Chapter 243: Christmas
Early morning.
In an overseas camp of the German Wehrmacht, Günther Heinz Guderian lay on his bed, reading a letter sent from Berlin.
When he saw that his father had specifically mentioned Uncle Jörg's high praise for him, the smile that appeared on Günther's face caused the wound on his back to split slightly.
"Squad Leader Günther, what are you so happy about? Tell us!"
The war had ended.
The nerves that had been stretched taut for so long finally relaxed. The comfort of being away from smoke, shells, and blood made people feel a joy that was almost unfamiliar. Soldiers who had been forged into cruel war machines slowly began turning back into ordinary men.
The First Armored Division was no exception.
Even the most serious soldiers now dared to crack a few jokes and tease their officers after the war.
"Nothing much."
Günther was a young man in his twenties. Although he was a squad leader, he was not the rigid type. He took the cigarette offered by a soldier and stated the fact in a humorous tone.
"It is just that the President personally wrote me a commendation letter."
"Oh, come on."
A soldier immediately laughed.
"If Herr von Roman personally wrote you a commendation letter, then you would at least have to be the son of some general."
"What general would send his son to live in a camp with us common soldiers?"
Another soldier grinned.
"Does he have a foot odor fetish?"
At that, the camp erupted in laughter.
A slightly older tank driver flipped through a magazine and said, "I heard we get five days of leave after entering the city. How are you planning to have fun?"
The tank loader, with bandages on his hands and splints on his feet, said without hesitation, "How to have fun? Does that even need asking?"
Then he made a gesture every man in the room understood.
"Since we are in Paris, we definitely have to experience the local customs and culture."
The camp burst into knowing laughter again.
"How about you, Josef?"
The young gunner, who had been astonishingly decisive when firing on the battlefield, became somewhat shy when faced with this topic.
"I might bring my girlfriend over. With my wartime pay and the money I searched from the French during these battles, it should be enough to bring her here."
He scratched his head.
"She has wanted to see Paris for two years."
"How boring, Josef. You are still too young."
The soldiers turned their attention back to Günther.
"Squad Leader, what about you?"
Seeing them all staring at him, Günther tucked the letter into his shirt and smiled.
"Did I not already say that His Excellency the President personally wrote me a commendation letter?"
"Once His Excellency von Roman arrives, I will be received, so I will not have as much free time as you lot to fool around."
Hearing their squad leader's increasingly boastful claims, the camp dissolved into laughter once more. Soon, they started a card game to pass the time.
Not long afterward, a messenger walked over to Günther's bed and whispered, "Squad Leader Günther, please come with me. The company commander wants to speak with you personally."
Günther put on his black military uniform, got out of bed, and nodded.
"Alright. I will be there at once."
When he entered the private quarters, the First Company Commander seemed exceptionally excited. He was speaking into the telephone almost without pause.
"Truly? The First Company will lead the victory parade?"
Seeing the company commander's happy expression, the messenger leaned closer and whispered into his ear, "Sir, Squad Leader Günther has arrived."
The company commander hung up the telephone.
He looked at the handsome young squad leader before him, then patted Günther's sturdy shoulder.
"You worked hard, Squad Leader Günther."
"You were on the front line during two village skirmishes and three fortress assaults. The Second Company Commander, who fought alongside you, said you are a madman who does not care about his life, even charging forward on horseback after your tank broke down."
"Our First Company will be the first unit of the division to march through the Arc de Triomphe."
His tone became solemn.
"I hope your First Squad will lead the way."
"This is the glory you deserve."
Then he seemed to remember something and added, "Oh, and I also received orders from regimental headquarters. After your leave ends, you will no longer need to command the First Squad."
"Come and serve as my adjutant. After studying tactics for a few months, the position of First Company Commander will be yours."
The First Company Commander actually did not know Günther's identity, and Günther had never revealed it.
He simply admired this talented and courageous young man from the bottom of his heart.
Günther stood at attention, saluted, and nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Very good. Go back now, and take these with you."
The company commander pointed to the items on the table.
"These are thank-you letters from society, diplomatic Christmas subsidies, some chocolates, candies, and a few boxes of…"
The company commander made a gesture all men understood, then motioned for Günther to leave.
Hearing that he would participate in the victory parade tomorrow, Günther could not help wondering whether he would see Uncle Jörg during the parade.
Since coming of age, his opportunities to meet Uncle Jörg had become fewer and fewer.
However, every time he saw him, Günther felt boundless admiration for this uncle whose appearance seemed never to change.
He had heard from his father how difficult the Wehrmacht's early days had been.
Back then, soldiers could only learn to drive tanks by operating damaged vehicles. The Army had lacked everything. Equipment, training systems, fuel, and even political legitimacy had all been scarce.
He had also heard how much effort and diplomatic work Uncle Jörg had put in to bring the Wehrmacht to where it stood today.
It could be said that besides his father, the person Günther admired most was Uncle Jörg.
Or perhaps there was not a single soldier in the Wehrmacht who did not regard Jörg as an idol.
As a savior.
Christmas.
Early in the morning, a plane landed at the Paris airport.
Jörg looked through the window at Paris, still perfectly intact, and took a sip of black tea.
As the cabin door opened, Wehrmacht guards in military uniforms lined up in two rows along both sides of the red carpet.
At the end of the red carpet, an old man leaned on a cane and subtly observed him, cloudy pupils filled with caution.
In fact, some had advised Jörg to set the surrender ceremony inside the railway carriage where the French had accepted the Treaty of Versailles, in order to complete the thorough reckoning of the Great War.
But Jörg had ultimately rejected that proposal.
Aside from considering the need for a balanced approach toward the French populace, he disliked repeating history.
Returning to that railway carriage would symbolize a cycle of history.
And if history turned once more, would the French return to that same carriage one day to complete their own reckoning with Germany?
What he wanted was his own history.
A brand new Germany.
Not a return to the past.
Not repeating old pages again and again.
Therefore, the surrender ceremony was set at the former presidential residence near the Eiffel Tower.
He wanted future generations to know that place as the history he created.
Decades later, people would remember that France had surrendered there.
Stepping out of the plane, Pétain quickly walked forward.
The old man adopted an extremely humble posture. His head was almost lowered to Jörg's chest, and his hands repeatedly lowered in courtesy.
"Your Excellency von Roman, you are truly too young."
His voice was respectful.
"Paris, and indeed all of France, welcomes your arrival."
The old and the young.
One vibrant and spirited, the other aged and weary.
The two figures were captured by the flashing cameras.
"Marshal Pétain, you truly do not look old at all."
Jörg smiled calmly and reached out his hand.
"It is a pleasure to meet you."
"I love France, and I love Paris."
His gaze turned toward the city in the distance.
"I hope today will be a pleasant and brand new day."
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