April 24th, 1938
A small radio sat on the table in the middle of the officer's club - a large, though utilitarian, tent embedded into the trenches. It was as comfortable a place as any here on the eastern front, the border between the German Union and the Russian Empire. Here in Silesia, the weather was cool, and made cold by a strong wind coming from the west.
Frederick Wissel - Hauptmann Fritz as he was known to the other officers - was listening to the radio. "Good evening comrades," said the radio, "this is Potsdam Publikradio. Potsdam Publikradio is a member of the German Public Radio Corporation and licensed by the All-Union Ministry Of Information to provide the German people with the latest news of the day.
"Today, we announce that the brave armies of the German Union have successfully won a great victory at Appeldoorn. Fifty-thousands of the enemy were outmaneuvered and forced to surrender, and the enemy scrambles to reply-"
Just then, a noise spilled over a hill, distant to the east. From their vantage point in the officers' club, Fritz and the others could see over the lip of the trench down to the valley below, and the hill directly opposite, 2-3 miles away - Russian territory. The noise sounded like a scraping of steel, a jingling of chain, loud as a thunderstorm but only for a moment. After a minute of no further noise, and no hint of movement, the other officers one-by-one began to look back to the radio.
"Fritz, was ist los?"
Fritz pointed lazily at the hill. "The noise. Sounded like tanks."
The other officers laughed. "Fritz!" they howled. "Es ist nur Ihre Phantasie."
Fritz didn't smile but remained staring at the hill. The others returned their attention fully to the radio. Of course, he knew that they were thinking this duty was a joke. He knew they wanted to be in the west. What good was a Panzerdivision that wasn't attacking? Or better yet, that wasn't even defending its country?
They were one of seventeen Divisions, total, stationed on the border with Russia. In this part of Prussia, there were only nine divisions, and the other eight were all DFA-Infanterie. And the rest were all French or Spanish divisions, placed there under the authority of the PCCC. So that was 17 total. In a worst-case scenario, which was routinely considered to be a comedically unlikely scenario, the Russian Empire could attack with over 100 divisions.
And then, again, the noise picked up, and all the officers looked out again. This time, it did not stop; and this time, the tempestuous roar of engines, the clatter of tracks, and the unmistakable sound of marching boots could not be ignored.
Each officer shot to his feet, and Fritz was outside and peering through his binoculars in an instant.
Crossing the valley - in fact, very nearly almost across it - were three columns of panzers, and a platoon of sprinting men.
They were charging.
Fritz jerked the binoculars off his face and turned around. "We're under attack!"
The officers were shocked. "Impossible," said one of them.
"See for yourself," Fritz handed him the binoculars. But he had not yet put them to his face before the signal lieutenant was already running.
"Get HQ," he said, "I'll be after you."
"Orders, sir?" said the man who just lowered the binoculars from his face.
"Rally the defense. Hold the line. Aim - aim those artillery guns at their panzers." And he took off, after the signal lieutenant, who burst through the door of the radio hut.
"17th Panzer to Command," he shouted at the radio. "Do you read?"
"Copy, 17th Panzer," said command.
"We are under attack; repeat, we are under attack."
"Did not copy, 17th Panzer," said command, "did you say 'Under attack?'"
"Affirmative."
"Do you have reason to suspect Russian Imperial Army forces?"
The lieutenant hesitated for a brief moment, and a stern look from Fritz reassured him. "Affirmative."
There was a moment of silence. "Standby 17th Panzer," it said.
The signal lieutenant turned around to face Fritz. "Captain?"
"Let me talk to them."
The radio crackled to life again. "17th Panzer, do you copy?"
"Copy loud and clear," said Fritz, "this is Hauptmann Frederick Wissel."
"Hauptmann. Good," said the radio. "This is Chairman-General Johann Reyher."
"Sir." Fritz automatically saluted the radio.
"Hauptmann," continued Reyher, "can you confirm the belligerent party is Russian Imperial Army?"
Fritz blinked. "I don't understand, sir."
"Is it not possible," said Reyher, "that you have mistaken some defectors or - or some Polish partisans for Russian forces?"
Fritz hesitated. For a moment, he was unsure of the best way to respond. Polish partisans seemed less likely than anything. And when had they ever got defectors?
"Sir," said Fritz, "my strong intuition is that the enemy is Russian. They have been amassing in this area-"
"Was that not to crush the Poles?" interrupted Reyher sharply.
Fritz took a deep breath and forged on. "Sir, Polish activity was never lower than before the Russians redeployed."
There was a long silence. "Scheisse," said Reyher softly. Then his voice sounded very distant, as if he was shouting at someone else in the room. "Who else is awake? Did Oskar go home? Marie! Get me Wolfgang Jager. Now!" And then he was speaking through the radio directly again. "Hauptmann?"
"Jawohl, mein Kommandant?"
"Execute Unternehmen Adalbert. Good work." And with that, the connection was severed.
The signal lieutenant sighed. "What now?" he said to Fritz.
Fritz smiled. Maybe he'd get to go home after all. "Leutnant, have you ever been to Warsaw?"
"No, sir. Have you?"
"Once," said Fritz. "Been meaning to go back, though."
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