Chapter 193: Northward Advance

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A thick fog permeated the edge of the forest, the visibility so low it was unnerving. The rumbling of cannons in the distance gave the lingering mist a hint of the smell of blood.

A field command car with a radio set was driving slowly along a small path in the forest. In this vehicle, specially designed for armored units, a radio operator was sitting and fiddling with his new radio. Beside him sat two guards with MP-44s, as well as Guderian’s adjutant.

Guderian sat in the front passenger seat, swaying back and forth with the bumps in the road. The driver next to him had a G43 rifle hanging by his side and was concentrating on driving. This six-wheeled car had no doors and resembled a six-wheeled armored reconnaissance vehicle without armor on the sides or a cannon on top. Guderian’s foot rested casually on the edge of the door sill, and he was softly humming a folk song from his hometown.

As the war to attack Poland entered its tenth day, the German army had begun to improve details in all aspects. For example, Guderian had found that he often lost contact with his own troops and was unable to effectively control his rapidly advancing armored forces. So he had thought of a very effective method: to sit in a command car and advance with his armored units.

His 1st Panzer Division had just driven the Polish defenders out of this forest and had captured several hundred prisoners. He needed to catch up with the 1st Panzer Regiment, which had already crossed this forest and captured a small town on the other side. He needed to find a high-power radio there to inform his troops of their next mission.

Suddenly, with a piercing scream, a shell exploded not far behind their car. The vehicle shook, and everyone was dazed by the sudden attack. In the back of the car, the two guards raised their assault rifles and warily scanned their surroundings.

“That’s a 75mm howitzer from the 9th Motorized Infantry Division,” Guderian said, clearly an expert on this type of artillery. “Isn’t there an explicit regulation that prohibits firing at targets in foggy weather?”

“Those idiots! Haven’t they read the prohibition manual?” the adjutant, who had been badly frightened by the shell, complained with a frown. “Damn it! I’ll send a protest letter to their division later! Make them explain this attack to the Army Group command.”

“Brake!” With an even more piercing scream of an object tearing through the air, Guderian shouted at the driver beside him, “Watch out!”

“Boom!” A shell exploded in front of the car. The kicked-up dust and gravel rattled against the car’s windshield. One stone even embedded itself in the right side of the windshield, creating a circular, spiderweb-like crack.

“My goodness,” the adjutant said, staring dumbfounded at the stone that would have shattered the glass and hit Guderian in the face if it had been any bigger. He only reacted after a few seconds, murmuring in awe.

“Quick! Evasive maneuvers!” Guderian turned sideways, reached out, and grabbed the steering wheel from the driver, yanking it sharply in the foggy weather. “Step on the gas! The next shell will hit us!”

The car suddenly accelerated and charged straight toward the drainage ditch on the side of the small road. Guderian quickly grabbed the handhold beside him. Just as he had braced himself, the car plunged into the ditch. Everyone was thrown about, and the roar of the engine mixed with the shouts of men traveled far into the thick fog.

And right where the car had been, a shell hit the road. The explosion kicked up a cloud of thick smoke, followed by another explosion in the distance. It seemed that the 9th Motorized Infantry Division, which had been left behind by the 1st Panzer Corps, had not received the report that the 1st Panzer had taken the forest. They were extending their fire, preparing for their own attack on the woods.

“Is anyone hurt?” Guderian asked, looking at the blue smoke coming from the engine. He climbed out of the passenger side with a bitter smile and stood on a mound of earth next to the car, looking helplessly at the vehicle’s mangled engine compartment.

His adjutant replied loudly from inside the car, “One guard is injured. His face hit the dashboard. He’s bleeding a lot… The others are fine.”

“We have to get moving! We have to walk at least five kilometers of forest paths,” Guderian said with a sigh. “We have to get to the 1st Regiment’s command post up ahead to tell those idiots in the 9th Infantry Division that they almost helped the Poles kill a German general.”

They had only walked for about five minutes when a truck stopped beside them. Seeing the capital letter ‘G1’ written on the front of the vehicle, they knew this truck belonged to the 1st Panzer Regiment of the 1st Panzer Division. Because the Führer had personally named the 1st Panzer Division the “Guderian Division,” the representative letter for this division was ‘G’.

“Hey! Need a ride?” the German soldier driving the truck asked loudly, poking his head out. But he deliberately drove the truck past them, giving Guderian and the others standing on the side of the road a mouthful of dust. This was due to an unlucky incident a few days before: a major general named von Fritsch had been killed in action in the north, so the Führer had personally ordered that all frontline officers must wear steel helmets—which directly resulted in many soldiers not being able to recognize their officers, who used to wear peaked caps.

“Of course! Thank you for your kindness,” Guderian said, walking to the side of the truck and smiling at his subordinate. “It’s really lucky to have met you.”

By the time the driving soldier had recovered from his shock, Guderian, with his general’s insignia, had already climbed into the back of the truck. Inside were several thousand liters of gasoline. The smell was terrible, but Guderian was very happy that he wouldn’t have to chase after his tank units on foot.

A dozen minutes later, Guderian finally found his 1st Regiment. At the regimental headquarters, he sent a series of orders to the corps, one of which was to inform the 9th Infantry Division to catch up and to stop wasting shells on non-existent enemies.

He then thought for a moment and, in a strangely narrative style, sent a memorandum to the Wehrmacht High Command. The content was quite humorous: “In southern Poland, the thick fog has caused great trouble for the German army. Although the artillery units have been strictly ordered not to fire at targets in foggy weather, these artillery units still stubbornly did so. The consequence of this is that the German artillery forces almost sent their tank combat expert to his coffin.”

The reason for singling out this matter was that this small wartime episode had a very interesting ending. A few hours later, the 9th Motorized Infantry Division replied to Guderian’s telegram: “You should be glad we were using 75s, and not the Friedrich rocket launchers…” A few hours after this reply was delivered to Guderian, the 9th Infantry Division was temporarily assigned by Army Group D to the command of the 1st Panzer Corps. It was said that the commander of the 9th Infantry Division almost cried when he received this order.

Soon, Guderian found the 3rd SS Panzer Division, which had already pushed more than ten kilometers to the east, and ordered them to temporarily halt their attack. The frenzied offensive of the German 1st Panzer Corps came to a temporary stop because Guderian, in his temporary command post, had received a telegram from Army Group D’s General Model, as well as reports and photos from air force reconnaissance planes on the direction of Polish army movements.

“This time, the Poles have really done something smart,” Guderian said with a smile to his staff officer, handing the intelligence analysis file to his adjutant. “They have realized that their northern defense has completely collapsed, so they have concentrated their forces and want to fight a decisive battle with our army in the south first.”

The adjutant, who had survived the earlier incident, was by Guderian’s side. He looked at the intelligence analysis Guderian handed him and nodded in agreement. “This time, they have chosen correctly. They have found an option that is very favorable to them.”

The staff officer looked at the military map in his hand, pointed to some points on it, and suggested, “If we take here, here, and here in advance, we can shorten the front we need to defend and concentrate our forces to meet the Polish forces coming south.”

Guderian nodded. “Have the 3rd SS Panzer Division turn back and search northward! Seek a decisive battle with the main Polish force. Have the 9th Infantry Division’s Friedrich rocket launcher units follow them and give the Poles a taste of what’s to come.”

An officer walked into the temporary command post, handed a document to Guderian, and then stood at attention and saluted. “Heil Führer!”

“What is it?” Guderian asked, looking at the document with confusion. The Imperial Eagle emblem at the top of the paper indicated that it was a shared intelligence report from the air force.

“The air force has encountered a frenzied counter-attack from Polish planes in the central region of Poland. Our army is temporarily unable to gain local air superiority. Please have all units advance with caution,” the officer reported the contents of the intelligence. “In addition, reconnaissance planes have discovered that the Polish forces are advancing south very quickly, and their units are mixed with a large number of tanks.”

“Arrange for a signalman to send this intelligence to General Faehlich. Tell him to proceed with caution,” Guderian said after a moment’s thought. “In addition, request air support from Army Group to eliminate the Polish fighter and bomber units in the vicinity.”

In the open country, as the spearhead of the 3rd SS Panzer Division, the commander of tank 112, Marcus, was complaining to his company commander, Carter, over the radio. “One order from above, and the people below have to drive for dozens of kilometers, as tired as a dog.”

“Stop complaining! Look at Rein… that’s a true great warrior loyal to the Führer!” Carter replied, bored, as his tank swayed. A few days ago, they had just replaced their tracks and serviced their engines and transmissions, and then they were immediately ordered to turn around and push north. As a result, they hadn’t even encountered a single Polish soldier all this way.

“Captain! One o’clock. See the dust cloud?” Rein’s voice came through the headset. “I think the mission assigned by the regiment was to put us at the front precisely to have us, with our experience in fighting tanks, deal with this unit!”

“All tanks, ready ammunition!” Carter’s voice was distorted with excitement. “One o’clock! Large-scale Polish force! Adjust your hulls. Test throat microphones in one minute…”

On September 25, 1937, the German 3rd SS Panzer Division was ordered to advance north to attack the Polish Łódź Army. The two sides met near an unnamed hill.