Chapter 207 |
< World War II - River of Fire and Blood (3) >
August 2, 1941
Berlin, the Capital of Germany – Dietrich Schacht's Mansion
I held my breath, my eyes fixed on Claudia.
Claudia, for her part, wore a serious expression as she stared intently at the target.
She swallowed, then pierced the target—the meat on her plate—with her fork and brought it to her mouth.
As I gulped, she chewed, swallowed, then nodded with a slight smile.
"It's delicious."
"Oh!"
Perhaps because she had never been a picky eater to begin with, her morning sickness didn't cause her to vomit or refuse food entirely. Instead, her palate had become about ten times more demanding.
At every meal, she looked as though she couldn't tell whether she was eating a proper meal or just forcing nutrients into her body. After a long struggle, we had finally found an ingredient that satisfied her changed tastes.
Ugh, lamb was the answer.
Lamb is a dish that people either love or hate, so common sense would suggest that someone with no appetite should dislike it even more…
In any case, I was overjoyed to see Claudia actually having a meal for the first time in a long while, rather than just enduring it.
It had been truly painful to watch her force down food with a look of utter disgust, having completely lost her appetite due to morning sickness…
But… after eating so miserably for so long, one would think she'd be happy to finally have a delicious meal. Yet she continued eating with an expression that was, for all intents and purposes, impassive.
I put a piece of the lamb steak, dripping with meat juice, into my mouth and chewed for a moment before quietly setting down my fork and knife.
As much as I wanted to admire the chef's skill, I was quite concerned about her expression.
"Claudia."
"…Yes?"
"Are you, by any chance, still bothered by that?"
Claudia swallowed the piece of lamb she had been chewing and spoke.
"By that?"
"…The fact that I was about to issue an additional mobilization order and push our citizens into an offensive…"
Ending the war quickly will reduce sacrifices. Therefore, the strategic objectives must be achieved, even if it means the people have to make some sacrifices.
At first glance, it seemed like a rational judgment, but thinking about it now, it was insane. Utterly insane.
To drive the people to the battlefield just to press the advantage after a few victories in the war—that was no different from Hitler's way of thinking.
Thank goodness Minister Erhard and Minister Schumacher opposed it.
If not, I really would have become the Goebbels of the Fourth Reich, calling for total war and driving the people to the front.
However, Claudia simply blinked and spoke.
"No?"
"N-No?"
At my question, Claudia finally let out a small laugh and smiled.
"No, I'm not. Considering and planning for an additional mobilization order or an offensive… well, I think it's possible to see things from that perspective when you're performing the role of Minister of Defense."
"Is… that so."
"Yes.
It's true I was a little worried, but in the end, you listened to the opinions of others, not just me, and admitted you were wrong, didn't you?"
After saying that, Claudia took a sip of tea before speaking again.
"If anything, I saw that in a very positive light. You have your own firm convictions, yet you can also listen to what others have to say."
I let out a sigh of relief at Claudia's words.
"Don't feel too burdened. I don't expect you to be a flawless superman, and…"
Claudia added with a playful smile.
"A man who's too perfect has no appeal."
I let out a hollow laugh at her words.
Damn, did I misunderstand all on my own?
No, wait a minute.
"Then why the long face?"
"Ah. I had an idea for my work at the Ministry of Propaganda, so I was just thinking a little."
"Hah…"
I had forgotten she was an even bigger workaholic than I was.
I subtly lowered my gaze to her stomach.
She was now past two months pregnant and would soon be entering her third.
Thinking about the timing, it must have been that day.
—If we go on a trip, I want to take our child with us.
…I never imagined she would get pregnant right after saying that. It felt amazing in many ways.
"Dietrich, even if you stare so intently, it's not showing yet."
"Hmm, perhaps you should be working from home…"
"…I don't wish for you to be a flawless superman, but I'd hate it even more if you became a doting, foolish husband."
"My apologies."
Honestly, with the money I have now, if this were the 21st century, I would have spared no expense to spoil her with everything good.
But in this era, there wasn't much of that, and Claudia was the type of person who would feel more anxious sitting at home with nothing to do.
This might not be the Middle Ages where women died in childbirth left and right, but I was still anxious.
I couldn't even show it, for fear of making her more anxious, which was frustrating…
As if she knew my feelings, or perhaps she didn't, Claudia's eyes sparkled as she spoke.
"Why are you eating so slowly, Dietrich? Hurry up and eat. I've got a great idea that will make Stalin clutch the back of his neck."
"Hah, I understand.
As a minister, I'm delighted to have a Vice-Chancellor who works so diligently even while having dinner at home, but as a husband, I'm a little sad…"
Hearing my words, Claudia burst out laughing, and I had to listen to the sound of her laughter as I sheepishly finished my meal.
---
August 21, 1941
Southern Soviet Union (Eastern Ukraine), North of Dnepropetrovsk – Soviet Army Garrison
As the summer of 1941 was coming to a close.
Just north of Dnepropetrovsk, across the Dnieper River which spanned over a kilometer wide, the area that was once an industrial zone—now moved entirely to the Ural region, leaving only traces behind—had become an excellent defensive position for the Soviet Army.
The commander in charge of this area's defense, Lieutenant General Enrique Líster, was on the phone with the commander of the Belarus-Ukraine Front, General Georgy Zhukov.
"So, should I assume there will be no reinforcements for the time being, Comrade General?"
—That's right. For the time being, you must hold your position with your current forces.
Líster bit his lip.
The Allied Forces' Operation Liberation had struck the Soviet Army with devastating speed and lethality.
The Soviet Army had suffered 3.4 million in losses while being pushed back from Poland to the other side of the Dnieper River.
Although 700,000 of those were returned through a prisoner exchange, the heavy equipment lost during the disorderly retreat was nearly impossible to replace in the short term.
The tanks that the Soviet Union prided itself on were gone, and a significant number of their precious artillery units, which had been steadily attrited by counter-battery fire and bombing under the enemy's air superiority, were also lost during the retreat.
The Soviet military force defending the East Bank of the Dnieper numbered a staggering 6 million, but in reality, it was riddled with problems.
The troops were mostly basic infantry, and there was a severe shortage of heavy equipment.
Production had naturally halted while the industrial zones were hastily dismantled and moved to the Urals, and even then, more industrial facilities on the West Bank of the Dnieper had been lost than moved.
This was why Stalin was pushing for heavy equipment production with such fervor, even to the point of halting steel exports to Japan.
"Where will the additionally conscripted forces from the home country be deployed?"
—The conscripted forces will be organized under the command of Marshal Voroshilov and Marshal Budyonny and will be stationed in Moscow and Smolensk.
They weren't being sent to the front lines.
Instead, they were being put in the hands of Stalin's closest confidants and friends, the marshals, to defend the capital region in case of an emergency.
With the Polish Army and Germany's Army Group North now occupying Belarus, it wasn't an entirely unreasonable move, but Líster believed the main target this unit was meant to check wasn't the Allied Forces, but the front-line armies.
Did Zhukov think so too?
There was no way to know.
Líster smiled self-deprecatingly.
To discuss such matters over the phone was impossible; SMERSH (СМЕРть Шпионам—Death to Spies!), which Stalin had spun off from the NKVD, was listening in on every call, monitoring the military with blazing eyes.
"I understand, Comrade General. They are only maintaining a stand-off and show no signs of attacking. However, the continuous bombing of the railroad is causing serious disruptions to our supplies."
—It's the same on your end, then. It's the same on all fronts.
The German Army, while defending the West Bank of the Dnieper, was conducting almost no shelling or bombing of the Soviet forces.
Instead, they were relentlessly and tenaciously continuing their bombing of the railroads that supplied the Soviet Army from the rear area.
Under these circumstances, it was only natural that the Soviet Army's supply lines were not functioning smoothly.
Perhaps the reason the newly conscripted troops were being deployed near the capital instead of the front was not only to keep the military in check but also due to realistic supply issues.
They had to defend the river since they didn't know when the German Army would cross, but all they could do was wait for a German offensive while suffering from a shortage of supplies.
What a pathetic state.
—There are reports that the German Army is installing things like large loudspeakers on the front. Is it the same on your end?
At Zhukov's question, Líster slowly furrowed his brow.
"…Are those being installed along the entire front?"
—They are.
He had thought it was just a typical propaganda loudspeaker, but they were setting them up along the entire front?
The fact that they weren't shelling or bombing the Soviet forces despite facing them across the river, and now this… was this also his idea?
Without either of them saying it first, both Zhukov and Líster sighed.
An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment before Zhukov's voice came through again.
—The 13th Penal Battalion has been deployed to the Belarus front.
"…They will be glad to be able to devote themselves to the Union."
The 13th Penal Battalion.
It was the unit composed of those who had covered the Soviet Army's retreat under Líster's command, on Zhukov's orders, during Operation Liberation. They had been reorganized into a penal battalion.
When Líster returned to the army, Zhukov didn't immediately throw the unit into a deathtrap. Instead, he had designated them as reserves before sending them to the less intense Belarus front.
In the end, it was Líster's decision to remain in the Union that had moved Zhukov, who felt a burden of guilt towards him. Nevertheless, Líster couldn't shake the feeling that he was a traitor.
—Then I wish you good fortune, Comrade Lieutenant General. Soviet Ura.
"Soviet Ura!"
The call ended, and Líster calmly looked over the operational map with somber eyes.
In the end, he had to protect the Soviet Union, the only remaining communist nation in this world, if he ever wanted to set things right.
"Comrade Lieutenant General!"
The adjutant who called him was a new face.
His loyal adjutant, Nikolayevich, had been dragged off to the penal battalion before they had even had a few conversations.
Líster forcibly shook off his melancholic mood and asked flatly.
"What is it?"
"The German Air Force dropped something. You… should probably come see this."
Líster looked puzzled, but he followed his adjutant.
Arriving at the scene where Soviet soldiers were gathered and murmuring, Líster immediately scowled.
The items dropped by the German Army were food.
Italian pasta and potatoes that looked like something civilians would eat, along with cans of combat rations.
As Líster approached, the adjutant handed him a piece of paper that had been attached to a box.
Written in Russian on the paper were these words:
[The Allied Forces had already proposed an armistice based on pre-war borders, but the Soviet Union rejected it, forcing us to reluctantly launch a counterattack.
The Allied Forces are willing to respond at any time should the Soviet Union desire peace negotiations, and we do not wish for the war to continue.
Although we are bombing your railroads as part of our war effort to prevent the transport of equipment used for hostile activities against our nation, we do not wish for the people, who have only been driven to the battlefield by the oppression of the Soviet Union, to starve.
To prove the sincerity of the Allied Forces, we are providing this small amount of food and hope that it will be of some help to the people of your country.
]
When Líster looked around, he saw his subordinates, who were always hungry due to the lack of supplies, unable to hide the fact that they were salivating.
"Ha…"
Líster let out a hollow laugh.
---
The Allied food drop had a greater impact than any bomb, turning the Soviet camp upside down.
Soviet commanders, on high alert, had the food thrown into warehouses and had to provide an explanation to their political officers.
The political officers, in turn, reported to the Party, and the Party, in turn, asked Stalin how to respond.
Stalin's order, naturally, was to dispose of all of it.
The Soviet soldiers, who were always hungry due to a lack of proper supplies, could only smack their lips as they were forced to incinerate the food dropped by the Allied Forces.
From the perspective of the Communist Party and the generals, bombing the railroads while dropping food was nothing more than adding insult to injury, or a cruel taunt.
In any case, the amount of food the Allies occasionally dropped was, at best, not even enough to feed a platoon, and it was obviously impossible to feed an army of millions with it.
The problem was that as the Allied Forces continued to drop food without crossing the Dnieper, only bombing the railroads and not attacking the troops, the Soviet soldiers watching this began to experience cognitive dissonance.
Stalin and the Party had conscripted the people under the justification of defending the fatherland against the invasion of the Allied imperialists.
But the Allied Forces weren't attacking.
Instead, they were dropping food for the starving soldiers.
The average soldier had no way of knowing the political meaning or strategic maneuver behind it.
They couldn't help but become aware of their own starved situation and the abundance of the Allied Forces, who had enough to drop food for them.
And all the resentment of the Soviet soldiers was directed at their superiors, who ordered them to burn free food when they were starving to death.
"Damn it, those Allied bastards…"
Stationed on the Belarus front, General Vasily Chuikov was trembling with rage at the growing dissatisfaction with the superiors that was spreading through his unit.
He had never seen such a shitty war in his life.
He had fought like hell to buy time, setting up a defense line along the Dnieper to block the enemy who had been pouring in like a tidal wave. And now, they weren't even thinking of crossing, just pulling these dirty tricks?
As Chuikov was grinding his teeth, music began to play from outside.
It was a very, very familiar tune.
Chuikov involuntarily shot up from his seat and ran outside.
[The White Army and the Black Baron]
The solemn music of the military song "The Red Army is the Strongest," a song that no Soviet soldier could fail to recognize, was echoing through the air.
"Which idiot is playing a military song!"
Are they insane! Are they itching to become a target for artillery?
[They want to put us under the Tsar's oppression again.]
"Comrade General."
At the call from the political officer, Chuikov felt a chill run down his spine.
"C-Comrade. This must be some kind of mistake.
I'll take care of it right now…"
But Chuikov's words trailed off.
The military song was coming from the direction the political officer was pointing.
From the large loudspeakers in the Allied camp.
[But from the taiga's forests to the British seas, the Red Army is the strongest of all.]
"What… the?"
In this astonishing situation where a Soviet military song was playing from the Allied camp of all places, Soviet soldiers were running out one after another, listening in bewilderment.
However, unlike the familiar and grand music, the lyrics that followed were different from what they knew.
[O, gentlemen of the Red Army, the weapons in your coarse hands]
It was a recording by the Free Russian Army, in perfect Russian.
[Did the war started by the fatherland break the enemy?]
Chuikov's jaw dropped.
They had taken the lyrics of a song that celebrated the grandeur and valor of the Soviet army and twisted them, keeping them similar but slightly off.
[All of us who have made countless sacrifices]
"Those sons of bitches…"
Despite the political officer's lament, the majestic melody of the military song, known to every Soviet soldier, was hammering the altered lyrics into their brains.
[Have been dragged to the battlefield again, told it's the fatherland's decisive battle.]
Making them aware of their miserable reality and their dissatisfaction with the Soviet Union.
"Order an artillery strike! Blow that damn loudspeaker to bits right now!"
At Chuikov's shout, a staff officer who had run out hesitated and replied.
"B-But Comrade General. We'll be hit by immediate counter-battery fire."
The Soviet Army had already lost a great deal of its artillery power during Operation Liberation.
[Red Army, advance, advance!]
Chuikov ground his teeth as he recalled the counter-battery duels where they had been unilaterally battered by the enemy's Freiheit Self-Propelled Guns.
[The People's Commissariat of Defense leads us to a worthless battlefield.]
The broadcast of the military song continued.
[The comrade knows that the Red Army is the strongest from the taiga to the British seas.]
The Soviet soldiers, demoralized by successive defeats and starvation, were listening to the song blankly.
[The Communist Party and Stalin, they have placed us under oppression again.]
The Soviet military song, created to fight against the oppression of the White Army and the Tsar, was now singing of the oppression of the Communist Party and Stalin.
Chuikov irritably pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth.
"Sons of bitches, they're fighting a goddamn dirty war."