Chapter 248: Student

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“Heil Führer!” two German Wehrmacht soldiers with MP-44 rifles said, standing at attention and saluting. Student waved his hand and walked into the room between the two of them.

In the center of the spacious and bright hall, the commander of Army Group B, Keitel, was waiting. He had been ordered to promote Student to Lieutenant General of the German Airborne Forces and to grant Student the authority to meet directly with the Führer. The original commander of Army Group B, List, had been transferred to the Eastern Front during the Polish campaign, where he commanded the operations of Army Group D. Now, List was the deputy commander of the German forces on the Eastern Front, and the commander-in-chief was the good-natured old General Kluge, who was completely obedient to Führer Akado.

When Student saw Keitel, his face was tinged with anger. He stood at attention in front of Keitel and extended his right hand. “Heil Führer!”

“Heil Führer!” Keitel returned the salute, then handed the epaulets and collar tabs symbolizing the rank of lieutenant general to Student, as well as the identity documents and letter of appointment from the Reich High Command. “Congratulations, General Student! Your troops’ performance in the Netherlands was commendable. It was only with your cooperation that Army Group B was able to sweep through the Netherlands.”

“Thank you,” Student said, extending his hand to shake General Keitel’s. “The arrival of your 11th Panzer Division was very timely. If you had been a day later, the consequences would have been unthinkable.”

“You all fought very bravely… I heard that many paratrooper units lost two-thirds of their soldiers. This news makes me very sad…” Keitel said as he led Student back. “But you and I both have to admit that the Führer’s new tactics were very successful in the Netherlands.”

“This success was built on huge sacrifices,” Student said with a sigh. “Do you know why I’m in such a bad mood? I’ve seen some units where an entire company of soldiers has not been heard from to this day.”

“We are soldiers, General Student,” Keitel said, his hands behind his back as he walked forward. “You should understand better than I do that the reason you have become a general is so that you can send the Führer’s paratroopers to any place the Führer wishes them to go. The losses… although huge, are all worth it when compared to the results of the battle.”

“Worth it?” Student was taken aback, then looked at Keitel and asked.

“Worth it!” Keitel replied. “To allow my troops to encircle Rotterdam in four days and to seal the channel for the Anglo-French coalition forces to enter the Netherlands from Belgium in the southwest—all these losses are worth it! Very worth it!”

“To exchange more than two thousand seven hundred lives for this evaluation is really not cheap,” Student said with self-deprecation. “I was the one who stuffed them into the Ju-52 transport planes and then sent them to hell with a kick out the door.”

“Two thousand seven hundred? Including my army group, we lost about 6,100 soldiers in four days…” Keitel stopped in his tracks and looked at Student. “Do you think that only the paratroopers were fighting?”

“I’m sorry! That’s not what I meant,” Student apologized, a little embarrassed.

“It’s not your fault. We all care for our own subordinates. This is a good phenomenon,” Keitel smiled and said to Student. “But do you know how long it took us to cross this muddy land of the Netherlands in the First World War? And what a great price we sacrificed?”

“This is a victory brought to us by the Führer’s pioneering spirit,” Student said, his voice still filled with reverence when he mentioned Akado.

“You are wrong again, General Student,” Keitel laughed out loud. “It was you who brought victory to Germany. The Führer brought the paratroopers to Germany.”

When Student was promoted to lieutenant general, the Wehrmacht High Command had ordered the expansion of the German parachute divisions from three to twelve. Although this plan was very long-term, the eye-catching performance of the paratroopers in the Netherlands made the generals hope that they would have more paratroopers to fight with. To this day, these Wehrmacht generals still couldn’t forget the way the paratroopers had supported the rapid advance of the armored forces—they hoped that one day, all of Germany’s infantry could be as fast as the paratroopers.

This plan had led to the promotion of the more than 10,000 paratroopers who were still on Dutch soil. All the soldiers were promoted to private first class, and most of the soldiers with combat merits or the outstanding commanders were promoted.

“I hear you’re rushing back to the Felsennest?” Keitel asked, handing Student a glass of fine wine he had found in the Netherlands. “In such a hurry to go back?”

“I must rush back to report the paratroopers’ losses to the Führer. At the very least, I feel that the German paratroopers cannot be thrown into the next war on such a large scale again. Compared to using several divisions of paratroopers at once, I think that using divisional-sized units for individual airdrop attacks is more in line with the characteristics of the paratroopers,” Student said sincerely, taking a sip of the fine wine.

“I, on the other hand, think that if the Führer insists on using the paratrooper units in this way, then you might as well listen to his ideas,” Keitel said with a smile. “Compared to other German leaders, the Führer knows military affairs. This is both very unfortunate and very fortunate for us.”

He sighed and said, “The unfortunate thing is that no matter how hard we try, the halo of the number one military figure in Germany will not fall on our heads. But we are also very fortunate. The Führer has helped us complete many things, making our actions so much easier.”

“You are right! I firmly believe the Führer is always right!” Student put down his wine glass. “It’s getting late. I have to catch my plane.” He said goodbye to Keitel and then took his car to Waalhaven airfield.

The car stopped on the edge of the airfield. Student got out and looked at the columns of paratroopers waiting on the airfield and on the yellowed grass, which was covered with snow, to board their planes. He walked over with his guards and stopped beside a paratrooper who was smoking.

“Where did you fight?” Student asked with a smile.

“Heil Führer!” the paratrooper saluted at attention and replied. “I fought near a village southwest of the Willemsbrug bridge.”

“Oh?” Student, who had only asked casually, was suddenly interested. He knew that a platoon of soldiers had held their ground there, not retreating a single step in the face of a force ten times their own size.

“You were very brave. You did not retreat a single step in the face of the French tanks,” Student said, patting the soldier’s shoulder in encouragement.

“How could we not retreat?” the soldier said, scratching his head in embarrassment. “We’d be fools not to run, wouldn’t we? We had to retreat, to lure them into our ambush, and then open fire from all sides.”

Student was embarrassed. In terms of frontline combat experience, he estimated that he was certainly no match for these soldiers. So he extended his hand, shook the soldier’s hand, and said sincerely, “In fighting, I am no match for you.”

He swept his gaze over the soldiers under his command, looked at the smiles on their young faces, and nodded in satisfaction. But soon he saw a sight that saddened him. One paratrooper had his face completely wrapped in bandages, and another soldier’s arm was also in a bandage. Only then did he realize that if this unit was a squad, it clearly had too many men, but if it was a platoon, it was not at full strength.

“Where is your commander?” Student asked.

“Hey, Platoon Leader! The General is looking for you!” the soldier who had shaken hands with the general shouted, turning his head. From the sound of his voice, it seemed he was very fond of his superior. At least, the tone in which he shouted “Platoon Leader” was much more spirited than when he had shouted “Heil Führer.”

A young man with an MP-44 assault rifle slung over his shoulder walked over. His steel helmet was covered with a camouflage net and looked a bit old. There were still some scratches on his neck and face. It looked like he had had a very rough few days.

This young man walked up to Student, stood at attention, and extended his right hand in a German salute. “Heil Führer! General! Second Lieutenant Borol of the 1st Platoon, 1st Company, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Regiment, 1st Parachute Division, at your service.”

Student returned the salute at attention and then said, “When you get back, you will have a three-day leave, and then you will be supplemented with new recruits. I hope you can pass on your valuable combat experience to your new subordinates.”

“General, someone told me that we have come thousands of miles to this place, struggled in a sea of fire, and survived under a hail of bullets, not for revenge, not for expanding territory, and not for any Führer… You know, saying these things is actually quite difficult,” Borol said, sniffing. “He told me that we were just ordered to come here, and then to fight like hell to stay alive.”

“He had a face full of freckles and wasn’t good-looking at all. But now I understand what he meant by those words,” Borol said with a light smile. “I will do my best to stay alive.”

Nodding, Student took a beautifully crafted lighter from his pocket and handed it to Borol. “Smoke less. It’s not good for your health… I hope you can live, live well.”

Then he turned to leave, somewhat awkwardly, as if he were trying to escape something. But Borol still called out to him. “General! I have a request.”

“I will do my best to grant it,” Student stopped in his tracks and immediately agreed, turning his head back.

“Can you take the identity tags of the fallen soldiers to show to the Führer?” Borol asked, his eyes filled with hope. “They fought for the Führer and gave their lives for their oath—but most of them have never even seen their Führer.”

Student was taken aback for a moment, then pursed his lips and nodded forcefully. He called his adjutant over, whispered something in the major’s ear, and the major ran toward the plane in the distance. The wounded were being transported back to the homeland there, and on the plane was a full bag of identity tags.

“I will bring them to the Führer,” Student said to Borol. “This is the honor they deserve.”

Honor. Yes, a pitiful, humble honor… Borol thought, looking up at the Ju-52 transport plane that the general was on as it flew into the sky. It rendezvoused with its four Fw-1D fighter escorts under the distant white clouds and disappeared at the end of the sky.

He dragged his not-so-heavy luggage, and step by step, followed the soldiers in front of him, climbing onto the familiar Ju-52 transport. He leaned against the cabin wall and fell asleep.