The sun had only just begun to reveal its light to the world when the small city of Gniezno was already stirring.
"Leon, are you leaving already?" a female voice asked from the bedroom of Leon's apartment.
"Yes. The railway never sleeps, especially in wartime, my love," he replied, already pulling on his coat.
"Alright… good luck," she murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Leon glanced at his watch as he left his apartment, the time just past five in the morning. He made his way toward the nearby train station, one of the most important supply hubs in the region, a critical railway junction.
Leon was a signal operator. After greeting his colleagues, he limped toward his small hut, his left leg always lagging slightly behind.
"At least I don't have to fight these Germans…" he muttered, stepping inside and taking a seat.
Soon, the first trains arrived. Leon greeted them through the window, raising his hand as the rails hummed beneath the weight of steel and war.
A large red train passed through the station with high speeds.
"Military."Leon muttured annoyed taking a sip of his morning coffee.
Not far away, the same color could be seen, though not on a train. The same crimson shade soaked the wet ground of the grassland plateau. The field was plagued by corpses and small, smoldering fires.
Already driving away from the destruction was the rear of a Panzer III, the last vehicle of the column, disappearing into the distance.
"Gniezno is not far, sir," Paul's driver remarked from below.
"Good, we wi…" Paul stopped mid sentence, his eyes suddenly narrowing.
"Binoculars. Now," Paul snapped.
The driver reacted instantly, handing them over. Paul pressed the lenses to his eyes.
"That's not the Luftwaffe…" he muttered, lowering the binoculars. "If I can see them, they can see us."
Then he shouted.
"We've been spotted. Prepare for an air raid!"
Paul slipped back inside the tank, sealing the hatch as the driver took a sharp turn off the road.
Paul grabbed the radio.
"All units, we have been spotted. Prepare for an air raid!"
The tanks immediately dispersed, fanning out in all directions. A row of trucks, however, came to a halt instead of fleeing. Soldiers jumped down, moving with desperate urgency.
"Quickly, Hans!" one of them shouted, tearing at the tarp while keeping his eyes fixed on the sky. Polish aircraft were already closing in.
They ripped the cover away, revealing flak guns beneath.
"Fire!" a sergeant yelled as the planes dove dangerously close.
Gunfire erupted. Dozens of flak cannons spat death into the air, dark clouds of explosions bursting above, below, and beside the attacking aircraft.
One plane was hit almost instantly, its fuselage turning into a fireball. Others managed to evade the barrage, their machine guns opening fire in response.
"Take cover!" an officer shouted, but the words died with him as bullets tore through his body.
Dirt and debris rained down onto the flak positions. One gun was destroyed outright.
"Fuck!" a Wehrmacht soldier shouted, grabbing the flak again. "Come on!"He squeezed the trigger, eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.
A hit. Another.
A Polish plane exploded midair, its shattered remains falling from the sky.
"Watch out!"
"Ahhh!"A soldier was crushed beneath a massive falling fragment of wreckage.
Paul watched from the cover of the trees, jaw clenched tight.
"Where the hell is the Luftwaffe?" he growled. "Contact headquarters again. Tell them it's urgent."
He pointed at a nearby soldier.
"Yes, sir," the man replied, already running.
"They've managed to find us," Hasso said quietly beside him.
"Yes," Paul answered. "But we've still made good progress. To continue, we need the Luftwaffe. Air superiority is essential, especially near urban areas."
"Indeed," Hasso replied, watching the Polish planes retreat into the distance."More will follow."
"Sir!" the soldier said, returning out of breath. "Headquarters has responded. Please come with me."
Paul followed him and took the radio.
"Oberst Jeager?" a voice asked.
"Yes. Who am I speaking with?"
"General Keitel."
Paul briefly turned his head away from the radio, his jaw tightening, before facing it again.
"Sir, we have managed to break through near the city of Gniezno, but we urgently require air cover. I am confident General Kessel—" Paul began.
"Oberst Jeager, you are not in a position to dictate aerial movements," Keitel roared through the radio. "The General Staff has decided to concentrate on the Greater Danzig area, assisting General Guderian."
"Hah. Hah," Paul laughed quietly, disbelief lacing every breath. "Thank you, General."
He turned away from the radio without another word.
Paul shook his head as Hasso watched him closely.
"No air support?" Hasso asked.
"No air support," Paul replied. For a brief moment it looked like a smile crossed his face, but it was twisted, poisoned by anger and frustration. "Focusing on the Greater Danzig area. Of course. Of course," he muttered.
"I should have made more connections within the General Staff. Puppets, all of them."
"Why Danzig?" Hasso asked, genuinely confused.
"Why?" Paul snapped, his voice sharp with restrained fury. "Because of the Führer. Why else? His obsession with Danzig is costing us the entire strategic picture."He clenched his fist."They know the importance of what we are doing here. They know it. Yet these old fools still cling to him like dogs, licking his boots instead of thinking."
For a moment, no one around Paul dared to speak. Then he opened his mouth once more.
Calmly, he began. "Either way, we attack. We have already crossed the Rubicon. There is no place for nostalgia now. We take that city."
Paul clenched his fist, the leather of his glove creaking under the pressure.
"We just have to be faster…" he said quietly, his gaze sharp and threatening. "And I have a feeling a few minds are still clear in Berlin."
At the same time, Berlin, General Staff
"Guderian will have to pass through this hilly area," an officer analyzed, pointing at a marked section of the map.
Keitel, standing beside him, his pristine Wehrmacht uniform adorned with dozens of medals, nodded. "They have established heavy defenses here. We will need the Luftwaffe. Herr Göring?"
Göring, seated in the back, lazily smoking a cigar, looked at Keitel for a moment, clearly enjoying his position of power.
"Of course. I will assign the Second Air Corps..." he began, when he suddenly twitched in surprise.
The door was thrown open.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the room as a man in a blue Luftwaffe uniform strode inside, his chest bearing even more decorations than Keitel's.
"How dare you barge in like..." Göring roared, attempting to rise from his chair with visible effort.
"How dare I?" Kesselring thundered back. Sunlight poured through the windows, illuminating his face. "How dare you gamble the outcome of this war for ideology?"
"What are you talking about, Kesselring?" Keitel asked, his brow furrowing.
"You know exactly what I am talking about," Kesselring replied coldly. "We must support Oberst Jeager's spearhead with air units. Immediately."
"This matter has already been discussed," Keitel said, waving it off as he turned away.
Kesselring clenched his jaw and seized Keitel by the shoulder.
"Discussed with whom? The Führer?" he hissed, venom dripping from his words.
Keitel's eyes widened.
"Careful now, Albert," he said quietly. "You are treading on dangerous ground."
"How dare you speak of our Führer like that!" Göring shouted, finally managing to stand, pointing an enraged finger at Kesselring.
Kesselring merely sighed, adjusted his collar, and turned toward the door.
"I will not stand for this madness," he said, slamming it shut behind him.
His footsteps echoed through the halls of the Defense Ministry. Hat tucked under his arm, he exited the building and entered a black limousine.
"Take me to the Supreme Command of the Luftwaffe," Kesselring said, leaning back and closing his eyes."And be quick. We wouldn't want a fat man to catch up..."
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