Episode 6: First Deployment
The situation was deteriorating by the hour.
The German vanguard that had crossed the Meuse soon erected a pontoon bridge over the river. The armored units that crossed over pressed the French hard. The French army attempted counterattacks to drive the Germans back across the Meuse, but failed time and again. Instead, the French 55th Infantry Division suffered devastating losses under attack from formations of the Ju87 Stuka dive bombers—the pride of the German Air Force—and their artillery units fled. To make matters worse, at 7 p.m., a rumor that German tank divisions had appeared caused the 256th Infantry Regiment under the 55th Division to disintegrate entirely.
This was the true nature of the French army, which had boasted of being Europe’s strongest.
The German forces that had broken through Sedan continued their advance westward and northward. Meanwhile, far from halting the German advance, the French army still had no idea what to do or how to do it. The balance of the war had already tilted toward the Germans.
***
7 a.m. on May 15th.
Just five days earlier, Winston Churchill—who had taken office as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom after ousting Neville Chamberlain, citing the defeat in the Norway campaign—called Paul Reynaud, the Prime Minister of France. It was to receive an explanation of the current situation on the French front and to discuss future policy.
But Reynaud, upon receiving Churchill’s call, flustered Churchill with an unexpected answer.
“Ah, Prime Minister Reynaud! It’s Churchill here. How goes the situation?”
“…We’ve lost.”
“I beg your pardon? What do you mean by…?”
“Exactly as I said. We are defeated. We were attacked, and we have lost the battle.”
Reynaud sniffled, sounding as though he might burst into tears at any moment. The unexpected answer left Churchill at a loss.
What on earth has gotten into this man? Has he been drinking since morning?
“Prime Minister, please calm yourself and tell me slowly. What is happening on the front?”
“We have been deceived, Prime Minister! Deceived by those vile Germans! They have already crossed the Meuse and broken through Sedan. Our troops are defending desperately, but the situation is hopeless!”
Reynaud was nearly out of his mind. Churchill, too, was utterly dumbfounded.
Deceived? By Germany?
No—more importantly, were the Germans saying they had already crossed the Meuse? So quickly?
What had the French army been doing all this time? Weren’t they supposed to have the strongest land forces in Europe?
Yet, like the seasoned politician he was, he maintained his composure throughout. For the moment, the utmost priority was calming Reynaud, who had fallen into despair. Churchill sought to reassure him by citing a past example.
“They say that during the Great War, Prime Minister Clemenceau (Georges Benjamin Clemenceau, Prime Minister of France) never lost his calm and composure even when urgent news arrived from the battlefield. If Britain and France join forces, we can bring Germany to its knees as we did before. So do not lose hope, Prime Minister. It is too early to judge rashly.”
But despite Churchill’s efforts, Reynaud could not pull himself out of the abyss of despair. No, he had no intention of pulling himself out.
“All is lost, Prime Minister. You must come here yourself and see reality. Only then will you understand even a fraction of our plight. We plan to leave Paris today. Now, goodbye.”
“Prime Minister? Wait…! I say? Can you not hear me?”
Even after the line went dead, Churchill could not set down the receiver for a long while. He pondered deeply for a long time, then turned his head toward his secretary, who was watching him with anxious eyes.
“This won’t do. I must go to Paris at once. I need to see for myself how grave the situation is.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
On the day news arrived that Churchill was visiting Paris, the unit also received deployment orders. My 1st Company was sent to the Northern French front by train, the very first to depart as the regiment’s vanguard.
The moment I heard the order from High Command, I nearly collapsed to the floor in despair.
I’m screwed. Totally screwed.
I’d more or less expected things would turn out this way, but having it become reality still felt like complete crap. And to top it off, our company had to head to the front lines before anyone else in the regiment! The other companies reportedly wouldn’t depart for another two days because their preparations weren’t finished. At this point, it was clear God had decided to royally screw me over.
Anyway, while heading to the station, what surprised me most was the sight of the French people. Even though the German army was racing across the border, the people were the very picture of tranquility. It was so peaceful that one could momentarily forget a war was even going on. Far from being frightened, not a single citizen on the street showed any fear; they walked about with relaxed, carefree attitudes. Cafes and restaurants were still open, and people sat at tables leisurely drinking coffee and tea. The grocery stores, which I had expected to be packed with people coming to hoard supplies, were deserted.
Is this really a country at war? It’s way too peaceful.
Aside from little kids and onlookers gathering in curiosity around tanks they’d never seen before, people were enjoying the same daily routine as yesterday. It occurred to me that these people were so relaxed because they had no idea what was about to happen, and the thought gave me a strange feeling. None of these people would ever dream that their army would be defeated in just six weeks.
Well, who would dare think such a thing? That a world-class great power, the strongest in Europe, would lose to an opponent they had knocked down twenty years ago—an opponent who had only just recently gotten back on its feet? Just as no one predicted that Vietnam, a weak nation, would defeat America, or that the Soviet Union would collapse before the 20th century was even over.
There was already a train waiting for us at the station we reached after passing through the city. The moment the loading of tanks and supplies was complete, the train departed for the front. While the train sped northeast, I tried to soothe my troubled heart by looking at the scenery outside.
Surprisingly, the French countryside scenery wasn’t all that different from Korea’s, if you excluded the rows of houses topped with the triangular roofs one associates with Europe, instead of the common single-story homes with corrugated slate roofs.
The soldiers were chattering away enthusiastically, as if they didn’t know—or didn’t care—that they were heading to a battlefield right now. They were belting out a song at the top of their lungs; anyone seeing them would mistake them for returning victorious from war rather than heading to it.
We’re off to do our laundry at the Siegfried Line,
Mother, do you have any dirty laundry for us?
We’re off to do our laundry at the Siegfried Line,
For today is a good day for laundry!
Whether the weather is bad or good,
We’ll do our laundry all the same!
We’re off to do our laundry at the Siegfried Line,
If the Siegfried Line is still there!
Well, it was better than trembling in fear like pigs being dragged to the slaughterhouse… but it was so loud my ears were ringing. What the hell is with those bastards’ voices? Who do they think they are, Im Jae-beom?
Unable to stand it any longer, I started to get up to give them a piece of my mind, but Captain Harrison, seeing me rise from my seat, spoke.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Ah, the rear car is too noisy, so I was going to tell them to keep it down.”
“Sit down and stop wasting your time. They’re far braver and more useful men than you.”
“…Yes, sir.”
It should go without saying, but Captain Harrison truly seems to despise me. Given what I’ve done up until now, it’s only natural that he hates me, but it still feels unfair. Why should I get cursed out for something I didn’t even do?
If only all of this were just a dream… How wonderful it would be to wake up from it now. I’d live every day with gratitude, I’m sure of it.
But unfortunately, this place I was in was not a dream, but reality. Damn it.
Having sat back down thanks to Captain Harrison’s rebuke, I took out my canteen to at least wet my throat. Captain Harrison didn’t interfere with my drinking water (not that he would). But who knew things would blow up here of all places.
“Huh? What the…”
As I opened the canteen lid and brought it to my lips, I realized a strange smell was coming from inside. It was a fishy yet sweet smell.
What is this smell? It’s somehow familiar…?
But thinking it was only natural for a canteen to smell, I drank it anyway. One second later, I realized the cause of the smell.
This is booze?!
I pondered for the longest time about how this had happened, before belatedly recalling that the whiskey I’d been drinking some time ago had been too strong, so I’d tried to mix it with water from my canteen. But I’d gotten so drunk that night that I’d fallen asleep, and had completely forgotten that I’d left the water and whiskey mixed in the canteen. Captain Harrison had confiscated all the alcohol from me, but he probably never imagined I’d hidden some in my canteen.
Finally remembering the truth, I smiled bitterly and closed the canteen lid. But at that moment, Sergeant Gates, who had been reading a book beside Captain Harrison, opened his mouth.
“Hmm? Commander, don’t you smell something strange?”
“You too? So I wasn’t the only one.”
“This smell… it’s like alcohol…”
In that instant, both their gazes fixed on me. More precisely, on the canteen I still held in my hand.
“You. Hand over that canteen.”
Ah, fuck. I’m fucked.
***
While someone aboard the train heading to the front was despairing, there was also someone in the rear who had fallen into despair.
It was Churchill, who would later be nicknamed by future historians as “the old man with insanely good luck” and “Mr. Gallipoli.” By the time he arrived in Paris, the French government was no longer there. They had all fled to the safety of the south.
The ones who greeted Churchill’s bewildered party were French commanders who had already given up on everything and were steeped in lethargy. The meeting proceeded in a gloomy and grave atmosphere from start to finish. The French officials were all pale, as if they might faint at any moment, and the British officials who faced them were shocked by how much worse the situation was than they had imagined.
In the dark atmosphere, Churchill, wondering what to ask first, questioned Gamelin, who sat across from him.
“General, where is the defensive line to defend Paris?”
He asked, recalling the strategic defensive line the French army had established to defend Paris from German attacks during the First World War. But the answer he received was beyond imagination.
“Prime Minister, I regret to say that there is no such thing.”
At Gamelin’s answer, Churchill and the British officials felt as though they had been struck on the head with a hammer.
Did I just hear that wrong?
No—are they saying they don’t even have a basic defensive line to protect their own capital?
Does that make any sense?
Churchill stared at him, hoping desperately that it was a bad joke, but regrettably, it did not sound like one. Though it was not something to joke about in the first place.
“Then you have no plan at all? When the German army might be racing toward Paris as we speak?”
“That is correct, Prime Minister. I regret having to tell you this, but that is the reality.”
“….”
This… is the Commander-in-Chief of France?
Such an incompetent and powerless wretch?
Incompetence was not a charge from which Churchill himself was exempt (though he would not have thought so), but Gamelin was incompetent beyond imagination. Beyond incompetence, he had no intention of doing anything at all. To him, defeat was not the worst imaginable outcome, but an established fact.
Yet Churchill did not let go of the thread of hope until the very end. Suppressing with desperate effort the urge to hurl a volley of curses and throw his shoe in Gamelin’s face, he proposed an operation he had devised.
“Then General, what about this? The Germans, in their headlong rush forward, must have exposed flanks. Moreover, their advance has been so rapid that their flanks are stretched like rubber bands. If we strike their extended flanks, would they not have to halt their advance to strengthen them?”
But while Churchill was ready to leap into action, Gamelin was groveling beneath him. He cut off Churchill’s proposal with a tone suggesting he could not bear to hear another word.
“Prime Minister, that is impossible.”
“No, why?”
“We are already inferior to the enemy in numbers, in equipment, and in strategy. We are inferior to them in every way. So what counterattack are you speaking of?”
Only then did Churchill realize.
That this man had no intention of waging war whatsoever.
And that France had already collapsed.