Chapter 236

< World War II - Saving Field Marshal MacArthur (3) >

February 4, 1942

The German Capital, Berlin – Hospital

From behind the door, Claudia’s pained groans flowed out.

She had been suffering for so long that even her groans were faint, but every time I heard the occasional scream burst out, I couldn't help but jump up from my chair.

The excitement I’d felt wondering whether it would be a son or a daughter had completely cooled.

I wanted to at least be by her side while she was in pain, but…

-I don't think it's a sight I want to show you, so no.

Even Claudia’s face as she said that looked so strained that I couldn't bring myself to insist.

It wasn’t even hot, being winter, but my suit was damp and sticky with sweat, making me feel gross and uncomfortable.

I was dead tired, but the thought that Claudia was going through so much more was draining me.

Just how long had she been suffering like this?

A glance at my watch showed it was already 3 a.

m. We had arrived at the hospital at 8 p.

m., and I couldn't even begin to imagine how agonizing it must be to go on like this for such a long time.

“Tsk, look at the state of you. Calm down.”

My father, Hjalmar’s, cold voice came from beside me.

I almost flared up at my father, who sat there with his arms crossed and an expressionless face, speaking as if it were no big deal even in this situation—

“You should say that after you do something about that shaking leg of yours.”

“Ahem.”

My mother, Luise Sowa, who had just chided my father, took my hand and said to me, “Don’t worry too much, dear.

She’s a sharp girl, she’ll endure it well.”

I looked back at my mother, Louise.

Dietrich Schacht’s mother. Someone who had already gone through this experience twice.

“I-I never imagined it would be this hard…”

If I had known, I would have begged her not to have a child.

My mother smiled faintly at my words.

“It’s something one must go through to become a parent. When it’s over, make sure to tell her thank you.”

“…Yes.”

…Yun Seong-il’s mother must have gone through this too.

I had been consciously trying not to think of her, someone I could no longer meet.

Now I desperately missed that person, whose memory was becoming faint.

The very thought felt like a sin against the mother sitting right in front of me.

“More importantly, are you okay? You look terrible.

Weren't you busy today, too?”

“Today, today…”

Today’s schedule was a press conference, followed by a visit to the factory construction sites in Danzig and Poznań, if I recalled correctly. I’d have to wrestle with paperwork, too.

I’d obviously be pulling an all-nighter. I was going to die.

My fleeting thought was cut short by a sharp scream.

I stood up unconsciously, having to fight with all my might not to run into the room.

Damn it, what does any of that matter right now!

What if something happens to Claudia?

A cheap line I'd seen countless times in dramas and novels from Yun Seong-il's life came to mind: ‘You have to choose between the mother and the child.’

Damn it, why am I thinking of that now! I'm going crazy!

I brought her to the hospital just in case, but are the doctors skilled enough? Surely they wouldn't be slacking off, not with the Speaker of the Reichstag's daughter-in-law and the Minister of Defense's wife, right?

Even as I thought it was a crazy act, all sorts of thoughts flooded my mind.

If only I could take her place and feel the pain—

Huh?

My head was spinning.

“Ugh, w-wait—”

“Dietrich!”

Claudia is suffering so much, and I, I—

Damn it, why is the floor rushing toward my face—

---

When I blinked my eyes open, I saw the hospital ceiling.

What… I feel dazed. Why am I here…

“Hah!”

I shot up from the bed, and a wave of vertigo hit me, but I mostly ignored it and ran out into the hallway.

A nurse who ran into me was flustered.

“M-Minister Schacht.”

“My, my wife—”

“As it happens, she just… I’ll guide you.”

As I hurried the nurse along, I saw that the sky outside the window was already bright with the break of dawn.

Damn it, how long was I out?

I followed her distractedly into a room where my father, mother, and the medical staff who had worked so hard were gathered.

“It’s a healthy daughter.

Your wife is also safe.”

“Th-Thank you.

You’ve worked hard.”

Muttering without knowing what I was saying, I approached Claudia, who was completely exhausted and limp, but managed a weak smile upon seeing me.

Words like, “Let’s never have another child,” almost slipped out unconsciously, but thankfully, my dazed mind managed to catch them.

That’s not what you should be saying right now, you crazy bastard!

“…You worked so hard.

Thank you. …Really.”

“I really thought I was going to die. It’s so hard… I don’t think I can do it a second time.”

Her voice was completely hoarse as she complained, and a hollow laugh escaped me, thinking we had the exact same thought.

“But what’s with you? I was just feeling relieved that it was finally over, and then I heard you collapsed.

Do you know how surprised I was? I did all the hard work, but look at the state of your face…”

“Ugh, I’m sorry…”

I was speechless…

Claudia glared at me and then said, “Go and hold her. …Don’t be disappointed that she’s ugly.”

“Uh, okay.”

When I turned my head, the medical staff and my mother were all looking at me with rather lukewarm eyes.

Ah, damn it. I fainted because I couldn’t stand to see my wife in pain? Me?

My face grew hot.

I was so embarrassed I could die…

“Ahem, ahem. It seems you collapsed from overwork.”

The doctor, perhaps sensing what I was thinking, said cautiously.

…Just leave me alone, please.

It’s even more embarrassing.

If my father were to land a sharp jab at a time like this, I felt like I would be truly sunk, but that father of mine was—

Staring at the baby with the most foolish grin on his face.

As I slowly approached, a nurse carefully showed me the baby.

I instantly understood what Claudia had said and muttered unconsciously.

“Ugly…”

All those people who say a newborn baby is the most beautiful thing in the world must be strange.

“What are you talking about? She's the most beautiful granddaughter in the world!”

Excuse me, are you really Mr.

Hjalmar Schacht, Speaker of the Reichstag? You seem like a different person.

“Haha, all newborn babies look like that at first.”

Listening to the doctor’s voice, I carefully took the baby the nurse handed me.

She was small and light.

So light.

But—

My daughter, born through the suffering of the wife I love more than anyone in the world.

A feeling of overwhelming love filled me.

I had no strength left in my body after fainting and waking up, but a strange feeling washed over me, as if all that fatigue was being cleansed away.

A life is born with such difficulty, with such overwhelming effort. How can people kill and be killed so easily on the battlefield?

“Lucia.”

A ticklish feeling spread through my chest as I called out the name meaning ‘light,’ which Claudia and I had decided on after much deliberation.

As I approached Claudia with Lucia in my arms, she gave me a gentle smile, her face exhausted and covered in sweat.

The child who became our light in the darkest era of the greatest war.

I steeled my resolve and said, “…I won’t let war remain in this child’s memory.”

So let’s end it for sure. This war.

---

February 8, 1942

Dutch East Indies (Indonesia), Sumatra Island

Bypassing the Andaman Islands from behind Ceylon Island.

Admiral Marschall's fleet, having deliberately taken a wide southern detour, spent some time in the open ocean before approaching Sumatra Island under the cover of darkness at dawn on Sunday.

And in the early morning, as the sky faintly brightened, the flight deck of the aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin was neatly lined with carrier-based aircraft.

Having received technical support from Britain, the Graf Zeppelin had its useless main guns removed during construction and its design overhauled, allowing it to accommodate 54 carrier-based aircraft.

“The first operation! Everyone, just trust in this great me. I was so excited about my own outstanding performance that I couldn't sleep!”

“That guy still hasn’t learned his lesson, even after getting kicked over to the Naval Air Service…”

At the arrogant words of the Ju87T dive bomber pilot, Hans-Ulrich Rudel, his colleagues shook their heads.

Of course, Hans-Ulrich Rudel paid them no mind, too busy earnestly muttering to himself, memorizing the speech he had personally requested.

It was accompanied by an inexplicable chuckle.

“Never attempt a turn fight, never attempt a turn fight. Use boom and zoom tactics…”

“We’ve even attached a fuel tank, so I hope I don’t run out of fuel mid-fight…”

Meanwhile, fighter pilots Erich Hartmann and the very handsome Hans-Joachim Marseille each muttered to themselves as they looked at the Bf109T carrier-based fighters they would be flying.

The Graf Zeppelin's Air Wing Commander, Eduard Neumann, let out a light sigh as he looked at his ‘problem children’ and then spoke.

“All hands, attention!”

The assembled pilots snapped to attention with a sharp click of their heels.

This ragtag mob, which had initially made him wonder what to do with them, had become quite disciplined after nothing but grueling training during their idle time in India.

“Finally, our first operation, gentlemen.

I won’t say much. In the home country's Air Force, your evaluations were as eccentrics, problem children, troublemakers, or rookies not worth missing.”

Pilots of this era were daredevils who couldn't live without their pride.

Seeing the defiance flare in his subordinates’ eyes, Neumann let out a slight smile.

“And you have been given the opportunity to laugh in the face of that evaluation. I don't believe you are such incompetent cowards as to let such an opportunity go to waste.

Am I wrong?”

“Ja, sir!”

“You may have been treated as nuisances in the Air Force, but remember that in the Navy, you carry our highest expectations! The value of Germany's one and only aircraft carrier will be decided by you! Do not disappoint those expectations!”

“Ja, sir!”

“What’s the radio code if the air raid is a success?”

“Tora, Tora, Tora!”

At the unified response, Neumann burst out laughing. It was an order from the Minister of Defense himself, an amusing fellow indeed.

“Alright. Then let’s go, gentlemen! Go and show those Japanese bastards, still drowsy from sleep, that a surprise attack is not their exclusive patent!”

“Jawohl!”

---

Early on a Sunday morning.

Having won against the Royal Navy but failing to occupy Ceylon Island, the Japanese fleet on Sumatra Island, which had been spending its time idly, was completely relaxed.

The news from the home country that America’s Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor had been annihilated also contributed to their lethargy.

Of course, the situation for the Imperial Japanese Navy’s high command was not so comfortable. They had lost the entire air groups of their painstakingly nurtured main force aircraft carriers.

Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku was raising hell, furious that Ozawa had pushed for a reckless 3rd Attack and lost all the pilots.

Nagumo was busy politicking, claiming that he would have been less reckless and brought all the pilots back alive.

But that was a matter for the higher-ups.

Having won a surprisingly easy victory against the world’s strongest Royal Navy, and with the similarly top-tier US Pacific Fleet now shattered, it was no wonder the morale of the frontline sailors had loosened.

The ‘Lucky Ship,’ the destroyer Yukikaze, was also moored in a harbor on Sumatra Island.

It had earned its nickname during the Battle of Ceylon, when its convoy was raided by U-boats.

While the convoy itself was shattered and countless transport ships were sunk, the Yukikaze returned without a single scratch.

The lookout on that Lucky Ship let out a long yawn and stretched.

“Hwaaaam, of all things, why did I have to get the dawn shift…”

It was human nature to want to rest on a fine Sunday, but here he was, ordered to stand watch when there wasn't even an enemy around.

With that thought, the lookout of the Yukikaze let out another long yawn and turned his gaze to the horizon.

On the horizon, something was approaching from a distance so great that an ordinary lookout would not have been able to see it, even in the early light of dawn.

But the lookouts of the Imperial Japanese Navy, trained to have superhuman vision on par with radar—'because if you don’t find it, you get beaten to an inch of your life'—saw it clearly.

“What’s that? Are those our aircraft?”

It took a moment to process.

But that direction was the Indian Ocean.

Could Japanese aircraft be coming from the Indian Ocean?

“H-Hey! Something’s approaching from the west! Looks like aircraft—!”

Despite the lookout’s shout, the reaction of the thoroughly relaxed Japanese Navy was sluggish.

The lookout’s heart pounded as he watched the dots grow rapidly closer, but from below, all he got was a lazy response like, “What’s all the noise so early on a Sunday morning?”

After wasting time like that, the approaching objects became clearly identifiable as aircraft.

Unable to bear it any longer, the lookout took a deep breath and shouted with all his might.

“Air raid—!”

The Japanese Navy erupted into chaos.

“Air raid? Wh-What are you talking about!”

“Wake up the air groups, quickly!”

“Inform headquarters, headquarters! Hurry!”

The Japanese Navy, thrown into a frenzy in the early morning, could now clearly see the carrier-based aircraft, marked with Germany’s Iron Cross, flying over their heads.

And at that moment, a Ju-87T dive bomber shrieked as it went into a steep dive.

The crew of the aircraft carrier Zuiho desperately scrambled to their anti-aircraft guns and fired for all they were worth, but the bomber, enduring the pressure of the dive, evaded it all with an acrobatic, elegant movement and released its bomb.

“Ah, ahhh—”

“Uwaaaaaaah!”

And that bomb scored a direct hit on the deck of the aircraft carrier Zuiho, which was frantically preparing to launch its own planes—right on top of its explosive charge magazine.

With a single bomb, the Zuiho erupted in a grand explosion, immolating its unlucky crew and the pilots who had just been preparing for takeoff.

“Wh-What’s happening!”

“Air raid, it’s an air raid!”

Sirens blared everywhere, reports flooded in, and the sound of intercepted enemy radio transmissions created a chaotic mess.

Amidst it all, the Japanese commander heard a stilted Japanese voice, speaking as if awkwardly reading from a script.

-The-Great-Me’s, name-is, Hans, Ulrich, Rudel! You-bastards’, ship-has, become-The-Great-Me’s, military-merit!

In the silent Japanese radio room, another transmission came through.

-Tora, Tora, Tora!

-Hahahaha!

The silence didn't last long, and the space it left was instantly filled with heat.

“A-All fleets, launch the air groups!”

Bloodshot eyes and a throat filled with rage spat out an angry shout.

“Don’t let those goddamn bastards get away alive!”