Paul pointed at the map and moved the model that was meant to depict a tank. „If the Hauptmann's company can break through the fight street, we could cut off their rail supply at that point."
General Sperrle nodded. „I will send him land as well as air reinforcements,"his gaze wandered to Oberst Richthofen who nodded," but we cannot do much. The Nationalists have started a hopeless offensive on their side which ended in a push back. We have to hold the Republican advance, or else we risk an encirclement of our spearheads."
Hasso watched the two men argue, his eyes full of enthusiasm. He was absorbing knowledge, tactics and movements. His gaze wandered over the map as he tried to draw his own conclusions. Only high ranking officers could speak in such a meeting and although Paul and he often discussed tactics, he was not yet on a level to speak with the General, so he just listened for now. Being granted this privilege by Paul, who had persuaded Sperrle, felt like an honour.
„Oberleutnant von Mannteufel."
„Yes, sir," he replied after a moment, pulled back to reality.
„Relay our commands to the company commanders," Sperrle said, dismissing him.
„The rest of you are dismissed. Go to your posts," Sperrle ordered.
When Paul wanted to instruct his newly granted tank battalion, he was stopped by Sperrle at the tents' doorstep.
„Wait a moment, Major Jeager," Sperrle said, gesturing for him to come inside again.
Paul obeyed, seeing only Sperrle and von Richthofen still inside.
„Yes, General?" Paul said, interest forming in his eyes.
Sperrle looked past Paul, watching the last officer disappear around a corner.
„You wanted me to introduce like minded people. Although you know Wolfram, you did not know that he thinks like us," Sperrle said.
Paul's eyes lit up. That something history did not know, he thought.
Richthofen, the cousin of the famous Red Baron from the First World War, was the staff officer of the Luftwaffe in the Condor Legion and also an Anti-Hitler supporter.
„To be honest, the interventions from the Führer are increasing by the day. Most of them are bad, many wrong. I do not believe this is acceptable. Especially not when it comes to large scale war. We cannot have someone so temperamental, so arrogant in charge. I was once a supporter, but many of his decisions have cost us victories and men," Richthofen said, clenching his jaw.
„I agree with you, Oberst. We need cold thinking, critical thinking," Paul said, placing his hands behind his back. „How about we keep in contact about this. Broaden our group and support each other."
Richthofen thought for a moment, glancing toward Sperrle a couple of times before answering. „I would like that. It is a win win situation. I will try to find some more officers inside the Luftwaffe. I expect the same from you."
Paul nodded:"Of course, Oberst."
Two weeks later, 31st December
The night was dark, thick clouds looming above the city of Madrid, hindering the stars from shining. Only the moon's dull glow made its way through the heavy wall above.
"FEUER!" A shout managed to assert itself against all the others.
The loud sound of artillery fire erupted from the line of guns placed on a hillside. The shells flew far and wide until great explosions lit up the night sky, just as so often on this fateful night.
The sound of tanks, planes, artillery, rifles, and men defined New Year's Eve in Spain, 1936.
Three men were standing beside a table, analysing the map spread across it.
"It's hopeless. We have to abandon the city. The destruction has reached astronomical levels. The Germans are ruthless in their actions," the fat, well-decorated man said.
"Please, General, just give me some more time. Two days, no, one day and I can stop their advance," the thin, tall officer pleaded, his eyes full of desperation.
Before the General could answer, one of the soldiers shouted something, running toward them.
In the next moment, a massive explosion engulfed the room, and everything went dark for a moment.
Then fire erupted everywhere. Shouts, screams of pain and despair filled the air.
Paul lowered his binoculars after watching the fire for a moment too long. His coat fluttered slightly in the cold wind.
He walked over to one of the artillery positions and patted a young sergeant on the shoulder."Good shot, Sergeant"
The sergeant had a big smile on his face, "thank you! Herr, Major."
Paul turned away again, meeting Hasso, who has now become somewhat his personal assistant:"After Oberst von Richthofen next bombing wave is complete, we conquer the wasteland. Ready the tanks!"
"Yes, Sir!"Hasso saluted, before running off.
At exactly 11 p.m., the countless engines of the German tank arsenal came to life.
Paul's tank battalion assembled in several groups of eight, each group assigned to a different street.
"When the sun rises, when the new year breaks, we will stand tall. We will prevail, and the enemy will kneel. Madrid will be ours, Spain will be ours, victory will be ours. Glory to the Fatherland!" Paul raised his fist. The other tank officers around him did the same, shouting, "Glory to Germany, glory to the Fatherland!"
The tanks began moving. The remaining residents in the streets of Madrid watched timidly from the slits of their windows as rows of tanks made their way through the streets, fire erupting from their turrets once in a while, moving down any resistance still left.
Bells rang at 12 p.m., filling the streets of Madrid.
One of the bells was the great tower bell of the city hall. Two German soldiers, bottles of Spanish alcohol in their hands, were laughing heartily while pulling the mechanism to ring the giant bell.
Those bells did not only signal the new year but also the disastrous defeat of the Republican Army, which had begun its full retreat, leaving Madrid in German and Nationalist hands.
Residents watched with mixed feelings as rows of tanks drove through the city, stopping about two hundred meters before the city hall. Dozens of soldiers followed the tanks, cheering loudly.
A man opened the hatch of his tank and climbed out.
Paul observed his surroundings. The destruction was evident. Some officers estimated the damage to be between sixty and seventy percent.
He walked with his hands behind his back through the streets of Madrid, guards flanking him, some near, some further away. The retinue filled the entire street, making their march toward the city hall even more intimidating.
Then suddenly Paul felt something at his leg. He looked around at the soldiers approaching and then glanced down. A little girl, probably no older than seven, was holding onto his leg, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Paul raised his hand, stopping the approaching soldiers.
He crouched down. "What is it that you want from me?" Paul asked the girl.
Before she could answer, shouts came from a nearby house. A woman's voice. The woman revealed herself, running from behind a half-collapsed building.
Tears filled her eyes when she saw what Paul guessed was her daughter. Yet before the woman could reach them, two German soldiers stopped her, holding her tightly.
The girl looked at Paul, then at her mother. Then she pointed at her stomach and toward her mother.
Paul understood. He pulled out a piece of chocolate from his breast pocket and gave it to the little girl, who smiled. A small smile also escaped Paul's lips.
The mother looked at Paul with a conflicted expression. When her daughter reached her, the soldiers pushed the two of them away.
The pair looked back one last time before disappearing into the rubble of what could once have been their home.
His eyes remained there for a while before he turned them back toward their objective.
When the street met the large plaza, the long retinue finally stopped. From a street on the right, another column of tanks arrived.
"Von Thoma has arrived too," Hasso noted.
Then, from the left side, a couple of military trucks appeared. Disembarking were several German and Spanish officers, among them General Sperrle and Oberst Wolfram von Richthofen.
Paul, Sperrle, von Thoma, and von Richthofen met right before the staircase ascending to the city hall.
They saluted each other and shook hands, all of them visibly enthusiastic.
"Good work, Jaeger, as always," Sperrle said, patting Paul on the shoulder.
"Thank you, General. Although this was the work of all of us," Paul replied, smiling slightly.
When Paul shook hands with Richthofen, he said, "The work of the Luftwaffe was meticulous this time, Oberst."
Von Richthofen smiled, a hint of pride surfacing. "We have done our part, just as duty demands it."
After they talked a bit more, Sperrle concluded, "Franco will be coming soon. Let us greet him accordingly. The Führer told us to show Spain a strong picture of Germany."
The high-ranking officers lined up before the city hall. The soldiers formed in perfect order, company by company.
After about half an hour, the sound of engines filled the air. A large group of trucks, armored cars, and Spanish soldiers approached.
From one of the armored cars, a man in a brown Spanish military uniform emerged.
Franco, Paul thought. The first dictator I will meet face to face in this life.
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