Chapter 10
Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Spanish Civil War – Battle of Brunete (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
July 6, 1937
Salamanca, a major Nationalist stronghold in west-central Spain
Thanks to Colonel Model running me ragged the moment I returned, I was able to shake off the laxness from my Luftwaffe detachment and quickly adapt to my duties as a company commander.
In the process, Colonel Model and I gathered enough firing data for the 88 anti-aircraft gun to create a fairly precise firing table.
The manual for the 88—Rommel's ace in the hole and the nightmare of the Allies, an anti-aircraft gun in name but the best anti-tank weapon of the Second World War in practice—was born in the interwar period!
And just like that, we were summoned to battle.
"This morning, the Republicans launched an offensive toward Brunete. It was an unexpected attack, and reports say the front is collapsing rapidly. The defense forces have been assembled, with General Varela in overall command. We will operate under Colonel Juan Yagüe, here..."
The officers swallowed hard as Lieutenant General Thoma, commander of the Condor Legion's ground forces, pointed to a spot with his baton.
"This position. We move to the front of the Extremadura Road to block the enemy's vanguard—the 11th Division, which is currently breaking through the lines—and close the gap. The Extremadura Road is a vital supply route for the forces besieging Madrid, so we must defend it at all costs. The Nationalist high command is halting the northern offensive to send reinforcements, so we have to hold out until then."
No one in the Condor Legion was unfamiliar with the 11th Division, the elite unit led by the Republican hero, Enrique Líster.
"There are also reports that the 11th Division is advancing with about a hundred tanks, gentlemen. This is a fine opportunity to test how effective the 88 is in an anti-tank role."
Colonel Model, the Chief of Staff, added with a grin. *This isn't exactly how I wanted to test it...*
"We've designated the expected area for establishing our front line, but the situation on the ground may differ, so further detailed instructions will be given upon arrival. Our mission is purely a delaying action, so focus only on holding out."
"The weather is extremely hot and dry, so instruct your units to pack as much water as possible. A thirsty army cannot fight."
As expected of the meticulous Colonel Model. With his addition, Lieutenant General Thoma concluded the briefing.
"We depart in one hour. Dismissed!"
"Heil Hitler!"
The irony of shouting "Heil Hitler" to go fight on a battlefield desired by the Nazi regime, all for the sake of ousting Hitler and the Nazis.
But since my life is on the line out here anyway, I might as well earn some distinction!
To get back to Berlin faster, and for the sake of promotion.
The ones leading the coup plot against Hitler are the monarchists and the high-ranking military brass, so I need to climb the ranks as high as possible.
My father, Hjalmar Schacht, is a key figure in German finance, which gives me more standing than some ordinary junior officer, but the German military is an institution with excessive pride and exclusivity.
If I fail to establish a foothold within the military, I might find myself powerless to stop the military from running amok, just as it did during the German Empire, even if we succeed in overthrowing the Nazi regime.
-
As we moved quickly, I found myself grateful for Colonel Model's foresight.
It- was- so- damn- hot.
During the Battle of Guadalajara, it was all sleet and fog, which made me think the stories of a hot, dry climate were nonsense. But the central Spanish plateau in July truly boasted an insane heat and dryness.
It was a dreadful heat where your throat would feel parched again just ten minutes after drinking water.
They launched an offensive in this insane heat? Are those Republican bastards out of their minds, or was this their plan all along?
We received a report that Brunete had fallen before we even arrived, but this was within the Condor Legion's expectations. We began to establish a defensive line to protect our strategic objective, the Extremadura Road.
It was a sorry sight, watching the men drenched in sweat as they dug trenches and set up gun emplacements in this heat. It wouldn't be surprising if they started dropping from heatstroke.
And less than thirty minutes after our arrival, I had to curse.
"Son of a bitch!"
"Air raid, air raid!"
More than twenty enemy aircraft were heading straight for us! At Clemens's near-scream, the men scrambled in confusion but frantically turned the elevation wheels of the 88 anti-aircraft guns.
"Just get a rough angle and fire! Break up their formation, whatever it takes! The kills will come later!"
"Yes, sir!"
Soon, with the distinctive crack of an 8.8 cm anti-aircraft gun, one enemy plane shattered into pieces. As shells exploded around them, the terrified pilots broke formation in disarray.
"Good, well done! Keep changing the angle and just keep firing!"
It was clearly a lucky shot, but the enemy squadron was in chaos! As we fired again, they scattered, dropping their bombs haphazardly. I saw another plane get blown apart by fire from a different unit that had taken aim.
Judging by their approach, they must have had some success bombing defenseless Nationalists. Too bad for them, that's not us. And...
"Dig the trenches faster! Artillery is coming next! Dig if you want to live!"
"Yes, sir!"
After the air raid comes the artillery barrage, and after that, the armored units will roll in. I grabbed a shovel and started digging myself. If you don't want to die, you dig!
-
While the Condor Legion frantically established its defensive line, Colonel Enrique Líster, commander of the Republican 11th Division leading the main assault, received a report that two bombers had been lost. He immediately requested a change in the attack route from Colonel Juan Modesto.
Both the Nationalist and Republican Spanish forces lacked proper anti-aircraft weaponry, and they had even fewer skilled anti-aircraft gunners who could use them effectively.
But to lose not one, but two planes in a single sortie was no accident. And the most skilled anti-aircraft force on the Nationalist side was, without a doubt, the Condor Legion.
Therefore, Colonel Líster's request was to bypass the Condor Legion's defensive line and strike another strategic objective: Carabanchel, where enemy forces were still holding out...
"Dammit..."
Colonel Líster crumpled the telegram in his hand.
The Republican high command had replied that changing the objective was not an option; they had to break through this point to cut off the Extremadura Road. They'd provided a hundred tanks, and now they demanded results.
But it was precisely because he had a hundred tanks that he needed to change the objective. Those fools didn't understand.
Líster was one of the few Spanish officers who had studied at the advanced Frunze Military Academy in the Soviet Union, and he took great pride in his command of armored units.
Despite this, he had suffered immense losses at Jarama after throwing his armored units head-on against the Condor Legion.
He had learned the hard way that to properly execute an armored breakthrough according to Tukhachevsky's doctrine, the support of mobile infantry was essential.
But his superiors knew nothing of that. They thought tanks could just roll over anything.
Líster's request for trucks instead of expensive Soviet tanks was casually dismissed by the higher-ups, who insisted that tanks were more urgent.
It might work against the Nationalist rabble, but charging head-on with only tanks against those Germans was practically suicide.
Do they think tanks just fall from the sky?
Although they had defended important strategic points like Madrid, Republican territory was steadily shrinking while Nationalist territory expanded.
On top of that, the damned Prime Minister Negrín had been handing over gold reserves to the Soviets since the beginning of the war, sending the Republic's finances into a downward spiral.
The calculating Soviets, who had exploited even the exchange rates to fleece them, were gradually reducing their support as profits dwindled. If the Republic's core armored forces suffered heavy losses here, their offensive capability would be completely exhausted.
They had captured Brunete; just holding the line would have been enough to show the Soviets some results...
With Carabanchel yet to fall, could they even hold the line if they advanced to the Extremadura Road at the cost of countless lives?
"...Order the artillery to commence bombardment. We are proceeding with the operation."
But a soldier has to follow orders. What else could he do?
Knowing he was sending his men—his elite troops, painstakingly trained—into a death trap, and risking the career he had built despite being accused of glory-hogging, Líster had no choice but to order the attack.
Attempting a breakthrough against the Condor Legion with only armored units would surely end in another disaster, so his only option was to support them with as much infantry as possible.
-
Expecting an imminent artillery barrage, I had not only pushed the engineers but also had the officers and myself digging like madmen for cover. We were feeling intensely awkward when no shelling came, but then a belated, furious bombardment rocked our position.
"Damn, are they trying to pulverize us?"
"No wonder Brunete fell before noon."
I let out a sigh of relief at Clemens's mutter. If the shelling hadn't come, my decision would have looked foolish. Thankfully, it was the right call.
The battles we had fought at Jarama and Guadalajara were both Nationalist offensives, and the Republican counterattacks had mostly been disorganized.
But this time, it was a planned Republican offensive from the start, and they were throwing everything they had into it, unleashing immense firepower from air raids to artillery.
Even now, the ground was shaking, and dirt rained down on our hats and shoulders. I really hoped the trenches wouldn't collapse and bury us...
No, more importantly, I was worried about the equipment.
Fortunately, the bombardment lasted only about ten minutes before stopping. To be precise, ten minutes after it began, the Condor Legion's counter-battery fire started, and the enemy could no longer focus on us.
Ooh, that's Walter Model for you. Fast. Artillery is the god of the battlefield, but the gods are busy fighting each other.
Because we had anticipated the shelling, my company suffered no casualties, aside from ruined uniforms. The problem was that one 88 and one anti-tank gun had been destroyed.
"Hmph, the tanks will be here soon. Get ready. Gun chiefs, you've all memorized the firing tables, right?"
"Sir!"
The sun was scorching, and sweat poured down my face. I couldn't tell if it was from the heat or the tension.
Just as the Condor Legion intended, the enemy's main force, Líster's 11th Division, was heading straight for us.
The tanks would be coming soon. A hundred of them, they said.
It would probably be quite a spectacle, if only I weren't on the receiving end.
In the defensive line, pockmarked by artillery, the men were busy setting up their anti-tank rifles—weapons that would be obsolete by the start of World War II—and preparing the 88s for indirect fire.
Can we hold out?
"Hoo... Alright, wet your throats now! You can't stop to drink water in the middle of a firefight!"
"Hahaha..."
As the men laughed and pulled out their canteens, I took a drink myself.
The lukewarm water trickled down my throat. Not very refreshing.
"Alright, the enemy's main attack is coming right at us, but we're not so weak as to crumble before an expected assault! When this is over, we'll have a round of beers! It's a bit late, but it's on me to celebrate my promotion to company commander!"
"Waaaaaah!"
"Ooh, the company commander's generous."
The men were pleased, and Clemens was grinning. The tension seemed to lift a little.
"I don't suppose any of you idiots plan on dying just to save me some money?"
"Hahaha!"
I hope my men don't die for the likes of Franco's dictatorship or Nazi Germany.
It's fine. Juan Yagüe is one of the more competent Nationalist commanders.
Besides, backing us up is the master of defensive warfare in World War II, Walter Model.
We can do this.
-
"What? Advance slowly, in coordination with the infantry?"
"Y-yes, Lieutenant Colonel!"
Lieutenant Colonel José Malo, commander of the armored battalion of the 11th Division leading the Republican main assault, scowled at the news brought by the messenger.
"We've hammered their defenses with massive air raids and artillery! We should be breaking through immediately, not matching the pace of the slow-moving infantry!"
"I'm not sure, sir..."
His so-called adjutant was no help. Then again, the notoriously incompetent Republican officer corps and high command were never to be trusted.
"Tsk, fools who don't even understand the value of an armored force!"
Unlike him, a graduate of Frunze, those Republican blockheads failed to grasp the value of a rapid armored breakthrough.
At least Colonel Enrique Líster, also a Frunze graduate, understood the importance of an armored breakthrough. In fact, this very battle had begun with his armored assault following the air and artillery strikes, which had swiftly crushed the Nationalists and allowed them to capture Brunete.
Just a little further, and they could secure their final objective, the Extremadura Road. And now the hesitant higher-ups were holding them back...
The Republicans hadn't had a chance to score a major victory recently.
After constantly being beaten by the Nationalists and only managing Pyrrhic victories, they were finally on a major offensive. And as the one leading the charge, a victory here would surely let him join the ranks of the "colonels" who ran the Republican army.
"Don't relay that order! Just commence the attack!"
"Sir? But..."
"We'll stick to the original plan! We never received the order! You want a promotion too, don't you? When will an opportunity like this come again?"
"Ah, understood, sir..."
Lieutenant Colonel Malo couldn't let this crucial opportunity slip away.
Surely, Colonel Líster had only issued that order reluctantly under pressure from above. In truth, he probably wanted him to do this.
At least, that's what Lieutenant Colonel Malo thought. Besides, was he really any less capable than Líster?
They had studied together at Frunze, yet both the high command and the press only ever praised Líster.
If he succeeded in this offensive, he wouldn't be under Líster anymore—he would stand beside him!
A new hero of the Republic, José Malo! Dreaming a heart-pounding dream, the lieutenant colonel ordered his armored battalion to advance.
< The Spanish Civil War – Battle of Brunete (2) > End
ⓒ Carcassonne