Chapter 211: The Celebration and the Funeral

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A military band, beating drums, led the way. Various trumpets and horns played familiar tunes. Following them was an honor guard carrying a large red swastika flag, their bodies unencumbered by the tactical vests common to frontline troops, instead wearing ancient ceremonial swords.

Cavalrymen on tall white horses greeted the surrounding citizens as they moved forward. These cavalrymen were all carrying G43 rifles, a weapon that had become known throughout the world and had directly spurred the United States to begin mass production of the M1 rifle.

Following the cavalry were dozens of off-road vehicles. In these beautiful open-top cars sat German army soldiers in neat uniforms. In the just-concluded Polish campaign, they had been the focus of the world’s attention for their speed of advancing dozens of kilometers per day. Many newspapers had begun to laud them as the “mechanical cavalry” of a new era.

Following these cars was a line of trucks, one after another. These trucks were loaded with supplies and packed with German infantry, pulling behind them various field cannons: 75mm, 105mm, and 150mm. These artillery pieces were all designed with lightness in mind, able to advance at the fastest possible speed along with the mechanized forces.

Then, the StuG IIIs, Panzer IIIs, and Panther tanks rolled past the crowd. In the war, these tanks had shown unprecedented effectiveness and had been hailed by the Führer as the kings of land warfare. In the Polish campaign, these tanks had destroyed the Polish army, covering the German army as it advanced at marching speed, and in one breath had beaten the number one military power in Eastern Europe to the point of surrender.

As the German armored forces advanced, the band changed its tune and began to play a melody unfamiliar to the people. The tankers, exposed in their turrets, all began to sing along loudly. For the first time, the world heard the melody of the German panzer troops, a victory song that belonged only to them.

Whether storms or snow,

Or the sun smiles on us;

The blazing day,

Or the ice-cold night,

Dusty are our faces,

But joyful is our mind,

Joyful is our mind.

Our tank roars forward

Amidst the storm of sand.

The Poles welcoming the parade’s honor guard into the city looked at these young men in black tank uniforms and saw on their faces an unparalleled confidence. This confidence stemmed from their proud combat record: under the halo of having annihilated or captured 1.35 million Polish soldiers (some of whom were refugees) in one go, they had only cost Germany the price of 8,923 killed in action.

When the enemy tank appears in sight,

We step on the gas and charge forward at full speed!

What is the value of our lives?

It is to fight for our glorious army!

To die for Germany is the highest honor!

With a thunderous engine,

Behind our solid armor plates, we rush toward the enemy like lightning.

More German soldiers at this time had already left Warsaw, the place where they had once fought. They shouldered their rifles and carried their packs. The dust had made their combat uniforms no longer so bright and handsome, but it had added a touch of staunchness and experience.

These soldiers had their sleeves rolled up, their beards had not been groomed for more than a week, and the unique German “potato masher” grenades hung from their tactical vests. Accompanying their advance were motley-colored warhorses, their backs piled high with tents, raincoats, and ammunition.

Trucks pulling cannons sped past them. These soldiers looked up at their comrades sitting in the trucks and waved a greeting. They were the most ordinary of German infantry. There was no formation for them in the review parade, and they received fewer medals than the air force or the armored troops. But they had still appeared on the positions where the Führer needed them most, defending their oath with their casualties.

They marched silently on both sides of the road, moving with a slow and steady pace toward their battlefield. They smiled with their dry lips at the cavalry, the drivers, the tankers, and listened to the tankers who slowly drove past them, loudly singing their song:

Forward with our comrades,

Fighting side by side,

That is how we can drive deep into the enemy (tank) lines!

Facing the enemy’s so-called barriers,

We give a contemptuous laugh,

And simply go around;

If in the yellow sands ahead,

Hides the threat of cannon fire,

We will find our own path,

And leap onto the thoroughfare to victory!

On the viewing stand, Guderian said to the commander of Army Group F, the future commander of the German forces on the Eastern Front, Kluge, “The troops who most deserve to be honored here are now advancing to the eastern defensive line. I don’t know whose idea it was to get a bunch of rookies who’ve never been to the battlefield to march in formation.”

“The Propaganda Ministry won’t miss any opportunity to expand our army’s influence, so such a grand celebration is to be expected. Our army’s victory in Poland is there for all to see. As the main protagonist of the victory, you shouldn’t be so full of complaints,” General Kluge said with a smile. “I, on the other hand, have heard that the Führer is planning to promote General von Brauchitsch to Field Marshal of the Reich… Is that true?”

“That news should be true. I heard it came directly from the High Command. I heard that Commander von Brauchitsch was so moved he wept. A Field Marshal, just thinking about it makes one’s blood boil,” Guderian said with a smile.

Kluge chuckled. “With the Führer’s regard for you, General, the day of your promotion to Field Marshal is probably not far off.”

As they were chatting, the parade also entered its final stage. As the tank units passed, the music also came to an end. But the last verse of the Panzerlied still echoed over the entire square.

And if we are abandoned by Lady Luck,

And if we can never return to our homeland,

If a bullet ends our lives,

If we cannot escape our fate,

Then at least our faithful tank,

Will give us an iron coffin!

At the same time as the German troops were holding a grand triumphal ceremony and large-scale military parade in Poland.

Far away in Berlin, the Führer, Akado Rudolph, was wearing a black SS uniform and standing at the very front of a crowd, his head bowed to complete a moment of silence.

Ever since Karl Benz had passed away, Akado had ordered the establishment of a private healthcare system for many elderly talents who had made contributions. But limited by the medical technology of this era, he was still unable to save some of the important high-tech talents.

For example, Hugo Junkers, who had just passed away, was one of the designers of the long-range multi-purpose aircraft on which Akado had been relying.

Under the leadership of Hugo Junkers, the Junkers company had produced many distinctive and very practical military aircraft for the German Air Force.

For example, the Ju-87 Stuka dive bomber, which the Polish soldiers regarded as a devil; the tri-motor transport plane Ju-52, which was a favorite of the German Air Transport Ministry and the paratroopers; and of course, the masterpiece of German aviation design, the “long-range multi-purpose aircraft,” which was still in the test-flight stage.

Akado had originally not been optimistic about the ugly Ju-52 transport plane, but this aircraft had proven its value with its stable flight performance, sturdy and durable structure, and low fuel consumption that made the German army’s heart flutter. In the end, the Führer ordered the production of 4,500 of these planes, because Kesselring had confidently assured him that the air force could guarantee the security of their airspace, and the slow speed of the transport planes was not a problem at all.

Just as the German tankers sang, at least they would have an iron coffin. Then the air force pilots’ coffins were made of aluminum—and the aircraft designer’s coffin must be… made of wood.

Some things seemed to have their endings destined long ago. This unchangeable reality filled Akado with a sense of frustration. For example, Mr. Karl Benz, whom he had tried his best to save; for example, Stresemann, who had opposed him but was like a polite gentleman; and now, Hugo Junkers, who was lying in a coffin.

There was a time when he even felt that he could not change any history at all, that the things that had been twisted would eventually be corrected, and that he would also become a second Hitler, dying in a state of panic. But later, he came to terms with it. He only asked to do the things in front of him well. As for those assumptions that could not be proven until the very end, he would wait until they came to worry about them.

At that moment, Akado Rudolph, or rather, Gu Changge from his past life, unexpectedly became a rogue. He knew that he had no way back, so he might as well just follow the current script: either become a founding emperor revered by thousands, or fall to become a warmonger reviled by thousands. In any case, his name would go down in history. An infamous name or a virtuous name were actually about the same, so there was nothing to worry about.

After listening to the eulogy, Akado got into his car and left in a hurry, because there were more things waiting for him to arrange. But on the way back to the Führer’s Residence, Akado still arranged two things with his work secretary, Cindra, who was sitting in the front seat.

“Find the best doctors. Use the Führer’s allowance to pay them another salary. Have them check Mr. August’s health once every other week! I don’t want this kind of accident to happen again, do you understand?” Akado said with great regret from the back seat. “The loss of every such talent will cause immeasurable damage to the future of the Reich.”

“As you command, my Führer!” Cindra replied immediately.

Akado thought for a moment and then continued to instruct, “There is one more thing. In the afternoon, help me make a phone call to Student and ask about the progress of the paratrooper unit’s expansion. We don’t have much time. Everything needs to be hurried.”

“I will remember,” Cindra continued to reply.

The car came to a steady stop at the Führer’s Residence, and Akado and the others got out. He glanced at the car with an army license plate parked to the side, and a smile appeared on his lips. The Commander-in-Chief of the Army, von Brauchitsch, whom he had single-handedly promoted, would be promoted by him today to Field Marshal of the Reich.

There was no reason for Akado not to be happy. His troops had swept through Poland in twenty days and had beaten back France’s provocation. The entire country of Germany was now united as one, making the final preparations for the coming war for German hegemony. It could be said that he was now like Hitler in 1940. No matter how you looked at it, victory was already firmly in his grasp.