Chapter 165

January 19, 1941

Near Warsaw, Central Poland, Allied-Soviet Front

"Charge, charge!"

"Soviet, Ura!"

Kulik's Soviet Army, numbering 1.5 million, filled the vast plains of Central Poland, relentlessly pushing the German-Polish Allied Forces.

"Damn it, there are so many of them!"

"R-Retreat! Fall back!"

For a week, during an offensive that could only be called a Wave of the people, the Allied Forces suffered defeat after defeat, gradually falling back.

Thanks to this, the Allied Forces preserved their strength relatively well while retreating, but the Soviet Army continued to suffer losses and their formation became stretched as they pushed forward.

It wasn't just on the ground that the Soviet Army showed signs of reaching its culminating point of attack.

"Go to hell!"

At the roar of Polish Air Force ace Witold Urbanowicz, a torrent of machine gun fire rained down, and a Soviet Yak-1 fighter, its fuselage shredded, began to plummet to the ground, spewing smoke.

-That's another one, Witold!

"Good, there are plenty of flies to swat!"

Bf109s, emblazoned with either the German or Polish flag, flew ceaselessly, hunting the Soviet Air Force.

The Yak-1 was a new fighter that the Soviet Union had high hopes for, but its performance was significantly inferior to the Bf109, the main aircraft of the German and Polish Air Forces.

Having purged the pilots who had painstakingly gained experience in Spain during the Great Purge, the Soviet Air Force couldn't stand up to the Allied pilots who had already gained experience in the war and flew superior aircraft.

Despite launching a surprise attack while the Luftwaffe was largely requisitioned for the Western Front, the reality for the Soviet Air Force was that they were being overwhelmed by the numerically inferior Allied air forces.

But regardless of the situation on the front lines, a look at the map showed the Soviet Army was advancing.

And their commander, Marshal Grigory Kulik, was looking only at that map.

As the Allied Forces were pushed back to the point where Warsaw was nearly within artillery range, Marshal Kulik, deluded into thinking victory was at hand, grew ecstatic.

"Comrade Marshal, our air force is doing its best, but reports say the losses are becoming severe!"

"The army's losses are not at a level we can ignore! We've already suffered 80,000 casualties during this offensive!"

The staff officers clamored on, but Marshal Kulik only glared at the map and snapped.

"Quiet! Isn't Warsaw right before our eyes! With the war situation in the north and south at a stalemate, how can we achieve victory if we, with the largest military force, don't do our part!"

A mere 80,000 out of 1.

5 million was a cheap price to push to Warsaw.

After all, soldiers are nothing more than expendable items, and the Soviet Union's mobilization capability is tremendous.

Shaposhnikov, a former Chief of the General Staff, was one thing, but could he be inferior to Konev, a mere former political officer appointed by Zhukov?

Marshal Kulik believed that no matter how many troops he lost, if he could just push to Warsaw, that alone would secure him more support to lead the entire Polish Campaign to victory.

Had the General Secretary, who had to wrestle with paperwork all day to replenish those many troops, heard him, he would have wanted him purged on the spot, but Kulik was thirsty for military merit.

"Just a little, just a little more push!"

The staff officers could only sigh at the sight of the marshal, who thought the great city would fall immediately if they just pushed to Warsaw, but no one here had the rank to stop him.

Even if they did push to Warsaw, it was Kulik himself who had halted the production of submachine guns—the most crucial weapon in such large-scale urban warfare—claiming they were a waste of ammunition.

"Comrade Marshal! Urgent news! Enemy armored units have broken through the northern front and are advancing towards Siedlce!"

"What?"

Marshal Kulik, who had been lost in a fantasy of victory, furrowed his brow.

Siedlce was a strongpoint behind his army group.

If it were captured, his army would be threatened from the rear.

"Continue the offensive!"

"Sir?"

Naturally, common sense dictated preparing to counter the flanking force, but Marshal Kulik ordered the offensive to be pushed ahead.

"Aren't Rokossovsky and Líster, those fellows' units, over there! Tell them to deal with it themselves, and we will capture Warsaw!"

They were insufferable men who only listened to Zhukov's orders, but their ability was proven and they had plenty of tanks, so they would probably hold up fine.

They were the ones who had defied his orders for that very reason, so even if they failed, he could probably avoid blame.

And while those bastards were tied up with the enemy armored unit, if he could just capture Warsaw…

"Hehehe, I'll definitely crush that arrogance of his."

Marshal Kulik smiled foolishly as he imagined the twisted face of the insolent Colonel General, Zhukov.

---

"Too easy."

The commander of the German armored unit, General of the Panzer Troops Oswald Lutz, muttered from aboard his Panzer IV as it raced across the battlefield.

Perhaps because they had been pushing themselves hard, the gaps between the Soviet Army's units were sloppy, belying their vast numbers.

Thanks to that, when the Luftwaffe sortied in unison, their air support struck first and shook the enemy, and when his armored unit broke through, the enemy was panic-stricken and easily pierced.

After passing the enemy, General Lutz opened the hatch, exposed his upper body, and admired the swarm of Panzer IVs racing across the vast plains of Poland.

Lutz felt the cool breeze and smiled in satisfaction at the sight.

The Panzer I and Panzer II tanks he led during the German Civil War were now almost all retired or used for reconnaissance.

Instead, a more formidable and brilliant armored unit, centered on the Panzer IV, was now racing under his command.

The large-scale armored mobile force he and Guderian had dreamed of had now become a symbol of the German Army.

For him, who had once been branded a radical theorist and expelled from the conservative Wehrmacht, the feeling was particularly profound.

The sound of the tracks rolling over the ground, the roar of the engine, and the heavy boom of the tank's cannon firing when he was aboard a tank. He loved it all.

General Lutz closed his eyes, felt the tank's vibration, and crunched on the Schoka-Kola chocolate in his hand.

The operation had just begun, but his already aging body wouldn't hold up unless he ate in advance.

'I suppose it's about time I retired.'

While he was expelled, Guderian, who had been a distant subordinate, had risen through the ranks and was now, as a fellow General of the Panzer Troops, called the father of German armored warfare.

As Guderian's teacher and the true pioneer of the German armored forces, Lutz felt a little disappointed, but on the other hand, he also felt a sense of relief.

He had achieved the dream he wanted to see come true, and he wasn't anxious because he had friends to carry on his ideas.

With pioneers of the armored forces like Guderian, Model, and Rommel, and the juniors who were eagerly learning from them, there was nothing to worry about.

-General.

A report from the reconnaissance unit. An enemy defensive position has been identified in front of Siedlce.

Judging by the losses to the reconnaissance unit, we believe they have anti-tank means.

"A pre-established defense line in a place that's not even the front?"

As the report from the light tanks that had gone ahead came in, Lutz descended back into the narrow tank, closed the hatch, and furrowed his brow.

The enemy commander's performance so far had been the epitome of incompetence, yet he had prepared for this?

"Strange."

General Lutz was lost in thought for a moment.

"General, what are your intentions?"

At the gazes of the tankers riding with him, Lutz gave a bitter smile and picked up the radio.

"Headquarters. This is General of the Panzer Troops Oswald Lutz."

-This is Headquarters, General.

"We are breaking through towards Siedlce as planned, but there is a defense line ahead. I am concerned the enemy may have predicted our offensive."

But to withdraw the offensive after having come this far would mean all the sacrifices made to lure the enemy would be for naught.

The Soviet Army's performance so far had been too pathetic, and this was an operation by none other than the German Army's best brains.

General Lutz grinned and spoke.

"We will force a breakthrough. But our rear is vulnerable, so it would be good if you sent reserves to cover us in advance."

On the other end, the sound of a radio being grabbed was heard, and the gruff voice of the Army Group Commander, Fedor von Bock, came through.

-Alright. We have a unit just for that purpose.

We'll cover you, so go on a rampage, General Lutz.

"Thank you, Commander."

-Good luck.

His junior, Fedor von Bock, was now a Colonel General covering for him. Life was something else.

When the radio communication with Headquarters ended, General Lutz grinned, lifted the cross around his neck, and kissed it.

"Motorized infantry to the front! Deploy the infantry first, then we break through the front in coordination! May God's blessing be with you all, gentlemen!"

-Yes, sir! General!

The old general, who had been thinking of retirement, could not end such an important battle by retreating like a coward.

---

January 20, 1941

Brześć Litewski, Central Poland, Soviet Command for the Invasion of Poland

The Soviet Commander-in-Chief of a Front Army, Georgy Zhukov, was staring at a map covered in flags when he received a report.

"Comrade Colonel General! A report from the 'Spaniard' Corps! They report that the flanking maneuver has been completed as planned!"

It was not the official name of Enrique Líster's unit, but his unit had come to be known as the 'Spaniard'.

"Hmph. As planned."

It seemed Marshal Kulik had successfully lured the enemy into complacency, just as he had intended.

The enemy had pushed their offensive despite the presence of a fortified defense line.

The enemy's armored unit, unexpectedly coordinating well with infantry and even mobilizing air support, had come close to collapsing the defense line that Líster had scraped together with anti-aircraft guns, but it had cost them a day.

And that single day had allowed Líster's armored unit to move to the flank and Rokossovsky's armored unit to their rear, completing preparations to encircle them.

Since the enemy had air superiority, they had likely figured out the Soviet Army's movements by now, but it was already too late.

"Order both generals to commence the offensive. Let them know that what they did was not a flanking strike for encirclement and annihilation, but them voluntarily crawling into our encirclement."

"Yes, it will be done immediately! Comrade Colonel General!"

If he could annihilate the German armored unit in one fell swoop with this operation, he too could be promoted to General of the Army.

Before the General Secretary, rank was not an issue and his post was given by his command, but for Zhukov, whose rank was lower than the front-line generals, it made maneuvering difficult.

Zhukov flashed his characteristic arrogant smile.

Of course, I must stand at the very top. No one in this Soviet Army can match me.

Those arrogant Germans had tried to downplay their last defeat as a result of complacency, but if they lost again in this battle of total war, they would not be able to deny that he was the strongest general in Europe.

But Georgy Zhukov, though arrogant, was not complacent.

He picked up the telephone and requested a connection to the Stavka (Soviet High Command) in Moscow.

-Comrade Colonel General.

At the voice of Vasilevsky, who had succeeded him as Chief of the General Staff, Zhukov grinned.

The arrogant man was not on good terms with most people, but Zhukov was quite fond of Vasilevsky, who would argue with the General Secretary on his behalf and solidly support him from behind the scenes.

"Comrade Chief of the General Staff, when will the reinforcements arrive this time?"

-They are scheduled to arrive at Brześć Litewski by the end of this month.

"Hmm."

With the formal signing of the non-aggression pact with Imperial Japan, the Far Eastern Army was being sequentially transferred to the Western Front, and with additional mobilization, Zhukov's Soviet Army was scheduled to receive an additional 1 million reinforcements.

An advance party of 500,000 was arriving, and it was the end of this month.

"Can't they be hurried up a bit?"

-We've done our best to accommodate, but any faster would be impossible.

"I see."

If he could use those reinforcements in this battle, victory would be certain.

Zhukov inwardly licked his lips in disappointment.

"Understood.

What did the Comrade General Secretary say?"

-He ordered to 'dispose' of Comrade Kulik for certain this time.

Zhukov gave a bitter smile.

He didn't like Grigory Kulik either, but it was a fact that the troops sacrificed to oust him were a waste.

Of course, Zhukov himself, who was using those sacrificed troops as a tactical card, was not one to think that.

"Understood. Then I'll have to manage this offensive with the troops I have."

-Good luck, Comrade Colonel General.

Soviet Ura!

"Soviet Ura!"

After finishing his call with Vasilevsky, Zhukov narrowed his brow in thought for a moment before finally summoning a staff officer.

This operation was proceeding according to their plan, but the opponent was the German Army, famous for being a strong military.

The enemy wasn't empty-headed like Kulik, so even if they were fish in a barrel, he had to cast a double, even a triple net to catch them thoroughly.

"Comrade Colonel General, Soviet Ura!"

"Deliver this to Marshal Kulik. Tell him to prepare to support the units of Generals Rokossovsky and Líster as reserves in case of an emergency, to completely annihilate the enemy's armored unit."

"Understood, Comrade Colonel General!"

The General Secretary had asked him to dispose of Kulik for certain, but if they caught the enemy's armored unit thanks to Kulik, a complete purge would be off the table this time as well.

But Kulik's purge was a matter for another day; what was important now was the Soviet Union's—his—victory.

Zhukov relaxed, thinking that that foolish fellow would commit a blunder at some point, if not this time, then another.

The Marshal's rank insignia Kulik wore was truly too good for him. Shouldn't such an insignia rightfully be on his chest?

The plan for this battle was perfect, and the German forces on the central front were moving exactly as he had predicted.

He even had insurance in place.

In the north and south, they were facing stiff resistance from the Allied Forces, but thanks to permission not to attack recklessly, they were in a tense stalemate.

If the northern and southern fronts could hold the current line and pin down enemy forces while the main German armored force in the central front was annihilated, Germany, lacking reserves due to the Western Front, would find it difficult to respond.

"I wonder what excuse those arrogant Germans will make in the face of this defeat."

Zhukov smiled in satisfaction and anticipation.