July 24, 1937
Central Spain, West of Madrid, Brunete - Nationalist-occupied territory Brunete had fallen.
It was our victory.
The Republican Army, which had held out to the end, could not withstand the fierce bombing of the Condor Legion and the Italian Air Force, followed by an offensive, and was routed.
The Republican faction's ambitious Brunete offensive ca to its demise, losing the city they had captured and all other occupied territories, and being pushed back to their original front line.
But none of that mattered.
In this offensive, 13 mbers of my company died and 17 were injured.
I never knew there would be so many fools who would die just to save so money.
…Was my command the best it could have been?
The thought that I could have reduced the sacrifices wouldn't leave my head.
Regardless of how I felt, the Nationalist high command was greatly encouraged by the results gained through the soldiers' shed blood.
Encouraged enough to do crazy things.
The battle was over, but in the half-burnt ruins of the city, the sound of gunshots never ceased.
Republican soldiers who couldn't escape, or gave up on escaping and surrendered, were being lined up in front of pits and executed by shooting.
I didn't want to look at the faces of those who were whimpering and terrified while waiting for their turn.
As I led my troopers and quickened my pace, a Spanish broadcast, as loud as the gunshots executing the prisoners of war, blared.
[Today, we killed a thousand Commies! Tomorrow, let's rape a thousand female Commies!]
From the loudspeaker that Líster once used to encourage the Republican soldiers, now ca a Nationalist radio broadcast—no, insane propaganda.
“What are they saying?”
“Crazy talk…”
There were almost no Spanish speakers in our unit, so Klens asked , but that was all I could say.
“Co here!”
“Uwaaaah, Mommmyyy!”
Before our eyes, two girls who looked to be in their early teens were being dragged away by Moorish (North African) soldiers.
It was obvious what they were going to do, but it was hard to pretend I didn't see, so I spoke to the first lieutenant who seed to be their commander.
“What do you intend to do with those girls?”
The first lieutenant looked at with a wary face for a mont, then, noticing I was a first lieutenant from the Condor Legion and not a Nationalist superior officer, he relaxed.
“It's nothin' special.
Happens all the ti.”
“With children?”
At my question, the Moorish first lieutenant frowned for a mont, but then grinned, revealing strikingly white teeth against his brown-skinned face.
“Ah, don't you worry too much. They'll last two hours at most, anyway.”
Was that supposed to be an answer? I felt like knocking him flat.
But I wasn't his superior officer, and as a foreign volunteer soldier, I couldn't stop him.
I felt like I was going to be sick. What a truly insane era.
The lunatics who encourage rape on the radio, and the ones who actually do it.
The thought that Nazi Germany would be even worse, not better, only soured my mood.
Not wanting to exchange another word, I started walking again, trying my best to ignore the screams of the girls being dragged into the building, when he shouted at my back.
“Hey, don't be so uptight.
You gotta reward your subordinates who've worked hard!”
What is that crazy bastard saying.
Without thinking, I spun around and glared, only to et the eyes of a trooper who seed tempted by his words.
Fuck, did we shed all that blood fighting just to see this kind of shit?
We had won the battle, but there was no glory or joy.
-
A month passed after the Battle of Brunete.
During that ti, the Nationalist faction hastily moved the military force they had pulled to the central region back to the north and resud their offensive. With no response from the near-death state Republican faction, the northern region was rapidly collapsing.
As the linchpin of the offensive, we had suffered considerable losses and were in the middle of reorganization.
I held a funeral for the deceased troopers, and around the ti the injured ones were recovering, I bought drinks as promised.
I think we laughed, chatted, and drank like madn.
Even during university MTs, my creed was to stop drinking before I made an unseemly fool of myself, but this ti, I drank until I blacked out.
When Klens and the platoon leaders roared with laughter describing my unseemly behavior, and when we all suffered from hangovers together, I could forget everything and laugh, if only for a mont.
And then, I celebrated my first birthday in this body.
…August 15th.
Was it a sign to rember my original fatherland even in this faraway foreign country?
Or was it simply the will of the god who dropped in the middle of this hell, mocking ?
Thanks to having a birthday on a date no Korean could forget, the birthday itself made feel even more disturbed.
Forget Seoul of the 21st century; my, Yoon Sung-il's, fatherland, the Republic of Korea, did not yet exist.
The Koreans under Japanese Imperial Rule, a regi as insane as the Nazis, and myself right now.
Which of us is more unfortunate?
Germany—Hitler's Nazi Germany, according to the original history, will join hands with the Empire of Japan to form the Axis powers.
There would be no direct contact with the far-off peninsula of the East, but if I accomplish nothing, it ans I will beco an enemy of Korea.
Still struggling just to take care of myself in the face of the coming World War II, what, I wonder, can I do for the Korea of this blood-soaked era?
-
August 25, 1937
Central-Western Spain, the main Nationalist strongpoint of Salamanca - Condor Legion Headquarters Right now, along with the other unit commanders, I was swallowing dryly, extrely tense.
“A wave-like offensive?! Did you submit this crap as a plan?!”
The angry roar of the culprit making us tense, Colonel Model, reached us waiting outside the door, unfiltered.
“Idiots like you were the ones who sent soldiers to their deaths in front of machine gun posts in the Great War, while you stayed behind like cowards! What are you wearing that rank insignia for! To get your subordinates killed?!”
Oh, damn it. Hearing Walther Model's scolding, which I'd only heard about, sent a chill down my spine even though it wasn't directed at .
“Get that pathetic, idiotic face out of my sight right now! If you want to stand before again, you'd better grease up that non-working head of yours! Get lost. Now!”
“H-H-Heil Hitler!”
The captain who burst through the door was pale, with cold sweat streaming down his face.
My god, the focus in his eyes is completely gone.
“Next!”
“First Lieutenant Schacht, you may go in…”
Ah, is it my turn now?
Receiving looks of half pity, half expectation from the other officers, I cleared my throat and entered Colonel Model's office, which had already shattered the souls of several officers.
The Condor Legion almost exclusively uses the Nazi salute, but even when I gave a standard salute, Colonel Model accepted it without a word.
He sent a cold gaze from behind his monocle before opening his mouth.
“You're tense too, aren't you? Don't worry. I only scold idiots.”
“It's presumptuous of to say, Colonel, but if what you say is true, then the future of the German Army is dark.”
At my remark implying that all the officers summoned today had been utterly broken, Colonel Model paused for a mont, then smirked.
“Seeing that reaction, perhaps you're not an idiot this ti. I like it.”
Honestly, I thought if I said that much, he'd show his 'funny mister' side, but this must be Model in 'superior officer mode'…
As I swallowed, Model gestured for to co closer.
When I approached, he showed an operation plan docunt spread out on his desk.
The plan docunt that Colonel Model had handed out to the unit commanders like howork during the Battle of Brunete.
It was the offensive plan I had drafted and submitted.
Ah, so it was this.
So the reason the officers were getting chewed out like crazy was because they'd drafted their offensive plans poorly.
Every officer who ca out bolted in such a hurry that I didn't realize.
“The fundantals are there, First Lieutenant.
At least you didn't just scribble it down carelessly because it was a bother.”
“…Because if that plan were executed, my troopers would be the ones dying, Colonel.”
I don't know how the new Chief of Staff's sudden order to draft an offensive plan that might actually be used in the middle of an operation appeared to the other officers.
Front line company commanders just do as they're told; drafting an offensive plan is originally the job of high-ranking commanders or staff officers.
Judging by the state of things today, it seems a considerable number of them saw it as a nuisance or a bother, but I knew his disposition from the start, so I wracked my brain to write it whenever there was a lull, even while busy with combat.
And what I had said to him wasn't just empty words.
It was impossible for , at least, to just dismiss it as 'soldiers naturally die in war'.
I don't know if this is a curse or what, living as an officer in Germany during the World War II era.
At my remark, Colonel Model glanced at before lowering his gaze back to the operation plan docunt.
I'm realizing it anew, but Colonel Model's features are ordinary, but when he's in work mode like this, the unique, intense gaze from behind his monocle gives off a considerable sense of intimidation.
It's hard to imagine he's the sa cheerful mister who usually laughs with the soldiers and tells dad jokes…
“You suggested a heavy troop deploynt in this sector. What's the reason?”
Colonel Model pointed to the operation map as he asked, and I answered without delay.
“That sector is close to the road leading from Madrid, so enemy reinforcents can arrive quickly. Depending on the war situation, I thought the enemy might send their defensive force from the Madrid area.”
“What if intel ca in saying there were no signs of additional reinforcents from Madrid?”
I thought for a mont about Colonel Model's intention in asking such a question, but I couldn't figure it out.
After all, I haven't received proper staff officer training yet.
“If that were the case, we could move two or three companies to the reserve force, but I believe it would be best to maintain the other units as they are.”
“Reason?”
Ugh, those cold eyes watching from behind the monocle keep making my throat go dry.
“The intel from the Intelligence Departnt isn't always accurate, and even if it was correct at the ti it ca in, there could be units that depart afterward.”
Colonel Model said nothing to my opinion, just listened.
“…And if such a thing happened, the enemy could move quickly via the road, whereas our unit's movent would be hampered by the extre heat, and we'd be at risk of taking a blow.”
“Hmm.”
“Reinforcents could co from other sectors, but in that case, since we had so degree of air superiority, I judged that as long as we identified them in ti, the conditions would be the sa, so we could respond.”
Having finished speaking, I waited for his reaction with a tense look, and after a mont's thought, he said curtly.
“First Lieutenant, you are overly cautious.”
Ugh.
Honestly, I wasn't expecting to be praised by one of the greatest fad commanders of this era, but to get this kind of evaluation after racking my brain so hard to speak…
“Your posture and thinking in preparation for a crisis are not bad, but grasping the situation and concentrating your forces to swiftly carry out an operation can, in the end, result in fewer sacrifices.”
It was such a textbook answer that I had nothing to say.
Had I beco consud by the thought of having to avoid the worst after seeing so many deaths on the battlefield?
“I'm not one to beat around the bush, so I'll be frank. Looking at your combat reports and the evaluations from your unit's non-commissioned officers, you're an average unit commander.”
I felt a chilling sensation.
Co to think of it, the German military of this era was, at least in terms of tactics, the best in the world.
Was it just arrogance to think I could beco a General Staff officer just because I had so knowledge from modern tis?
“You're not a coward, but you're not heroically brave either, and you think too much. You have prudence, but you're sowhat lacking in decisiveness.”
Colonel Model's cold evaluation rcilessly dug into my chest. Overthrow the Nazis, my ass.
This is driving crazy.
Did I believe that a normal modern person who just finished his military service would get so kind of plot armor just because he was thrown into another era?
Colonel Model didn't hurl profanities or bellow at like he did with the other officers, but my mind was growing faint.
“But your diligence in considering all possibilities and ticulously working hard deserves high praise. You've actually obtained results, too.”
So, for a mont, I couldn't react to Colonel Model's following words and just blinked.
“In my opinion, your talent would shine more as a staff officer than as a front line commander.
What do you say? If you're willing, I'll recomnd you for the General Staff Course.”
“…Pardon ?”
Montarily dumbfounded, I questioned him back before involuntarily clapping a hand over my mouth, and Colonel Model grinned as if he'd never glared with those icy eyes.
“You don't want to?”
“N-No, sir! It is an honor!”
Ah, damn. I can't control my expression.
My lips had loosened so much that I knew what my expression looked like without even having to see a mirror.
“Well, even without my recomndation, you're a strong candidate for this year's class at the War Academy.
There's the matter of the 88s, and Lieutenant Colonel Richthofen of the Luftwaffe also gave you a very generous evaluation.”
“Ah…”
“Of course, that doesn't an my recomndation is aningless.
In the military, connections are important. Unless you don't want to get involved with a troubleso superior like , that is.”
Model said this in a subtly playful manner.
This mister knows full well what his reputation is among his subordinates…
“How could you say that, sir? To receive a recomndation from soone like you, Colonel, is an honor that cos once in a lifeti!”
Who is Walther Model?
He's a legend himself, the one who handed defeats to fad commanders of the Allied Forces like Georgy Zhukov, Bernard Law Montgory, and Omar Bradley, even in the hopeless situation Germany faced at the end of World War II.
He may be a colonel now, but isn't he the Lion of Defense who, at the end of the war when countless German field marshals were getting their heads chopped off, perford feats that silenced even Hitler, serving as a field marshal until the very end?
To think that such a figure was really recomnding was overwhelming in itself.
But perhaps because I was so enthusiastically moved, Colonel Model seed a bit taken aback.
“No, not to that extent… Do you have a talent for flattery as well?”
Uh, um. Did I seem too much like a fanboy?
For , who knows the future, I'm showing infinite respect and trust in Model, but from his perspective, he hasn't known for very long…
I couldn't explain this, either, so I could only speak with the deepest possible respect.
“Not at all, sir! I will strive not to be a disgrace to your recomndation!”
“Good heavens, alright. I have expectations for you, First Lieutenant Schacht.”
This lousy Spanish Civil War was really tough, but in the end, I did it.
I can go to the War Academy, to Germany!
User Comments
0 comments from readers