On February 11th, under the command of Colonel Escamez, we successfully crossed the river and captured the Pingaron Hills, our original objective.
But as feared, the Republican forces had been heavily reinforced during the rain, and the fortified enemy on the eastern hills of Jarama put up a stubborn resistance.
The International Brigade, which came from Britain, is said to have resisted despite countless casualties, even losing its battalion commander, but eventually gave up the hill and fled.
Famous poets were also said to have died, presumably in a desperate struggle to defend democracy and justice.
The Nationalists, seeing their corpses, derided them as foolish communists incited by the Bolsheviks.
The Nationalist leadership's foolish strategy of launching a ground offensive, which was deviating from the plan when faced with fierce resistance from the Republicans, was resulting in enormous casualties.
Although the exact number isn't known, casualties are estimated at at least 4,000. Four thousand? Our company had a total of 101 members, including the commander.
The company I served in in Korea also had roughly that many.
Looking at the records of tens of millions of people dying in World War II, and feeling that it was a horrific war, it was a different feeling to realize that on this battlefield where I stand now, more than 40 times the number of casualties of our unit had occurred.
Moreover, on the Pingaron Hill where I was now, even with a telescope, I could clearly see the Nationalist soldiers who were senselessly charging forward and being torn apart by artillery fire and machine guns.
After several days of driving the soldiers to their deaths, the tattered Nationalist offensive gradually lost its strength, and we were met with a counterattack by the Republicans.
-
February 14, 1937
The Fingarón Highlands, southeast of Madrid, on the banks of the Jarama River in central Spain February 14th. If I were in Korea, it would be Valentine's Day, and I would be annoyed by the couples' tantrums, but I would also be secretly looking forward to it.
Of course, there was no such thing in this era.
“Enemy approaching!”
“Adjust the angles! Quickly!”
The Flak 18, an early version of the famous 8.
8 cm anti-aircraft gun, raised its gun angle and fired a roar as the soldier frantically turned the control knob, but the shell beautifully missed the enemy aircraft and exploded.
“Oh, shit! Get down!”
“Eww!”
As the soldiers abandoned their anti-aircraft guns and rushed into the trenches, machine guns blazed overhead.
“What the hell is the Luftwaffe doing!”
"The air superiority has already been taken away! The enemy's new aircraft are clearly superior to our fighters!"
While the good-natured Captain Kaufman was spewing abuse, I had no choice but to report bluntly: We were using outdated biplanes, and they had already deployed a new Soviet-made monoplane, the I-16!
The Axis powers were stripped of their air superiority. As someone who has already experienced the horrors of the final days of World War II, I can only curse.
“It’s the enemy’s new tank!”
Meanwhile, a new enemy tank, the BT-5, was seen approaching at high speed. The BT-5 charged at a speed so fast that the Panzer I, already struggling against the T-26, couldn't even match it.
Although it was a light tank with a long history of high speed and nothing else, it was terrifying enough for the infantry who encountered it for the first time, and the National Army quickly collapsed.
"Damn it, just stay calm! If they come without infantry support, we'll just have to fire anti-tank guns or anti-aircraft guns and it'll be over!"
A chaotic scene unfolded, with 1st Platoon Leader Klemens running around frantically, shouting, and his adjutant, Sergeant Kocher, slapping the disoriented soldiers here and there.
What do you mean, the rear, there's no direct engagement! If the forward units are breached in an instant, this is the front! You ragtag bunch of Spaniards!
“Eww! My arm! My arm! Mommy!”
While a soldier, unlucky enough to have been knocked out of a Pak-36 anti-tank gun by a direct hit from a tank gun, struggled to find his arm, another Flak-18 anti-aircraft gun instantly pierced the enemy tank's paper-thin armor and silenced it.
The famous 8.
8cm anti-aircraft gun of the Wehrmacht certainly proved its potent ground attack capability, living up to its reputation. I would have been impressed if it weren't just our unit that was playing a role in this demonstration!
The Republicans, who had launched a counterattack with great momentum, realized that their unit was qualitatively different from the regular national army when their tanks exploded one after another under concentrated fire from anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns.
They immediately stopped deploying tanks and launched an offensive with infantry.
Seeing their quick response, I wondered if this was Enrique Líster's 11th Division.
Whether or not it was, we had no choice but to defend.
“Scream, scream!”
Although not quite as powerful as Hitler's chainsaw, which came out in 1942, the MG34, equipped with a dedicated tripod, mercilessly pulverized enemy infantry with a rate of fire that defied its classification as a light machine gun.
The sight of skin being torn to shreds in real time is not good for your mental health.
"Well, that's great. The National Defense Forces' new weapons are indeed powerful enough."
It was only natural that a unit equipped with heavy equipment, even excessive for a single company, would be active in a new weapon testing unit.
However, Captain Kaufman, who calmly observed the situation through his telescope, was admirable. Man-
A fucking squeaking noise was heard.
“Captain!”
For a moment, without thinking about the consequences, he threw himself into the trench and attacked the captain.
As I fell into the trench, the sound of a shell exploding and the sand hitting my head and back mercilessly.
Oh, shit. This fucking hurt…
“Keuk, kuluck…”
“Cough, cough…”
I coughed in the sand and dust, and spit out the dirt that had gotten in my mouth, and I trembled for a long time from the shock, but thankfully nothing seemed to have fallen off, and the captain who had pushed me out first and stood up helped me up.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“Cough, no, sir.”
This doesn't seem right. This was already a very good front line.
It's not even what that damn Hitler intended!
I wanted to retreat immediately, but unfortunately, the messenger sent by the Battalion Commander, Major Beckers, delivered an order to test the weapons and achieve military merit, now that things had turned out this way.
They probably also wanted to show off to the Nationalist faction, who had been thoroughly crushed.
What a shitty situation. Regardless of whether I was pissed off or not, the war situation was developing rapidly.
The Republican faction, which had been unilaterally beaten and had given up the west bank of the Jarama River, now pressed in from all sides as if to avenge their defeat.
Meanwhile, Colonel Rada's unit, which was supposed to cover the north, was reportedly busy defending against an attack from central Madrid.
The Republican faction's armored unit, having lost more than a dozen light tanks received from the Soviet Union while trying to retake Pingaron Hill held by the Condor Legion, was startled and withdrew, but soon after, they crushingly defeated the central forces of Colonel Asensio and Baron Fernando who were attacking the enemy lines.
The National Army didn't lose the territories they had occupied, but the offensive was over, and they were instead preoccupied with defending against the Republican faction's counterattack.
Losses snowballed. Just a few days after being horrified by a report of over 4,000 casualties, the number of casualties soared to at least 6,000, with an estimated count of over 10,000.
And this was while we were on the defensive!
Even in the Condor Legion, whose equipment was on a different level from the Nationalist faction units, casualties mounted. In our company of 101 men at the start of the operation, 5 were killed and 12 were wounded and sent to the rear.
3rd Platoon Leader, Second Lieutenant Julius Habenstein, seemed to be suffering from depression after losing his adjutant, Sergeant Neuyer, who had assisted him since their deployment.
I didn't know the Republican faction's casualties, but just looking at the bodies piled up in front of our defense line, it was clear the number was far beyond the hundreds.
The sound of incoming shells and explosions would ring in my ears like tinnitus from time to time. I even jumped up from my bed more than once, mistaking the tinnitus for an artillery bombardment.
I had often heard that war wears people down, but to feel it firsthand and be worn away was a truly shitty experience.
The Republican faction's counterattack continued for nearly two weeks, piling up a mountain of corpses.
The Republican faction's counterattack ended after their air force suffered steady losses from the fire of the Flak 18 anti-aircraft guns provided by the Condor Legion across the front, and then lost air superiority to the Luftwaffe's He51s and the CR.32 fighters that Italy scrambled after being pressured by the Nationalist faction.
The Nationalist faction failed to achieve its ambitious goal of cutting off the road between Madrid and Valencia, and the Republican faction, after overcoming its initial disadvantage and launching a counterattack, failed to retake any of the key strongpoints lost to the Nationalists.
No one knew the exact number of casualties on both sides.
There were only estimates that the combined total was at least 20,000.
The blood that stained the Jarama River area red left nothing for either side.
-
After both the Republican and Nationalist factions suffered unbearable losses and the front entered a lull, we were able to withdraw from the front line.
In contrast to the devastated Nationalist faction and the somber mood of those who had lost their comrades, the rest of the Condor Legion was heartlessly cheerful.
To the point where they were holding a modest banquet to enjoy themselves even in the midst of this civil war.
No, perhaps this was the normal sensibility of this era.
“Hey, Dietrich. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Well, so-so.
You happy, Klemens?”
“Of course!”
Klemens grinned, touching the Iron Cross 2nd Class pinned to his chest with one hand while holding a beer mug in the other.
The Condor Legion had successfully blocked the Republican faction's counterattack using Germany's new equipment and had obtained valuable combat data.
The conclusion was that the Panzer I was useless for tank warfare, though it could support infantry, but that conclusion itself was a lesson from war. Besides, since the Panzer I was practically a prototype, there wasn't much expectation for it anyway.
It was a product hastily developed by Germany—which had been defeated in World War I and banned from manufacturing tanks by the Treaty of Versailles—under the ridiculous name of 'Tractor,' only to be rushed into production after the Nazi Party came to power. It would be weirder if its quality were any good.
The problem, if there was one, was that this hopeless piece of junk would be used on the front lines in the early stages of World War II…
In any case, the other army weapons were concluded to be quite useful, and the Condor Legion's great performance shut the mouths of the Nationalist faction, who had been whining that Germany only sent a small unit out of fear of Britain and France.
The home country seemed quite encouraged, as they awarded the Iron Cross 2nd Class to all officers who fought on the front lines.
Putting other things aside, they shouldn't be satisfied with the Pak36 anti-tank gun, which was mocked as the 'Gentle Doorknocker' from the beginning of WWII for its pathetic penetration power, effective only against old light tanks.
Should I write a report saying that the anti-tank gun seems to have less penetration power than the anti-aircraft gun? Unlike me, who was thinking such thoughts, Klemens was just excited.
“Kuh— An Iron Cross! Doesn't this mean our performance has been recognized? If we do well, maybe we can become General Staff candidates?”
I could only smile at the excited Klemens. My friend, becoming a member of the General Staff isn't that easy…
Though, it's also true that it felt quite significant to be wearing an Iron Cross, a medal that modern Germany abolished because of its association with the Nazis.
Once World War II starts, the Nazis will hand these out like crazy, and eventually, every Tom, Dick, and Harry will be wearing one.
Thinking about it that way, the one we received was made during the German Empire era, before the Nazis re-established it in 1939, so maybe it's actually rare?
“Hey, Dietrich.”
“Hm?”
In the direction Klemens pointed, Spanish women in fancy dresses were smiling with their eyes.
Isn't it something like the admiration Korean women felt for the US Army right after the Korean War? Honestly, I wasn't in the mood to enjoy that kind of thing.
“Go on. The great hero of Germany.”
“Why are you holding back? Well, have fun then.”
After sending Klemens off, I pondered his question, 'Why are you holding back?' and searched my memories.
This guy, Dietrich, was a pretty frivolous person.
Despite having gone to Heidelberg University, he received officer training because he seemed to be thoroughly disappointing his father Hjalmar Schacht's expectations, and then he flew to Spain, saying he would achieve great merits for the Führer…
Besides, I remember this guy having a pretty face and playing around a lot, considering his looks.
What the hell, I was single until I was discharged from the military, but this guy played around so well?
Suddenly, I feel very annoyed…
Still, having woken up as Dietrich and then being mobilized for battle, I was finally alone, giving me a moment to gather my thoughts.
I was thinking about applying for discharge after this battle, but given the nature of the Spanish dispatch unit, it seemed unlikely that my application would be accepted, and even if it was accepted, it was obvious that I would be mobilized when World War II approached.
Because the Nazi regime was not so lenient as to leave a military officer who had gained combat experience in the Spanish Civil War in the private sector.
Being an officer dispatched to the Spanish Civil War was an elite course in its own right, but from my perspective, knowing that my father, Hjalmar Schacht, would soon fall out of favor with the Nazis, there was a good chance that it would be a wasted effort.
Or I even thought about going into exile in Spain and staying here.
Looking at the madness of Franco and the Nationalists, these guys are not much different from the Nazis, and they knew full well that after Paris fell, Hitler's pressure would reach Spain too, so even here it was not safe.
I'm not a big shot like France's Petain who would be favored by Franco. Even if I do well, I'll probably be dragged off as an officer in the German-Soviet expeditionary force.
If I'm unlucky, I'll be executed as a traitor who turned his back on his country and went into exile.
Everything else aside, I hated being dragged into that hellish war.
If I were lucky enough to be assigned to the French garrison or the African front, I'd probably surrender to the Allied forces quickly.
I do like Germany.
Honestly, it's one of the most turbulent countries in European history, so I've been very interested in it and know a lot about it.
But that doesn't mean I'm willing to risk my life and fight for the great German nation and my fatherland! Longing for foreign lands is longing, and reality is reality, right?
And I hated it even more if it was for the crazy government of Hitler.
There were many plots to overthrow Hitler during the interwar period (the period before the start of World War II) and during World War II, so what should we do about Hitler and the Nazis who would plunge Germany and the world into the abyss of fire?
If I were a big shot in Germany right now, I would try to do something, but I'm stuck in Spain with a mere so-called body, so I can't do anything.
First of all, I think I need to get out of here and go back to Germany to do something, but the problem is how do I get back to Germany?
Damn, if it were modern times, I'd at least use my smartphone or the internet to search! While everyone else was enjoying the party, I found myself deepening in worry.
-
The brutal war of attrition that followed the Siege of Jarama, a battle over the road between Madrid and Valencia, frustrated both the Nationalists and the Republicans.
Even the Nationalist leadership, insensitive to casualties, was forced to consider whether to abandon the attack on Madrid due to this shocking loss.
The devastating damage, which transcended the symbolic significance of the city as the historical capital of Spain, gave the Nationalists a sense of crisis that they might lose the initiative in the war.
Even the Nationalist Army's elite African expeditionary force suffered losses in two attempts to encircle Madrid.
However, the Italian army, the supporters of the Nationalists, took this situation as an opportunity.
Italian commander General Mario Rota, having seriously damaged the Republican forces in the Battle of Jarama, developed an ambitious plan to capture Guadalajara, northeast of Madrid, while their attention was turned south.
But when the Battle of Jarama was in full swing, he said he was not ready and gave up.
Italian dictator Duce Mussolini was so inspired by General Rota's proposal that he dispatched a whopping 35,000 Italian troops to demonstrate the might of Italy's "Iron Army."
At this point, it was close to regular army participation, but Mussolini's will was firm that he could not be pushed back by volunteers sent by Hitler.
As a Nationalist, there was no reason to turn down this last opportunity to secure Madrid, and they readily accepted the Italian proposal to invade.
The leadership, before they had even recovered from the Battle of Harama, scraped together the African Expeditionary Force, their core force, to create an army of 15,000 men.
Naturally, the elite Condor Legion was also included and moved to Guadalajara to support the Italian army.
The short break is over.