Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: The Fate of Poland (5)
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March 4, 1940
Moscow, Capital of the Soviet Union
Stalin, General Secretary of the Soviet Union and the man called the Man of Steel, narrowed his eyes, his mustache twitching.
“Still no word from Germany?”
“That is correct, Comrade General Secretary.”
Hearing Molotov's reply, Stalin's expression soured with displeasure.
“Let us not be too hasty. They are running an inefficient democratic government, so decision-making will take time.”
Stalin let out a dry laugh.
“What kind of democracy is it when they haven't even held an election? It's a wartime national unity cabinet. Have you ever seen those bastards mess things up by being slow to decide?”
At Stalin's irritated words, Molotov quietly shut his mouth. Indeed, their decision-making could hardly be called slow.
They had responded swiftly to every issue—the German Civil War, the invasion of Italy, the ascension of Wilhelm III, the invasion of Poland, the threat from France—narrowly avoiding crisis each time.
Yet now, with peace talks with Poland broken down and the possibility of conflict between German and Soviet forces on Polish soil, they remained silent in response to our request for a meeting?
“You said the person in charge of these negotiations is the Vice-Chancellor, correct?”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”
Wasn't he the one who put the suspect in the assassination of Nazi Germany's Foreign Minister, Ribbentrop, on a radio broadcast and then made her his aide? And they recently married.
It wasn't strange for the new government, which had rebelled against the Nazis, to assassinate a high-ranking Nazi official, so he hadn't thought much of it at the time.
But according to what the NKVD later uncovered, Ribbentrop had been murdered shortly after proposing to the Foreign Ministry that they join hands with the Soviets to carve up Poland.
The idea of tearing Poland apart with the Fourth Reich—an enemy nation, considering their support for Finland—had been inspired by that very event...
“...How unpleasant.”
Hearing Stalin's solitary mutter, Molotov broke into a cold sweat. But the man who had so casually instilled the fear of a purge in his subordinate was lost in thought.
Logically, it felt like pieces of the puzzle were missing, but the existence of that young Vice-Chancellor continued to grate on Stalin's nerves.
That speech of his, targeting not only France but also the Soviet Union for its invasion of Finland—what an impudent brat.
Stalin shook his head. Still, as the leader of the great Soviet Union, he shouldn't concern himself with some greenhorn who wasn't even the head of state.
They might genuinely be deliberating. It wouldn't be too late to judge after seeing how Germany acts.
“What is the status of preparations for the invasion of Poland?”
Boris Shaposhnikov, Chief of the General Staff of the Red Army, answered Stalin’s question with a tense expression.
“It has been less than two weeks since you ordered preparations for the invasion of Poland, Comrade General Secretary. It will take more time to deploy the 100 divisions you requested, and if the Rasputitsa occurs in the meantime, it could be delayed even further.”
The Rasputitsa, when the frozen Russian earth thawed into a sea of mud with the coming of spring, would severely hamper troop movement and supply lines, inevitably delaying the Soviet invasion of Poland.
Stalin had been prepared to break the non-aggression pact with Poland the moment an opportunity arose, but just as he committed an additional 90 divisions to finish off Finland, Germany seized victory with incredible speed.
He had belatedly scrambled to order the formation of an invasion force for Finland and a border guard for the Polish front to prepare for an offensive, but with an officer corps already depleted by the Great Purge, the Soviet army's state of readiness was disastrous.
“If we delay like this, we will miss this golden opportunity!”
Already fearing for his life after the Red Army's disgraceful performance in the Winter War, Shaposhnikov cowered at Stalin's roar.
“Poland is in tatters from fighting Germany, and its eastern border is empty! Even if all the troops haven't gathered, be ready to launch an offensive the moment anything happens between Germany and Poland!”
“Y-yes, I understand, Comrade General Secretary.”
Shaposhnikov wiped away his cold sweat with a handkerchief as he replied. At this rate, his neck was in the hands of Marshals Voroshilov and Budyonny, who were in charge of the Polish invasion.
He sincerely hoped they would succeed in conquering Poland.
-
March 5, 1940
Warsaw, Capital of Poland
On the evening before the deadline set by Germany, Lieutenant General Władysław Sikorski had gathered with his allies.
“General, I accept the reality that we must negotiate with Germany, but to give up our sovereign claims to Gdańsk and Poznań... If this becomes known, even some of our comrades will waver.”
Sikorski listened to Major General Władysław Anders with his arms crossed and eyes closed, then slowly opened them and spoke.
“So, you would rather we refuse, fight heroically against Germany and the Soviet Union, and lead our people and our nation to ruin?”
Major General Anders could not answer. Sikorski looked around at the assembled men and spoke gravely.
“Like all of you comrades who have risked your lives to be here, I too am a Polish nationalist. But if we lose our people and our nation to protect our land, what will be left?”
He hadn't intended to relinquish sovereignty over Gdańsk and Poznań, even if he had to cede the territories. He thought he had come to the table with a strong hand.
But their startlingly young representative, whom he had expected to be tinged with idealism, had represented Germany's national interests so thoroughly that he was forced to give up everything he held.
“I agree with the General's thinking.”
Sikorski looked at General Sosnkowski, the anti-communist who had agreed with him, then rose to his feet.
“Tonight, we will purge the cancer that is driving our homeland to ruin. Apart from those who are to be handed over to Germany, shoot anyone who resists on sight. We no longer have the time to debate right and wrong.”
At Sikorski's declaration, Wincenty Witos, head of the Polish People's Party and the only non-military man present, spoke up.
“What will you do about President Mościcki and Marshal of the Senate Raczkiewicz?”
“They were once our comrades in opposing those militarists, but they are traitors who colluded with the Sanacja and the Sejm. We will subdue them and hand them over to Germany.”
At Sikorski's firm statement, Witos spoke with a slightly worried expression.
“Isn't that too extreme? They have their own supporters in the country. This could spark a backlash, especially when we are already ceding Gdańsk and Poznań and relinquishing our claims.”
Sikorski smiled cynically at Witos's valid point.
“That may be. But it is too dangerous and we have too little time to persuade them and seek their cooperation one by one. If problems arise later because of Gdańsk, Poznań, and them...”
As everyone watched him with tense expressions, Sikorski spoke gravely.
“Blame it all on my unilateral decision, and abandon me.”
No one in the room failed to understand the weight of his words.
As all the soldiers saluted, Sikorski took them all in one by one with somber eyes, then spoke.
“We fought together to defend the Vistula against the Soviets, and now we will shed blood with our fellow Poles in Warsaw, the pride of Poland.”
Sikorski slowly closed his eyes and opened them again before speaking. Everyone in the room shouted in unison.
“Wiwat Polska (Long live Poland).”
“Wiwat Polska.”
-
As night deepened, roaring explosions rocked Warsaw.
The citizens of Warsaw, who had finally fallen into a troubled sleep amidst news of the failed peace talks with Germany and the Soviet Union's breach of the non-aggression pact, awoke in shock. Screams erupted as gunfire began to echo throughout the city.
Yet, amid the chaos, Marshal Rydz-Śmigły was snoring in his temporary quarters at the government building, dead drunk on wine.
“M-Marshal! Marshal! It's an emergency!”
Colonel Stanisław Kopański rushed in and shook him vigorously. Rydz-Śmigły lifted his head, his face groggy with sleep.
“What is it? What’s going on?”
When the peace talks with Germany fell through, Rydz-Śmigły had confined Prime Minister Składkowski and Lieutenant General Sikorski, planning to pin the blame on them. But the news had somehow leaked, and the papers were reporting that the negotiations failed because he and the Sanacja had repeatedly rejected Germany's demands.
The tactic seemed familiar, but the fallout was significant. Rydz-Śmigły had flown into a rage, ordered the arrest of the entire newspaper staff, and then drunk himself into a stupor.
“It's a revolt! An unidentified armed group is attacking the city and approaching the government building!”
“What?”
Rydz-Śmigły tried to bolt upright, but thanks to the copious amount of alcohol he'd consumed, he nearly stumbled pathetically to the floor. Kopański caught him, and he merely staggered.
“A revolt? How? Who is it?”
“We don't know yet. The attack came as a surprise in the middle of the night, and we haven't been able to assess the situation.”
Rydz-Śmigły staggered to the window. Horrified by the sight of smoke rising from various parts of the city, he grabbed the phone.
“Connect me to the Capital Defense Command!”
As Rydz-Śmigły waited anxiously, the screams and gunfire in the city continued unabated. He felt a cold sweat trickle down his spine.
[Capital Defense Command, Major General Sosnkowski speaking.]
“Major General Sosnkowski? What are you doing there?”
Caught off guard by the unexpected voice, Rydz-Śmigły listened as a low chuckle echoed from the receiver.
[Ah, Inspector General. Forgive my impertinence, but I am in command of the Capital Defense Command.]
“What? By whose authority! What are you talking about!”
Still groggy from the alcohol, Rydz-Śmigły's mind was slow to process the situation. The man on the other end seemed to sense this, letting out a dry laugh before continuing.
[To think you've driven the nation to the brink of ruin and still haven't come to your senses. This is a coup d'état, Inspector General. We have decided to follow Lieutenant General Sikorski.]
“S-Sikorski! That bastard has committed treason!”
Rydz-Śmigły slammed the phone down. As he stood there, drenched in a cold sweat, the sounds of gunfire, screams, and shouts grew steadily closer to the government building.
“Marshal, what should we do?”
“W-we have to escape Warsaw. We must resume peace negotiations with Germany. We'll accept all their demands, then bring the troops confronting the Germans back to retake Warsaw.”
Hearing Rydz-Śmigły's plan, Kopański replied in alarm.
“B-but, Marshal. That would mean civil war. And the Soviets in the east...”
“Are you suggesting we just hand over power to that bastard Sikorski! I will not allow it! I am the Marshal of the Polish Armed Forces! I am Piłsudski's successor!”
Rydz-Śmigły shouted, cutting Kopański off. Kopański, who had served as his aide, looked displeased, but Rydz-Śmigły, his head clouded with rage and alcohol, was in no state to notice.
Now was the time to escape.
“Why are we heading for the west gate, not the rear?”
Rydz-Śmigły asked as he ran, having shed his ornate marshal's uniform and insignia for plain clothes. Kopański's answer was simple.
“The rear gate is already under attack, Marshal. The west gate will be next, so we must hurry.”
“I-I see.”
He had thrown almost all his forces at Germany, only to have his main army encircled. He had sent out the remaining troops, and on top of that, sent forces to the eastern front because of the Soviets.
Yet the coup forces had not only seized the Capital Defense Command in Warsaw but also had enough men to surround the government building from both front and back? How long had they been preparing this?
A chill ran down Rydz-Śmigły's spine, but all he could do was run, gasping for breath.
But the moment Rydz-Śmigły emerged from the west gate, soldiers hidden on both sides leveled their rifles at him. Terrified, he threw his hands in the air.
“I-impossible! They're here too?”
There were barely ten men, but Rydz-Śmigły, who had misjudged the scale of the coup and fled hastily without an escort, had no way to resist them.
Looking closer, he saw President Mościcki and Marshal of the Senate Raczkiewicz kneeling on the ground, looking at him with dejected faces.
And standing before them was Lieutenant General Sikorski, a cigar in his mouth, puffing out smoke.
By now, Rydz-Śmigły realized something was wrong. Kopański was watching him with cold eyes.
“Y-you dare betray me!”
“I apologize, Inspector General. I can no longer stand by and watch Poles die needlessly for your power.”
Rydz-Śmigły gritted his teeth at Kopański's words. With almost all troops deployed to the front and so little time, the coup forces, including civilian supporters, barely numbered over two hundred.
They had committed almost all their men to securing the Capital Defense Command; they certainly didn't have the numbers to surround the government building.
Their brilliant success was due to Warsaw's porous defenses, which were easily swayed by the diversionary chaos in the city, and the fact that even the high command's inner circle had turned against them.
Rydz-Śmigły shouted at Sikorski, his face a mask of indignation.
“Staging a coup when we're on the verge of war with Germany and the Soviet Union! Are you trying to destroy our country?”
Sikorski casually puffed his cigar, blew out the smoke, then threw it to the ground and stamped it out before speaking.
“I am doing this to prevent our country's destruction. Thank you, Colonel Kopański. Thanks to you, the damage was minimal.”
As Sikorski strode toward him, Rydz-Śmigły flinched and backed away.
“I-I have done my best as a Polish patriot! Lieutenant General Sikorski, this is—”
Before Rydz-Śmigły could finish, Sikorski's fist connected with his face, sending him sprawling onto the dirty ground.
Sikorski wrinkled his nose at the stench of alcohol wafting from him. President Mościcki, still kneeling on the ground, asked him weakly.
“What are you going to do with us?”
Sikorski looked down at President Mościcki, once his ideological comrade, with a complex expression.
But Mościcki, despite his duty as president, had ultimately ignored the fate of his country for his own safety. Sikorski had no intention of showing him mercy.
“You will be extradited to Germany to stand trial as war criminals in their courts.”
Hearing this, Mościcki lowered his head limply. Rydz-Śmigły, writhing in pain, looked up at him with a pale face.
“Th-then give me a pistol! Let me die with honor—”
“Honor? After bringing our country to this state? You should be grateful. At least your final value will be put to good use for our homeland.”
“C-colluding with Germany! You despicable traitor!”
To the accusations of the self-proclaimed patriot who had led Poland to the brink of ruin with a dictatorship without a dictator, Sikorski replied with a cynical smile.
“I would rather be a traitor to a country that survives than a patriot to a country that is destroyed, clinging to a hollow honor.”