Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: Hermann Göring
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Twenty airships were lined up in formation.
There was a grandeur to them, but at the same time, an ominous pressure hung in the air.
Thinking about the money poured into them made my head throb, but I couldn't deny their majestic presence.
As I inspected the preparations as the ordnance staff officer, someone approached me.
"Erwin?"
"Who... Manfred?"
Not a cadet from the academy or a green pilot.
The empire's top ace pilot and the hero who dominated the skies over the Western Front.
Manfred von Richthofen approached, his eyes sharp with spirit.
"Hey, long time no see. You've changed a ton in just a year? You look like a real soldier now."
"You're the same as ever, despite all your exploits everywhere!"
"Ooooh..."
As we laughed and shook hands, eyes from around us focused on us.
Wondering why, I glanced around, but Manfred, quicker on the uptake, grinned mischievously and spoke first.
"Bet they're all crowding around to see the famous Red Fox of the Eastern Front. Whoa, check out those shiny medals around your neck."
"Ha? Nah. Who's gonna care about some infantry grunt who rolled in the mud? They're probably here to see the noble baron of the skies."
"You're hilarious, heh heh."
Seeing him laugh so casually made me want to challenge him to a bet, but that'd be like spitting in my own face, so I let it go.
Truth be told, the Red Baron or the Red Fox—both nicknames felt equally embarrassing.
We dropped our hands and turned back to the airships.
"Yeah, now that I think about it, there's no way you'd miss out on an air operation this massive."
"Right. I'm flying fighters to escort the airships to the midpoint."
Manfred smirked at me as he answered.
"Come to think of it, I remember the self-proclaimed genius saying airships were totally useless. How's it feel backing up that scrap metal now?"
"Feels great. Hoping it at least gets some results."
I gave a nonchalant reply to his teasing question.
For the record, I'd never once called myself a genius. I'd only heard it from others.
In other words, as a real genius, I still thought airships were useless.
But since they'd already been built, we had to use them, so I'd devised the most effective method possible.
"No matter how many airships there are, the total bombs they can drop is only about 40 tons."
"Isn't 40 tons a lot?"
"It's not like we can concentrate all 40 tons in one spot, so the effect will be minimal."
"Then tell the higher-ups that. Didn't you join OHL?"
"With my seniority and rank, I can't openly defy the mainstream. There's such a thing as the big picture."
Yeah, that was true.
I was scheming various things under Falkenhayn's support, beneath the surface.
But they were all under-the-table dealings. No paper trails, merits passed to appropriate people.
Publicly, I was known as a diligent, pure ordnance staff officer.
Of course, I knew nothing about the top-secret chemical weapons, and the Paris raid was just one minor involvement.
"Ranks are the enemy, man."
"Still, you're already a major. If even you with your unprecedented promotion speed complain, what about the rest of us?"
Manfred patted my sighing shoulder in a friendly manner.
Yeah, maybe it was a bit too ungrateful.
Everything was still within predictable bounds... no need to sigh yet.
"Thanks for the pep talk."
"Heh heh, pep talk? I'm just calling you unlucky."
Manfred punched my shoulder lightly and continued as if something had just occurred to him.
"Oh, right. Forgot I had people to introduce."
"Hm?"
With that, two people who'd been watching from afar shuffled over and stood before us.
These must be the ones he wanted to introduce.
Both faces... looked familiar.
Stepping away from the railing, Manfred introduced them.
"This is Oswald Boelcke, number two ace in our Army Air Service. He's so smart with fighter tactics he's already surpassed me."
"Ahem, pleased to meet you."
"Major Erwin Rommel."
Boelcke. The war hero famous for Boelcke's Dicta.
Those dicta survived into the 21st century, serving as exemplars for countless pilots. A legendary figure.
Returning Boelcke's salute, I looked at the man standing beside him.
The man kept staring at me, fidgeting restlessly. He seemed thrilled to meet me.
'Definitely a familiar face...'
I thoroughly hid my puzzlement and turned to Manfred.
As if waiting, Manfred introduced the man.
"This is... Lieutenant Hermann Göring."
"!"
"When I said I was meeting you, he begged to tag along. Future ace."
"It's an honor to meet you, Major!!"
Göring beamed and saluted me.
I calmly returned the salute, though I couldn't stop my hand from trembling.
But I quickly composed myself, smiled back, and replied.
"Major Erwin Rommel."
Outwardly calm, but inside, turmoil churned.
With such a tall, handsome man before me, it was hard to believe he was that Göring. The inner chaos persisted.
Especially thinking that this rookie pilot would later become responsible for the massacre of tens of millions.
'No wonder he looked familiar. It really is him? That Göring?'
The young man before me was a pilot with sparkling eyes and a smile.
But in my mind, only his name echoed.
Hermann Göring, a name even those ignorant of history had surely heard once.
Number two in Nazi Germany, famed commander of the Luftwaffe. Reichsmarschall and Four-Year Plan Minister.
Among Nazi luminaries like Goebbels, Ribbentrop, Himmler, Speer, Bormann, Heydrich—he was one of the most famous.
...And the man who ordered the Wannsee Conference to conclude with the Final Solution.
"Future pilot, huh... Must be pretty talented?"
He gazed at me with eyes full of admiration and awe.
As Göring hesitated, Manfred placed a hand on his shoulder and answered for him.
"He's like an uncut gem. His skills are improving at a scary rate—only a matter of time before he's an ace."
"Come on, sir..."
"Kid, you embarrassed? You're always singing Rommel this, Rommel that."
"Haha, a fan of mine?"
I smoothly hid my emotions and approached them warmly.
Göring's eyes sparkled as he looked at me.
"Oswald Boelcke and Hermann Göring? I'll be sure to remember those names."
Having pondered this long, I'd already judged the value of Nazis and key figures.
The criterion: contribution to the fatherland's ultimate victory.
Of course, if we won the Great War, I'd eliminate them immediately...
But if not, I planned to incorporate some.
I smiled and spoke.
"Especially the uncut gem—looking forward to seeing if you'll outgrow Manfred."
"H-how could I surpass you, sir..."
"You never know. I never imagined Manfred would become such an ace back in school. Honestly... still can't quite believe it."
"Hey! What're you saying in front of the juniors?!"
Manfred chuckled at my playful tone.
I laughed at his exaggerated reaction, then turned back to Göring.
"Anyway, do your best. Give that cocky guy a humbling."
"...Yes, sir! I will!"
"Tch, acting like I'm your direct superior."
Göring looked apologetic but didn't take back his words at Manfred's comment.
I kept things friendly with them throughout, building rapport.
And with promises for the future, we returned to our duties.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Pitch-black night.
The iron war machines began to move.
"LZ 38, taking off."
With one airship's launch, all the airships rose into the sky.
Each carrying bombs weighing nearly 1.7 to 2 tons.
"Alright, our turn now. Jasta 11 taking off."
As the airships vanished beyond the horizon, the fighters took to the air.
Jasta 11, short for Jagdstaffel 11.
The strongest air squadron in history, completed far earlier than in the original timeline.
Vroooom—! Under the bright full moon, their shadows stretched across the ground like monsters poised to swallow cities.
Thus began the greatest air operation of the Great War: the Paris Raid.