Chapter 243

< World War II - The Spring of War (5) >

March 9, 1942

Dietrich Schacht’s Mansion, Berlin, Germany

“Ugh, that hurts like hell. Our daughter’s going to have quite a temper.”

Claudia must have been bitten hard while breastfeeding Lucia before I left for work. She sighed as she straightened her clothes.

“Oh, come on. How could a cute baby like this have a temper?”

A temper in this small, adorable child? Impossible!

As I leaned in close to look at Lucia, she opened her eyes, saw me, and broke into a bright smile.

Gasp. An angel.

There’s an angel right here!

“Wow, did she just recognize me? Can she see properly now?”

“It’s about that time, sir,” the nanny, Berta, replied with a smile.

For the first month, she was cute but didn’t react to anything, just sleeping and eating.

But once a month had passed, she started to respond, and her cuteness doubled!

As I beamed, gazing at Lucia, Claudia grabbed my head and turned it toward her.

“…Dietrich.

Your expression is incredibly foolish right now.”

“Ah.”

Claudia’s face was filled with dissatisfaction.

Gasp.

What mistake did I just make?

“S-Sorry. Did it hurt a lot?”

Instead of answering, Claudia averted her gaze and muttered with a deliberately gloomy expression.

“Now that you have a lovely daughter, you’ve lost interest in me. You treated me so well, I thought I’d never have to be jealous because of my husband.

I was deceived…”

I felt a chill run down my spine and had to shout in a hurry.

“N-No, that’s not it! Absolutely not!”

---

“…How are you now? Feeling any better?”

“Mmm, I think I’m feeling a little better.”

I had Claudia sit in a chair and was diligently massaging her shoulders as I asked, but her response was lukewarm.

…I decided to just focus on the massage.

For some reason, I can already see a future where I’m a sandwich caught between a queen and a princess…

The funny thing is, I don’t hate the thought of it.

“What happened yesterday?”

“Yesterday? Ah.

Yugoslavia.”

I let out a hollow laugh.

Hearing the full story of how Yugoslavia had suddenly plunged into a civil war, it was a situation as complex as one would expect from the Balkans.

“It’s a mess…”

Petar II had suddenly declared the abolition of the Croatian Autonomous Province.

However, even if it had been approved under Nazi pressure, the Croatian Autonomous Government was legally recognized under the laws of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia.

The Croatian Autonomous Government had responded with surprising common sense.

They had requested that the Kingdom of Yugoslavia’s government legally mediate, arguing that the king’s declaration to abolish the province was an illegal act of coercion.

Was it because we had captured the Ustaše—who in the original history had clung to the Nazis and mercilessly massacred Serbians and Jews—in Italy and handed them over to the regent to be dealt with in advance?

But in the end, the Serbian faction held the initiative in the Yugoslavian Parliament as well.

Despite the efforts of the Croatian members, the Parliament responded with sluggishness, dragging its feet. Up to that point, it might have ended as just another ethnic conflict in a multi-ethnic nation.

But then, Petar II made a magnificent move.

—When you assassinated His Majesty, the previous King, did you do so according to the law? If a law that failed to protect the rightful master of the nation is now used to protect terrorists, then I have no intention of following such a law.

If you do not dissolve the autonomous government immediately, I will personally show you that there is no law for terrorists.

With that declaration, he had summoned the regular army of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia.

Once things reached that point, the Yugoslavian Parliament also became enraged.

They didn’t care whether the Croatians were put in their place or not, but the king’s act of ignoring the parliament itself must have reminded them of how his predecessor had dissolved parliament and declared a dictatorship.

However, it had no effect on Petar II, who had already decided to follow in his predecessor's footsteps. The king dissolved the parliament and appointed the royalist general, Dušan Simović, as the new Prime Minister.

In the end, the enraged parliamentarians within Yugoslavia joined hands with the Croatian nationalists, and things erupted.

“It would have been easier for us to mediate if it were just a matter of ethnic conflict.”

But the optics of the situation are too complicated.

If it had been a simple case of the Croatian autonomists or other Yugoslavian minorities rebelling and starting a civil war, Germany could have mediated.

In that case, we could have used the civil war as leverage to warn Petar II and extract a policy of appeasement toward the minorities, using that to placate them and end the incident.

The Serbians wouldn’t have had much to say, as we would be reining in a king who had gone too far and caused a civil war.

The minorities would have been dissatisfied, but they wouldn't have borne a major grudge against Germany for stopping the oppression and the war.

“Mmm, you’re right.

It’s not just about nationalism, so it’s difficult for us to intervene.”

But with the Yugoslavian parliamentarians and Croatian nationalists having joined hands to start a civil war, what happens if Germany gets involved?

From Germany’s perspective, we can't help but support the parliamentarians.

We are a parliamentary democracy, after all.

But if we side with them and force the king to surrender, it won’t be seen as us reining in a rogue king and resolving a conflict.

It will look like we supported a rebel army that joined forces with Croatian nationalists.

Naturally, dissatisfaction with Germany would skyrocket in Yugoslavia, which had been a pro-German neutral country, and it would only leave embers to ignite a fire later.

“For now, the conclusion is to wait and see.”

In any case, thanks to our helping the regent clean out the extremists in Croatia beforehand, the conflict has not yet escalated into a war of ethnic extermination like in the original history’s Yugoslav Civil War.

For now, only minor, localized clashes are occurring.

Perhaps because they’ve joined with the Serbian parliamentarians, the Croatians are not immediately demanding secession and independence.

Instead, they are only demanding a strengthening of the autonomous government’s authority and a guarantee of its independence.

It’s unlikely to stay that way, but for us, who can’t properly intervene in an emergency due to the war with the Soviet Union, the situation is too complex to be telling them what to do.

Regent Paul was a really good man. I wonder how he’s feeling right now… It’s a shame.

But where is Tito, the father of the Yugoslav Federation? Is he just watching because the situation is too ambiguous for the communists to make a move?

“Hmm–”

As I was lost in thought, Claudia took my hand.

“Ah, sorry.”

My thoughts were so complicated that the massage had stopped. As I was thinking that, she got up from the chair, pulled my arm, and sat me down.

“Huh?”

As I sat there, a little flustered, Claudia began to massage my shoulders.

“I’ve had enough, so now I’ll return the favor for you, who always works so hard.”

“…Haha. I’m honored.”

As I fully savored the comfort of her soft hands carefully and sincerely working the knots out of my shoulders, Claudia spoke from behind me in a whisper.

“You came home so late yesterday that I couldn’t tell you, but thank you for your hard work, going to the front lines and attending that meeting yesterday.”

A smile naturally spread across my face, and I replied with gratitude.

“You also worked hard, helping with my duties while I was away and taking care of Lucia.”

The sound of her laughter tickled my ear.

---

March 13, 1942

Near Bryansk, Western Russia – Allied Forces Front Line

Colonel Clemens Fleck stood up, feeling a little awkward.

“Ha, me, a regimental commander…”

“You like it?”

“No, it still doesn’t feel real.”

Hearing Clemens’s reply, his chief of staff, Roger, chuckled.

“You’d better get used to it. After all, you’re officially known as a rising star in Germany.

Isn’t that right, Behr?”

“…That is correct, Major.”

It seemed like a lot of adjectives had been omitted from that description, but Clemens’s adjutant, Vinrich Behr, didn’t deny it.

Clemens took a deep breath, lifted the cross necklace from his neck, and kissed it.

“What’s this? Since when were you religious… Ah.”

The quick-witted Roger snickered, and Clemens made a hissing sound.

“Mind your own business, Chief of Staff.”

“Yes, yes. Whatever you say, Colonel.

Just maintain your dignity in front of the men.”

Despite himself, Clemens couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he recalled the moment Karina gave him the cross necklace.

—Huh, Karina? What’s this?

—Take it with you. That general of yours, what was his name? Lutz? Anyway, he was lucky and survived because of a cross, right? You never know.

As she said that, Karina, holding an identical necklace, gave him a grin.

—Sniff.

This is the first time I’ve ever received a gift from a girl.

…His subsequent words, however, had made her face turn utterly regretful.

—After I went to all the trouble of getting you hooked on fine dining, if you take that and run off somewhere, I don’t care if it’s to another woman’s side or to your grave—I’ll chase you down and give you a piece of my mind. So be a good boy and come back.

—Yes, ma'am!

Clemens Fleck, who had been grinning foolishly, took a deep breath, composed his expression, and stepped out of the barracks.

He gazed at the long lines of Tiger, Panther, and Panzer IV tanks and the tankers standing before them.

This was Clemens’s armored unit, under his command for the first time.

One of the unit’s members looked at their new regimental commander and spoke softly.

“Ooh, is that the famous Colonel Fleck?”

“Hush, Knispel.”

“Oops, sorry, Second Lieutenant Carius.”

The tank platoon leader, Second Lieutenant Otto Carius, looked at Clemens Fleck, whose relaxed impression was different from what he had expected.

So that’s him.

The famous war hero and close friend of Minister of Defense Schacht.

—Can I—can we trust the government with our lives?

Carius smiled faintly as he recalled the question he had once thrown at Dietrich Schacht.

He hadn’t expected a profound answer from a man of high standing. It had just been a lament, born of exhaustion and despair.

But instead of a polished politician’s answer, he had received a promise, spoken with a face just as pained as his own, to strive to make it so.

And the actions he had shown since then.

All of it had become the answer, which was why Carius was standing here now.

Clemens Fleck read the paper his adjutant handed him and began his speech.

“Ahem, ahem. Greetings, gentlemen.

I am Lieutenant Colonel Clemens Fleck, and starting today, I will be your regimental commander. The sky is so clear… No, it’s crap, isn’t it?”

The commander’s comment, made mid-speech, caused a collective pfft of escaping air from the soldiers.

One look at the sky, thick with rain clouds, made it obvious that it was about to pour.

Their commander scrunched up his face and simply put the speech aside.

“Ah, let’s just scrap this. It looks like it’s about to pour, so what’s the point of all this rambling? I’ll be honest.

I don’t know jack shit about tanks. I just crammed the theory, so you guys probably know more than I do.”

“Huh…”

“I can only promise you one thing. I’ve rolled around in every goddamn hellish battlefield there is and survived.

So, I’ll do my best to keep you alive, too. Let’s all survive and go home to live happily with our leopard-like wives and raise our cat-like kids!”

…Leopard-like wives?

A look of confusion appeared on all the soldiers’ faces, but Clemens just made a half-hearted salute and waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s going to rain! Dismissed! Get back in the barracks! There’s nothing more miserable than getting sick in the military!”

With that, their regimental commander turned his back. Watching the dumbfounded chief of staff start bickering with the commander, Carius let out a hollow laugh.

‘He really is a friend of the Minister of Defense.’

---

March 16, 1942

Army General Staff Headquarters, Berlin, Germany

“Wel~come, Minister of Defense!”

“Thank you for your hard work, Chief of the General Staff, General.”

Manstein was still making a fuss, while Tresckow just gave a grin and a small wave.

This place is always the same…

It’s a regular raccoon den in here.

The air is so hazy I can barely see. Doesn’t it bother them?

But the master of the General Staff, Manstein, was a chain smoker, and his second-in-command, Tresckow, was too.

It’s a hopeless situation. I just hope the brains of the German Army don’t end up with lung disease…

I shook my head and followed Manstein’s lead inside.

“Are the preparations going well?”

The Rasputitsa had begun, Russia’s rainy season had arrived.

When the rain stops and the mud created by the Rasputitsa settles, we must launch a general offensive and secure all our strategic objectives.

“But of course!”

Manstein exclaimed, taking a savory drag from his cigar and twisting the corner of his mouth into a smirk.

“There will be absolutely no carelessness this time, Minister.”

“That’s welcome news. Have you finally acknowledged that Georgy Zhukov is a worthy rival, General?”

“Ahem, ahem…”

One loss at the Battle of Warsaw, one win in Operation Liberation, and one loss at the Battle of Belarus.

Regardless of victory or defeat in battle, Manstein had been outsmarted by Zhukov twice.

He may be second to Walter Model as a field commander, but for a man who prided himself on being unequivocally Germany’s number one in terms of staff-officer brains, it was a rather shabby record.

Manstein coughed awkwardly, puffing on his cigar.

“It’s alright, Chief of the General Staff.

I believe that if you do your best, you will surely win.”

“Your trust, Minister! I, Erich von Manstein, will stake my name on repaying it!”

Manstein pretended to be deeply moved.

In truth, I didn’t doubt his ability.

His defeats were less due to a lack of ability and more influenced by his underestimation of the Soviet Army.

…Which is what makes it even more infuriating, but that underestimation of the Soviet Army wasn’t just Manstein’s personal problem; it was rampant throughout the entire German Army.

Putting Manstein's personality aside, the responsibility couldn't be laid solely at his feet.

“…And of course, I trust that in the future, the Chief of the General Staff will not make me do my work twice.”

“Haha, hahaha, there was a slight misunderstanding…”

I gave him a wide smile.

Misunderstanding my ass.

As if I wouldn’t know that he sneakily shifted some of the Tiger and Panther tanks to his old classmate Guderian, while just barely meeting the quotas on paper.

That Guderian fellow is full of greed for military glory, so he wouldn’t have said no. It’s so obvious.

He was thrilled when I said we were sending General Model to the Smolensk area, and now he wants to keep the only one left, Rommel, in check.

The man who is supposed to be the Chief of the General Staff… Instead of helping when the Minister of Defense is busy, he couldn't resist pulling a stunt like this…

I fixed my smiling gaze on Manstein and opened my mouth.

“Shall we take a look at your latest masterpiece, then? Surely you haven't been so busy meddling with things like front-line tank distribution that you've neglected your actual duties.”

“Ahem, ahem.

Of course not, Minister.”

Manstein stood before the operational map, breaking a sweat but clearing his throat.

“He pulled two all-nighters to make that plan, and now his wife is pissed at him,” Tresckow whispered in my ear, and I had to struggle to keep from laughing.

There’s nothing scarier than a pissed-off wife.

Manstein soon pointed at the map, and with the magnificent face of Germany’s greatest strategist, he began to speak.

“Then, allow me to explain our army's decisive operation to crush the Soviet Army, the ‘Manstein Plan’—”

Seriously, what’s with that plan name…?