Chapter 73: For What Do We Fight? (3)
Translated by Vine | Proofread by Lust
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< World War II – For What Do We Fight? (3) >
December 24, 1939
Eastern Germany, 8th Military District, Breslau – Upper Silesia
Since the 20th, Upper Silesia had been under relentless attack by Polish forces.
“Die! You damned Poles!”
“Wiwat Polski!” (Long live Poland!)
Amidst a hail of bullets, Army Group North was slowly being pushed back, suffering heavy casualties.
“Argh! Mother!”
The sight of a comrade, who had shared a tasteless meal with them just that morning, lying on the ground, clutching at his blood-soaked stomach and screaming in agony, was enough to drive even the sanest man to madness.
“Die! Die!”
“Look out!”
A machine gunner, his eyes bloodshot, firing his MG34 with frenzied abandon, was blown to pieces as an artillery shell landed beside him.
“Ugh… retch…”
The soldier who had shouted the warning vomited at the sight of his comrade’s remains, then collapsed onto his own vomit, shot dead.
“Headquarters, headquarters! This is 2nd Company! The enemy attack is too fierce! We’ll all be-”
“Captain!”
Captain Clemens Fleck, shouting into the radio, was suddenly shoved to the ground by his adjutant.
“Oof!”
Clemens felt a chill run down his spine as he saw a fighter plane strafing the spot where he had been standing just moments before.
[2nd Company, this is battalion headquarters. The entire front line is under heavy attack. Hold your position.]
The headquarters’ response was unhelpful and brief.
“Damn it! Are they telling us to die?!”
Clemens yelled at his adjutant, who had no answers.
Behind them, a tank, newly arrived, rumbled forward. His men cheered at the sight of the tank and its distinctive engine noise.
“A Panzer IV!”
While a single medium tank wouldn’t change the overall strategic situation, it was a significant morale boost for the infantry defending their shallow trenches.
However, the Panzer IV, unfortunately, was spotted by an enemy tank and destroyed before it could even fire a shot.
“Damn it!”
While the Polish 7TP was just a light tank, its main gun was powerful enough to damage a Panzer IV, and it was proving to be a formidable opponent against the German forces, already weakened by the surprise attack.
“W-Where’s the assault gun?”
Clemens shouted in panic, but the StuG III assault guns and tank destroyers, which had helped them withstand the initial Polish attack, were mostly smoldering wrecks.
Clemens cautiously peeked over the trench and saw more Polish 7TP tanks advancing.
“Oh God, we’re all going to die!”
“C-Captain, calm down!”
“If I die here, I’m going to curse Dietrich! I hope he becomes impotent!”
Why did his friend, a State Secretary, send him to the front lines?!
Fortunately, his curse wouldn’t come to pass.
The Polish forces, advancing towards Clemens’ trench, suddenly stopped and began to retreat in panic.
“What’s going on?”
The answer became clear in an instant.
Bf 109 fighters roared overhead, strafing the Polish troops, and Stuka dive bombers, screaming down from the sky, turned the Polish tanks into burning coffins.
“The Luftwaffe!”
Adolf Galland, glancing down at the cheering ground troops from his cockpit, grinned.
The Luftwaffe, most of which had been deployed to the Italian front, had arrived to support Army Group North.
Galland, puffing on his cigar, pursued a slow Polish fighter plane.
The Polish pilot, trying to shake off his pursuer, climbed, dived, and weaved.
“Not a bad pilot…”
However, Galland, easily anticipating his every move, closed in and riddled his wings with bullets.
“The plane’s no match for mine.”
The Polish fighter, losing altitude rapidly, began to plummet towards the ground. With luck, the pilot would survive with a parachute.
To Galland, who treated aerial combat like a sport, the enemy pilot’s fate was of no concern.
As he took another puff on his cigar, another Polish fighter appeared behind him.
“Oh dear.”
Galland, unfazed, executed a sharp turn, and the Polish fighter, following him blindly, was shot down by another Bf 109, bursting into flames.
“Whew~”
Recognizing his comrade Werner Mölders’s plane, Galland grinned, imagining his friend’s smug expression.
The Luftwaffe fighters were using the “Schwarm” (Swarm) tactics developed by Werner Mölders, a formation that allowed fighters to support each other effectively. His tactics had already been proven in Spain.
The Polish air force, outmatched in both aircraft and tactics, was quickly losing control of the skies to the Luftwaffe veterans of the Condor Legion and the Italian front.
Galland glanced around and saw Stukas and Hs 123s wreaking havoc on the Polish ground forces.
“General Richthofen would be disappointed to miss this.”
He muttered the words, checked his fuel gauge, and headed back to base, flying over the cheering ground troops.
The Polish offensive, which had nearly overrun Army Group North’s defenses in Upper Silesia, was halted by the timely arrival of the Luftwaffe.
–
December 24, 1939
Northern Germany, Berlin
Despite it being Christmas Eve, our government was incredibly busy.
I had hoped to spend a peaceful Christmas with Claudia, but reality was… different.
My father, having finally dealt with the Mefo bills, was now struggling to keep the economy afloat after the declaration of general mobilization, rushing around to secure funding and cooperation from businesses.
Fortunately, the Labor Ministry’s efforts to train and deploy female workers were starting to bear fruit, and our economy, while strained, was in a better state than under the Nazis’ disastrous management.
Foreign Minister Weizsäcker was desperately trying to secure Britain’s support, but Halifax remained noncommittal.
Unlike Finland, whose cause was relatively easy to support, our successful defense against Poland made us seem less vulnerable, making Britain less inclined to intervene.
While US President Roosevelt had expressed his personal support, the US Congress, arguing that the US, bound by neutrality laws, couldn’t offer assistance while Britain remained neutral, hadn’t provided any substantial aid.
However, the US had officially approved the direct purchase of “non-military” supplies, such as fuel and trucks, from us, instead of going through the Netherlands as before.
This was a significant improvement over the Nazi era’s logistical nightmares and would greatly improve our ability to supply and maintain our armored forces.
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I was handling most of the military matters, as my father preferred to focus on the economy. It was inevitable, as Defense Minister Beck and I were the only government officials with military experience and rank.
“State Secretary, as you requested, winter clothing is being distributed to the front-line troops on schedule, although we can’t supply the mobilizing reserves yet.”
I sighed in relief at Field Marshal Ludwig Beck’s report.
“That’s good to hear.”
Unlike Hitler, who had neglected his troops’ basic needs even during the height of the war against the Soviet Union, prioritizing the transportation of Jews and poison gas, we weren’t making such foolish mistakes.
There was nothing more absurd than losing soldiers to frostbite and preventable illnesses.
While the initial Polish offensive in the east had been fierce, we had managed to hold the line, thanks to our air superiority and the fact that most of the Polish tanks, apart from the 7TP, were no match for our Panzer IVs and Panzerjäger Is.
While we had lost some territory in Upper Silesia and southern East Prussia, the front lines had stabilized, and the Polish offensive had stalled due to the rapidly dropping temperatures.
However, we only had nineteen divisions in East Prussia and nine in Silesia defending Germany. We were outnumbered by the forty-five Polish divisions by more than two to one.
We had managed to contain the Polish offensive, as they had focused their attacks on East Prussia and Silesia, territories they claimed as their own, but if they changed their strategy and attacked along the entire border, we would be in serious trouble.
“This is the operational plan from Army Group South.”
General Manstein unfurled the operational plan, which aimed to break the current stalemate.
The plan called for Army Group South, currently deployed in Veneto and South Tyrol, to withdraw, shortening the front lines, and then redeploy twenty-five divisions to Germany, leaving fifteen divisions behind to defend the Italian front.
If this plan succeeded, we would have forty-four divisions facing forty-five Polish divisions.
While Army Group North’s nineteen divisions were battered, we had air superiority and a significant advantage in armor and artillery, making a defensive war feasible.
“Colonel General Erwin von Witzleben has agreed to command Army Group South in Italy. This plan was devised by him and Lieutenant General Walther Model, his Chief of Staff.”
Manstein, his face unusually serious, explained the plan. Even he, usually oblivious to such matters, understood the gravity of the situation.
“According to this plan, Army Group South will withdraw, using South Tyrol as a bulwark against enemy counterattacks, and then establish a defensive line in Tyrol.”
With their flanks secured by the Yugoslav and Swiss borders, and the Alps providing a natural defensive barrier, Tyrol was the ideal location to hold the line.
The problem was-
“The Italian army has forty-two divisions. Army Group South will have to defend the South Tyrol salient with fifteen divisions while covering the retreat of our forces through the Alps, and then establish a defensive line in Tyrol.”
It sounded almost impossible.
“While we requested twenty-five divisions, frankly, if they pull this off, Army Group South will become legends.”
Manstein lit a cigar.
“So, Model and the Army Group South staff devised this plan?”
“Yes, Minister. Frankly, the man who came up with this is either a genius or a madman. But if this crazy plan fails, we might not be able to withstand the next Polish offensive.”
Manstein, answering Ludwig Beck’s question, sounded unusually irritated.
I felt my throat tighten. Walther Model. The Lion of Defense. The Führer’s Fireman. Now the Fireman of the Fourth Reich.
…But was it even possible?
Even I, with my knowledge of the original timeline and basic military training, was skeptical.
“The Luftwaffe will play a crucial role in covering their retreat.”
It was Wolfram von Richthofen, Chief of the General Staff of the Luftwaffe, who spoke. He had been flying combat missions in Italy and had finally relented to our pleas to attend the operational meeting.
Manstein puffed on his cigar in silence. Even he, who usually enjoyed taking risks, was hesitant to approve such a daring plan.
“…I trust you, General.”
Richthofen grinned at my words.
“I’ve worked with Model before. Don’t worry, we’ll provide full air support.”
Beck wiped his brow with a handkerchief and sighed.
“I’m getting too old for this. I can’t keep up with these youngsters’ ideas.”
“Well, we have no time and no other options. If Witzleben approved it, it must be at least feasible.”
Erwin von Witzleben. He had been one of the first generals to support our cause and had defended Model, who chose arrest over surrender.
He and Model would surely succeed.
Walther Model, the Miracle Worker. I hoped his reputation would hold true in this timeline as well.
“Alright, let’s do it.”
As Ludwig Beck agreed, Manstein took a long drag on his cigar, stubbed it out, and muttered, “I’ll be damned if they actually pull this off…”
< World War II – For What Do We Fight? (3) > End
