Chapter 65
Chapter 65
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: The German Civil War - Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (5)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
< The German Civil War - Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (5) >
November 19, 1939
Warsaw, the capital of Poland, Central Poland
In his office, Polish President Ignacy Mościcki was meeting with Lieutenant General Władysław Sikorski, who had come to see him.
“Mr. President. You must stop the military's plan to invade Germany. They are not the crumbling sandcastle they were after their defeat in the Great War. Their civil war is ending swiftly, with less damage than we anticipated, and international opinion is in their favor.”
At Lieutenant General Sikorski's words, President Mościcki merely narrowed his eyes slightly and stroked his mustache.
“Sir! The Soviet Union is at our backs. And you want to attack Germany in a situation like this? Marshal Rydz-Śmigły is grossly overestimating our strength. While we may have won the last war against the Soviets, it was a war that brought our nation to the brink of collapse. They are driving our homeland to the brink of ruin once more, so why are you standing by and letting those nationalists do as they please!”
Ever since Nazi Germany's attempt to fabricate a pretext for a declaration of war on Poland was exposed and their civil war erupted, the Polish army had been steadily deploying troops along the German border.
And Marshal Edward Rydz-Śmigły, the de facto ruler of Poland, had been drafting war plans against Germany with the goal of reclaiming East Prussia and Silesia, once Polish territories. The preparations were now in their final stages.
“Look here, Sikorski. Like you, I do not care for those radical and reckless nationalists.”
“Then why, may I ask, have you allowed things to come to this? It was you, Mr. President, who backed Marshal Rydz-Śmigły to oust Prime Minister Sławek!”
Mościcki cleared his throat, his expression uncomfortable.
After the death of Marshal Piłsudski, the hero who had saved Poland, the country was governed by a triumvirate of President Mościcki, Prime Minister Sławek, and Inspector General Rydz-Śmigły, each checking the others' power.
Prime Minister Walery Sławek was considered Piłsudski's rightful successor, but Mościcki and Rydz-Śmigły, who both disliked him, conspired to drive him out, elevating Rydz-Śmigły to Marshal of the Polish Armed Forces and de facto ruler.
And it was this same Rydz-Śmigły who, by antagonizing both Germany and the Soviet Union, had brought Poland to its current predicament.
“I, too, regret what happened with Sławek.”
Even after being forced from the premiership, Walery Sławek had remained politically active and, buoyed by popular support, became the Marshal of the Sejm. But at Rydz-Śmigły's request, Mościcki dissolved the parliament, putting an end to that as well.
Sławek did his utmost to stand against Rydz-Śmigły's dictatorship, but after facing constant obstruction and interference, he despaired as the Danzig Crisis began to escalate in April 1939, believing the government was leading the nation to ruin, and ultimately took his own life.
The meaningless death of a political rival whom he had loathed, but who had possessed both ability and patriotism, left a considerable shock on Mościcki.
“You are like Sławek. Lieutenant General Sikorski. No, former Prime Minister.”
“I am a soldier, Mr. President. I only served as Prime Minister for a little over a year.”
Władysław Sikorski was a man who enjoyed broad support not only from the military but also from Polish conservatives and liberals.
He had served briefly as Poland's Prime Minister starting in 1922, achieving significant diplomatic successes and earning the love of the entire nation.
Yet even he, with his nationwide support, was forced to resign, hated by the far-right nationalists and the Sejm.
“I know you are a patriot and a wise man. And yet, you were Prime Minister for a mere year, while I have been President since 1926. That is the difference between you and me.”
Sikorski's face hardened, but Mościcki continued.
“Do you know how many prime ministers have served during my presidency? Fifteen. Including the current one, Składkowski, it's been fifteen. Poland has faced countless national crises during that time, but we have overcome them all.”
The political situation in Poland, founded after the First World War, was extremely turbulent. The average term for a prime minister during his presidency was less than a year.
President Mościcki, who had witnessed it all—the endless parade of prime ministers assassinated in nationalist terror attacks or driven out after earning the ire of the Sejm—operated on a principle of self-preservation.
He disliked the far-right nationalists too, but he never once directly opposed them. And so, while countless prime ministers came and went, he remained Poland's president, if only as a figurehead, for all that time.
“I will do as I have always done: I will not intervene. I trust that God will protect Poland this time as well.”
Lieutenant General Sikorski let out a deep sigh at President Mościcki's words.
“God has already protected us by stopping that cursed devil, Hitler. And yet, here we are, about to throw that blessing away with our own two feet.”
President Mościcki offered no reply, and Sikorski turned away, dejected.
-
November 19, 1939
Dresden, Fourth Military District, Northern Germany – Eastern Saxon Border
“Advance, advance! To my Panzer men, the glory of sealing our victory belongs to us!”
General Oswald Lutz's armored force, composed of Panzer IVs and Panzer III tank destroyers, had swept past Dresden and was now rapidly advancing toward the eastern edge of Saxony.
Inside his tank, General Lutz peered at his operational map and grinned.
“What a peculiar idea. An interesting plan, that Manstein fellow.”
Even to General Lutz, who had been ousted for being a radical within the army for his zealous push for mechanization, Manstein was radical in a different sense.
Who else could have devised such a bizarre operational plan? And the high command that approved it was just as remarkable.
[General! Luftwaffe!]
“Damn it all. Not them again!”
General Lutz ground his teeth. No matter how much the tank was the protagonist of the battlefield, the sheer terror of an enemy you couldn't fight back against, raining bombs from the sky and blowing your tanks to pieces, was something else entirely.
[S-Stukas—!]
At the almost-scream from the radio, General Lutz squeezed his eyes shut. All he could do was hope his men's sacrifices would be few.
General Lutz took the Iron Cross hanging from his neck, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.
“God, protect us.”
It wasn't a crucifix, but it was close enough. It would have to do!
Immediately after, the sound of machine-gun fire and exploding bombs erupted from all sides. General Lutz distinctly heard the terrifying roar of an enemy aircraft flying directly over his tank.
After the storm passed, a brief silence fell, broken only by the hum of tank engines and the sound of tracks gliding over the earth. The tank crews were silent.
[General, are you alright?]
“Is it over?”
[Yes, sir. I think so.]
Lutz opened the hatch, stuck his head out, and scanned the surroundings with his binoculars.
“What in the world.”
Despite a large-scale air raid, his armored unit was perfectly fine. The only signs of the attack were bomb craters along the path his Panzers had just traveled.
General Oswald Lutz stared blankly at the Luftwaffe aircraft receding into the clear blue sky, then raised the Iron Cross to his lips again and muttered.
"First thing I'm doing after this battle is buying a proper cross."
-
November 19, 1939
Southwest of Berlin, Third Military District, Northern Germany – 10th Army Defensive Line
Walter Model, Chief of Staff of Army Group South, was walking alone along the 10th Army's defensive line.
It wasn't common for a general of his rank to wander the front lines, but Walter Model's eccentricities were well-known since his days as the 4th Corps' chief of staff, so the soldiers didn't find it particularly strange.
They merely saluted him with faces devoid of any fighting spirit as he passed.
As Walter Model strolled along the line, he frowned slightly at a sight he encountered. He slowly changed his course and approached a group of men in SS uniforms.
“Greetings, SS-Gruppenführer. I am Lieutenant General Walter Model, Chief of Staff of Army Group South.”
The man leading the group was quite young. Early thirties, perhaps? But his collar insignia indicated he was an SS-Gruppenführer, a Lieutenant General.
“A pleasure, Lieutenant General Model. I am Baldur von Schirach, Reich Youth Leader of the SS.”
He responded politely to Walter Model, but Model's expression did not soften.
“Why are these men here?”
“An order from the Führer. He has commanded that the Hitler Youth also join the fight to defend the fatherland!”
Walter Model glanced up at the clear sky, then down at the ground, before turning his gaze back to the ‘soldiers’ lined up behind Schirach.
They were teenage boys, dressed in SS combat uniforms and shouldering old-fashioned rifles that were far too large for their frames.
“Have these boys even been properly trained?”
Schirach’s face clouded over for a moment at Model’s question, but he quickly composed himself and answered.
“Their loyalty to the fatherland is second to no soldier!”
“Loyalty.”
Walter Model let out a humorless laugh and immediately grabbed Schirach by the collar.
“L-Lieutenant General.”
“You have the look of a man who knows he's spouting bullshit. You're going to put these snot-nosed kids on the front line?”
While Schirach was flustered, a series of metallic clicks sounded from behind Model.
Walter Model slowly turned his head and asked the boys who were now aiming their rifles at him.
“Do you even know where you're going? Do you even know what loyalty is?”
The boys’ reply to Model’s question was resolute, as if they had been mechanically brainwashed.
“Our loyalty is for the Führer and the National Socialist German Workers' Party alone!”
“The Führer has commanded it, so we follow gladly! Unhand our Youth Leader!”
Model looked into the eyes of the boys aiming their guns at him and felt his strength drain away as he saw not a flicker of hesitation.
They weren't just spouting well-rehearsed platitudes. To them, this was an unshakable truth that required no judgment of right or wrong.
These boys, who should have been under the care of their parents, were accepting the act of marching off to war as a matter of course, simply because the Führer and the Nazi Party wished it.
Even if it meant fighting against their own parents, their brothers, the German people.
Walter Model let go of Schirach, but the boys of the Youth kept their rifles trained on him until Schirach gestured for them to lower their weapons.
“...This is madness. What in God's name have you people done.”
Schirach avoided Model's gaze, then gestured for the Youth to move out.
The young boys marched with the mechanical precision of soldiers, yet they shot Model looks of contempt, as if he were a defeatist.
Walter Model stood rooted to the spot, watching the scene unfold, then muttered blankly.
“I have been serving a criminal regime.”
-
November 19, 1939
Berlin, Wehrmacht High Command, Northern Germany
“The air raid failed, too?”
Chief of the Army General Staff Franz Halder’s face went pale, but the tone on the other end of the line was unchanged.
[That is correct, Chief of Staff. According to the pilots' reports, they were unlucky with the weather, so they only inflicted minor damage. My apologies.]
At the bad news delivered by Wolfram von Richthofen, Halder powerlessly set down the receiver.
“If their armored units advance on the 10th Army's rear or toward Berlin, we have no way to stop them. The LSSAH's armored division has not yet returned to Berlin.”
Halder remained silent at Jodl's words.
“Well, Halder. What's the plan now?”
Wilhelm Keitel, Chief of the Wehrmacht High Command, finally asked, unable to bear the silence, but Halder still said nothing.
As all eyes were fixed on him, Halder, after a long moment of deliberation, made his decision.
“...Let's pull back the 10th Army. We must establish a new defensive line behind the Elbe River. They might advance on Berlin before then, so I will mobilize every last man from the Berlin Reserve Army Command to block the path to the capital.”
The 10th Army's defensive line was a series of trenches they had been building and reinforcing since the start of the civil war. Had a battle been fought there, it would have inflicted heavy casualties on the enemy.
To have to give up that line without a fight. Halder bit his lip, but his only hope was to shorten the front, receive air support, and win a single, decisive engagement.
If General Sepp Dietrich wasn't too late, they might even be able to annihilate the enemy's main armored force.
“What about the 14th Army?”
Wilhelm List's 14th Army was still facing off against Blaskowitz in the Sudetenland. If they shortened the front like this, there would be no way to resupply them.
Halder wasn't foolish enough to trust that damned Air Marshal's boasts of aerial resupply again, not after he had let Paul Hausser's SS get wiped out.
“I will order them to bypass through Silesia and strike the enemy's armored units.”
Blaskowitz wouldn't just stand by and watch, so it would be difficult, but they were already short on troops and couldn't afford to leave them idle in Czechia. There was no other way.
The new government's forces, which had been far inferior to the Wehrmacht at the start of the war, now had the upper hand after the 4th and 8th Armies had defected.
“What about reporting to the Führer?”
Halder felt a cold sweat trickle down his spine.
“Let's report to him after we've crushed their armored units, General.”
The Führer was still reeling from the pain and drugs after his seizure and wasn't paying attention to this front. Rather than stir up trouble for himself, it was better to report after achieving some semblance of a victory—at least then he might get to keep his head.
Keitel looked at Halder with a pitying expression, then clicked his tongue and replied.
“...Very well.”
Franz Halder glared at the operational map with bloodshot eyes.
This couldn't be called a fair fight.
He was not losing to Manstein. It was only because the damned soldiers' morale had plummeted and betrayals were rampant.
That was all. The only thing that bastard Manstein did better than him was despicably switching sides!
He couldn't lose to that man like this, without even a proper fight.
Halder ground his teeth with an audible creak and began to draw a new defensive line and operational plan on the map.
< The German Civil War - Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (5) > End