Fantasque Time Line (France Fights On) - English Translation

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Bangkok - An important negotiation has just started in Bangkok. The Gaimusho (Japanese Foreign Ministry) has sent a special delegation to Prime Minister Phibul Songkhram, leader of the People's Party (Khana Ratsadon) and unofficial dictator of the country. After a lot of talk, the Japanese diplomats finally explain clearly - even aggressively - what they want: a large-scale Thai military intervention in their favor in Laos. Indeed, the situation of the Japanese occupying the north of the country becomes critical (even if the word is not used: there is no question of exposing so crudely the difficulties of the Imperial Army). The garrisons, too weak and too dispersed, are cut off from each other and that of Tong Pheung is already under siege. The troops based in Vietnam cannot intervene, because their own situation is very delicate and this province is a priority.
In short, the Thai army has to help its allies by clearing the garrisons. After all, its contribution to the war has so far been very limited: since the conquest of French Indochina, only one Thai division has participated in active operations on the Burmese front. And if the Japanese are weak on the Laotian front, in Bangkok they are in a position of strength and do not hesitate to make it felt. To hear them tell it, all the problems encountered by the Imperial Army in Laos are due to the incompetence and venality of Thai generals who are more concerned with trade and plunder than with war.
Phibulsongkhram listens to this indictment, his face frozen to the point of being disturbing so as not to let his anger show. He is losing face and the shame he feels is the worst of his career. If he doesn't show it, he's already thinking of giving those arrogant Japanese a piece of their mind. As he understands, this attack is actually directed against him. It is not the accusations of violence or large-scale robbery that are repulsive to him. Like any good Thai from the center of the country, he despises the non-native populations, Issarn, Lana, Khmers and Pattanis are, in his eyes, only slaves who should welcome as a gift from Heaven the "protection" of Thailand. However, Phibulsongkhram advocates a strong central power. However, most of the acts he is accused of are carried out by local governors in northeast Thailand and Laos. Men who acted behind the Prime Minister's back without his knowledge and without the state benefiting.
The Prime Minister is smiling, however: Prathet Thai (Thailand, literally "The Land of the Free") would like nothing better than to come to the aid of its friend and ally Japan. Alas - and to admit it is a new humiliation for "Phibun" - the economic situation of Thailand is difficult. The army suffers from a serious lack of means. If the Thai generals put trade before war, it is because they have to feed their men.
Without giving the Japanese time to intervene, Phibulsongkhram continues. The abuses will be reprimanded and the generals who must be punished will be punished. He underlines the clear difference between those who trade for the survival of their men - most of them - and the few black sheep who take advantage of the situation for their own benefit. The Prime Minister throws the Japanese a list of a few names - conveniently, only naval officers - that his services, he claims, already suspect and that will serve as an example.
The Japanese have won this first round and they know it. They can therefore "generously" approve of their host. But now that Thailand's responsibility has been recognized, the Gaimusho envoys demand a swift and powerful intervention by their ally.
This requirement offers a golden opportunity to the First Thai. When Laos was divided into Japanese and Thai influence areas, the Nipponese took the lion's share, as shown by the map that Phibulsongkhram had brought. He proposes a redrawing, a real breakup of Laos into tiny zones. The zone of influence of Thailand doubles compared to the previous division, but it is only formed of multiple confetti. This proposal reassures the Japanese... and the Thais, who prefer that their powerful ally does not take on too much importance in the region. Moreover, the Prime Minister goes even further, proposing that certain areas controlled by the Thais be ceded after the war to the Vietnamese empire. A way of dividing up Laos even further and avoiding turning it into a bone of contention. A solution that pleases everyone around the table. Only the puppet king of Laos, Phetsarath Rattanavongsa, would probably find fault with it. But he has not been invited to the negotiations that will decide the future of his country.
However, a few small material problems remain to be settled before the Thai army can intervene in Laos. It lacks modern equipment. It would be necessary to provide its ally and friend with weapons, guns, tanks, planes, gasoline and even uniforms and rice. These requests cast a pall over the situation, when everyone seemed to be in agreement. The Tokyo envoys being both diplomats and Japanese, they manage to keep a smile on their faces, barely wincing. But the head of the delegation asks for a period of reflection.

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Villa of the Conducator (Băneasa) - Subjected to a rolling fire of supplications from the 3rd Romanian Army and questions from all the political leaders in Romania, Antonescu locks himself into an appearance of serenity perfectly contradicted by the events. Constrained by his position, but by no means blind to the consequences of the defeat, he is now looking for a way out that will allow him to save the country, and therefore his position.
For the Conducator is not a man of great political conviction. He is first and foremost an opportunistic patriot - conservative and anti-Semitic, it is true, but above all in love with power and persuaded to save his country. However, he feels that both of these are now slipping through his fingers like the sand of the Black Sea. But to keep them, he is ready to do a lot - at least that's what he tells his accomplice, General Constantin Z. Vasiliu.
Vasiliu is happy to remind him how he got to the top. His entire policy was to present the Romanians as "equal partners" of the Reich, and not as mere substitutes, like the pitiful Magyars. A kind of National Renovation was to restore Romania's greatness within the framework of the New Europe and make people forget the humiliations of 1940.
Today, it is necessary to preserve the independence of the kingdom again, by defending its borders, but preferably without calling in the Wehrmacht. This is in order to provoke a surge of national pride and a sacred union against the Reds.
The German support - obviously indispensable - will thus have to be discreet and limited to the strictly necessary. The Reich is no longer as popular as it used to be in public opinion, due to its defeats and blunders*. After all, did the Germans not blame their failure in Ukraine on the Hungarians? There is no need to give Hitler the opportunity to point the finger at Bucharest for a supposed "lack of fighting spirit"!
In the evening, the Marshal-Conducator decides that the units currently in training after reconstitution must go to the front as soon as possible to defend the motherland. These were the 1st armoured division, the 5th DC and the 5th and 20th ID. Enough to constitute a new army corps and thus to please Berlin, which will be, without any doubt, impressed by the effort made!

* Vasiliu knows something about it... During his term as governor of Transnistria, he spent a lot of energy in trying to distinguish "the families of nomads fighting on the front and the great mass of the others": the former are to be assimilated, while the latter are not. Equivalent distinctions for the Jews aroused the ire of the SS, which choked at seeing "the protection and help that Herr General Picki Vasiliu offers to the Jews."

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Occupied Burma - Not far from Mergui, northwest of the city, Sergeant Sakura drives his truck at dawn along Route 8. He must transport to the bridge of Tamok, a few kilometers away, the rising guard (a corporal and his team), which will relieve the guard of the bridge. Suddenly, it brakes suddenly, waking up the occupants in the back: a tree is lying across the road. No one expects an ambush in this area, which is considered to be safe, and the soldiers get out, grumbling, to clear the road.
It is then that half a dozen rifles open fire from the thickets along the road. At such a short distance, each bullet finds its target and in a few seconds everything is over. The sergeant tries to flee in reverse, but a new round chops up his cabin, leaving him no chance. Unwilling to take the slightest risk, the Burmese peasants who set up the ambush will finish off each soldier, if necessary, before seizing the weapons and ammunition and setting fire to the truck.
.........
The Belgian Mitchells (whose first combat mission in this theater), escorted by Mustangs, are now flying the farthest mission ever flown by a CAFP (and of the Military Aviation in general): they attack Mergui. So far south, this bombing causes great disarray to the Japanese troops stationed there.
American P-38s patrol further north, between Min Dat and Pe Dat, attacking any suspicious movement on the roads. In the northern area, the P-40s of Sqn 341 (B) and the Hurricane III of Sqn 2 (BVAS) do the same south of Moulmein. Another raid takes place a little further south, in the Karopki-Wagaru sector: the Blenheims of Sqn 4 (BVAS), covered by the Spitfire Vs of Sqn 67, attack the bridges of the area.
.........
For several days, the Japanese radio operators have been picking up a signal, which they believe to be a radio-guidance for allied bombers and emits from somewhere off the coast. Today, the signal is clear. Its origin is located by triangulation and a seaplane of maritime patrol is sent on the spot. But hours pass and no suspicious vessel isspotted.
The Japanese are unaware that the submarine cruiser Surcouf, once its signal had been transmitted, had simply dived to spend the rest of the day on the bottom.

Belgian Congo Air Force (Aeronautique Militaire du Congo Belge) B-25 "Mitchell Canon", Burma Campaign, August 1943

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Operation Fauconneau / Falconet
Diary of Jean-Marie de Beaucorps.
"Today, for the first time in months, we saw allied aircraft.
So far south! I will not describe the joy I felt at the thought of the beating the Japs were taking, but I was astonished by the aircraft and their roundels: I was sure they were not Japanese, so they were Allies, but I had never seen planes and badges like that.
After consulting the colonel's reconnaissance documents, we identified aircraft of a type new to the area, P-51 Mustangs. As for the strange roundels, yellow and black with a thin red border, beware, they were Belgian! If even the Belgians get involved in this remote area so far from Brussels, we'll win this war for sure."

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Battle of Bobdubi Ridge (Day 17) - After two days of hard driving and skirmishes, the 2/3rd Commando Squadron is finally able to overrun the Japanese positions blocking the advance of the 2/7 Infantry Btn, which took advantage of this to launch a new assault. The confrontation lasts only a few hours. Caught in the crossfire by forces that outnumber them and outgun them, the Japanese withdraw taking advantage of nightfall.
The results of the operation are mixed. The targeted hills were finally taken, but the Australian losses were heavy. The Japanese were not taken by surprise and only the fighting spirit of the 2/3rd Commando Squadron allowed it to turn the tide, avoiding defeat by a hair's breadth.

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

New Georgia - Bibilo Hill, a single hill north of Munda Field, is the last point of Imperial Army resistance to fall to the American assaults.
The attack is carried out under an almost uninterrupted artillery bombardment, which drowns the eminence under the smoke of the explosions. The density of the shots, if not their calibers, reminds us of the great hours of the first world conflict. The fall of this position signals the collapse of the Japanese forces in Munda and the definitive capture of the airfield.
As soon as the runway is secured, the 24th and 73rd Construction Battalions (CB, Sea-Bees) land on the beach and immediately begin work. The aim is to extend the runway as much as possible to allow the reception of medium bombers. The field is extended to 1,830, then 2,240 meters long.
.........
"The fighting for Munda saw one of the first massive engagements of American assault engineers in the front line, on the front line of the battlefield, facing Japanese fortified works. This use, although quite possible from an organizational and technical point of view, really transformed the task that the Sappers were carrying out and had definite consequences on their morale. It is difficult today, behind the aridity of the reports and other diaries of the march, to perceive the horror and harshness of the assaults that a French liaison officer compared to "miniature Vaux forts".
Let's take, among many others, a case found in the military archives: that of Corporal David Solomon (1915-1943). His file describes him as a very religious evangelist from a small town in Montana, north of the Rocky Mountains, where the War had come to get him.
Lacking the diplomas that would have allowed him to become a doctor or a chaplain, his manual and carpentry skills obviously led him to the Engineers. Within his unit, he inherited, probably involuntarily, the thankless position of flamethrower.
No one ever volunteers to be a flamethrower, but he seems to have accepted his position with patriotism and discipline. Perhaps he saw it as a divine test?
Let's put ourselves in his shoes, on August 7th, 1943 on the island of New Georgia, during the final stages of the capture of Munda. The Japanese headquarters is in front of him, or more exactly under him, because he is buried. His officer shouted an order over the din of the guns:
"GET INSIDE HERE!" We must go down! Impossible to bury the Japanese, some comrades are inside. Besides, we want to take the book as intact as possible to study the documents which are in it. The position must be cleared by hand.
Solomon distinctly hears screams and gunshots, down there, as he puts on his gas mask. To protect himself from the heat, and for fear of asphyxiation. Through the round holes that now serve as his eyes, he contemplates the blackness of the abyss in what looks like a human burrow. The cries perhaps make him want to flee? He engages uneasily in the like a giant lizard or a predator - uncomfortable and not in his element, but with a formidable companion: his M2-a1 flamethrower.
At the bottom, he comes across a friendly form, lying in a puddle of thick liquid that sticks to his boots. A metallic smell fills the air. He feels hatred and disarms the security with a vengeful gesture. They had attacked his country, they would pay. He is the instrument of divine punishment, the bearer of fire. His weapon seems to breathe softly, like an evil dragon on the prowl. He reaches the first roadblock, where his comrades come under heavy and furious fire from the darkness. A cry, his cry, rings out in the fury and confusion: "WATCH OUT, FLAME COMING!"
He pulls the trigger for the first time all day: a bestial blast fills the air in an obscene noise, while his terrified companions move aside before the tongue of fire.
They are afraid, like those opposite and like him. The corporal is intoxicated by adrenaline, but not for long: screaming apparitions emerge from the corridor, to be mercifully slaughtered. The smell of grilled pork gets in the throat. It rises from the gray and smoky forms collapsed on the ground.
Without taking the time to identify them, the sapper continues his progression. Who dares to look at him?
While he holds in lead a monster whose fury he directs, but which he seems hardly to control! And he, harnessed in his equipment, is more machine than man. He does not even see the target of his throw, except perhaps the shadow of a brown puppet which falls, swept away and liquefying with pain. He hears nothing and feels only the sweat in his gloves. Totally dehumanized, he explores the corridors in search of life, his eyes glowing in the darkness like an evil red eye, swaying with the air currents and the movements of the corporal. Fire and Death, two horsemen of the Apocalypse!
The sapper gets tired: another turn, another stop. Very exposed, he tries to run, but at best he can only trot, panting, through the tunnels full of smoke and ashes.
He moves forward, however, through the mush and dust of his opponents.
As I said, the man was very religious. What was he thinking in those moments? What he just thinking, or had he completely forgotten about his weapon? Or was he weighing the weight of his sins, the horrors he committed to save his comrades?
His weapon weighs more and more on him. At times, it seems to have a breath of its own, through the echo of her gasps in the tunnel and in her mask. And the sound of his footsteps resounds, as if the monstrous equipment was walking beside him, no longer on his back but with its hand on his shoulder. Corporal David Solomon can't take it anymore.
On the left, he sees light from the corner of his mask: an exit! And he goes towards the sky, towards life, abandoning darkness and shadows in the Valley of Death. Once outside, he takes off his mask and contemplates the beauty of the Divine Creation. The calm of the waves on the shore. The blue of the azure. The wind on the open sea. Does he feel the goodness of his God? A seagull passes, he follows it with his eyes and turns back to the Hell he has just left.
To find himself facing a screaming figure, dressed in a mustard uniform studded with blood and mud, who rushes towards him. The Japanese has a deformed face and eyes reddened by fatigue, dust and especially hatred. The corporal is encumbered by his machine and cannot react: he is skewered by a bayonet shot in the chest. His last thought, his last breath, may have seen in his own death a divine punishment.
This is the grim reality behind the reports, behind the simple "CPL David Solomon - KIA".
One can only pay tribute to all the sappers, flamethrowers, cleaners, who attracted fire and scorn without necessarily having chosen their position." (Pierre Mayheul, Sapeurs! - Les troupes du Génie durant le Second Conflit Mondial, Eyrolles, 1992)

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Operation Zitadelle
Sector of the 8. Armee - German forces continue to position themselves in defense, and try to dig in hastily on the positions assigned to them.
In the extreme south of Manstein's position, the 13th Army tries once again to force the luck. However, its attempts are all repulsed by the Germans, who are now sure of their rear and a little reorganized, if not rested.
For its part, the 26th Army continues its cleaning of Berdichev - entangled in the ruins between considerations of maintaining order and concerns to feed what remains of the population on the spot, it cannot support the 1st Cavalry Corps of Dovator, whose probes are dryly repulsed by the XXVII. AK. Decidedly, the Russians also need a break... In the evening, Beria obtains from the Stavka to redeploy the 10th Rifle Division of the NKVD to Berdichev, where the situation remains confused. Other units will have the task of cleaning up Zhitomir from reactionary scum, of course!
In front of Zhitomir, the struggle continues. Vlassov's men are advancing slowly, pushing the fascists out of the city, paying the price in blood for the insignificant progress.

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Operation Molot
Molot North (4th Ukrainian Front) - Axis forces continue their hasty retreat to the west and the "Sommergarten" force. General Reinhardt is not really worried about his army - well, less than before... For him, it is obvious that the Russians are exhausted and will not be able to triumph over the armored vehicles just arrived from Ukraine. Moreover, he is told that the weather should get worse soon - his troops will be sheltered against the VVS, which will not be able to inflict many more casualties on them.
In fact, the 4th Ukrainian Front is still very tired. Even though Tolbukhin is preparing to move his HQ to Chișinău (especially to mark his future sector in relation to Petrov's...), his formations do not have the energy or the means to put the Germans into a rout. The 47th Army has only just entered Florești and continues towards Balti, where it would soon run into elements of the Hohenstaufen covering the retreat of the 225. and 282. ID. Although reinforced by Lazarev's 2nd Armored Corps - which had hardly has more than a hundred operational tanks - the frontovikis are decimated and exhausted. They do not insist and let the Landsers retreat westward. On its side, the 215. ID of Bruno Frankewitz is already in Rîșcani: the XXX. AK of Kleffel is thus well and truly out of the woods.
On the other hand, the XLII. AK is not far from getting out of trouble either. The 46. ID is at Chișcăreni and makes contact with the 12. LFD that has come to meet it, while at the same time resuming contact with the 72. ID on its right. Both units are still pressed by Rotmistrov's 3rd Armored Corps, it is true - but this last one encounters difficulties itself, between attacks of the Luftwaffe, dispersion of its forces and difficulties of supply. On direct order of his leader, he insists nevertheless and accumulates serious losses without obtaining anything significant. Scattered around Mîndrești, his corps is no match for the reinforcements sent by List, who inflict a blow on him and reduce him to less than fifty tanks, including about twenty T-34s. Pavel Rotmistrov was perhaps a little presumptuous - he who imagined that he alone had struck the decisive blow that defeated Reinhardt led his crews to the slaughterhouse. The Stavka will remember it...

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Molot South (Odessa Front)
Central Moldavia - Kohlermann's forces (60. PanzerGrenadier and 191. StuG Abt) move out of the Cornești corridor to reach Pîrlița and the Prut plain. They are welcomed by the 17. Panzer of Walter Schilling, who establish a collection line for the Germans - and incidentally for the Romanians. The latter are not far to the south. They appear at Râșești, behind the 335.ID, whose commander, Karl Casper, is well aware of having narrowly escaped disaster.
From the 1st AC of General Corneliu Dragalina and the Mountain Corps of Gheorghe Arramescu, there is almost nothing left: the 4th ID (Mihaescu) is virtually annihilated, as well as the 2nd and 18th ID (Dumitrace and Camarasu). The 2nd ID lost more than 65% of its manpower, and all its heavy equipment - including its artillery. Only the 1st ID of General Saidac seems in fighting condition - at 60% of its potential, however, not more. All these people - more or less mixed with a stream of civilians and especially Romanian officials - will withdraw towards Ungheni, before crossing the Prut and continuing towards the Siret, the only natural obstacle coherent with the current position of Petre Dumitrescu's 3rd Army.
As they cross the river from east to west, were the soldați thinking about the words of their conductor said on May 17th, 1942? "Soldiers, I order you, cross the Prut!"... It was from west to east, at that time. Today, they are abandoning Moldova again. A province that they had already left in 1940, forced by an unjust arbitration - but this time they have the added weight of defeat on their shoulders. And the insult is added to the injury: they are saved by the same contemptuous partners who had imposed them the arrangement responsible for the misfortunes of that day...
Behind them, the Soviets do not really oppose this escape. Goryunov's 5th Air Army has given a lot in the last few days - its raids are severely punished by the JG 52, which shoots down 9 bombers and 5 fighters for only 4 losses. The 9th Army struggles to regain its coherence after crossing Chișinău: it just arrived at Călărași, delayed by multiple destructions, but also by problems of discipline and looting. As for the 62nd Army, which belongs to the 4th Ukrainian Front, it is strongly invited by Petrov to go back north! The commander of the Odessa Front is already in the process of redeploying his HQ to Taraclia and what he hopes will be his next line of departure - he has no time to waste in managing Kolpakchi and his men for others!
Finally, only the 9th Armored Corps can catch up with the fugitives - but its BT-7 M (however armored), only reinforced with a few T-34s, make very good targets for the Tigers of the 502. s.Pz.Abt, which supports the 17. Panzer. Seeing his machines explode one after the other, too far from their opponents to be able to retaliate, General Shamshin does not insist.
He is not a match for them and he knows it.
Meanwhile, upon discovering the power of their saviors, the former defenders of Chișinău can't help but feel a rather legitimate form of bitterness: what would they have done with such support, had it arrived a week earlier? Too late to say. Many years later, war game enthusiasts may consider the earlier intervention of the HG Süd-Ukraine reserve - which could have been answered by the Soviet reserves not engaged against Zitadelle...
In any case, as soon as the Prut is crossed, the 335. ID has to run towards Roman and his compatriots.
As for the Romanian forces, they will leave for Bacău to try to reform a coherent army.
.........
"We come out of the hills to the south, a few dozen kilometers from my village. I recognize, if not the place, at least the region. I suspect that I will not see it again for a long time.
The road was very hard, although not very long. We crossed wrecks (a little), craters (a lot) and bodies. Lots of them. Sometimes machine-gunned by the red air force, sometimes by the German. I suspect our dear kamarades of not bothering too much to identify their targets before shooting. Besides, according to the rumor, in case of difficulties, the German soldiers never hesitate to run away and plant our soldiers there, even if it means clearing a path with rifles! Defeatist stories, according to the officers. Seeing the current events, I am not so sure anymore.
My pilot is fidgeting on his saddle and shows me with his glove the direction of the north. It is obvious that he wants to go and find his compatriots and leave me there! We have harsh words, all the more difficult to understand as we are on a noisy machine and we don't speak the same language. The situation, which irritates me, annoys me, excites me, horrifies me and exasperates me, seems close to getting out of hand. It is then that at the bend in the road, we hear a roar and a bomb falling from a plane and which sends us into the ditch.
I was probably unconscious for a few moments - it was the smell of gasoline that woke me up. I don't need to get close to Abel to know that he is dead. He's dead and I'm alone like a fool, standing in the middle of a road miles from home, with the whole world seemingly determined to kill me!
At that very moment, I decide that enough is enough. I let out a loud scream of annoyance and rage, before smashing my rifle and hitting a rock with great repetition. This relieves me - a little. What to do now? I choose to go home - simply. And so I leave alone, on foot, turning my back on my former army, which was not far away." (Farewell my country... once again, Vasil Gravil, Gallimard 1957)
.........
Danube Region - Quiet situation on the southern edge of Molot. The Odessa Front does not insist - its elements are still dispersed as a result of the maneuvers of the last few days and, in any case, Ivan Petrov knows that the Danube will be difficult to cross - all the bridges have obviously been blown up.
The Soviet forces are therefore content for the moment to consolidate their conquests: the 6th Guards Army in the Galați sector, and the 18th Army in the vicinity of Izmaïl. In the rear, the two cavalry corps are combing the plain for prisoners... The Romanian forces take advantage of this welcome respite to try to prepare their defense, under the cover of the FARR and - for once - of the Luftwaffe forces in the Black Sea.

FARR Bf-190G, Operation Molot, August 1943

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Galați Shipyards - Soldiers of the 6th Guards Army seize the facilities that had been hastily deserted the day before. They seize a number of equipment and even some more or less finished ships. Among them, the four DB-13-class minesweepers (registered DB-13, DB-14, DB-15 and DB-16), based on the German M-40 (but with two 88 mm guns instead of two 105 mm). Already launched but unable to navigate by themselves, these ships could have been towed, but in the panic of the last few days, the Romanians did not try. They did not try to destroy them on the spot - this, perhaps, thanks to the action of communist sympathizers among the workers of the construction sites*.
These modern vessels have a real value. They will therefore be carefully spared by the Soviet plundering and will quietly wait for better days...
"After a restart of the yards in 1948, the 545-ton minesweepers Democrația and Descătușarea were commissioned in 1953, followed by the Desrobirea in 1955 and the Dreptatea in 1956. The Democrația class owed almost everything to the DB-13 - the most visible difference being the replacement of the German 88 mm with Soviet 85 mm, for obvious reasons! Modernized in 1975 (addition of six 23 mm and four AA machine guns, as well as new mine launching rails), these ships served for a very long time. They were only scrapped in 2001, after having seen the fall of communism and having been renamed in the meantime to Vice-Admiral Mihai Gavrilescu, Vice-Admiral Ioan Bălănescu, Vice-Admiral Emil Grescescu and Vice-Admiral Ioan Georgescu by the new government, which also elevated them to the rank of corvettes!
As for the Șantierul naval Galați, they still exist - the successive communist governments devoted significant funds to them until the end, seeing in them both a prestige instrument and a valuable tool for carrying out its program of forced industrialization. At the fall of the regime, it was one of the most efficient facilities in Romania: they had manufactured, among other things, the elements of the great Cernavodă bridge (2,622 m across the Danube) and exported 80% of their production to Eastern Europe. Now owned by the Dutch Damen** group, and despite the competition from the Șantierul Naval Constanța (which until the 1950s was content to build civilian ships or do maintenance), they manufacture many types of ships, from oil tankers to coastal patrol boats, container ships, and even oil rigs! The Galați shipyards export all of their production and remain today the main employer in the region." (Ioan Giurescu, Istoria Marinei Romane, Ed. European, 2005)

* In the 1950s, Nicolae Ceaușescu would often claim that he was on the staff of the shipyards and had personally saved the four ships, but this story is hardly credible.
** Under this new capitalist management, the workers were very surprised to learn that their employer no longer required them to justify the condition of their cutlery, coffee cups, or any tools worth less than $100. Previously, any breakage was considered at best negligence, at worst sabotage, and loss was theft.

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Danube and mouth of the Danube - The NMS Marsuinul manages to reach Reni and the first lagoons of the great river. Captain Grigore Ciolac skilfully maneuvers his unfinished ship, in spite of a reduced crew, and considers himself soon safe in the marshes.
Luck seems to leave him, however, in the vicinity of Tulcea, when the remaining artillery of the Romanian 4th AC fires on this suspicious shape... The Marsuinul is hit by no less than 43 shots of 75 mm before we want, on the south bank of the river, to consider its multiple light signals and the color of its flag hoisted in haste! The submarine then continues to glide eastward, without stopping in the locality, from where the soldați observe the sailors who, on the bridge, address them with invective and expressive gestures.
However, the submarine's troubles are not over: this commotion has awakened the Soviets - the 18th Army has only just arrived, it is true, but some of its numerous firearms quickly take pleasure in greeting the intruder who is marching in front of their positions. Thank God, the batteries are far from being all deployed, and their observers have never learned to aim at this kind of target, low and moving...
The Marsuinul reaches Sulina at around 03:00. Captain Ciolac has two choices : to wait on the spot (the least dangerous solution, but which risks to immobilize his ship permanently, because its completion is not possible here) or try to reach the open sea and then Constantza, hoping that the Soviets will be too busy licking their wounds after the battle. The courageous captain opts for the reckless one...

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

South of France - Defenders of the South of France can rest easy today, as only three raids hit the region. First, the French Air Force attacks the coastal defenses of the Esterel via the 21st EB escorted by Mustangs of the 5th EC. The Navy works a little further west: the GAN 2 is out in the Ciotat area. Apart from a raid by the 340th BG escorted by the 52nd FG against the bridges at Châteauneuf du Pape, the USAAF attacks Italy instead.
Thus, the Ventimiglia train is was raided by four-engine planes of the 392nd BG, escorted by the 14th FG. Further east, Genoa is favored by the twin-engine units of the 25th BG, escorted by the 27th FG. The 25th BG returns without loss. Moreover, the raid saw the first confirmed victory of a black pilot of the 99th FS, Lt Charlie "Seabuster" Hall, against an Fw 190. He wins the Coca-Cola bottle that had been brought from the United States and put into play for the 99th FS's first certified victory.

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Italian Front - The only slightly notable event: the first victory of Lieutenant Philander D. Morgan. Fresh out of school, but now accustomed to his mount after several Strangle missions, he shoots down a 109. He says he is surprised by the ease with which he was able to get away from his assailant at more than 15,000 feet, before managing to shoot him down.

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Taranto and Pescara - Large prefabricated elements are unloaded from cargo ships and stored in secret in sheds, under the guard of the men of the 231st and 232nd Brigades. The very next day, some of them will start working to assemble and paint the structures that would emerge from the sheds looking like landing ships. The latter will be launched under guard in areas of the port forbidden to the Italians - so that no prying eye would discover that they are only plywood imitations.

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Adriatic - On the coast, the Cres sector is attacked by Beaufighters of Sqn 605, covered by the Banshee of Sqn 235.
Inland, the city of Karlovac is to suffer a real martyrdom that day. As soon as day breaks, the bridges south of the city are attacked by the Beaumonts of Sqn 55, protected by Sqn 249. And around 22:00, the sirens sound again : this time, it is the Wellingtons from Sqn 37 and 214, who bomb the bridges of the city center. In both cases, the civilian victims are numerous.

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Central Greece, Volos - Nothing to report for Stevens' men, except for the depressing trail of death and destruction left behind by the KG Müller. If the situation is calm on the front, it is not always the same in the rear...
"The crimes committed on the Larissa plain by the KampfGruppe Müller and the 153. Feldausbildungs-Division are now well documented, both by the testimonies of the Greek citizens who were the victims and by those of the allied soldiers who witnessed them. However, the process of prosecuting, judging and punishing the perpetrators - including, in the first place, the collaborators of the Logothetópoulos regime - remains little known, given the troubled circumstances of the time. All we know today is that Colonel Müller died during the capture of Salonika, apparently as a soldier, and that the most famous leader of the collaborating group was hanged in Athens in 1945. For the rest, Greek justice is not very forthcoming on the subject, sometimes invoking the amnesty laws passed at the beginning of the 1950s, and sometimes, curiously, the Secret Defense. It is likely that these actions, carried out against proven criminals, but by sometimes improvised and opportunistic vigilantes, do not help humanity.
However, among the actors of this tragic play, some have accepted to testify.
Thus, Major Eithan, of the ANZAC (lieutenant at the time of the facts), who received us in his villa in the vicinity of Sydney, whose cosy calm contrasted somewhat with his story.
We have chosen, out of respect for his memory, to repeat his testimony in extenso.
This precaution will also allow us not to subject his words to interpretation, on facts that remain painful thirty years later.
.........
- We would like, Major, if you will, to return to the events of August 7th, 1943 in the Pharsalus area. In your report, you described the incident as "quite serious, even unpleasant".
- Yes, it was. On that day, we were in charge of the transfer to Athens of about sixty prisoners picked up in Volos. There was everything in this collection of scoundrels and I must admit that neither I must admit that neither I nor my hierarchy had made the selection.
- Were you aware of the events in Volos?
- Of course, like all my comrades I must say. At the time, we were shocked, but our reflexes as soldiers had taken over. We had a mission to fulfill, a routine mission, and we had to do our duty. What happened next was out of our hands. Which was not beyond our, um, control...
- How did the prisoners present themselves?
- Oh, in my opinion, they were more bandits and strays than soldiers - in short, common law gallows. They were afraid of being tried for what they had done, whereas the prisoners of war I had already escorted showed no particular concern. They were very agitated... Which caused the incident!
- Tell us about it, please.
- Well, during a very natural break, and eminently necessary because the road is long from Volos to Athens, one of our catches tried to run from our company. The fellow ran through the fields, with my men at his heels, before rolling down an embankment... in the middle of a camp of the 6th Greek Mountain Brigade! An unfortunate chance, for a man whose uniform bore the badge of the Red Phoenix.
- What happened next?
- Before we picked him up, he was beaten up pretty badly. The Greek soldiers seemed to me less professional in this respect, more Mediterranean if I dare... It is true that, for them, it was a personal matter. Anyway, when my guys took him back to the truck, they had to support him, because he was not walking straight anymore! And I found myself arguing with a gruff sergeant, hmmm... gruff, who represented a group which looked more like an angry mob than a military unit. In correct English, he demanded that the prisoner be handed over to him. I refused curtly and turned on my heels.
- So you joined the convoy?
- Yes, I did. I took the opportunity to discourage those of my guests who might want to run away from us. I pointed to the escapee, who was bleeding profusely from the head, and told the other prisoners: "The only thing between the Greek soldiers and you is me. That's not much, so don't make it difficult for me!" Things should have ended there, but...
- But?
- As we were about to start again, a truck of the Greek Brigade arrived in front of us, on the narrow road, only to break down without having pulled over! A very curious coincidence! And behind this machine, the same soldiers as in the camp, with the same sergeant. Needless to say, I thought that it smelled of fish and not fresh one, at that...
- What did they want?
- They came to me with a shark-like smile, to apologize for the inconvenience. Then, while the truck was being pushed very slowly to the side of the road, the sergeant, always very politely, asked to look inside the truck. He explained that after all, he perhaps knew someone among our Greek prisoners.
- Did you let him?
- I had little choice. There were a dozen of us at most, facing a hundred men. And we were not going to fight against allied soldiers! They couldn't possibly want to hurt us!
- Were you sure of that, Major?
- Of course not! Finally, they climbed into the Bedford and stared at every prisoner, every uniform, in dead silence. My men, with their rifles in hand, tried to remain impassive, but something was very wrong. And then the sergeant stopped in front of a group of five Greek collaborators, one of whom was unfortunately in uniform - a German uniform but with specific insignia. He ordered me to take them down! Ordered! He, a sergeant, speaking to an Allied officer!
- Did he only ask for these five men?
- Yes, only them, he said he was leaving the others to us, and his accomplices behind him smiled silently. Where the hell were their officers? Perhaps they were afraid? Maybe they agreed? Besides, they were not the only ones who agreed...
- What do you mean?
- A German prisoner shouted that they should give them what they wanted, that it was no problem. This demonstration of... solidarity disturbed me.
- Only disturbed?
- Yes. A blow in the face quickly calmed him down, I must say. But the damage was done.
The sergeant told me that apparently everyone was in agreement and took the opportunity to get too close to me. I can still remember his gaze weighing on my every movements. And on my right hand, which did not leave the butt of my gun. Greek or not, he was an allied soldier, I was his superior, and yet I found myself parleying.
- What did you say?
- I explained that they were prisoners of war. They answered that for them they were criminals to be punished. So I courteously replied that, if that was the case, they were under the jurisdiction of military justice. This was not true, I think: as Greek citizens who had worked for the enemy, they were traitors who probably fell under the jurisdiction of the Greek Civil Justice. But these legal considerations were of little interest to the men who were facing me, who were getting impatient. At that moment, my sergeant, who was worried about me, came to reinforce me with four of my men.
- This must have not helped the situation.
- It is true, and if I was touched to see my men in phalanx around me, it did not reassure me in this hostile atmosphere. Finally, the sergeant accused me of protecting assassins. Now, if they were surely criminals, they were not necessarily murderers.
- Is that what you said?
- Yes. And then a man even more excited than the famous sergeant shouted that nobody was going to stop them from doing justice. I yelled louder, said I would stop them from committing a crime themselves, then pulled out my pistol and fired into the air, which brought back silence, and a bit of calm. I then said, "We are not your enemies. The time of judgment will come. But not by you!" My men were very worried, with their hats pulled down over their eyes, hands clutching their weapons.
- And there was no drama?
- No, there wasn't. I backed up and continued to face them, we got into the truck, and we took off, bumping into the vehicle that was blocking them and was still partly on the road. At that moment, I was afraid that they would shoot at us, or at least throw rocks at us. But they only used insults.
- You feared for your life. Yet you did not want to protest to Colonel Katsotas or General Kosmas?
- It would have been useless. And somehow I understood those guys. They didn't deserve sanctions for having thought they were doing their duty by wanting to take revenge. But those who deserved it had to be condemned: those who deserved it, only them, and in due form. Which was the case! I heard that the five Greeks were hanged.
- And what do you think today?
- I beg your pardon?
- How do you feel about having risked your life to save guilty people you knew would be condemned?
- Well... I'm proud to have said no. Hanging a murderer is justice, lynching him is Barbarity. And I know the difference between an army and a bunch of savages. The time for despair was over, victory was certain. We were working for the future, not for survivival. I know from a friend that France had problems with the treatment of its collaborators... In such cases, anger is a bad advisor. Who knows? I may have even had the naive hope that, in the batch, there were one or two imbeciles who had not chosen to be there... So I fulfilled my mission and protected my prisoners, even if they were... scum. Hmm, sorry for the term.
The major remained silent for a long moment, sipping his tea, before resuming.
- On the other hand, one consequence of our intervention in Volos was that the collaborators' units dispersed, each of their members trying to hide to make themselves forgotten. The puppet government, or what was left of it, collapsed. As for the Albanians, Croats and others, now knew what to expect in terms of protection that the Huns would offer them. This made our work easier afterwards.
- I understand... Well, it remains for me to thank you for the time you spent with us, Major.
- It was a pleasure, dear friend.
.........
I must confess that I still doubt that it would have been pleasant for him to tell this story. But he probably thought it was his duty..."(Omar Barlov - Hitler's armies, volume 4 - The Wehrmacht and the Balkans, Hachette Littérature, 1978)

 

[Wings]

August 7th, 1943

Central Greece, Larissa - The temperament of General Diether von Böhm-Bezing is decidedly different from that of Colonel Müller, to the latter's discrete annoyance. In old Prussian military and cavalryman, who has known the Other War and should be retired, insists on maintaining strict discipline in his division. In accordance with his orders, the partisan hunt is in full swing in Larissa, which involves quite a bit of damage, but at least an effort is made to distinguish between combatants and sympathizers from the non-combatants.
Von Böhm-Bezing does not like the arrival of the KampfGruppe Müller in his area. He therefore orders its leader to stay out of Larissa and to camp outside the city, awaiting instructions from General Eduard Dietl on how to proceed. He himself is waiting for orders from General Gustav Fehn in Salonika, which should arrive shortly. Some whisper that he would have said "let him hang himself elsewhere!" In fact, the contact is icy between the two men who cordially despise each other, each believing that the other is either the residue of a defunct and decadent order, or a vulgar highwayman like the Quantrill of the Civil War. For the civilian population, however, the difference may seem very small.
It is therefore to the great relief of the inhabitants that the leader of the XVIII. Gebirgs-Armee-Korps orders KG Müller to go west to join the three mountain divisions of the corps, while the leader of the XXII. GAK decides that the 153. Feldausbildungs should join the 104. Jäger at the Agios Dimitrios pass, on the rocky barrier defending the Thessaloniki plain. Staying in Larissa, in a plain area, would have had no military interest.
However, the city will be conscientiously ransacked before the departure of the Occupiers, in the late afternoon. The civilian population had for once the possibility to evacuate towards the south, a remnant of Prussian honor no doubt. It takes them two days to reach the Australian lines.
.........
Trikala area - The allied tanks pass Agantero, and arrive under the falling sun in sight of the Trikala road junction. The road is difficult, in this heavily mined area.
As expected, the objective is seriously defended, by two regiments of the 1. Gebirgs-Division hastily brought from Kalambaka to give a hand to the soldiers of the 4. Gebirgs-Division which arrived from Karditsa by Mouzaki. To assist them, the Bavarians "with the edelweiss" can count on the support of the 3. Gebirgs-Division, in the east - but not on the two regiments of the 164. ID nor on the 11. Luftwaffen-Feld-Division. These units, beaten at Karditsa and which lack more and more energy, are in full retreat towards Ioannina.
Informed of what happened two days ago, Dietl's troops do not try to create an inescapable front around the city. For them, the objective is simple: to gain time to allow the retreating 4. Gebirgs to join them, and then to move towards the Zarko, which allows to reach Elassona and then the plain of Salonika. It now appears illusory to stop the Allies in this plain, especially with soldiers exhausted by their successive retreats. Like the French in the summer of 1940...
As usual, the Commonwealth officers are cautious, despite the protests of the protests of the Serbian tankers, who would drive to Belgrade without stopping, as long as they are given petrol. This last point is beginning to pose a problem: the offensive lasts since ten days and it is necessary to supply more than a dozen divisions from Piraeus. While waiting for supplies and the return of recons, the armored columns stop, once again.
On the heels of the ANZAC, the 2nd Greek AC starts to go up in line, the 5th ID in the lead.
.........
North of the Gulf of Corinth - Amphilochia seems like a hard nut to crack without hurting yourself - unless it is a mine ready to explode under the steps of an imprudent adversary. Indeed, reconnaissance showed that the men of the 100. Jäger had mined the plains around the town, deploying guns and entrenchments on the western side of the valley. Attempting to force their way through would be tantamount to a massacre. And the air force has demonstrated its limited effectiveness on camouflaged positions in mountainous areas.
General Władysław Anders therefore favors, for this time, a cautious approach intended to surprise the opponent. The latter would certainly expect a frontal assault in the morning, as in Nafpaktos and Agrinio. But it will be nothing this time.
On the contrary, the attack will begin by the infiltration of two companies at night, starting from the plateau of Platos (sic) and the very wooded summits located at the west, after preliminary demining of a corridor. All this under the cover of a diversion: an artillery barrage triggered on the eastern side of the valley, that is to say the axis of attack anticipated by the enemy. Once the northern suburbs of the city are in Polish hands, the enemy positions will be forced to reveal themselves if they do not want to be surrounded one after the other, which would allow the air force and artillery to be effective. This daring plan takes advantage of the knowledge of the terrain of the EKKA partisans of Delenikas and the lack of manpower of the Germans, who are hardly four battalions to hold 6 to 8 kilometers of the front. The attack will be launched the next night, without delay because the Moon enters its first quarter.

 

[Wings]

 

[Wings]

August 8th, 1943

In flight - How do you say "hangover" in Russian?
"I woke up this morning over the Mediterranean. I woke up this morning over the Mediterranean Sea and it seems that I ended last night in an even worse state than when I left Singapore. But someone (I suspect) has packed my suitcase carefully, nothing is missing. In my pockets, besides my quote, a letter in Russian from Alexander Ivanovich Pokryshkin, signed by his entire team, and its translation by Anna Ivanovna.
She added a personal note, very, very nice, about (but not only) our kiss last night... "

 

[Wings]

August 8th, 1943

Sofia and Haskovo - Coming from Crete, the French B-24 make a new appearance in the Bulgarian day sky. It seems that the French did not appreciate too much the conduct of the Bulgarian troops in Serbia, unless they have more complex reasons. The Bulgarian fighters, a few exhausted MS-406s and a handful of Bf 109s, hardly fresher, are held back by a diversion on the side of Alexandroupolis: a gift from the British to the Greeks, for a change! In Haskovo, the bombardment mainly hits the marshalling yard of Rakovski*, in the north of the city, but in Sofia, the station is unfortunately close to the beautiful districts and notably of the German embassy: the Standartenführer SS Adolf Beckerle, ambassador of the Great Reich, even has the unpleasant impression that the enemy is deliberately targeting his residence.
In the air raid shelter of the embassy, he does not hesitate to tell the consul general Kapp, a very distinguished man, a representative of Wilhelminian good society, to whom he hardly speaks: "Those French pigs! We were too soft on them in 1940, we should have tightened the screws on them right away! Anything they can do to ruin our plans in Europe, they can do. it! The Bulgarians were ready to deliver their Jews to us nicely, in spite of the moans of this or that one, and they change their mind at the last minute! Because of whom? And now the French are doing it again! "No risk of attacking Bulgaria, on the contrary, they are trying to negotiate with it"! It is not your friends at Wilhelmstrasse** who wrote me this the other day? When I think that one of our agents in Ankara had warned us, but your white-gloved diplomats did not want to believe it.
Among diplomats, of course, they stick together, because they know very well where the leak comes from..."
Beckerle falls abruptly silent, realizing that in anger he is saying too much in a cellar that is far from empty. Among other things, there is that pesky Nele, the consul's daughter: if the shelter were better lit, no doubt he would see her laughing under her breath... Besides, Kapp gives her a look that he wants to be severe. Everyone knows that he is too indulgent for this spoiled brat, without a doubt the worst secretary in the entire German diplomatic corps.
Raised in the American style, that is to say capricious, teasing foreign visitors and perhaps even drugged. Beckerle made a small file on her, because in the Reich apparatus it is always good to have a means of pressure on one or the other, and Kapp certainly does not hesitate to spy on Beckerle...
When the siren sounds, Beckerle tries to make up with the consul: "Well, don't think about what I told you. We still have work to do. If the bombardment has done a lot of damage, it will help us to make progress with the Bulgarian armored brigade, think about it."

* Which will later be renamed Dimitrovgrad.
** The German Ministry of Foreign Affairs.