The Reichseisenbahn office building now bore a large sign that proclaimed it "ÉTAT-MAJOR DE L'ARMÉE DE POLOGNE, DIVISION DE TRANSPORT, ARRIÈRE-GARDE". German clerks and secretaries found themselves moving into tents pitched along the line, while French officers settled into the chairs les Boches had been turfed out of.
The Oberpräsident had already telephoned Prussian Königlichelandeskanzler Braun with a lurid report of the French Occupation. Braun then took off his Land hat, put on his Reich hat, and the Reich's Vizekanzler Braun had complained to the Reichskanzler, the Reichswehr Minister, and even, his disgust patent in every feature, to the Foreign Minister.
Papen had jumped (though whether it was over the French matter or concern about some revenge by the Social Democrats), written a note to be sent to the Quai de Orsay, and then called in the French Ambassador, M. Coulondre, for a stinging reproach. The Ambassador had told him to deliver his message to M. le Général Weygand, when he visited the Rear Headquarters of the Armée de Pologne, which would be set up here in Berlin.
Noske had grumbled, ordered several companies of Landesturm to surround the yards, and spoke to the French deputy commander of the Rear Headquarters, Général Huntzinger, who said that nothing could be done but he would try to get the Monsieur le Boucher, er Ministre an appointment with M. le Ambassadeur Coulondre to discuss this matter.
Manfred contemplated the joys of strafing.
Outside Königsberg, East Prussia
The Bf-109 came down a bit hard. There were bullet holes through the tailplane; the Reds had been getting a bit close. He should have known better, but that last I-16 . . . the Emil rolled safely to a stop and the pilot cut the engine.
It wasn't the crew chief, it was the Geschwaderkommandant himself who got Mölders out of the cockpit. "What do I owe this to, Herr Oberstleutnant?" he said, wearily.
"Being a kanone," Ritter von Greim said. "Double, actually, if we count the ones in Spain. I think they will 'accelerate' your Blue Max, Daddy."
For now a Pour le Mérite was the least of Mölders's concerns, or even his rivalry with Galland of JG2. (Who, at last report, had scored nine.) About the entire strength of the Luftstreitkräfte was packed into East Prussia, having flown over the Baltic to get around the Corridor, and Udet was getting overwhelmed. Management had never been his strong point, but inspiration was.
The Air Force had been flung against hordes of Red planes. In Spain, Mölders had had the opportunity to tackle them in small batches; here and now, the Red Air Force was hurling gargantuan swarms of them over the border.
Not all the news was so bad: after a little bombing mission that had dropped its bombs short of Berlin, the Reds had given up on strategic bombing. (The Reichskanzler had found a letter written him by Major de Seversky predicting the flattening of Berlin in the first half-hour of war, laughed, and wrote ""Things to Come' indeed!" across the top before tossing it in the "Not Quite Tight" file.) Their tactical bombers were enough, though three of Mölders's victories had come from jumping Sturmoviks themselves about to push over and dive-bomb Polish troops or towns.
Half the time they themselves had to fly cover for their Stukas. A Red column of tanks would go up like kindling when the dive-bombers pounded them, provided that the Red fighters did not get through their own escort.
The wastage was appalling but usually, if a pilot survived, he came down behind Polish lines and could get back to safety. Unless some officious Polish mayor or policeman insisted on confining this German invader . . .
Greim wrapped an arm around his pilot's shoulder and they began to walk back to his quarters. "The General himself is coming and I just bet he has some fair escorts, all eager to meet the big pilot . . ."
Lübeck, Schleswig-Holstein
The pilots, slumped in exhaustion, waited by the telephone in the pilots' lounge at the Lübeck airport. After a moment it rang, and the younger one picked it up. "'Allo. Right here," then handed it over.
"Hello, Manfred!"
"Amelia! Are you all right!? What happened?"
The Finns had closed the airports on the first day of fighting. Then, the foreign embassies had suggested that all their nationals leave Finland. Weeping, Count Baillet-Latour had declared the Olympics over, and had extinguished the torch before a corporal's guard of athletes and spectators, saying in a choked voice, "I summon the youth of the world to London."
There weren't any other pilots from Focke-Wulf on hand, and only one custodian of the Kondor, who found herself much besieged. Carmen had gone to see her pillar of strength, and wept tears of frustration as she said, "Frau Earhart, please help me!"
Putnam had promptly said, "Baroness, you're perfectly capable of handling the plane."
She said through her tears, "It's not that. It's all the people begging for seats."
No baggage, no flight engineer or navigator even. This enabled them to get thirty-two people into the plane. Earhart had gleefully thrown onto the taxiway a bag the size of a small car that one American had brought, shouting, "Are you deaf! NO BAGGAGE!" But the plane was still dreadfully overloaded. Carmen sweated bullets as they took off. Frau Andra had told her about her Daddy's last minutes, and while she went to his grave at least once a month, she wanted it to be a while before she stayed there for eternity. How Earhart felt must have been frightful to imagine. They flew low over the countryside, past Hangö, and then southeast, over the cold Baltic. If they had to ditch it would all be over very quickly, anyway. Carmen thought of her uncle saying "Nothing happens without God's will."
They were flying low, and Carmen had to keep an eye out for fishing boats -- or warships, as well as take care of the radio. They turned near Bornholm, got waved off from landing at Rostock, and finally, fuel runningperilously low, landed at Lübeck.
"The girl's a real trooper," Earhart said. "Flew like a pro. I guess it does run in the family. Okay, here she is."
Carmen put out a hand and took the telephone. "I can't talk much longer, I have a war to fight," her uncle said. "Carmen, I am ever so proud of you. Was there any problem?"
The American Colonel with the foul mouth. He had looked into the cockpit when they had landed and said in his high voice, "You mean we got flown to safety by two goddam women?"
Randolph was behind him; he had said, "No, you got flown to safety by Carmen von Richthofen and Amelia Earhart. Any questions, Colonel Patton?"
Caught between two fires, for Earhart was up and about to be at him, the American colonel had looked one way and then the other, then said, "Forgive me ma'am. Mesdames. The flight was so damned daring."
"Hmph," Earhart had said, hoisting her nose in the air like a snobbish society lady.
When they had landed, a man from the British embassy had collared Randolph and taken him off to the station for Berlin. Colonel Patton had followed, in a different car. Putnam had departed for the station to get them tickets for Antwerp or wherever they could get a ship.
"Not really, Uncle," Carmen said.
Berlin, Brandenburg
The machine of mobilization clattered and clanged. A lifetime ago, a young officer on the border with Russia, it had been the border with Russia then, it had been Russia then, had been nonplused when war had broken out. He who had once been an unconcerned subaltern of the Ulanenregiment Nr. 1 was now far from the border, far more informed, and far more concerned.
Thus it was that tonight, anticipating the visit from Sir Neville Henderson, the British Ambassador, he was listening to the radio, the British Broadcasting Company news. The chimes of Big Ben tolled, then the announcer spoke. But not the news; merely, "His Majesty's Prime Minister," was announced, and then the person so designated began speaking:
"In response to this dastardly, vile, immoral, and unprovoked aggression by the Soviet Union against the innocent people of Poland, His Majesty's Government issued an ultimatum to the Soviet government demanding its withdrawal from that peaceful country. In response, the Soviet government has closed its Embassy, the Ambassador has depa
rted from the country. The British Empire is now at war with the evil empire of the Soviets.
"We Britons are in it to the end -- every last one of us. What sort of people does this Stalin, this Soviet cockroach, think we are? We shall fight them in the air, on the sea, and on the land . . ."
Manfred leaned back with a sigh of relief. Randolph had been most concerned. "It looked like it would be Halifax, or Sam Hoare, at Number Ten," he had said. "But the Labourites wouldn't serve under either one of 'em, and Halifax said he wasn't up to it. The only one left was Father."
CHAPTER 34
Berlin, Brandenburg, Germany, Saturday, August 9, 1940
Marshal Rydz-Smigly, the Polish Commander-in-Chief, had just come from a meeting with Général Weygand. With several thousand French troops at his back and more on the way, he felt empowered, obviously, and was laying down the law to the beastly Hun.
"All German troops in Poland will be under the command of, subordinate to, Polish headquarters," the Polish commander said blandly. "I myself have been named Supreme Commander of the Alliance, and will control the deployment and employment of troops.
"Furthermore, Herr Pilot, it is necessary that you make no offensive movements out of Polish territory without prior consultation with my headquarters. We are quite aware of German designs on Poland, that the Germans are quite willing to stab an ally in the back if the opportunity offers itself.
"The Polish nation will not suffer its honor, its soul, to be compromised by a temporary ally . . ."
As Manfred sat and listened to this diktat, he was grateful that his commanders were absent. Noske, Fritsch, and Beck all sat at the Bendlerstrasse, organizing the flow of men eastward. Had any of them heard this speech, the Polish Marshal's words might well have become a self-fulfilling prophesy. At least, as the Reich had permitted the French to take over the Reicheisenbahn, so were the Poles permitting sealed trains of German troops and equipment to run through the Corridor.
"We have deployed the Poznan Army to the border to prevent any such German revanchism! The entire German machinery of aggression is on notice, Herr Pilot, on notice!"
Rydz-Smigly got to his feet. "Now that I have informed you of the policy of my government, I must return to my country to conduct its defense against the Red hordes. Conduct yourselves so as to respect the rights of the liberated Polish people, Herr Pilot, and your country may perhaps earn its way into the ranks of the civilized nations."
The door closed behind him. Manfred sat and counted his heartbeats, one, two, three . . . twenty-nine, thirty. Then he shook his fist at the door. "And thank you too for permitting us to save your country!" he said in a low voice. Even Polish field-marshals have ears.
Rydz-Smigly would have been appalled to see the map that occupied one wall of the room in the Bendlerstrasse. Sitting under it was Noske, who had fought Communists here twenty-one years ago and now sought to do it again. Generaloberst von Fritsch was a proper piece of Prussian potent presence at his side, and the Wehrkreis commanders, elderly leaders of the War now tasked with sending men off to the next one, sat in the audience. The field commanders they had supported were now off to the Front.
A few blue uniforms of various shades were in among the feldgrau. The Navy commander, Admiral Raeder, no doubt wished for the great battleships that he had begged the Minister for, but hiscolleague, newly-promoted Konteradmiral Dönitz, seemed to be pleased that the new U-Boats had come into service just in time. A weary Udet was there with his harassed chief of staff, General Wever, not to mention a third junior Luftstreitkräfte officer.
The principal speakers at the meeting, however, would be the officials of the Foreign Armies and Navies section of the Truppenamt, and the Foreign Office's intelligence service, the Abwehr. Konteradmiral Canaris and Generalmajor Oster sat side by side, with Papen behind them. He had to be there.
"If we will begin, Herren," Manfred said.
Generaloberst Beck of the Truppenamt, his retirement postponed, stood up and began to describe the situation. Soviet troops had made an initial penetration of about a hundred kilometers into Polish territory in the first two days of the invasion. After that, their advance had been hampered by a number of factors; supply difficulties, poor organization, and particularly in the north, harassment from German and Polish air units.
The bulk of the German Army was presently deploying in East Prussia, but would soon move into Lithuania. No more than three or four divisions would be sent to Poland, and would serve with the armies on the flanks of the front.
Soviet tactics were crude in the extreme; one observer back from the front characterized them as "They are attacking with masses of infantry, just like in the War, but with masses of tanks intermixed." Oster's sally of "Nothing new in the East?" failed to get much of a response. The generals wouldn't admit to having read Herr Remarque, though.
"What about the other contingents?" Manfred asked.
"The British are sending three divisions to East Prussia, to go with the Panzergruppe, and one to northern Poland," Beck said. "Beneš is sending his 'Mobile Corps' to serve with the Panzergruppe, and an infantry corps to Poland. Moving the Czechs north from Bohemia to East Prussia, across the French trains going east, is a nightmare.
"The Austrians have sent their Fifth Division, which is mountain troops, and it is serving with our Gebirgsjäger Brigade. Oh, and the Czech mountain brigade, too.
"The Latvian and Lithuanian armies will come under our command when General von Rundstedt reaches Lithuania. For the moment Estonia is remaining neutral."
Noske had his own commentary. "We cannot be certain that individual Nazis from whatever group are being kept from joining the Landesturm. In fact, I understand that the retired General Schleicher is now a private trooper here in Berlin." Papen opened his mouth to laugh, looked around at the stern and solemn high command contemplating how far one of their own had fallen, and diplomatically closed it.
The Reichswehr Minister went on, "We have mobilized a sufficient force for the security of most of the major instillations and railway lines. The French seem to have conceded our right to have armed forces in the Rhineland and it is my sincere hope that the peace settlement will regularize this.
"Volunteers for more regular military service are being accepted. It will naturally be some time before they are trained well enough to be able to replace losses. Perhaps we will even be able to form new regular units."
Sunday was the big day. It wouldn't hurt to reassure the people, and so the last two divisions to go to the front, the infantry regiments of the Garde, which would be in Manstein's corps, and those of the Eleventh Division, which would serve under Witzleben in Poland, would march through the city, down the Unter den Linden past the Imperial Palace, and then be loaded into trains for the front.
The sidewalks were packed. Here and there a flag fluttered; some waved the new one of red, black and gold; others the old Imperial banner of red, white, and black.. There was a grim solemn silence; it was not like the War. They had learned what an empty promise "Home before the leaves fall" had been.
Manfred had received a telegram from Winston in London. "GIVE IT TO THEM STRAIGHT THEY CAN TAKE IT" and he had been grimly determined in his latest speech. Even though it had entailed being made up like a baboon so he would look halfway normal on the Television.
They stood on the balcony of the Imperial Palace. Twenty-one years ago, nearly -- a lifetime -- the Spartakists had proclaimed a socialist republic here. The man who had crushed that Bolshevik uprising now stood beside the man whose grandfather had been ousted. Manfred stood with Noske and the Kaiser, watching the long feldgrau lines march past, their boots crashing in goosesteping precision.
The Kaiser's older brother, Wilhelm, the one who had given up the then-empty claim for the love of a woman, was among those marching past. So was his younger brother, Hubertus, and other princes -- no longer ensured grand chateaux in the rear, but to stand in the front like Eitel-Friedrich. Eitel-Friedrich's brother Prinz Oskar was
with his Landesturm battalion at the railway yard, where he would put his son, another Oskar, on the train to Lithuania. And Young Manfred was already there, his father believed . . .
"Uncle Eitel-Friedrich sent me a wire from Königsberg last night," the Kaiser said, interrupting Manfred's train of thought. He saluted another regimental flag, the Garde-Füsilier, that dipped to him, then went on, "Says he saw von Leeb and Guderian and both of them are ready to go. And on down. The men are very confident, he says, almost as good as his were from the War."
"We'll have luck," Noske said. "There's no perhaps about it. The Bolsheviks will fail -- again!"
"We shall see," said Manfred, who had the figures on air losses on his mind. Udet would be by that afternoon and he had a lot to report.
". . . Just like I told you, better look out for your laurels. Daddy Mölders got his fifteenth this morning," Udet said cheerily. A nights' rest had done wonders for him, the night clubs he patronized being closed in the emergency.
They sat in the busy office at the Reichskanzlei. Outside, an open line to the Bendlerstrasse kept him posted on events, couriers came and went. Stauffenberg had begged and gone off to a posting under Hoepner, after recommending a replacement, Ritter Mertz von Quirnheim, who sat at the door and kept out those without the force to get by.
"I think things are proving themselves. The Russians are suffering a tremendous wastage, and when we can break through their columns are taking a pounding."
Manfred said dryly, "I suppose you mean the dive-bombing equipment. Didn't you embarrass yourself this summer in America, asking them how to fit dive brakes on that big Boeing bomber with the four engines?"
A Man and a Plane: An Alternate Germany Page 51