Road to Shaba (4)
September 22, 1939
Warsaw, Poland
"Hwaam."
The driver, SS Corporal Herbert Hassel, offered Wittmann a cup filled with coffee as he woke up from a nap. There's nothing better than coffee to keep you drowsy.
"Thank you."
It was the sweetest nap I've had in a long time. Although I only slept for two hours, the fatigue accumulated in my body felt like it had been reduced by half.
"How is it?"
"It's better than I thought, but it's a little disappointing that there's no cream in it."
"You have a lot to wish for."
Sitting on a leather chair found from the remains of a building, Wittmann leisurely drank coffee.
The coffee was bland because it didn't have any sugar, let alone cream, but it was luxurious enough to be able to drink coffee leisurely on the battlefield.
"This is the 'Paris of Eastern Europe.' "I can't believe it."
"It's a war, so there's nothing we can do."
Before the war broke out, Warsaw was a beautiful city with such a fantastic scenery that it was called the Paris of Eastern Europe.
However, after the war broke out, Warsaw was reduced to ruins by the Luftwaffe's indiscriminate air raids.
The tree-lined streets where Warsaw citizens enjoyed strolling were completely burned down by air raids on the first day of the war, and stylish cafes and restaurants were shelled and turned into heaps of trash.
Human limbs were sticking out of the remains of the collapsed building.
Starving wild dogs and cats chewed at the flesh of the dead bodies, and flocks of crows gathered around them when they smelled the rotting corpses.
In just three weeks, Warsaw was transformed from the Paris of Eastern Europe into a huge garbage dump.
It is sad, but unavoidable, that cities are destroyed during war.
Just as you have to kill a pig to eat sausage, it was inevitable that everyone would die at some point.
Wittmann drank coffee and looked around.
Occasional gunshots could be heard proving that fighting was continuing in Warsaw.
Some soldiers wandered around the ruins, paying no heed to the gunfire.
This was to send a letter to family or take a commemorative photo to show off to future grandchildren.
Soldiers with personal cameras took pictures of the soldiers in exchange for a small amount of money.
Some soldiers took individual photos, while others took group photos.
There were a variety of people, from those who stood neatly at attention and took pictures to those who took all sorts of strange poses.
"SS Sergeant Wittmann! "This is a call from the company commander!"
"Tell them I'm going."
***
Wittmann's company was deployed to support an army infantry regiment struggling against the remnants of the Polish army.
Surveillance was essential as enemies may be hiding behind the rubble.
If you let your guard down, you are bound to make mistakes, and one minor mistake that might be overlooked in everyday life could cost you your life on the battlefield.
"It feels like playing tag."
"It's a game of tag that risks your life."
Wittmann lightly responded to the operator's joke and looked around carefully.
Despite the risk of being targeted by the enemy, German tank commanders always stuck their faces out of the hatch.
With the hatch closed, you had to look around only through the cupola's observation window, which created a blind spot and made it difficult to properly determine the terrain.
For this reason, German tank commanders preferred to travel with the hatch open.
"Platoon, stop."
Wittmann, who discovered something, ordered a stop, and all four tanks stopped at once. When the tanks stopped, the infantry also stopped.
"What's going on, Sergeant? "Is there something wrong with the engine?"
asked the young lieutenant leading the infantry. Since he was in the army, he called Wittman, an SS sergeant, just sergeant, but Wittmann didn't mind.
"That's not it. "The engine is fine."
"Then why did you stop?"
"I have a feeling the enemy is nearby. Have the infantry search the surrounding area-"
"Is there any basis?"
The lieutenant snorted as if Wittmann's words were absurd. Wittmann shook his head.
"There is no basis. "This is purely my feeling."
"Did you order a halt just because of your intuition? "Don't say anything ridiculous, quickly-"
With the sound of a machine gun coming from somewhere, the lieutenant collapsed into a hive.
"It's an enemy attack!"
"Everyone get down!"
Wittmann's intuition was correct. There were indeed Polish troops hiding behind the rubble.
The Polish army's original plan was to fire when the enemy got closer, but when the Germans showed no signs of moving, they took action first.
However, when the Polish army began firing, the Germans quickly took refuge behind the buildings on the left and right.
Wittmann turned the turret to the left and aimed at the enemy machine gunners.
The enemy soldier with a machine gun mounted next to the window was intent on shooting without even realizing that the tank was aiming at him.
When the 37mm gun was fired, the Polish army was torn to pieces along with the machine guns.
The enemy wasn't just infantry. The operator who was firing the ZB-53 shouted when he spotted the enemy.
"There's an enemy tank in front!"
A TKS, cleverly hidden in a pile of concrete and bricks, was firing a machine gun at the German soldiers.
It was so small that two crew members could barely fit in it, but it also had the advantage of being advantageous for ambushes thanks to its smaller body than a passenger car.
"Loaded!"
As soon as he heard that it was an enemy tank, the gunner took out an armor-piercing round and pushed it into the chamber. It was a moment when the fruits of long training were revealed in actual combat.
As soon as the TKS, which had been hit by an armor-piercing round, was engulfed in flames, another tank appeared. It was a 7TP tank.
The moment Wittmann saw the 7TP's 37mm main gun, he felt a chill go down his spine.
"Hassel, move forward!"
A split-second decision saved his life.
The shell fired by 7TP narrowly missed Wittmann's tank.
"Loaded!"
Wittmann turned the turret and aimed at the front of the enemy tank. 7TP hurriedly backed up, but only Bit was faster.
A bloody tank commander jumped out of the 7TP, which had been pierced in the front by a 37mm armor-piercing round.
He seemed to be the only survivor, as there were no other escapees.
The wounded tank commander raised his hands up as if he wanted to surrender, but German infantrymen fired submachine guns and knocked him down.
The sergeant who was commanding the soldiers on behalf of the fallen lieutenant harshly reprimanded them, but the Polish tank commander had already passed away.
Wittmann clicked his tongue.
No matter how much they were enemies, I wondered if there was any need to kill those who surrendered. However, the battlefield did not allow him time to feel sentimental.
"There's an enemy tank at 2 o'clock!"
"also?!"
Wittmann was dumbfounded. How many are hiding there?
Unlike the previous ones, this time two tanks appeared at the same time. Wittmann hastily rotated his turret.
Car No. 2 opened fire and took out one Vickers, but the other fired at Wittmann.
When the vibrations of the tank were felt, the tank crews reflexively closed their eyes. However, the tank was not penetrated.
Even the Vickers, whose main gun was evaluated as having poor penetration power, was able to sufficiently penetrate the 25mm frontal armor of the 38(t) at this distance.
However, due to the bad angle, the 47mm shell bounced off leaving only a long bullet mark on the front.
It was truly a stroke of luck for Wittmann and his subordinates.
But it was bad luck for Polish tankers. Since I failed to subdue the enemy with one strike, I had to wait until the next reload.
While the Polish ammo was loading shells, Wittmann opened fire on the main gun.
Vickers, who was penetrated from the front, exploded. A yellow flame burst out of a hole in his armor, sticking out his tongue. Cheers erupted from the tank crews' mouths.
"Awesome, SS Sergeant! "You took out three tanks in just two minutes!"
"With this, the Iron Cross is confirmed!"
"What can you do with this much? "I just got lucky."
Wittmann, embarrassed by his subordinates' high praise, shook his head. He said that his survival was due to luck, not pure skill.
If the Polish tanker had moved a little faster, if the enemy shell had hit a little more to the right, he could not have been guaranteed survival.
It was a moment when I realized once again that life and death are just a page apart.
***
September 23, 1939
Warsaw City Hall, Poland
"I think this is the end."
Warsaw Mayor Stefan Staczynski asked back in surprise at the words of Major General Julius Rummel, commander of the Warsaw Defense Forces.
"What do you mean, general? "Wasn't it you who said you would defend Warsaw until the end?"
Before Poland became independent, Stazynski, who fought on the front lines as a member of the Polish Legion commanded by Poland's father Josef Piłsudski, was able to leave the city on the first day of the war along with other government officials, but he, the mayor, was not allowed to leave the city. He said it was ridiculous and stayed in Warsaw.
Despite dissuasion from those around him that it was dangerous, he left the air-raid shelter and appeared on a radio broadcast to encourage soldiers and citizens. He also took charge of distributing supplies and preparing shelter for refugees.
For him, a patriot, surrender was something that could never happen.
"We still have ammunition and food left! Soldiers and citizens are also doing their best to fight the enemy. Even young students and the elderly! But does it make sense for you, who are responsible for them, to insist on surrender?"
"I don't want to say this either. But the war situation is so hopeless."
Rummel rubbed his face with both hands.
Rummel, who had been a vigorous and tireless soldier, was no more. He was only a war-weary and fatigued old soldier.
"food? ammunition? Of course it will remain. "But you know that that amount is ridiculously small."
"That's true, but..."
Stazynski was dumbfounded by Rummel's words.
There was only a few days' worth of ammunition and food left in Warsaw.
Even this was saved as much as possible, and if rationed normally, it was less than 3 days' worth.
Even the little food left was given priority to soldiers, so many citizens were suffering from hunger.
Physically weak children and the elderly died first, followed by wounded soldiers.
When a horse carrying supplies fell after being hit by shrapnel, starving people rushed in, cut off the horse's flesh with knives or metal objects, and stuffed it into their mouths on the spot.
Because of this, various infectious diseases, including dysentery, spread.
People with dysentery were unable to control their bowel movements. They had diarrhea in their pants without even having a chance to relieve themselves.
When people died, there was no one or space to bury them, so they were left in a corner.
The people who moved the bodies of those who died from dysentery also contracted dysentery, and the people who moved the bodies of those who died also became sick, repeating the vicious cycle.
"The number of people dying from hunger and infectious diseases is higher than the number of people dying from German artillery fire. Do you know what's funny? "There should be enough food to compensate for the number of people who have died, but the food shortage is so low that it is not noticeable!"
Rummel couldn't control his anger and slammed the table. Stazynski could say nothing.
"It is not impossible to continue the fight as the mayor said. However, poor citizens will suffer even more.
Not only citizens but also soldiers were exhausted. Just yesterday, more than 30 soldiers deserted, and even the military police who are supposed to arrest deserters are participating in the desertion.
Since the Soviet Union was involved in the war, Poland was already ruined. But even if the country collapses, shouldn't those who survive still survive?"
Rummel closed his eyes tightly, as if even speaking was painful.
Stazynski's voice, which had been full of anger, was now trembling with despair.
"Is this really the only way?"
"The mayor knows that there is no other way. There is no answer other than surrender. General Chuma also agreed with me."
Rummel's superior, Lieutenant General Valerian Chuma, also agreed with Rummel's argument that further resistance was meaningless.
Stazynski lowered his head.
"······All right. "I follow the general's wishes."
"Thank you, Mayor."
***
"Your Excellency, the Polish negotiators have arrived."
"Let me inside."
Senior Commander Johannes Blaskowitz welcomed the Polish negotiators with a faint smile on his face.
As the highest-ranking member of the German army in charge of the Warsaw invasion, he had received permission from the Fuhrer to negotiate with the Polish negotiating team on behalf of the German army.
"There is only one thing we want. Surrender of all Polish forces in Warsaw. "There are no other conditions."
In order to make the other party aware that he was in charge of the negotiations, Blaskowitz deliberately took a high-handed stance.
As expected, the negotiating team was daunted by Blaskowitz's firm attitude. Negotiating team leader Valerian Chuma said:
"May I tell you about the conditions here, Your Excellency?"
Chuma treated Blaskowitz with the honorific title "Excellent" instead of "General."
Blaskowitz, who was pleased by the other person's low attitude, allowed him to speak.
"Tell me."
"What we want is not that big of a deal. Fair treatment of prisoners, treatment of the wounded, and provision of food and medicine for the citizens of Warsaw. Even though they were just civilians with no connection to the war, they suffered so much. "Please be kind."
"Don't worry about treatment as prisoners. The German Wehrmacht strictly complies with the Geneva Conventions. Instead, I think we should think about providing food and medicine. "It is not that easy to willingly hand over our soldiers' share of food and medicine to you."
When Blaskowitz rejected the offer, Chuma hurriedly spoke.
"Just a little bit is fine. If you provide medicine, even one more life can be saved. Oh, and our people will not forget your grace."
"Hmm."
Blaskowitz was troubled by his opponent's desperate plea.
Although the Germans had food and medicine, they did not have enough to return to the Poles in Warsaw.
Moreover, if you distributed valuable materials to the people of an enemy country without permission, you might hear different criticism later.
"Wait a moment."
Blaskowitz, unconvinced, made a direct call to the Fuhrer in Berlin. Depending on the Fuhrer's answer, his answer would also change.
-What's going on, general? The Poles surrendered?
"Mr. President. They expressed their intention to surrender, but demanded a portion of food and medicine in return. What should I do?"
Blaskowitz refused Poland's request, but was concerned that the evil-minded Poles would resist until the end.
Of course, that wouldn't have changed the outcome, but he wanted to avoid additional casualties.
-Tell them that you will meet their demands for now, and only give them a small portion. There is no need to reveal the truth that we are in short supply of food and medicine.
"I understand, Mr. President."
Blaskowitz returned to his seat and accepted the demands of the Polish negotiators. The faces of the negotiators brightened slightly.
"Thank you so much, Your Excellency! "Your Excellency saved countless lives."
"If we had surrendered quickly, this wouldn't have happened."
Blaskowitz snorted.
If you wanted to save people that much, you should have surrendered a long time ago! They dragged out this pointless battle just because of their petty pride, and now that they're doing it, it's just a compliment and flattery.
They seem like pitiful people.