The Western Gate: The Polish Campaign, Story 6

Sir Richard

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I was being punished.

That was the best explanation that I was being forced to continue my service to II Battalion of the Leibstandarte Rifle Regiment. The maneuver that I orchestrated, to surround and capture the bulk of the defending force on the east end of the city, substantially put an end to Polish resistance there. As a result, <<commander>> insisted that I stay around, at least to the end of the Polish campaign.

I was a civilian. Technically, I could quit. In fact, as soon as I did, I would be conscripted into the army, probably trained as a spotter for artillery or coordinating close air support, and sent right back here. I would get paid a heck of a lot less and would no longer have the freedoms that I enjoy. Quitting was not an option. In fact, the only option that I seemed to have was to do my job so well that the military brass would not want to get rid of me.

Doing my job meant helping in the slaughter of the Polish citizens who were doing nothing but defending their homes from a hostile invader. I had not thought that a war like this, a war that was directed as much against civilians as against soldiers, could occur in modern times. It was a relic of the religious wars of the middle ages. But, here it was, and I was a witness to it.

What type of person was I that I could sit here and hope for my country's defeat? I grew physically ill thinking about it.

For the moment, I had plenty of time to think. After our involvement in recent battles, the leadership decided that the unit needed a bit of a break. The <<regiment>> was made a part of the ring around Warsaw, preventing any reinforcements from entering the city, while artillery and aerial bombardment weakened those who were defending the capital. We were told to expect peace and quiet while the last defenders were pummeled into submission.

Colonel von Oberkamp had taken a nice house in the town of Plochlorin as his headquarters. It had belonged to a wealthy Jewish family. I had no idea what had happened to them. However, I suspected that the house would soon be listed as abandoned. The German government would, then, auction it off to raise money for the war effort. That is, if it did not catch the eye of some German with powerful connections before the auction took place.

Mitzer and I were given one of the side rooms in the house, where I sat and worked on my observations. I was supposed to be telling the German military how they could fight more effectively. I was also supposed to be telling them about their opponent's weaknesses and how they could be more efficiently exploited. In short, I was supposed to be telling them how they can more efficiently kill and steal and pillage the nation of Poland.

While all of these thoughts were going through my head, I found myself making an honest report of the battles I had seen. The habit of doing a good job, following orders, and obeying my supervisor had simply overruled the concerns I had for right and wrong.

I noted how differently the battle along the Mzura River would have gone if the enemy had dismounted its cavalry before attacking, or combined its tanks, tanketts, and armored cars with its infantry attack on the right flank. I noted how, at Pruszcow, we left our right flank entirely exposed, and yet the enemy did not think to attack us there because it was not on the way to Warsaw. I noted exactly those things the German army needed to know to more efficiently destroy the people trying to save the lives, property, and sovereignty of the Polish people.

I felt detached, as if I was watching myself writing the report, rather than writing it myself. Perhaps it was my way of getting the job done without thinking of what would follow as being my fault.

That detachment ended when the sirens went off.

Mitzer rolled off of his cot and grabbed his radio as his feet hit the floor. I dropped my pencil and yanked my jacket from the back of the chair as I headed for the door. Everybody who spoke asked the same question, "What's going on?"

I headed straight for Operations, while Mitzer put the radio to his ear.

Inside the room, an aide was putting pins, representing Polish units, on the map. It suggested an attack by two battalions, spread out over a wide front. This was one of the problems with Polish operations; they were spread out too far. The bulk of the attack aimed for the town of Swiecice, at the center of the German line. The bulk of the attack was less than a kilometer away. I tapped Mitzer and motioned for him to follow me.
 

Sir Richard

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Mitzer and I stepped outside into a frenzy of activity. A heavy machine-gun platoon had been set up to defend the headquarters. The attack underway suggested that its crews would find better use for the weapons closer to the front lines. The soldiers organized their teams and collected their equipment. Two soldiers carried each box of ammunition; one on each side; the weight of each box causing its bearer to lean out for balance. One soldier was finding it difficult to get a comfortable grasp of the handle; his knuckles kept getting scraped against the side of the box. He took his hat and shoved it between the box and his knuckles for padding.

I led Mitzer across the open grass, the shortest route to Swiecice. I had nothing to carry, except my notebook, so I left Mitzer struggling behind me with his radio and his rifle. I put all of the frustration and anger I had felt working on my reports into my sprint, and made good speed across open ground.

At Swiecice, the paved highway became my track. I sped down the main street and took a sharp left turn at the intersection.

Ahead of me, two platoons were preparing for the defense of the town. Gasping for breath, I found shelter behind a small shed and retrieved my binoculars. One more German running amongst a flock of Germans trying to find good cover was hardly noticeable.

As soldiers took their positions, they opened fire at the Polish soldiers on the other side of the gully.

Swiecice stood on the east side of a small river. This was a terraced town, with the bulk of the buildings on top of the gully, but a number of nice private homes and small businesses below us next to the water itself. Also, down there, at the bottom of the gully, there was a bridge. Our orders were not to destroy the bridge because command thought we might need it in the future, and what we destroyed we would have to rebuild.

The Polish soldiers could have forded the river at any location, but bridges made the job a lot easier. Apparently, the bridge was their main target.

I dived under a bush at the edge of a flower garden, brought my binoculars to my eyes, and tried to take a measure of the attacking force across the valley. A thick morning fog rose up off of the river, making it difficult to see what was happening on the other side of the valley.

What I did see looked like the equivalent of two companies; an infantry company and a machine-gun company, coming towards us. Half came across open ground on my left. The other half traveled along the road, partially protected by a line of trees that had been planted on both sides of the highway.

Their force was probably a little larger than the flock of defending Germans. However, we had the better weapons and the advantage of defense. As soon as the enemy soldiers reached the edge of the hill and started to climb down, 6th Company started firing and driving them right back up again.

Even at the top of the hill, they were not safe. The two platoons that I had joined could fire straight across the valley at the Polish soldiers on the other side. We drove the first wave back easily enough.

I turned around and looked for Mitzer. I was anxious for news about what was happening on the rest of the front, and Mitzer had my radio. He wasn't likely to find me hiding underneath this brush, so I crawled out, hoping he would be easy to spot.
 

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Mitzer was not too difficult to find. I found him trotting down the street, and summoned him over to my observation point.

I had expected to get shelled, but no artillery targeted our position. I could hear shells falling at Lazniew, a couple of kilometers north of west where 6th Company was stationed, but nothing near us.

Our artillery did not disappoint me. Somebody on our side of the war shared my opinion that this was the most important part of the enemy attack and focused as many guns as could conveniently reach this location on the plateau across the street. The bluff became a cloud of smoke and dust.

Mitzer confirmed that the Poles were attacking on a wide front. I Battalion, on our right flank, pulled out of its forward positions to consolidate at a second line of defense. The town of Jozefow, south of our location, was reporting a company-strength attack.

We were facing more than that. The two companies of enemy infantry that I had originally seen across the valley before I looked for Mitzer had grown to the equivalent to a reinforced battalion strength. Three of those five companies were directly across from us, in position to try to take the bridge. The other two companies were trying to flank us to the south. Their route was blocked by the machine gun platoon that had been guarding headquarters earlier, and a half dozen armored cars attached to the II Battalion.

Our north flank was not so secure. In fact, there was nothing there; an open field that the enemy could walk across and get behind us, and the enemy was about to find this out. While I watched, a platoon climbed down the bluff on the other side and started across the valley.

The northern flank was not quite as unprotected as I had thought. 7th Company had come back from Lazniew and was taking positions along the bank of the river. There was still a gap between 7th Company and 6th Company, a gap wide enough for the platoon to get through. It would be a dangerous gap to fill. We would be pouring lives into that gap just to watch them die.

The valley below us actually formed a Y intersection. We, and the Poles faced each other across the stem of the Y. 7th Company occupied the valley on the left slope of the Y, and the Polish soldiers who had shot the gap were heading up the right side of the Y. Those soldiers turned and went up the north slope, still across from us, but behind 7th Company. German bullets chased them to the top, dropping a few soldiers along the way. However, enough of them survived to make them a threat.

Immediately, I became aware of the fact that the two platoons occupying the buildings around me were packing up and pulling out. I knew the reason; it was the same tactic that was used at Pabianice -- to pull out of an area before the artillery fell, then hopefully get back into those positions before the enemy occupied them first.

However, I could not take my eyes off of the enemy. My job was to watch them, and I could not do that hiding in the rear waiting for the rain to stop.
 
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