Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: German Civil War - Iron, Blood, and Golden Freedom (2)
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November 15, 1939
Berlin, Northern Germany, Wehrmacht High Command
“A report from the 2nd Military District garrison! Enemy armored units are advancing toward Stettin!”
“Manstein, does that damn bastard take me for a fool!”
Franz Halder shouted irritably, leaping to his feet.
“What's their tank composition?”
“According to the report, Panzer I, II, III, and IV tanks were all spotted. The exact scale has not yet been determined!”
Halder narrowed his eyes at the staff officer's report.
“Is this all the forces he could scrape together, or is it...”
A feint by Manstein to deceive him. He had already leaked misinformation. Was this the main attack? Or was it a double trap?
Halder felt a cold sweat trickle down his spine. This was a critical juncture. A very critical juncture.
His own armored units were in a state where replenishment would be difficult after a single engagement. If they failed to achieve a decisive victory in one fierce battle, there would be no second chance.
The Wehrmacht's morale was already quite low. As infuriating as it was, Halder had to admit that Dietrich Schacht's speech had had a massive impact on the soldiers' morale.
“The only armored reserve capable of responding to the enemy armored units is, in the end, the LSSAH.”
Hearing Alfred Jodl's words, Franz Halder was lost in thought.
With the morale of the entire Wehrmacht at rock bottom, the LSSAH (Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler) was the Waffen-SS's most elite division, having scraped together Czech tanks and every other fully operational tank they could find.
Since the Ruhr was on the other side, their tank numbers must have increased, but given the original disparity in strength, victory with the LSSAH should be certain. But what if it was a bait?
Manstein couldn't be ignorant of the difference in strength, so would he be this careless? Halder clenched his sweaty fists.
“Chief of Staff. You must make a decision.”
Hearing Alfred Jodl, Franz Halder let out a hollow laugh.
“I feel like I've lost before even fighting. I have no cards I can trust.”
He had no confidence that the 10th Army would hold if an offensive came from another direction while the LSSAH was sent to defeat the flanking force in the north.
Brauchitsch and Reichenau wouldn't betray him, surely. But what about those under them? Dietrich Schacht's speech had shaken even him—who could he trust?
If he had known it would come to this, he shouldn't have acted that way during the Munich Agreement. Halder now regretted having distanced himself too much from the Black Orchestra, fearing the Führer might find out.
Numerically, his forces were clearly stronger, yet he felt no confidence that they would win.
Although the Führer had assumed the position of Army Commander-in-Chief, he had suffered such a severe seizure after his speech that he had delegated operational command to Halder. This meant Halder himself would bear all responsibility for the orders given here.
“Damn it...”
And the one who had pushed him into this corner wasn't even Manstein, but that fellow he had dismissed as a mere captain—no, he couldn't accept it!
“Relay this to SS-Obergruppenführer Josef Dietrich! The LSSAH division is to repel the northern flanking force!”
“Understood, Chief of Staff.”
Watching Alfred Jodl nod and pick up the phone, Halder gritted his teeth.
This feeling of defeat before even fighting! He was the Chief of the General Staff of the Army of the great German Reich. Having completely alienated the new government's figures, there was no room for retreat.
“Also, inform the Southern Army Group! The 10th Army is to prepare for a flanking attack from the direction of Dresden!”
“Yes, sir!”
Manstein wouldn't be satisfied with a single flanking maneuver—Halder was almost certain of it. Even if he couldn't trust his subordinate units, he had no choice.
They too would want to avoid a prolonged civil war, so they would have to launch an offensive on Berlin. In any case, as the defender, he had the advantage.
But even as he thought this, the words Dietrich Schacht had spewed constantly echoed in his mind, tormenting him.
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November 16, 1939
Stettin, 2nd Military District, Northern Germany – Outskirts of Western Pomerania
With a roar as the Panzer IV's turret spat fire, the enemy Panzer I, which had virtually no protection against a tank cannon, fell silent.
“My proud SS comrades! Wipe out every last one of these traitors who dared to raise their hands against the Führer of Great Germany!”
“[Yes, sir! Heil Hitler!]”
SS-Obergruppenführer Josef "Sepp" Dietrich was in his command vehicle, enthusiastically encouraging his troops over the radio as they advanced.
The wreckage of enemy tanks occasionally seen along the way put him in a cheerful mood.
“Good, very good!”
The sight of his unit, which had been merely an armored regiment during the preparations for the invasion of Poland in August, now grown to a division, driving Panzer IIIs, IVs, and Czech tanks in pursuit of the enemy, was utterly satisfying.
The LSSAH division, equipped with the best gear for the most fanatically loyal to Hitler within the Waffen-SS, was unilaterally pushing back the new government's Reichswehr flanking force.
No, "pushing back" wasn't quite right; "pursuing" was more accurate. The SS Panzer Division was in a one-sided chase, and the number of destroyed enemy tanks was surprisingly low.
“[General, the enemy just keeps retreating!]”
“Good! Pursue them to the end and annihilate them! For the Führer!”
General Sepp shouted excitedly at his subordinate's radio report, but his adjutant beside him spoke up cautiously.
“General, the number of enemy tank losses is strangely low for the distance we've advanced.”
“It's proof that those vile traitors are cowards! High command ordered us to completely annihilate them, and I'm more than happy to oblige!”
Josef Dietrich, so well-regarded in the Waffen-SS as to be called 'Papa Sepp,' was a dauntless soldier, but his military career had ended at the rank of non-commissioned officer, and he had never received an officer's training.
“Forgive me, General, but could they be avoiding engagement to lure us in...”
The adjutant said with an uneasy expression, but General Sepp replied with a look that said, "So what?"
“What are you talking about? We're chasing them and they're running, so of course they're avoiding engagement!”
While there was no one better than General Sepp to rally the shocked SS troops and boost their morale after the capable and respected Paul Hausser surrendered, his thinking was too simplistic to be entrusted with a key armored unit at such a critical juncture.
“No, General. My apologies.”
“Don't worry so much, haha! Our division is far stronger than theirs anyway!”
At this point, his adjutant fell silent. General Sepp was certainly a charismatic general, but he was impetuous and simple-minded, much like the Prussian hero 'Marshal Forward' Blücher who had faced Napoleon.
But Blücher had ultimately finished Napoleon and remained a hero, so one could only hope for the same from him.
The problem was the reality that the enemy's operational planner was as cunning and sly as Napoleon, who had bested Blücher several times.
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November 17, 1939
Hanover, 11th Military District, Northern Germany, New Government Reichswehr Northern Army Headquarters
In the smoke-filled command room, Erich von Manstein sat with his legs crossed at an angle, drawing on a cigar.
He stared at the pieces on the operational map before slightly moving the yellow and red flags that had been over Stettin toward Hamburg.
“A bit unrefined, but...”
General Hammerstein was an infantryman, so this was effectively his first time commanding an armored branch, and it was hard to call him skilled, even as a compliment.
This was a limitation of the Reichswehr, which still had few generals, but the inexperienced General Hammerstein, instead of engaging moderately to lure the enemy as planned, was practically fleeing with all his might.
“Well, the enemy took the bait anyway, so it's all going according to plan.”
Nevertheless, the enemy's armored unit had taken the bait properly and was in hot pursuit, so it didn't matter. Whoever their commander was, he was an absolute fool.
The enemy had more tanks, and of better quality. Since the advanced armored warfare doctrine diligently introduced by Oswald Lutz and Heinz Guderian was common to the entire German army, a head-on confrontation would surely lead to defeat.
But tanks don't have a very long range without refueling. On his side, trucks imported from America were on standby at the enemy's pursuit limit, which Manstein had meticulously calculated, ready to supply fuel. The enemy, on the other hand, would have to rely on horse-drawn supply units once their fuel ran out.
The more they pursued, the farther they would be from their main force, and their fuel supply would become progressively slower.
“Now, for the next move...”
Manstein moved a flag that was placed behind Dresden, between Reichenau's 10th Army stationed before Berlin and List's 14th Army in the Sudetenland, to the right.
“The real battle is over here.”
Manstein grinned and picked up the phone.
“[Lutz here.]”
“General, it's time to make your move.”
“[Haha! This time, I'll show them some real armored warfare!]”
This was different from General Hammerstein's unit, which had been sent ahead with a mix of a few Panzer IIIs and IVs specifically to cloud the enemy's judgment.
Unlike the Berlin race at the beginning of the civil war, which was fought with outdated light tanks like the Panzer I and II, General Oswald Lutz's armored division, properly composed of main battle tanks, launched its offensive from Dresden.
“Well now, Halder. Are your reserves sufficient?”
Manstein chuckled as if he had Halder sitting right in front of his chessboard—the operational map.
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November 18, 1939
Berlin, Northern Germany, Wehrmacht High Command
Upon receiving the report that an enemy armored unit was racing toward Dresden, Halder urgently ordered Josef Dietrich's LSSAH division to return, but whatever they had been doing for the past three days, they were already a long way from Berlin.
“Damn it, hell!”
To cover that much distance in three days, they must have been driving nonstop. What on earth was that division commander thinking!
Halder felt his breath catch in his throat as he picked up the phone with a trembling hand. The time it took to ask the operator for a connection felt like an eternity.
“[Brauchitsch here.]”
“General! An armored unit is advancing in a flanking maneuver toward Dresden! How are your preparations?”
Halder practically shouted as soon as the line connected, but only silence came from Brauchitsch's end.
“General?”
“[We're preparing, but the soldiers' morale is too low, so progress is slow. At this rate, it's impossible...]”
“Three days, I gave you three whole days! What is that man, Walter Model, doing?”
“[...Model is unreachable. He's not here.]”
“What?”
Halder felt the world spin. The Chief of Staff of the Southern Army Group, a key figure, abandoning his post at a time like this? What in the world was happening?
“General. As you already know, if that damned new government wins, we're finished.”
“[I know that...]”
“If you know, then hold them off! I'll buy you time, but you have to stop them, no matter what!”
Halder slammed the phone down and immediately asked the operator to connect him elsewhere.
At this point, there was only one unit left that could buy him time.
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November 18, 1939
Stettin, 2nd Military District, Northern Germany, Northern Army Group Headquarters
Commander of the XIX Army Corps, General of Panzer Troops Heinz Guderian, was heading to the command room, summoned by his direct superior, the 4th Army Commander, Günther von Kluge.
As the German Civil War had intensified, the Northern Army Group had, in effect, maintained a bystander's attitude.
General Küchler's 3rd Army, stationed in East Prussia, was unable to cross over, blocked by the sea and Poland regardless of their intentions. Meanwhile, Kluge's 4th Army, to which Guderian belonged, had been holding its position on the orders of Army Group Commander Fedor von Bock, under the pretext of guarding against any potential Polish unrest.
In truth, Guderian himself was more comfortable with this arrangement. After General Oswald Lutz, who had transformed Guderian from a signals officer into an armored officer, was caught in the military's internal politics and forced into retirement, Guderian had been ostracized within the army as an overly radical proponent of mechanization.
It was Hitler who had recognized his talent back then, appointed him to key positions, and helped get his armored warfare doctrine adopted. Guderian was not close with Nazi Party members or other high-ranking officials, but he felt a deep gratitude toward Hitler for his active support and had maintained a personal friendship with him.
Even so, his loyalty to the Nazi regime had been significantly shaken after hearing the new government's broadcast, led by Dietrich Schacht, an officer who had attended his armored warfare lectures at the War College. He had not been a particularly conspicuous student, and Guderian never imagined the man would be involved in such things.
Nevertheless, he was reluctant to weigh his options between the new government, which his mentor Oswald Lutz belonged to, and the personal favor he felt for Hitler.
So when he entered the command room and saw the face of the person there, Guderian squeezed his eyes shut. The time for him to choose had come.
“Welcome, General Guderian.”
At the greeting from General of the Artillery Günther von Kluge, Guderian slowly opened his eyes and saluted.
“Commander.”
The high commanders of the Northern Army Group, specifically the 4th Army, were all gathered there: Northern Army Group Commander Fedor von Bock, 4th Army Commander Günther von Kluge, II Army Corps Commander Adolf Strauss, and III Army Corps Commander Curt Haase.
He immediately understood why he was the last to be summoned, thanks to the only young man present, standing next to Fedor von Bock.
The main culprit of the Führer's Chancellery attack, the wanted man who had put a bullet in Hitler, Count Blumenthal, was in this room.
He had wondered how the man had shot the Führer in the middle of Berlin and then vanished so elusively. It turned out they had been protecting him here all along.
Count Blumenthal was a close friend of the Emperor's eldest son, and General Fedor von Bock was acquainted with Wilhelm III. Guderian smiled bitterly.
“Guderian, we have decided to pledge our loyalty to the Kaiser and the new government instead of Hitler. What is your decision?”
Guderian fell silent for a moment at Fedor von Bock's question. Except for Rommel, who had gained favor after the Chancellery incident, he was probably one of the generals in the Wehrmacht closest to Hitler.
That was likely why he was the last corps commander summoned to this meeting. If he refused here, he would be arrested, and his military career would probably be over.
Although Hitler was a cruel and ruthless dictator, to Guderian himself, he could be considered something of a benefactor.
But the deliberation was so short it felt anticlimactic even to Guderian himself. Perhaps he had already made the decision in his heart during the course of the civil war.
“I cannot raise my gun against my mentor, so I will join you.”
His decision would undoubtedly be a betrayal to Hitler.
But he also understood that while the Führer had been an exceptionally good person to him, he was at the same time a heinous dictator to others.
He felt a sense of self-loathing, for while he still held a degree of pity for Hitler, he was unwilling to throw away the military career he had worked so hard to build.
“Ooh...”
“With this, the 4th Army is unanimous.”
Just as Guderian was savoring his bitterness and the generals were rejoicing, the phone rang.
The Northern Army Group Commander, Fedor von Bock, picked up the receiver.
“Bock here.”
As everyone watched Bock, he listened to the voice on the phone with his characteristically stern expression before speaking.
“Ah, Halder. You want us to stop the offensive coming from Dresden? Yes, as it happens, we do have General Guderian's armored unit here.”
They couldn't hear exactly what Halder was saying, but the generals in the room could roughly tell he was talking animatedly.
“But I'm afraid we have no spare units at the moment. There's someone here who would like a word with the Führer, so I'll put him on.”
Before Halder could say anything more, Bock snorted and handed the phone to Count Blumenthal, who took it with a friendly smile on his handsome face and spoke into the receiver.
“Good day, Chief of Staff Franz Halder. This is First Lieutenant Hans-Jürgen von Blumenthal. I was wondering how Hitler is doing after being shot. I'd be grateful if you'd pass on my concerns.”
The last thing heard from the phone was Halder's cry—something that was impossible to distinguish as a scream, a shriek, or a roar of fury.