Dozens of trucks rumbled onto a temporary Luftwaffe military airfield in southern Poland. Along the runway, 20 Fw-190D fighters were neatly aligned, while nearby, the bomber squadron's Do-217s were being hastily reloaded. They were prepping for a mission to bomb major cities in southern Poland. The trucks halted at the edge of the airport, and from one, a SS officer clad in a gray-green SS field uniform with the SS lightning insignia on the collar disembarked. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, he barked an order while adjusting his leather-gloved hand on his military cap, "Get out!"
One by one, SS field troops began to disembark. Equipped with the German Army's latest assault rifle, the MP-44, their tactical vests were on, leather boots shined to a glossy black, and their uniforms were immaculate. Despite their numbers, they maintained silence. The officer crushed his cigarette underfoot and yelled, "Line up! Stand at attention!" The soldiers quickly formed ranks, creating a neat phalanx. The sound of leather boots clicking against the tarmac resonated dully.
"Five paces between each sentry post! Secure the entire airport!" The officer commanded after a brief discussion with the newly arrived airport commander and ground crew. "First alert!" he then ordered aloud. The soldiers dispersed, encircling the airport perimeter, then turned sharply to face outward from the runway.
As they secured the area, two additional field vehicles entered the airport, parking close to the convoy. On the horizon, a squadron of fighters emerged beneath the clouds. Amid them, a Dornier passenger plane adorned with a large '4D' national emblem began its descent, escorted by some of the fighters performing high-altitude maneuvers. Two of the fighters peeled off to escort the passenger plane towards the runway.
General Morder, commander-in-chief of the Southern D Group Army, alighted from a field car, wrapping his coat around him against the wind. He gestured for his chief of staff and adjutant to follow. Behind him trailed several commanders from the D Group Army's frontline combat units, including Guderian, the commander of the first armored division of the Polish army.
The Dornier aircraft came to a halt mid-runway, its propellers slowing until they were still. The door opened, and a slender yet tall man in a military uniform and a leather trench coat stepped out. Following him was a young and stern female officer and then a woman in a chic black suit. A host of aides disembarked after them, filling the plane to capacity.
General Morder straightened his uniform before approaching the man in the black SS uniform. Saluting with a raised right arm, he declared, "Long live the head of state! Welcome to the front line, my Führer."
"Long live Greater Germany," the man, Akado, replied with a soft smile, removing his dark leather gloves. He glanced at Guderian and the others, remarking, "Everyone has worked hard... The intelligence department was overly cautious, only informing you of my schedule an hour in advance to prevent any leaks."
"The safety of our leader is paramount," Morder responded solemnly. "There can be no accidents with you. Please be sure to stay cautious."
"You're right," Akado nodded, then turned to introduce his companions. "This is my personal secretary, Miss Anna, and this is Minister Fanny, responsible for propaganda." He gestured towards Morder, "And this is General Morder, the supreme commander of Group D."
After the introductions, Akado led the way to several waiting Mercedes-Benz cars. They were set to drive to a command post of the southern frontline combat units, from where they would observe the German assault on Polish forces.
"General Guderian!" Akado called as he boarded his car, gesturing to the front seat. "I have much to discuss with you. Please, sit here."
With many officers looking on enviously, Guderian took his place in the car. The convoy started slowly, the SS guards orderly hopping into their vehicles to follow closely behind. The front lines were not far, and the risk of Polish infiltration was a constant concern.
"You look thin," Akado commented softly to Guderian as the car jostled along. "Command and operations rely on a strong body. Your health is a vital asset to the German people. Take care."
Guderian felt a warmth in his heart. He was not only a military leader raised by Akado but also a devoted general who had long determined to be a loyal subordinate. This personal concern from Akado solidified his belief that revitalizing the German Wehrmacht with Akado was the best decision of his life.
"Thank you for your concern," Guderian responded. "I will be mindful."
As they drove, Akado spoke of many things, with Guderian listening intently. Outside the airport, remnants of the battle were visible—damaged anti-aircraft guns and rusted trucks left behind by the retreating Polish forces.
"Are those Polish weapons?" Akado asked, peering out the window.
"Yes, my Führer," Guderian confirmed. "When we attacked the airport, the Polish forces attempted to resist. Nearby, the first armored division engaged fiercely with the airport defenders."
"Did our Stuka bombers destroy these weapons?" Akado inquired, looking again at the wreckage outside.
"No," Guderian replied with a proud smile. "It was our tanks that drove the Poles back. These weapons were destroyed by our tanks."
"Your first armored army has advanced impressively," Akado mused. "But there's no need to rush. After all, every experienced soldier is a precious asset."
"Yes, my Führer," Guderian agreed solemnly.
"How severe were the losses? How many did we lose?" Akado suddenly asked, his tone serious. "I want the unvarnished truth, not sugar-coated reports."
"My Führer," Guderian paused before answering. "Since the beginning of the war, our forces have lost 675 men. The SS's third armored division suffered significantly, with about 45% casualties."
"The truth is harsh," Akado acknowledged, even though he was aware of the outcome. "During World War I, my regiment lost 1,300 men on the first day alone."
"How long do you intend to stay here?" Guderian asked after a moment, moved by the conversation.
"The frontline troops need to know I stand with them. It might boost their morale and speed up the offensive," Akado responded, smiling. "I plan to visit briefly then head north to support our forces there and see Rommel—it's been too long."
Guderian nodded, mentioning, "I heard our northern front is nearing the suburbs of Warsaw. It seems the Poles have shifted their forces to counter us."
"They're performing well in the north, but so are you," Akado reassured. "However, once the fighting here is over, be wary of Soviet movements. I don't want us to suffer setbacks after Poland."
"Yes, my Führer," Guderian responded immediately. "I understand."
"Let's visit the 9th Motorized Infantry Division to see the Frederick Rocket in action. I missed the trials, and now I want to see the production models on the front," Akado concluded, then closed his eyes, murmuring before drifting off, "Then north, to oversee the siege of Warsaw."
News of Akado's visit electrified the southern combat troops. The next day, newspapers featured a photo of General Morder saluting Akado at the airport, accompanied by an extensive piece on Akado's leadership. Another photo showed Akado inspecting an artillery unit, where he personally fired the first shot of the offensive against Poland that afternoon. The troops cheered, "Long live the head of state!" and with renewed vigor, advanced 20 kilometers north in a single push.