Chapter 198: The Front Line

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Dozens of trucks drove into a temporary German military airfield in southern Poland. On one side of the runway, 20 Fw-190D fighter planes were parked in neat rows. Not far away, the bomber squadron’s Do-217s were being urgently loaded with bombs. They were about to take off to bomb the main cities in southern Poland.

The trucks came to a slow stop on the edge of the airfield. An SS officer in a grey-green SS field uniform, with the SS lightning bolt symbol embroidered on his collar, jumped out of a vehicle. With a gloved hand, he adjusted the military cap on his head and, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, gave an order. “Dismount!”

From the back of the trucks, one after another, the SS field troops began to jump down. These units were all uniformly dressed in tactical vests and carried the German army’s newest assault rifle, the MP-44. Their leather boots were polished to a black shine, and their uniforms were spotless. So many people dismounted from the trucks, yet there was not even a sound of conversation.

“Attention! Form up!” The officer dropped his cigarette, stamped out the ember with his foot, and shouted at his soldiers.

Everyone quickly formed up. Soon, a neat square was formed, the sound of their leather boots striking the ground making a dull thud-thud.

“A sentry every five paces! Secure the entire airfield!” the officer said, looking at his watch. After speaking a few words with the airfield commander and ground crew who had just arrived, he gave a loud command. “Level One alert!”

All the soldiers fanned out, surrounding the entire airfield. They then turned in unison, their backs to the runway. As the soldiers dispersed, two more field cars drove into the airfield, stopping not far from the convoy.

On the distant horizon, a dozen or so fighter planes appeared below the clouds. A Dornier passenger plane in the very center of the formation, its tail painted with a large swastika national emblem, began to descend. Of the fighter planes flying around it, some climbed into the clouds, some broke off and flew into the distance, and two of them followed the passenger plane down toward the airfield’s runway.

The Commander-in-Chief of the southern Army Group D, Model, emerged from one of the later field cars. He wrapped his greatcoat, which had been disheveled by the wind, tighter around himself, looked back at his chief of staff and adjutant, gave a nod, and then walked forward. Following behind him were several commanders of Army Group D’s frontline combat units, one of whom was the commander of the 1st Panzer Corps, Guderian, who had become famous in the Polish campaign.

The Dornier passenger plane slowly came to a stop in the middle of the runway. The two Fw-190D fighters that had followed it down, however, pulled up and flew away, disappearing over the horizon. The propellers of the Dornier plane turned slower and slower until they finally stopped. The cabin door was opened from the inside, and a very thin but tall man in a military uniform appeared in the doorway. He strode down from the plane. Following behind him was a young and beautiful female officer, and then a beautiful woman in a black, form-fitting suit. Then, many other members of his entourage followed him off the plane. It seemed this plane had been very full, without even room for a single guard.

Model once again straightened his clothes, then led his men to meet him. He stood before the man in the black SS uniform, who had a leather trench coat draped over it, raised his right hand, and shouted, “Heil Führer! Welcome to the front, my Führer.”

“Long live Great Germany,” Akado said with a light smile. He took off his black leather gloves and glanced at Guderian and the others. “You have all worked hard… The intelligence department was a bit too cautious. In order not to leak my whereabouts, they only notified you of my itinerary an hour in advance.”

“The Führer’s safety is of course the most important thing,” Model said solemnly. “You are the most important leader of Germany and cannot have any accidents. So please be sure to pay attention to your safety and not be too careless.”

“You are right,” Akado nodded, then turned and introduced them. “This is my personal secretary, Miss Anna, and this is the head of propaganda for my visit this time, Minister Fanny.”

After the introductions, he pointed to Model and said to the two beautiful women behind him, “This is General Model, the supreme commander of Army Group D.”

After getting acquainted, Akado walked straight toward the outside of the airfield, where several Mercedes-Benz cars had already been prepared. The Führer and his party would have to drive for an hour to reach one of the frontline combat units’ command posts to personally watch the German troops launch an attack on the Polish army.

“General Guderian!” As he was getting into the car, Akado called out to one of his most trusted and favored generals, then pointed to the front seat of his car and said, “I have many things I want to ask you. Please sit here.”

Under the envious gazes of many officers, Guderian got into the Führer’s car. The convoy slowly started to move. The SS guard unit behind them methodically jumped into their vehicles and followed not far behind the Führer’s car. This was not far from the front line, and no one could guarantee that there were no Polish infiltrators, so overall, they operated with caution.

“You’ve lost weight,” Akado said softly in the swaying car, looking at Guderian in the front seat. “Commanding a battle relies on a good body. Your health is a vital asset to the German people. You must take care of it.”

Guderian’s heart warmed slightly. He was not just a Führer-aligned officer who had been personally promoted by Akado; he was a frontline general who had long since decided to become Akado’s loyal subordinate. But he was still very touched by this greeting from Akado. He suddenly felt that joining Akado to revive the German Wehrmacht was the most correct choice he had made in his life.

“Thank you for your concern, Führer,” Guderian replied, moved. “I will be more careful.”

After that, Akado chatted about many things from the past few years. For the most part, Guderian just listened, turned sideways in his seat.

A few kilometers outside the airfield, there were still the wrecked anti-aircraft guns left behind by the Polish retreat, as well as a few rusty trucks. Akado looked at the scrap metal outside the window and asked Guderian, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, “Are those weapons Polish?”

“Yes, my Führer,” Guderian said with a nod. “When we attacked the airfield, the Polish army still tried to resist. The 1st Panzer Division even had a fierce firefight with the airfield’s defenders nearby.”

Akado glanced again at the wrecked weapons outside the window and asked, “Were these destroyed by Stuka bombers?”

“No!” Guderian said with a proud smile. “It was our tank units that drove the Poles away. These weapons were all destroyed by our tanks.”

“I never expected your 1st Panzer Corps to advance so far,” Akado said after a moment’s thought. “But there is no need to rush things so hard. After all, every experienced soldier is our precious treasure.”

“Yes, my Führer,” Guderian replied solemnly.

“Are the troop losses heavy? How many have been killed in action?” Akado asked again after a moment of silence. “Tell me the truth. I don’t want to hear the numbers that have been altered. I only want the most authentic ones.”

“My Führer,” Guderian replied after some thought. “Since the war began, our army has had a total of 675 killed in action. Of these, the 3rd SS Panzer Division has suffered relatively heavy losses, accounting for about 45%.”

“It’s truly miraculous,” Even Akado, who had known the outcome in advance, had not expected that Guderian’s troops had only suffered a little over 600 killed in action after taking more than two hundred kilometers of land. This was simply the most glorious page in the history of human warfare. “When I participated in the First World War, my regiment had 1,300 killed in action on the first day.”

“How long does the Führer plan to stay here?” Guderian asked after a moment, seeing that Akado had fallen silent after his exclamation. “The officers and men on the front line will know that you are standing with them. Their advance speed may be even faster.”

Hearing Guderian’s flattering words, Akado smiled. “I am going to the frontline units to encourage them, to let them know that I have come, that I am here! As for how long I will stay… actually, I can’t stay long. I still have to go to the northern region to cheer on the officers there. Also, I haven’t seen Rommel in a long time. It’s a good opportunity to go and see him.”

“It seems he is fighting even better over there,” Guderian said, nodding as Akado mentioned the northern front. “I hear they are already approaching the outskirts of Warsaw. It seems the Poles have drawn all their forces over to our side.”

“They are indeed fighting well in the north, but you are also fighting very well here,” Akado reassured him. “But I must give you a task in advance. After you have finished the battle in the south, you must be careful of the Soviets’ actions. I do not want to suffer a hidden loss after the Polish campaign is over.”

“Yes, my Führer! I understand,” Guderian replied immediately.

“To the 9th Motorized Infantry Division. I want to see the Friedrich rocket launcher fire. I didn’t have time to see the test, so now I have to see the mass-produced model on the front,” Akado said, then closed his eyes. Before falling asleep, he murmured, “And then go north to see the excitement of the siege of Warsaw.”

As expected, the news of Akado’s arrival at the front caused an immediate sensation in the various combat units in the south. A photograph of Army Group D’s commander, General Model, saluting Akado at the airfield appeared on the front page, followed by a lengthy feature of fabricated little stories about Akado’s love for his soldiers.

The next day, the newspapers published photos of Akado inspecting an artillery unit. The Führer had personally operated a cannon and fired the first shot of the afternoon’s offensive against Poland. The soldiers, shouting “Heil Führer,” took the Polish positions in a single attack and advanced a full 20 kilometers to the north.