018. Planned Chaos
Südliche Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, Munich
March 20, 1941
Bernau was ill with a cold that had barricaded his right nostril and embargoed his mind, slowing down its operations. Nevertheless, he was still in the center of his command post, overseeing the chaos that had begun in early June the previous year when his and Regenbogen’s staffs had begun to plan for future operations, most notably that of the invasion of the Soviet Union, codenamed
Fall Fritz—Operation Fritz. However, there was still a couple more months before that would be put into effect, giving his staff time to perfect it. At the moment, they were busy with Operation Marita, the invasion of Yugoslavia. The final arrangements were being made with Field Marshal Guderian’s 2nd Panzer Army and Lieutenant General Volkmann’s 8th Army, which included two
fallschirmjager divisions for immediate deep operations.
Bernau sighed, his eyes wishing they were closed and his body wishing it was in bed. Alas, it was not to be; he had work to do. That work included managing his incorrigible staff, who had difficulty in organizing anything in a remotely sensible manner. With a shiver, Bernau redirected his attention back to Johan Lützow, who was pleading with him concerning something or another. “…and that’s why I wanted to ask you about this, sir, since the Fuhrer has delegated you with all power in the south, including diplomatic. What would the political fallout be if the Italians realized that our supply lines went through the area around Venice? I’m not too worried about Hungary. They
are our allies after all, and I had lines of supply running through them before. The only problem was all the damn thieves…”
Any further continuation of his train of thought was cut off by Bernau’s outburst. “Supply lines through
Italy? What?! Are…are you
mad? I’m sure that would create a terrible political situation. They’re not our allies, though they are cozying up to us. Besides, aren’t there enough north-south roads in Yugoslavia as it is?”
“Maybe, sir, but they’re all direct to their destination. That’s not what I work this, remember. They’ll no doubt be full of partisans who’ll ambush the supply convoys and pillage them.”
Bernau glared at him. “Much like our Hungarian allies do?”
“That’s a risk we have to take, sir. Would the Italians steal from us as well, do you think?”
“Yes, they would! You are formally forbidden from tracing any lines of supply through Italy! Stick with Hungary if you must, but I’ve been wooing Italy to our side for months and I won’t have you wrecking it due to some sort of extreme paranoia!”
Lützow looked hurt, and the tone of his voice reflected his pain. “Yes, sir…but don’t blame me if the partisans get our supplies. And I’ll have you know that it isn’t extreme paranoia but common military sense! Sir!”
He saluted abruptly, spun on his heel and stalked away back to his logistical preparations. Bernau hardly had a chance to rub his eyes—and feel slightly guilty—before Baldur Pohl set upon him from the rear. His cowboy hat was riding high on his head, leaving his sweaty forehead shining like a beacon of warning for all to see. “Sir! You wanted to see me, sir?”
Bernau nearly jumped in fright before spinning around. “Ah yes, Pohl! I was wondering whether you have the meteorologists reports for early April.”
Pohl looked doubtful. “Are you sure you’d trust them, sir? We all know that meteorologists can hardly look past their own nose, much less prophesize the weather in a half month.”
“Any estimate is better than none I’d say, Pohl. Do you have them or not?”
“I—ahh—I think I have them somewhere. Hold on. I’m sure I had them on me when I left my room.” Pohl was patting himself up and down, forcing his hands into pockets that were in places that no pocket should be and even took off his coat so that he could turn it inside out and check the many hidden pockets there, in the process turning his back to Bernau. Initially bemused, Bernau’s temper, made short by his cold, quickly rose to a simmer, especially as he saw the weather reports in the pockets of the seat of Pohl’s trousers. He gently pulled them out, not alerting Pohl that he had found them. He quickly studied them, glad that the reports suggested that the weather would be clear. That would make the task of Major Generals Alpers and Dietl, the commanders of the two
fallschirmjager divisions easier—and that of the Yugoslav interceptor-based air force.
The meteorologists report on Yugoslav weather in early April.
Finally, Pohl turned around with a shrug. “I don’t know where they a—”
Any further comment was cut off as Bernau flung the report directly into Pohl’s face, causing him to shut up in surprise. Tearing the papers off his face, Pohl cast Bernau a bewildered look before slinking off into the chaos of the operations room, leaving Bernau mercifully alone. By this time he had already had enough for the third time that day, yet it was still several hours until he could excuse himself for dinner, or at least some sort of break out in the clean air of the great outdoors. He resolved to meet with one more person before withdrawing himself into some obscure corner of the room and watching the goings-on in peace. Looking around, he spotted Alfred Gitler. He attempted to catch Gitler’s attention with a wave of his hands but, that plan failing miserably as Gitler steadfastly not noticing Bernau’s attempts at attention-grabbing, Bernau went for a blunter strategy.
Grabbing a passing Heinz Meyer by the arm, he ordered Meyer to overcome his fear of communications devices long enough to order him to call out for Gitler over the headquarters intercom system and order him to report to Bernau. Meyer went pale at the order but nevertheless nodded, if unsteadily. He disappeared into the communications room and soon the call was up throughout the entire headquarters bunker for Gitler to report to Bernau. Just before the intercom cut out, everyone could hear screaming as Meyer made sure the communications devices did not steal his soul like thief. Everyone, including Gitler, had halted what they were doing during the announcement, only to turn their attention to Gitler, who himself turned crimson as he blushed furiously. He quickly picked up his folders and made his way over to Bernau, who was standing smugly.
Bernau could tell that Gitler was gritting his teeth. “All right, sir, you’ve got me now. What do you want?”
Raising an eyebrow at Gitler’s tone of voice, Bernau nevertheless politely answered his question. “I’m just interested in whether or not you’ve made the changed I suggested to the operational plan to make it, shall we say, more sane?”
With a slightly dramatic sigh, Gitler nodded wearily. “I figured it would be a question like that. I took the precaution of bringing my folders with me, here’s the latest variant of the plan. Though I must say that I like mine better, the swirls of movement were very pretty, even if they did run into Hungary slightly.”
“Slightly? You had one of Guderian’s panzer corps going all the way to Budapest, and had labeled its final destination as Skopje! Just show me the map.”
The final variant of the operational plan for Marita.
Bernau nodded. He saw that everything was in order. Guderian’s 2nd Panzer Army was to drive down the eastward side of Yugoslavia, which was predominantly grassland, as Volkmann’s 8th Army slogged it down the more hilly western side. Air transports would deliver the two
fallschirmjager divisions to Sarajevo and Uzice, to hamstring Yugoslav defensive operations in central Yugoslavia and enable the forming of easy pockets that would lead to even easier liquidation of the trapped Yugoslav army assets. Bernau nodded in satisfaction.
“All right, it looks like everything is in order here. That is all I wanted you for, you may return to your work now.”
Gitler saluted and then walked away, his gait betraying his feelings. Bernau could just catch him muttering something about how he did not really have a job, given how his was being micromanaged from above, or something to that effect. Bernau shook his head, he was turning Gitler’s insane plans into creations that might actually work. Micromanagement was necessary at times, though he did not enjoy it. Bernau withdrew into the shadows of a dark corner of the room and simply sat on a handy stool, watching the bustle of his headquarters.
