the effect while being more efficient to produce.

Size: Nearly all camouflage patterns are designed for rotary printing, and their size is thus restricted by the circumference of the available rollers- typically 18″-24″. US WWII “Frogskin” camouflage is only 14 inches. The numbered Plantree patterns are entirely different animals- they have “repeats” of 85 inches, or just over 7 feet. This mades them very difficult to produce- both in 1940 and today.

 

One repeat. One.


Planetree Patterns- purpose made: The initial patterns appeared in 1936-1937. Two classes of patterns were made- Zeltbahn patterns (the numbered designs) and un-numbered smock patterns; Block, Lateral and later, Polyspot. For many years it has been known that the numbered patterns were designed specifically for shelter quarters with the cutting pattern for the triangular main panels actually incorporated in the camouflage design. The repeat of is nearly 7 feet long- exactly enough to cut two Zeltbahn panels. However, my assertion about the other patterns is “new”. Block and Lateral patterns are 30 inches long- exactly the measure of a smock from shoulder to hem. Connect the dots. The Germans always have a system- Ordnung!

 

SS-VT Zeltbahnen 1940-41 Planetree 1-2 Planetree in action, as designed

Numbered Planetree Patterns: There are three similar but unique designs in this group, described by the numbers incorporated in the patterns. 1-2, 3-4, and 5-6. Each one has a different series of patches, spots and blobs, and each uses a slightly different color palette. However, they are designed so that, no matter how the shelter quarters are buttoned together, the camouflage patterns will interlock and continue to flow. Above and below- note how the camouflage interlocks with that on the adjoining panels.

 

As designed, any number of planetree shelter quarters will interlock and “flow”

 

 

The Designs: The concept is actually ingenious and fairly simple. Each Numbered Planetree pattern actually consists of TWO patterns. Each is roughly 5ft x 7ft, and incorporates a series of dark blocks in a “Z” shape to indicate the cut lines for two Zeltbahn panels. Due to geometric rules, this creates two left or two right panels, necessitating a second pattern to yield the opposite sides. Each pattern has two numbers, one each on opposite corners 1 and 2, 3 and 4, or 5 and 6. These are on both right and left patterns and are used to help the workers doing the printing and those cutting the cloth keep track of which they’re working on.

 

1-2 Spring Colors 3-4 Fall Colors 5-6 Spring Colors
1-2 Fall Colors 3-4 Spring Colors 5-6 Fall Colors

 

Overprint- saving time: By 1943, the Germans had found a way to speed up production of the planetree patterns. Using rotary printing, they applied the two lighter colors from oakleaf and blurred edge, then flat screen printed the dark color over these. (Occasionally this was done in reverse- “underprinting”.) All three numbered patterns were utilized in this way. Of note, the diagonal cutting blocks were moved apart and staggered, like a checkerboard, likely as this presented a more obvious line that the sometimes faint dashed lines. It’s very common to find these shelter quarters assembled with no regard for the assembly design.

 

Overprint 1-2 Spring Colors

Overprint 1-2 Fall Colors

 

 

.


Cutting the panels: For the illustration below, only the key parts of the dark
screen are present, to show how the cutting lines for the right and left
Zeltbahn panels are actually incorporated into the camouflage design, and how
they are designed to be cut. At some point (42-43?) the diagonal dashed lines
were removed and the blocks staggered to indicate the cut line.

 



To make a Zeltbahn as designed, required two rolls of fabric. One with left panels in Spring colors, and right panels in Fall colors, and another with right Spring and left Fall. Each print uses three colors- a 4th is created by two of the others overlapping.

The pattern was designed in such a way that all four Zeltbahn panels were unique- in other words, one could have created the right pattern, then simply inverted it (mirror image) to make the left pattern. Likewise the two triangles created by each pattern could have been identical, but they are not. Therefore, each Planetree pattern can result four uniquely different designs. For example the Plantree 5-6 pattern can yield Zeltbahns numbered 5-5, 6-6, 5-6, or 6-5. Thus, the three Planetree patterns potentially create shelter quarters in not three, but twelve unique camouflage patterns.

 

When assembled as designed, the numbers are located toward the bottom center of each Zeltbahn. In order for the camouflage to interlock when buttoned to other shelter quarters, they need to be cut and sewn following the cut lines in the pattern.

 

Planetree 1-2 Zeltbahn assembled with two
left side panels, with the left one not even cut
properly.		 Same Zeltbahn at left, Fall side “Overprint” 1-2 made from right and left
panels, but the cutting lines were dis-regarded

Assembly- didn’t always go as planned: Inevitably, the contractors did not always follow the designers’ intentions when cutting and sewing Zeltbahns. It is not uncommon to encounter original Zeltbahns which were not assembled “as designed”. Hence I did not use the term “incorrectly” to describe this condition. Somewhat ironically, when this occurs, the regular arrangement of the cutting blocks is actually detrimental to the concealment effect as they tend to stand out.

Why three patterns? The answer, although not documented, appears to be self evident. Randomization and nearly total elimination of any visible repetition in the patterns. In one of the references in Mike Beaver’s book, it says that Schick was given free reign to create the best camouflage possible, irregardless of cost since lives were at stake. The number and style of these patterns basically means that among a platoon of troops wearing planetree smocks and helmet covers, the chance of any two men having identical garments is nil. Brilliant, ingenious, but a logistical nightmare.

Printing: Rotary printing had recently been developed, but it was not possible to create and utilize rollers with a circumference of 7 feet. The only way to achieve Schick’s goal of a pattern large enough that did not repeat on the Zeltbahn, was via the much slower method of flat screen printing. Rotary printing is infinitely more efficient- one can print thousands of meters per day as opposed to perhaps a few hundred at best with the hand operated flat screen method. Even today, the largest rollers available are about 24 inches in circumference. Once the War began, and the Waffen SS exploded from 18,000 troops to hundreds of thousands, rotary printed patterns had to be developed in order to keep pace with the supply needs. Despite this, the Planetree patterns appear to have been produced until the end of the War.

Rainbows of colors: All original German camouflage patterns exhibit a wide range of shades. Yes, there were surely color standards. However, the dyes were likely hand mixed, and even a slight deviation from the color formulas can cause notable variations. On some examples, it’s apparent that the dyes were too thin- with substantial bleeding around the edges of the colors, or extremely pale shades when too little pigment was in the mix. Additionally, as the War went on, the fabric quality varied. Changes in the fiber content as well as poorly prepped fabric can cause a number of printing irregularities.

 

Note the substantial differences just in the numbers.

 

Variations in the pattern- hand painted screens: If one compares two camouflage of the same pattern, small variations in the pattern will be apparent. This is due to the screens
being made manually with drawing fluid. Essentially, the reverse of each color was painted onto the fine mesh to create as stencil. Occasionally, on samples where the dye was the proper viscosity and the screen pressed tightly on the fabric, one cane actually see the brush marks at the edge of the color blocks made when the worker was creating the mask.

Thus, even two apparently identical items, same maker and year,
will show minor differences in the pattern if you lay them right next to
each other and compare point to point. They tend to be 85-95%
identical, but some spots are bigger or smaller, a few may be missing
and the cut blocks sometimes aren’t staggered very much. Roller patterns
are the same way. This is also why 44 dot has “big & small” dots.
Different screens created by different hands at different times. Hans painted outside the lines while Franz went inside the lines = a substantial variation in small spots.

Also, the ink was sometimes thinned more causing more bleed- ie:
fatter numbers softer edges on the blobs and so forth. Like the top
zelt in the pic below.

 

 

Transitions: In addition to the variations with individual screens, the patterns were constantly being changed, adjusted and improved. There is a distinct trend of breaking up the larger color blocks as time went on. Pre-war renditions of the patterns have larger areas of open color with no blobs or spots. That said, when compared year over year, the lineage is very clear.

 

The little crosses: Each flat screen pattern incorporates register marks- small crosses to allow the printers to align the screens so the colors overlap properly. They are typically positioned in the middle and on each side of the artwork.

 

Planetree 5-6 diagonal cut
lines.		 Planetree 1-2 bottom & diagonal
cut lines, plus register marks.		 Later checkerboard diagonal
cut lines, Overprint 1-2.

Cutting: The design of the shelter quarter panels was incorporated into the camouflage patterns. The bottom lines were indicated by staggered blocks and the diagonal edge used dashed lines. On later screens, this was often changed to staggered blocks as well.

 

The classic miss- the screens
weren’t aligned quite right from
one repeat to the next.

Misses: Often one observes white lines or streaks on period Planetree camouflage. These are simply due to the screens not having been placed perfectly over the fabric during printing, leaving a small area without dye. It most frequently occurs at the joints where each repeat meets (along the top or bottom “cut blocks” but can also occur along the sides or anywhere the fabric had a crease or fold.

 

. .
. Dribble, dribble, messy, messy…. .

Drips & Smears: When the workers lifted the screens to move to the next panel, dye often dripped off the bottom leaving dibbles on the fabric. Likewise, the screens occasionally had ink spilled on the bottom surface which was then transferred to the next panel, leaving a vairety of smudges or smears.

Screw ups: Occasionally, screen errors are encountered. These range from colors swapped between screens (which leads to some very odd looking prints), to wrong panels or numbers on the reverse sides and, in several cases, different patterns being printed on the Spring and Fall side. These were done by hand, likely under pressure and possibly by workers who were less than motivated.

The other Planetree Patterns- No numbers: There are four other “Planetree” patterns without numbers and cut lines. The first two are Lateral and Polyspot (early & late variants). Although also printed with flat screens, their repeat is much smaller- about 30 inches- which just happens to be the distance from shoulder to hem on a smock. Given the effort put into the numbered designs to avoid a repeat on shelter halves, I find the size of these patterns to be too convenient to be a mere coincidence. I’m confidant that these designs were designed to be used for smock production.

 


Lateral, Spring Colors
Polyspot, (Late) Spring Colors
Un-numbered 5-6, Spring Colors

Lateral, Fall Colors
Polyspot, (Late) Fall Colors
Un-numbered 5-6, Fall Spring

Lateral appears as early as 1937 (as small parts on numbered Planetree Zeltbahns), and early style helmet covers (usually with hand tacked spring tops). One or two M38 smocks are known to exist. I consider it highly likely that some complete shelter quarters were manufactured in Lateral (due to it’s presence on shelter quarters) but to date, no surviving examples have been photographed.

Polyspot is likewise rather rare, with a handful of smocks, covers, caps and shelter quarters known to exist. All of these appear to be of 1940-43 manufacture.

The third pattern retains the large repeat of the numbered designs, yet it dispenses with the blocks and cut lines entirely. It’s appearance is strikingly similar to the 5-6 Planetree pattern- thus collectors refer to it as “Un-numbered 5-6”. The pattern does not repeat meaning it’s also 5ft x 7ft. I suspect this was an attempt to create a design that didn’t require right and left patterns and all the special cutting efforts while still maintaining the camouflage effect. It does not interlock with the other patterns. Likewise uncommon, a handful of original examples of M42 smocks, shelter quarters and helmet covers exist

Garments: All of the planetree patterns, both with and without numbers, were used in the manufacture of caps, helmet covers and the famous Tarnjacken. The original intent may have been to reserve the numbered patterns for shelter quarters but it obviously did not last long. The cut lines and blocks were of no concern when making garments and the fabric was stacked and cut like any other.

 

Many “camo experts” said these
didn’t happen. Nothing better than
original proof to the contrary.		 Authentic Polyspot Zeltbahn, from the
grommet number and type this is mid-War
production, just like surviving caps, covers,
and smocks.

The reverse was also true: Although uncommon, lateral and polyspot “smock” patterns were used to manufacture shelter quarters. A handful of polyspot examples exist today, and the presence of lateral parts on many early production pieces means it was present in the tent factory(s) making the chances it was used for shelter quarters very likely. (One of the oldest and most experienced collectors I know swears he had one in the 70’s but cannot find the photos.)

Remember, statistically, only a tiny fraction of the WSS camouflage made during the War survived- and the pre-War items are nearly non-existent. Production was very limited at that time ( a few thousand pieces) and it’s likely that 99% (or more) of the camouflage items produced in 1937-39 did not survive the War, and many variations will remain unknown. 

It was awful.

WW2 German Army uniform
During my junior year of high school, in 1984, we did an exchange with a Kreisgymnasium in Germany. Their students came to us during the school year for several weeks, and that June was my first trip overseas.
My exchange student, we’ll call him Andreas, had already visited us and I nearly cancelled my trip as I really didn’t want to deal with him again. If one looked up “creepy” in the dictionary, they’d find his photo- when he walks in the room, the goldfish stop swimming and all that jazz. The guy used borrow my bike and vanish for the entire afternoon- he finally explained that he was pedaling all the way downtown to go to “Bwoo Movies”. (Blue Movies was half block long porn shop and peep show extravaganza on W. Liberty Street.)
When I arrived in Frankfurt, his father picked me up at the airport
His dad, Hermann, was as German as one could get- alpine hat, Trachten jacket, etc.. He was also a dead ringer for the aged Dr. Mengele (I feel awful making this comparison but it’s true). The drive home was about an hour, and his English was as rough as my German at the time (3 years of high school), but things turned out just fine.
About 2 minutes into the drive, he apologizes for his lack of fluency and explains that it’s been a few years since he learned English in the HJ. Seeing an opening, I produced a photo of myself in an LAH uniform with an MP40. His excitement perplexed me a bit, but then he explained that he had been a Fallschirmjäger in the War and he had no idea Americans did things like that (reenacting.) Things were looking up.
Andreas’ mom was a very tall, rather large lady, about half her husbands’ age, who knew zero English. She was incredibly sweet, a fantastic cook, but she had trouble with the letters R and L- so the phrase “Wowwin! Aufstehen!” is forever burned in my memory. His parents made for a very unique couple and I never found out exactly how they got together.
His sister, Michelle, was the same age as I, thankfully quite normal and spoke my language better than I did- she became my safe zone.

Over the next few weeks I got a much better handle on my German, suffered horrible jet lag, tried to be polite and act impressed with Andreas’ comic book collection (while trying not to touch anything in his room), got fat on Mom’s cooking, and had a guided tour of all the historical sights in the area from Hermann. His dad basically adopted me.

The house backed up to the Teutoburg forest, and the old paratrooper wore my 17- year-old-cross-country-running-ass out hiking the trails. The one slang expression that I never forgot was “Marsch, marsch bis dem Arschwasser kocht!”
 

We also spent time going over the battlefield where the Germanic tribes defeated three Roman legions in 9 B.C..

Although I was deathly curious, I had opted to leave the topic of WW2 alone. He frequently alluded to the War, but it was only in passing and never in any detail. Finally, one afternoon toward the end of my trip, he called me into the kitchen. On the table were his awards and a few photos, and he said “I’ll tell you some things.”

He happily recalled his time in HJ, his basic training, and jump school. This was probably half of the discussion, but, sadly, I don’t recall much of it.
Then he said “Kreta” and his demeanor changed completely- he went from enjoying old memories to deathly serious. He said he’d only been with his unit a few days when they jumped on the island. All he would say about the battle was, “they were ready for us. Everybody died. It was awful. Absolutely awful.”
Later he talked about Africa, (Ramcke Brigade) and he relaxed a lot. He dwelt mainly on the environment there- the heat, the cold, the filth, the smell, but above all…the flies. He emphasized that no photo or film can convey the misery inflicted by swarms of thousands of flies. There were several suicides and everyone thought that the “insect mania” was a contributing factor. In Tunisia he was evacuated after being injured in a car wreck. “Driving your car into a tank is bad. A tank driving into your car is worse.”
Cassino was his final action. Aside from describing the battle as “incredibly hard”, he would only relate how it ended for him. At the time of his capture, during the pull back from Monastery Hill, he was carrying one of his badly wounded friends over his shoulder- and he explained that the only reason the Poles didn’t shoot them was because the injured paratrooper was unconscious and totally naked. As his identity was uncertain, and the Poles were in a hurry, they feared he could be one of theirs and didn’t want to detach any men to carry him- so they let them go. Hermann ended up in England as a POW.
Postscript:
I have no recollection of Hermann’s unit(s) or whether he ever told me- aside from Ramcke Brigade. He was an NCO, and the awards he had in his box were both EK’s, para badge, Kreta cuff title, and wound badge, plus a marble-sized hunk of shrapnel from Africa. He told me he never felt the impact, just blood on his leg- he dropped his pants, followed the blood and dug it out of his buttock with his fingers- applied a plaster to the hole and pocketed his souvenir and went on. His wound badge was for the car & tank wreck in Tunisia. That detail seemed to amuse him.

We never discussed what weapons he carried (although he was fascinated that we could own live “MP’s” in the US), what model of smock he wore, whether he had a helmet cover or any such reenacting nerd details. I know it’s hard to believe for some people but he was the first WWII vet that had told me much of anything so I just listened and he chose the subjects. It’s been over 30 years and probably forgot much of what he said that afternoon.

The wounded paratrooper that had unintentionally saved his life died by the time they reached the bottom of mountain.

Hermann died two years after I left of a massive heart attack while cutting grass with a scythe behind the house. (That was his customary workout.) Michelle told me that my visit had made him incredibly happy- his disappointment in his own son being such a nitwit had really been hard on him. Apparently that day in the kitchen was the one and only time he ever spoke about the War in any detail.

A few years ago, I did some internet stalking and it looks like Andreas ultimately turned out alright- he’s now a university professor of some renown. We haven’t spoken since his father died.

The same Summer that Hermann passed away, I grew bored with college, dropped out and joined the Army. Over the next several years I largely forgot about that trip and what I’d experienced. Then one day during a combat equipment jump, on a blistering, late Summer afternoon, I was drifting toward a brush-covered knoll next to an airfield. Everything had been bone dry for weeks and the foliage was already brown- as I was trying to steer my chute away from the bushes it suddenly occurred to me how much this looks like Crete- and I remembered the old Fallschirmjäger and thought what it would be like if this DZ was hot. Awful.

The Jackboot

WW2 German Army uniform

The jackboot and M35/40 helmet are the most symbolic and frequently shown items of the WWII German soldier. More than any other image, that of the black leather jackboot has been used to represent the conquest of Europe by the Third Reich.

As with my other posts, this will detail my cumulative observations over 30 years of handling, collecting, repairing and reproducing authentic WWII examples. Period documentation is scant, making this the best means of demonstrating what the boots actually used in the War were like.

History
The term “jackboot” is not a German one- it’s origin is unknown. The German military referred to them as Marschstiefel– Marching Boots. Although most people will christen any tall, black, pull-on boot a “jackboot”, the term more accurately applies to those with looser fitting shafts as opposed to the more fitted riding boots. Appearing in the latter 1800’s, the German military wore various styles of Marschstiefel into the 1970’s. Those used in both world wars were very similar in design, differing mainly in small details. In the 1930’s, the Reichswehr experimented with several alternative designs, but ultimately retained the previous style of boots.  During WWII, the Schnurschuhe (Low boots) began to supplant the jackboots in an effort to conserve leather, but they were never entirely replaced.

Design
The jackboot is a pull-on boot, with a stitched & pegged main sole, pegged half sole, rear seam shaft, and stacked heel. Pegs and sole stitching were done both by hand or machine. Most were fitted with hobnails, heel irons and sometimes toe plates to prevent wear of the leather bottoms. Many had steel shanks, but not all.

 

1939 dated boots, unissued

 

The shaft height varied from 30cm-40cm with pre-War boots being generally taller.

Unissued SS boots made by Bata

The boots were manufactured  in natural or brown leather, with the soldiers blacking and polishing them after issue.


WWII German Boot Sizing Table
Sizing
Metric sizing (27, 28, 29, etc) was most common with the size representing the length of the last and, hence, the inside dimension. Some boots were sized in Paris points (49, 40, 41…) One Paris point equals 2/3 of a centimeter. Nine widths were made, represented by numerals 1-9. 1-3 were narrows, 4-6 regulars and 7-9 wides. Thus, a size “29.5  6” equates to a US 11D. A “29.5  2” would be an 11B and so forth.

Size 28   7- about a US 9.5E.

 

One occasionally finds boots stamped with both size scales. This SS boot is marked both in metric 26 1/2, and Paris Points 39 3/4.

An extreme case of stamps…

More typical size marks

The size was steel stamped on the sole in the arch, and usually steel stamped on the outside at the top of the shaft or collar, or roll stamped inside. Sometimes the size is also found inside on the heel pad. Maker names or codes, lot numbers, unit and/or Wehrkreis stamps are also commonly seen on the sole or inside the collar.

The SS
Yes, the Waffen SS had it’s own shoe production facilities. Whether or not they were able to supply the entire force or if they had to supplement their warehouses with boots made for the Heer is unknown. As far as I can see, there is no apparent pattern or design difference between Heer and SS marked jackboots.

Bata is a well known maker of SS boots

Vamp & Instep
On most, but not all jackboots, the vamp (toe) is made with the leather facing flesh side out. This is “rough” side of the hide. The reason for this is that the flesh side is considered more water repellent, a trait more important on field boots than how easy they were to shine.

The profile of the foot is determined mainly by the last used when assembling the boots.  The look most sought after by modern enthusiasts are those with a sharp taper, referred to as a “shark nose toes”.  Despite being very typical of authentic boots, this is by no means the one and only way they were made. On WWII boots the profile varies somewhat from this predator of the sea look, to rounder, more blunt shapes as well as a few with a decidedly  square appearance. The majority of jackboots lack internal toe boxes.

Lastly, although most WWII boots are assembled with the tongue sewn on top of the shaft, a few are made with it underneath.

Shaft
The shaft is made from a single piece of leather, with an overlapping rear seam, sewn with multiple rows of stitches. Some have an internal strip inside for reinforcement, others do not. The heel cup is most always internal, sewn to the shaft, with the grain side facing the heel to prevent chaffing. The height of the shaft varies from 30-40cm, with the widest part generally at the top. On boots for mounted troops, the shafts are a bit taller, and top tapers back to more closely fit the calf.

The shaft circumference varies. Most boots have an outer circumference of 16-18 inches. However, varying sizes must have been made due to the different sizes of calves on soldiers. On East German (NVA) boots, I have encountered a few stamped “Breitschaft” inside the top, and these had shafts 3-6cm larger than other boots. So far I have not found any such markings in WWII boots, but there must have been something soldiers with thicker legs.

Typical pulls

The boots are all equipped with two pull straps. The most typical material found is 40mm wide black HBT tape.

Example of a leather pull

Other colors of webbing or tape, as well as leather are sometimes found.

Soles
Die cut leather soles were used on nearly every German WWII boot. The full sole was usually attached first, then the heel and half sole are nailed and pegged onto it. On some WWII (and WW1) boots, the half sole is under the main sole. This prevents the separation that sometimes occurs where the boot bends, but it also makes it necessary to replace the entire main sole if the boot becomes heavily worn. When the full sole is attached, two angled channels were cut in the full sole, pulled open, and the stitches were then made in these troughs. When done, they are pushed back together (and likely glued). This is why the sole stitches are often not visible- just the two lines or “seams”. Then they are pegged by hand or pegging machine.

The stitching channels are just inboard from the outer edges of the soles. The humps in the arches are from the steel shanks.

Most original boots appear to have been assembled with steel shanks- this causes the lengthwise hump in the arch of the sole. If this is flat, then there is likely no shank.

Finally, nails are driven downward through the sole into the heel so it is actually attached from both top and bottom.

Metal
Most boots were fitted with steel hobnails and heel irons. Contrary to some social media historian foolishness, these were not for traction or use in close combat, but rather to extend the life of the boots. Marching 20 miles or more every day will rapidly wear leather soles and heels out. The metal was to prevent this- the nails and irons bore the brunt of the wear, and were to be replaced once they were worn down. Theoretically, if this was done properly, a pair of boots could last practically forever.

Hobnails were attached to the boots in rows, typically 5. The number of nails varies depending on the individual contractor, the size of the boots and possibly the mood of the worker putting them on. 35-40 nails per boots was the norm.

A size 26 1/2 (left) compared to a size 32 1/2 (right)

The hobnails came in a variety of sizes and shapes. Nails with 6 sided heads,  1cm in diameter and double prongs seem to be most commonly installed “factory” type. The double prong design works like a clinching nail- when hammered in, the prongs spread and curl, thus locking them in, a bit like a fish hook. The single prong hobnails one commonly finds today were replacements- they don’t require the special punch to make the starter hole and they help prevent the same hole from being reused.

Heel irons came in two styles. Factory boots most often use heel irons with nailing points offset from the rims. The nail heads themselves are then covered with a leather or rubber insert nailed into the heel. This style of irons prevent the nail heads from being worn away, but they are more difficult to manufacture. Many boots are also fitted with standard horse shoe type irons with the nails driven directly through the rims. Both styles were used. Many heel irons have their size stamped into their surface- 15, 16, 17 and so forth. Occasionally one finds it irons also specified for right or left as well. The number represents the measure in centimeters of the outer diameter of the rim of the heel they fit.

Toe irons are found on some boots. Most are a half moon shaped plate, attached with 3-5 nails.  Some are sized 3, 4, 5, while others unmarked.

Screws are sometimes encountered (rather than nails) being used to attach toe and heel irons.

Leather
Marschstiefel and Schnurschuhe were both typically made from vegetable tanned, 2mm-3mm thick cow or horsehide leather, with the color ranging from nearly white to various medium browns.

Leather quality
Unlike officer boots, the issue boot production utilized all cuts of leather. In the leather industry, an animal hide is divided into 3 basic sections, or cuts. The back and butt is the highest quality area of the hide- it’s the thickest, hardest and least wrinkled. It’s often referred to as “Croupon” in WWII Europe. One encounters “croupon” stamped on some custom made boots, belts and other officer gear to indicate that the leather came only from the premium cut. Next is the 2nd cut, from the neck and shoulder area- usually equally tough, but often with large wrinkles and humps. The 3rd cut is from the flank or belly- this tends to be even more wrinkled and can be soft and spongy.


SS marked boot, with entire shaft made of belly leather. The wrinkles at the ankle are the due to the leather itself- the boot is unworn. The seam approximately halfway up the shaft is from a thinner piece of leather used to help firm up the soft shaft.

Nearly all of my original boots have some amount of belly leather evident. For boots, even this 3rd cut works fine, despite its uneven appearance. This is normally used on shafts and uppers rather than toes and vamps. It’s not uncommon to find jackboots with a thin lining in one or both shafts- this is usually due to belly have been used so they use a thin layer of split leather to stiffen it. The Germans have been the champions of thrift for decades- and their gear often demonstrates this.

Cookie-cutter fantasies
Some collectors and many reenactors live in a fantasy world where every boot (helmet, jacket, glove, etc) used during WWII was made to the same exacting specification and matched perfectly. A good example is the famous “shark nosed toe” fetish. In reality, boots issued to German troops came in numerous variations- keep in mind, that the vast majority of European shoe manufacturers, large and small, were contracted by the German government to make boots- millions of them.

Wolverine nose…very much original

“Wrong” heel irons, no shanks, leather pulls…all original.
Sorry Facebook History Fact Fanboys. Your narrative wasn’t relevant 1943.

Add to that the enormous stockpiles of footwear captured from other armies (mainly lowboots) that were very similar to those of the Wehrmacht and were also handed out and worn. Even with the famous jackboots, many details vary- to include the last shape which determines the toe profile- meaning many real German soldiers did not have sharks on their feet. Some had rounded toes, like manatees, and other were boxier, a bit like wolverine snout. That sounds almost as intimidating as a shark doesn’t it?

 

German Camouflage Caps

WW2 German Army uniform, WW2 German camouflage

Late in 1942, the Germans introduced a new field cap.  The caps were made from the same camouflage and fabric as their smocks and helmet covers, and were likewise reversible from Fall to Spring colors. Early production caps were fitted insignia, color coordinated to the appropriate sides of the fabric. This feature was dropped quickly and the vast majority of these hats were produced devoid of insignia. Caps were manufactured with and without air vents, and the vents can be machine sewn or painted steel eyelets.

The “M42” designation often seen today is creation of militaria collectors, not the German military. The camouflage cap was produced in virtually all of the patterns used for smocks and helmet covers, with possible exceptions of the rare pre-War designs such as “Variegated Leaf”, however, the extreme rarity of such patterns may simply mean that there are no surviving examples.  They became general issue throughout the WSS and it’s likely this was restricted to combat units as was the case with other camouflage garments.

The design of the camouflage caps is quite basic. The parts consist of the sides, a sweatband, top and visor, with an insert made of split (essentially waste) leather. Although the profile of the cap is consistent with other German field caps,  there are no fake folds and no lining due to the requirement that the caps be reversible.

The sweatband is sewn on the “Fall” side of the cap, but it appears most wearers rarely used this feature. In period photos, it’s extremely rare to find one with the band on the outside indicating the cap is being worn “brown side” out.

As with nearly all German uniform items, there are minor variations visible among surviving examples. Although generally more homogeneous than smocks and helmet covers,  some caps are assembled with parts cut from different shades or patterns. Caps made from all matching parts not uncommon. Although long and short visors exist, most are about the same as the wool M43 caps (about 6cm).

The front peaks typically run from 8-9cm which is similar to DAK caps and lower than M43’s. Thread color is similar to that used on helmet covers, with numerous shades of gray and tan being found, often on the same cap. This is simply due to the caps being made on an assembly line, with several machine operators working on each cap- not every one had the same shade of thread in their machine.

When size markings are found, they are typically just the metric size, ink stamped on the top of the cap on the “Fall” side. SSBW, dates, eagles and the like are postwar fantasy.

No original examples nor period photos exist of these caps having been made in “44 Dot” pattern camouflage. Numerous period photos exist of various styles of field or tailor made camouflage caps, in WSS patterns as well as M39 Italian cloth.  However, these were custom made items, not actual issue.

Distinguishing originals. Authentic examples of these caps today are worth several thousand dollars- but the vast majority offered for sale are postwar fakes. The main problem is that they consist simply of a couple square feet of fabric and thread,  an original SS Zeltbahn yields enough period cloth to make half a dozen caps. This makes them one of the toughest items of WWII German militaria to confidently authenticate.

Given the availability of authentic materials, and aside from outright stupid errors in the pattern or assembly of a cap (it happens frequently as many fraudsters are not as talented as they think), about the only thing to determine is when the cap was made. Despite having collected WSS camo since 1981, caps are the one thing that still often vex me. Perhaps 25% of the time, (when confronted with a cap made from authentic fabric) I simply pass as I cannot be sure.

Found a possibly original cap? On something as small as cap, there is no magic panacea- it’s just feel and experience. Firstly, one needs to be able to separate WWII camo fabric from reproduction. If the fabric is the real stuff, then move on to the stitching. Warning! Many  Zeltbahn has been “re-purposed” into caps and helmet covers over the past 40 years- such fakes are very, very common.

Well worn caps are simpler to deal with in this regard. As with the blurred edge cap above, the stitching is obviously old, the stitches are relaxed and the thread is faded. Typically, the caps were worn green side out, so the wear and sweat stains are usually on the brown side.
The wear, sweat and exposure also gives the hat a form, almost as though it is still on someone’s head. Caution- many collectors love dirt and grime- they equate it with real age. One needs to learn how to tell the difference and I don’t have room here to go into all that.

On lightly worn or newish condition caps, that are correctly made, it really comes down to the seams and stitches. One simply cannot use rotten thread in a machine- it breaks every stitch or two.

Above is the stiffener from an original M43 cap that I dis-assembled many years ago (it lost its battle with a herd of moths so I wasn’t really assaulting history.) It is made from split leather- NOT pressed paper as many collectors insist. I have seen two mutilated camo caps where this piece was visible and both had the same material.  Treated leather, even if old and dry, has a different feel than pressed paper. Even though it’s not normally visible, if I feel creased paper inside a visor, the red flags start waving and no such cap has passed muster on other details.

The real danger here are caps made with real fabric and thread, worn for a long time by reenactors or whoever. Those will have genuine wear, forming and sweat stains. Scared? Me too. These caps can be a bitch. I made the plane tree camo cap above around 1990 and wore it to dozens of events. The thread and fabric are all authentic and the wear and tear is real.

One fallback for any authenticity questions is to become a member of one of the collector forums, where one can post photos of potential purchases ans ask questions. (I use Wehrmacht Awards) On the “real or fake” queries, I have found the answers to be accurate the majority of the time. Right or wrong, if an item is blessed on a well regarded forum, it’s likely to be good- or at least everyone thinks it is.

The small annual fee is nothing compared to the pain when one drops several thousand dollars on an old SMW camo cap that’s been humped up by Fast Freddy’s Ebay Treasures.