July 21, 1937
Central Spain, Brunete, West of Madrid - 11th Division Headquarters Colonel Enrique Líster, staking his last hope, had sent a telegram at the risk of his direct superior's displeasure, even ignoring the chain of command, but the reply from Headquarters was firm.
[We are aware of the severe losses your division has sustained, but there are no other units with the military force to defend Brunete at this distance.
Headquarters plans to send reinforcents as available, so defend Brunete to the death, no matter the cost.]
“…Crazy bastards.”
In a military order, the aning of the phrase ‘no matter the cost’ was clear.
It ant to defend it even if it ant every last one of them had to die.
It was questionable whether defending it was even possible, and it didn't seem like the Superiors were unaware of that.
In the end, instead of taking the path of retreat to save the few remaining soldiers for the future, they bet the lives of the last handful of elite soldiers on a gamble with extrely low odds of winning.
Did this place have such great strategic value that it was worth defending by grinding down all of his subordinates who had bled for the people's victory since the beginning of the Civil War?
No. At least, that's what Colonel Líster thought.
This place was nothing more than a bridgehead to secure the Extremadura Road anyway.
If they were to give up on the Extremadura Road itself, this place would just be a salient where enemy attacks would be concentrated.
And yet, the Superiors gave up on preserving the lives of his subordinates, who had led the Republican faction to victory since the start of the Spanish Civil War.
They had chosen this gamble solely to show the Soviet Union and the West that the Republican faction still held the initiative in this Civil War.
“What did they say, Colonel?”
Líster looked at his Adjutant, who seed just as tired as he was, hesitated for a mont, and then replied.
“We are to defend Brunete to the death.
…They say they'll send reinforcents.”
“H-Here, you an? But our unit…”
Líster and his Adjutant both looked at each other and sighed.
After a mont of silence, Líster began to laugh.
“Heh, khuhuhu…”
“C-Colonel.”
“Hahaha… Isn't it ridiculous?”
“S-Sir?
“Kukukuk, hahahaha…”
Líster laughed for a long ti at his bewildered Adjutant, then spoke again.
“We all struggled for our holand to the point of death, but the ones who decide the outco are guys from other countries.”
The Republican faction had now reached a point where it could do nothing without the help of the Soviet Union.
Being driven into a situation where they had to wager their last handful of elite soldiers on a reckless gamble just to look good to that very sa Soviet Union, whose fault was that?
“I heard the leader of this defense and counterattack operation is the new German Military Chief of Staff? Walther Model? Haha, hahaha.
How can I not laugh? To think that a German Volunteer army Chief of Staff who just arrived can co up with a more plausible operation than us, who have bled on this land for a year?”
The Adjutant couldn't say a word.
In the past, the veteran volunteer soldiers who had co to the Republican faction, especially those from Britain or France who had experienced the last great war, had also actively tried to propose operations in the beginning.
However, they were all dismissed due to opposition from the Anarchists who didn't want the influence of foreign powers to grow, and the Communists who were wary of the democratic world.
For a while, the Nationalist faction behaved the sa way, and it was thought that there were no major problems while they were engaged in a grueling fight against each other.
But as soon as Germany seriously intervened, the Republican faction collapsed miserably.
“And that anti-tank artillery that routed our armored unit was originally an anti-aircraft gun? The one who proposed it was a front line Company Commander? Dietrich Schacht, a 'First Lieutenant'? Pffft, isn't it absurd that a war for the fate of our Fatherland is being decided like this?”
“Colonel, we can still fight!”
The Adjutant shouted with determination, and while Líster had almost made an extre choice due to fatigue and stress, he knew that the war wouldn't end just because they were defeated like this.
This ti, they had been so brutally defeated because they didn't know the strength of the actively intervening German Military. They wouldn't be beaten like this next ti.
But their Fatherland, Spain, did not have the national strength to withstand such losses multiple tis.
The Nationalist faction's rebellion, Madrid, Jarama, Guadalajara, the Northern Theater, and now Brunete.
They had already shed too much blood and suffered irreversible losses.
The Air Force and Armor, where they had held so superiority, had also suffered too great of losses in this battle.
Would there really be a next chance? Even if there was, how many cards would they have left in their hands?
Although Germany was said to have already exceeded the scale of volunteer soldiers, they had still inflicted such a devastating defeat on them with just a flying corps and a re division's worth of troops.
The High Command's misjudgnt that Germany, which had just begun to rearm, wasn't a problem to worry about—unlike one of the Three Great Powers, Italy—had brought about a catastrophic result.
Could the Republic win against them? No, how long could it last? Two years? One year?
Líster was pessimistic.
But nonetheless, he had to do what he had to do.
“…For now, let’s just hold out expectation for the reinforcents they said they'd send.”
-
July 23, 1937
Central Spain, Brunete, West of Madrid - Urban Outskirts Engagent Zone This was the first ti the Condor Legion had stood at the vanguard of an offensive.
And unlike the defensive battles we had experienced so far, we were suffering massive losses against the Republican faction, which had established a defense line in the urban area.
“Aaaaaargh!”
“M-dic!”
The acrid sll of gunpowder filling the battlefield, screams, scattered corpses, and rampant bloodshed.
“Damn it, what is that crazy bastard doing!”
“Dietrich!”
Seeing a soldier wandering aimlessly in the battlefield amidst a hail of bullets, I ran like a madman and tackled him to the ground.
“What are you doing, Private First Class! Do you want to die?!”
“My, my arm…”
“What?”
“My arm, my arm…”
Only then did I lower my gaze and realize his left arm was gone below the forearm.
“My arm… my arm…”
Seeing the soldier mutter blankly, then get up and approach the lump of at rolling around over there, I nearly had to retch.
“Damn it, that’s already…”
And before I could finish my sentence, blood splattered on the soldier’s back.
He collapsed right there. He wouldn't move ever again.
“Fuck, fuck..”
Even at this mont, gunshots were erupting like mad from both sides, and it was already difficult to count the soldiers collapsing as they spurted blood.
“Dietri—ah, phew.
Company Commander. Please, let's be more careful, okay? We can still give orders from a bit further back, can't we? Right?”
Klens, who had quickly run over while crouched, muttered pleadingly, but the corpse of the soldier who had collapsed while searching for his arm wouldn't let my gaze go.
“Just give orders from the back to charge and die? Can't you see what's happening? As if they'll advance so well if we comfortably tell them from the back to go forward and die!”
My temper flared, and I ended up yelling at him before I could stop myself.
The battlefield was too loud for him to have heard
clearly, but the sight of us arguing must have been clearly visible to the soldiers watching us with anxious eyes.
“Sorry, Klens. I lost my cool.”
I apologized to Klens, whose face had hardened, and wiped my face.
“…No, sir.
Company Commander. I misspoke.”
Hell is no other place. Whether we’re winning or losing, war is truly a fucking hell itself.
A heroic struggle? A victory earned through the blood and sweat of patriots? Tell them to cut the bullshit.
With trembling hands, I opened my canteen and took a swig.
The lukewarm water moistened my parched throat, and the heat in my head cooled down a bit.
Headquarters had analyzed that the Republican faction's resistance capability must be depleted, and in fact, there hadn't been much resistance on our way here.
Before arriving in Brunete, most of them would put up sporadic resistance before quickly surrendering.
But we faced fierce resistance in Brunete, our recapture target.
[Hold fast, the justice of Spain and its people are on our side! I, too, will remain here and fight alongside you! Do not lose to the traitors attached to foreign fascists! They shall not pass!]
“They shall not pass (No Pasaran)!!”
The 11th Division had taken severe damage as the vanguard of the offensive, but the enemy commander, Enrique Líster, was rallying his soldiers by broadcasting from the urban area throughout the battle.
The battle cry, shouted in unison by the enemy in response to the Colonel's encouragent in a cracked and hoarse voice from shouting on the broadcast all day, was making even the German soldiers who couldn't understand it feel fed up.
Not to ntion
or the other Nationalist faction soldiers who understood it perfectly.
“Damn it, those bastards really are fighting to the death here.”
This was not good. This was really not good.
I hadn't expected such desperate resistance.
If ordered to break through despite the sacrifices, a breakthrough would be possible.
But how many would die in the process? Would I be able to survive?
“Klens, give
the map.”
I took the map from Klens and spread it out.
No, I was about to, but just then, a soldier who looked like a ssenger was approaching on a motorcycle.
“A ssenger.
Orders, I suppose..”
I held onto a sliver of hope that Colonel Model wouldn't order us to keep charging into a hellish situation like this.
But an explosion occurred right in front of the soldier, and both the motorcycle and the man shot up into the sky before falling back down.
“You, damn, fucking..
!”
“Ugh, uwaaargh, aaaaaah…!”
That soldier, a Corporal, had been unlucky enough to be hit by a mortar, and was rolling on the ground with one of his legs blown off.
I quickly crouched down, went to him, and dragged him behind a wall.
“d—!”
I was about to shout, but stopped.
Because I could see the horrific sight of his entrails strewn along the path I had dragged him.
Even if a military doctor ca, not a dic, this one was a goner.
“S-Save …”
The Corporal muttered weakly, but there was nothing I could say.
“Fuck… fuck… save … it hurts so much…”
“Or…”
I needed to ask where the written orders were, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words.
Seeing
hesitate, Klens, who couldn't bear to watch, asked instead.
“Corporal, the written orders..”
“Mom… Mooooom…”
The Corporal couldn't answer, and after calling for his mother, even that soon faded away.
“This is shit…”
This will be a fucking mory I'll never forget for the rest of my life.
I suppressed my nausea and rummaged through the dead Corporal's pockets to find the written orders.
The sticky blood on my hands felt like it was clinging to my very soul.
“Phew… Bombing the urban area in two hours.”
It's Richthofen, so he’ll burn the city to the ground with incendiary bombs.
I let out a sigh of relief.
Right, rather than keep charging into urban warfare to break through a defense line like that, it might be better to just burn the small city to the ground.
I thought that for only a mont.
I gave myself goosebumps.
Where was the
who had been so shocked by the bombing of Guernica?
There's no problem under international law.
As long as the enemy has established a defense line in the urban area, that place is undeniably a combat zone.
But, there are definitely civilians there too.
It’s the sensation of sothing a human being should have breaking down.
I forced myself to swallow that unpleasant feeling and gave the order.
“Klens, engage for one more hour, then pull the troopers back.
Don't push the advance, just keep up the pretense of attacking. It'll be a disaster if incendiary bombs fall on our heads.
Ah, and make sure they're careful not to waste too many bullets.”
“Understood, Company Commander.”
Watching Klens disappear over the wall, crouched low, I slumped down, closed the Corporal’s eyes, and took his dog tag.
“Arne tz… Corporal.”
What was the na of the soldier I was about to send as a ssenger in Guadalajara who ended up dying?
…I couldn't rember.
-
Two hours later, Brunete Urban Area – Republican 11th Division Command Headquarters
“…It was a tough situation, but you all did well.
Really, thank you for your hard work.”
The unit commanders bowed their heads with solemn faces to Colonel Líster, who spoke with a completely hoarse voice.
The Condor Legion, the Nationalist faction, and the Italian Army.
The offensive from three sides had pushed the Brunete defense force relentlessly.
Líster had personally rallied his soldiers until his throat was raw and fought to hold on, but the casualties had already reached a level where they had given up on counting.
The "reinforcents" sent by Headquarters were, to put it nicely, survivors of the battle; to put it badly, they were nothing but a tattered group of remnants from a defeated army.
When Líster first greeted those ‘reinforcents,’ he was so dumbfounded that he couldn't say anything, but the war situation was so bad that he had to mobilize even them.
Even the elite soldiers of his 11th Division, who revered the Republican faction hero Colonel Líster, were on the verge of insubordination due to burning thirst and aningless losses, so it was obvious what the other units were like.
Whether it was fortunate or not, thanks to most of the other units on the offensive being nearly annihilated and collapsing, the water and supplies reaching Brunete had beco plentiful.
The troopers, provided with cool water and ample food for the first ti in a long while, fought with all their might to defend the city despite the near-suicidal urban defense orders.
However, that had only bought them a few days.
“But now, I have no choice but to admit we've clearly reached our limit.
Spain, no, at least I will not forget your cooperation. How about the International Brigades, at least, withdraw now?”
The person Líster asked so politely was the commander of the International Brigades, who had led his tattered unit all the way to Brunete after a senseless death of an offensive.
“If there are forces fighting here for Communism and the people, we will stay here too. We have no hotown to return to anyway.”
“…”
Watching the German officer of the International Brigades speak with a grin, Líster slowly closed his eyes.
Disgusted by the unseemly behavior of the Republican Command Headquarters, many of the International Brigades had withdrawn, but so still remained, throwing themselves into this hopeless battle.
Their holands, Germany and Italy, were already ruled by Fascists, and the Communists had been oppressed or ousted.
Just like the Republican faction, they had nowhere to retreat.
“I'm sorry. If only our military had been a little wiser, this situation…”
“What can you do when you're in a position where you just have to do as the high-ranking people say.
Thinking about it now, we shouldn't have fought the Social Democratic Party, we should have beaten that bastard Hitler to death. The Comintern is a group of idiots.”
“…Hahaha.”
It was quite a reactionary statent for a Communist, but the German commander of the International Brigades detested the Soviet Union as much as the Fascists.
While the German Communist Party was busy grappling with the Social Democratic Party as directed by the Soviet Union and the Comintern, Hitler took power for free and sentenced German Communism to death.
Many of the German communists who fled that inferno to the Soviet Union were, far from being rewarded for their efforts, getting caught up in Stalin's Great Purge even at this very mont.
Having escaped his holand, he had co all the way to Spain, fighting and crying out for the justice of the people and Communism, but he had lost most of his comrades and was now left remaining out of sheer stubbornness.
“Well, we learned an expensive lesson.
That no matter how good the motive is or how hard you strive for the people, the result isn't always good.”
The taste in Líster's mouth was bitter too.
What kind of reward had they given to the International Brigades, who had co to another country and shed blood, believing only in the banner of freedom and the justice of the people against the Fascist traitors?
The honor of having fought for justice? The freedom gifted to the people?
“…Our courage may be trampled, but it won't be today. Even if the people's struggle collapses, it won't be today.
We are not finished yet.”
“That's right.
With a man like you, Colonel, the mont will co when the justice of Communism and the people will take root in this country.”
It was when Líster and the last remaining officers were looking at each other, sharing a bittersweet laugh.
Suddenly, with a loud blast, the building shook.
“Whoa!”
“Uwaah!”
As the building shook and the officers staggered, the Adjutant burst through the door.
“Colonel! It's a bombing!”
“Kch, so they didn't retreat to reorganize, they pulled back because of the bombing!”
Líster rushed out into the hallway and looked out the window, and was left speechless.
“Aaaargh!”
“Uwaaaargh! Save eee!”
Soldiers and civilians alike were in a panic, and right before Líster's eyes, an enemy aircraft flew by, and incendiary bombs exploded over the fleeing people, creating a rain of fire.
“Aaargh, it’s hot, uwaaaaaargh!”
“E-Emil! Wait, I'll… Ah, aack! Uwaaaaaah!”
A hellish scene unfolded unfiltered before Líster's eyes, as the fire spread to soone who was trying to put out the flas on a comrade who had collapsed while running around on fire.
“C-Colonel! It's dangerous!”
“Crazy…”
Líster, pulled away from the window by his subordinate, couldn't take his eyes off the horrific sight in the urban area.
He had heard about the bombing of Guernica, but to think they would openly conduct an incendiary bombing on an urban area!
The residents here were people who had been cooperating with the Nationalist faction until just a short while ago!
“C-Colonel Líster! This building is on fire too!”
As flas and smoke soared from all over the urban area, an incendiary bomb also fell on the town hall they were using as their headquarters.
This wasn't what they had defended the city with their lives on the line for; the city they had protected by squeezing out every last bit of their remaining capability and with the blood of countless soldiers was now burning down entirely.
“Damn it…!”
While Líster was spewing his rage, new air force aircraft appeared, indiscriminately poured down bombs without distinguishing between civilians or anyone else, and then left.
On the opposite side of those planes, seeing more German bombers flying in from the distance, Líster felt despair.
“Sons of bitches! Do you intend to leave only ruins?!”
There was nothing else he could do now.
“Colonel! You have to take cover!”
Just wait for the bombing to end quickly, and pray that as many of his subordinates as possible survived.
“…Walther Model, Dietrich Schacht…”
All Líster could do was grind his teeth and engrave the nas of the enemies who had handed him this defeat.
“Those damn German bastards…”
His battle was over.
In the urban area, filled with the subordinates who had fought to the end under his command and with civilians, the bombing continued for over four hours.
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