Chapter 416: The Loveliest People

When Borol opened his eyes, the sky was already bright. German bomber formations were scattered across the sky, bringing him an immense sens

When Borol opened his eyes, the sky was already bright. German bomber formations were scattered across the sky, bringing him an immense sense of security. Donner sat beside him, clutching his still blood-stained G43 rifle, the exhaustion on his face plain to see.

“Where is this?” Borol asked, though he hated to break the quiet. His lips were dry and cracked as he spoke.

Donner, who had been dozing off, immediately snapped awake. “You’re awake, sir? This is the hospital in Bacton. We’re under orders to take a ship back to the Netherlands from here for rest and reinforcement.”

It was called a hospital, but it was really just a series of open-air cots set up by the roadside. Though rudimentary, it was a world away from the conditions at the front. On the road not far away, Panther tanks were rolling towards the front line, one after another. The two panzer divisions of the 2nd Panzer Corps had mostly landed. It seemed the British’s good days were coming to an end.

It wasn’t just German armored units landing, but also thousands of German soldiers. These men, carrying their packs and ammunition, marched in neat squares from the docks, singing martial songs as they moved in perfect step toward the front. They would take over the defensive lines from the decimated German paratroopers and then continue the attack toward their designated objectives.

At the end of the rows of wounded, a table was set up under a large tree with a radio on it—a small detail clearly intended to help the wounded relax. At that moment, the radio was broadcasting another one of the German Führer’s speeches.

Through the static, Akado’s voice brought cheer to the wounded soldiers: “In Poland, you swept away all before you, winning the respect of the world for the Reich! In the Netherlands, you were invincible, displaying the might expected of the Reich’s soldiers! In Belgium and France, you were ever-victorious, making every German proud!”

“I have been to the front; I know how much you have given. We too are bleeding and sacrificing, we too are licking our wounds… But as Germans, as the most outstanding people in the world, we remain fearless and march ever forward!”

“For the strength of our fatherland, the soldiers at the front have given their lives. But your souls are with us, and your spirit will forever illuminate the Third Reich!”

“I know many people admire me, thinking it is the Führer who is leading the German people to victory. I can responsibly tell every one of you here that it is I who admire you more! It is you who have given me the courage to face the world’s great powers, it is your patriotism that has inspired me, it is your devotion and sacrifice that allows Germany to stand among the great nations of the world! Do not be humble; you are the pride of the Third Reich!”

“The workers who toil late into the night in the factories, your hard labor provides our soldiers with guns, ammunition, vehicles, and steel. The farmers who labor in the fields, you ensure the German people have enough to eat. And the soldiers who fight bravely at the front, you keep the homeland stable and secure—you are the ones who are the future of Germany, the pride of the Germans, Germany’s ‘loveliest people’!”

“Some people move their lips, and some people have to lay down their lives,” Borol said with a bitter smile. “Baru, who do you think is happier, people like us who lay down our lives, or the Führer on the radio?”

The moment he asked, he froze. He looked awkwardly at the bewildered Donner beside him and apologized. “Sorry, it’s a habit.”

“It’s alright, sir,” Donner said, scratching the back of his head with a smile. “The unwounded men have been given permission to take a hot shower at the bathhouse over there. May I go? I can be back in about fifteen minutes…”

“Of course, go ahead. I’m not so lucky,” Borol said, gesturing to the bandage on his arm and smiling at Donner. “My name is Borol… it’s a pleasure to… to meet you.”

“Donner, Wilhelm Donner,” the young man smiled, then ran off towards the corner at the end of the street, his face beaming with satisfaction.

In the sky above, naval Stukas roared past one after another, the massive bombs under their wings a chilling sight. After a long, quiet night, the German air force, displeased with the enemy’s defiance, had been ordered to strike the British even harder. Higher still, Fw-190D fighters circled endlessly, ready to tear apart any unauthorized aircraft in this airspace. These aerial killers made it impossible for British troops to move during the day, greatly delaying their counter-attacks.

A second lieutenant walked towards Borol, his hands in his trouser pockets, looking somewhat casual and relaxed. He glanced over at the happy Donner running towards the bathhouse, then turned his smiling gaze to Borol.

“Hello, sorry to disturb your rest. I just came ashore and I’m waiting for my tank. If you don’t mind, could we chat for a bit?” the second lieutenant asked, sitting down amicably on the chair beside Borol’s cot, unconcerned by the dust from Donner’s rear end.

Borol noticed this detail. It told him that this second lieutenant was an officer who had seen battle. Only after experiencing life and death, after tasting that utter chaos and filth, does one learn to ignore a little dust.

“Of course not. Are you with the 2nd Panzer Corps?” Borol asked, pulling out his cigarettes and offering one to the lieutenant.

“Just transferred. I heard they needed experienced tank crews here, so I came with my friends,” the lieutenant said, pointing to his own rank insignia with some emotion. “I was a first lieutenant, but now I’m a second lieutenant again. I was originally in the 1st Teaching Company of the 501st Heavy Tank Destroyer Battalion.”

The lieutenant casually mentioned his old unit’s designation. This unique number was not public knowledge, and even within the armored corps, few knew of it, so it was no surprise that Borol, a paratrooper, was unfamiliar with it. Who could have imagined that this heavy tank destroyer battalion had once aimed its cannons at the viewing stand during a military parade? Who could have known that this battalion would produce so many of the most sought-after tank aces in the future?

“A tank commander? And a first lieutenant? You’re a lot like a guy I know,” Borol said, for some reason suddenly thinking of Rein. He subconsciously glanced at the man’s collar and, sure enough, found a Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross.

“You know our company commander?” the lieutenant asked, clearly interested in the topic. “The one called Rein Hardt? He’s really good, but I’m not bad either. I came here to surpass him… You’re really lucky, you know the two best tank commanders in the world. Hello, let me reintroduce myself. My name is Michael—the future number one tank ace, Michael Wittmann.”

Who would have thought the world was so small? You could strike up a conversation with a random person on the roadside and find a common topic to talk about for a long time. Borol smiled and nodded. “It seems that guy is doing well. It’s great that you could come to Britain. Let those Brits have a taste of what German tanks can do!”

“Of course. I’m going to get at least 50 kills here to take back and show Raine and that Carius guy who the real king of tanks is,” Wittmann said, standing up to leave. He pointed to a tank with the number 007 painted on it approaching in the distance. “My crew is here, so I won’t chat any longer. I hope we can meet again when the war is over. We’ll have a drink together then.”

“Deal! Let’s both stay alive. No dying!” Borol nodded, watching the Tiger tank, which looked very different from the Panthers around it, drive away. He then turned to look at the envious Donner.

“What are you looking at?” Borol asked, smiling as he patted the young subordinate’s head.

“The tank corps is so impressive… they just look so mighty,” Donner said, sitting back down and hugging his rifle. “You know, I originally wanted to be a tanker, but I was assigned to the paratroopers instead.”

“What’s wrong with being a paratrooper? You feel your talents are wasted?” Borol patted his subordinate’s head again. “If you feel that way, then get lost! Stop whining in front of me.”

“I used to feel that way,” Donner said, his expression becoming very serious. “But last night, I learned that being a paratrooper is no easy job. From now on, I’m a paratrooper. I’ll follow you, Captain, for the rest of my life.”

“When do we board the ship back to the Netherlands?” Borol asked quietly, looking at Donner’s melancholic face. This was the fate of the paratroopers: always the first to set foot on enemy soil, to hold their positions to the last moment, but the first to leave after victory, or when the situation had stabilized—to leave the battlefield for which they had bled and sacrificed.

“In the afternoon. We’ll leave with the rest of the regiment,” Donner replied, having clearly gathered a lot of information at the bathhouse. He sighed sadly. “A regiment of 1,500 men… wiped out in one night. Only 400-something left. They’ll all fit on one ship.”

Borol froze, then pulled out another cigarette and placed it on his lips. He was silent for a long time. When the cigarette had nearly burned down to the filter, he finally said, “Yeah… we came on 60 planes and 60 gliders, and we’re going back on one ship…”

In the distance, the German soldiers continued to march away, one square after another. As they passed the open-air field hospital, they all looked silently at their comrades lying on the cots. Their leather boots struck the ground with a uniform, rhythmic sound.

It made Borol think of his own 90-plus comrades who had just lost their lives in Britain. Feeling dejected, he heard the Führer’s speech being replayed on the radio, at the exact part where he called the soldiers the “loveliest people.”

“Who are the ‘loveliest people’?” Borol asked with a bitter smile. “It’s definitely not the German paratroopers… We’re the ones you can’t love. If you fall in love with us, won’t you just become a widow?”

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