By the evening of August 31, Captain Androfski’s company had made an uneventful ride along the Polish-Prussian border. They came to a halt for the day opposite the German town of Marienwerder, setting up a bivouac in a small woods a few hundred meters from the road. After the evening meal, it turned dark. Normal security was established, then Captain Androfski called together the special detachment of intelligence scouts who had been assigned to him.
In addition to the routine patrol orders, Andrei had also received verbal orders from the brigade intelligence commander concerning the German massing of armor along the corridor in that area, and Andrei’s patrol carried the secondary purpose of scouting it. The special detachment of ten men, dressed as civilians, crossed unarmed into Germany with instructions to circle the Marienwerder area during the night and return to camp before dawn. Their observations would be assessed and the data given to Company B.
August 31, 1939
TOP SECRET
To: Commander, Armed Forces
Directive #1
... inasmuch as we can find no peaceful means to solve the intolerable situation on the Eastern Frontier ... the attack on Poland is to be carried out in preparations made in CASE WHITE.
Date of attack: September 1, 1939
Time of attack: 0445
Signed: Adolf Hitler
While the men of Company A slept in a wooded area in the Polish Corridor, the epilogue to peace was written hundreds of kilometers to the south, where Germany and Poland faced each other at Gleiwitz and Katowice.
German SS troops, dressed as Polish soldiers, crossed the frontier into Poland, then recrossed into Germany and blew up their own German radio station at Gleiwitz. Therefore, in Nazi logic, a reason had been created to stamp the war as “official.”
When First Sergeant Styka shook the men of Company A out of their sleep, they were unaware of CASE WHITE. To them it was to be another boring day of soldiering. They grumbled into wakefulness, cursing as they moved about.
There had been only snatches of sleep for Captain Androfski and First Sergeant Styka. They waited out most of the night until the ten scouts had returned safely. Andrei sifted their information and wrote this dispatch.
September 1, 1939
To: Commander, 7th Ulany Mounted Brigade—Grudziadz
From: Company A, mobile border patrol
Last night we encamped at position L-14 opposite Marienwerder. The area was scouted by the special detachment in accordance with verbal orders.
Abnormal German strength is evident in this area. In addition to units we have previously identified, we have identified two new regiments of armored infantry and at least a portion of a division of Panzer tanks (22nd and 56th Infantry and 3rd Panzer Tanks).
Two battalions of this Panzer tank division moved out of Marienwerder this morning at 0300, apparently for disposition in a southerly direction.
Company A will continue north today. We expect to join the balance of the battalion at Tczew tonight.
Signed: Andrei Androfski, Captain, Company A
Andrei folded the dispatch, then opened it on a sudden impulse. Across the bottom of the paper he scrawled the words, “Long live Poland!”
First Sergeant Styka trotted his mount to Andrei and snapped a salute. “The company is eating, sir. We should be ready to move out in a half hour.”
“Any sign of Company B yet?”
“No, sir. No sign of them.”
Andrei looked at his watch and wondered. It was half past five. The deadline was 0600. A half hour to go. Trouble up north? Well, no use speculating about it.
“Morning, sir,” the officers said as he moved into their circle.
“Morning.”
He and Styka sat off to one side and ate. Goddamned ham. My father would roll over in his grave if he could see me eat ham.
“Styka, when the hell are you going to learn to brew tea?” He flipped the contents in the bottom of the cup to the ground.
“I’m afraid never, sir.”
“Have the company saddle up and stand by.”
“Yes, sir.”
Andrei walked to the edge of the woods and stared long and futilely up the empty road, straining to see a telltale whiff of dust or hear the welcome sound of hoofbeats.
0600, the maximum hour, passed. No Company B.
Suddenly the entire movement of the company stopped, and all the men were staring up the road. Andrei walked back to the bivouac area. “Styka!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send me a rider. Make it Tyrowicz.”
Company A’s best rider, Corporal Tyrowicz, reported.
“Tyrowicz, ride hard back to Grudziadz. I want you back there by noon. Use fields—stay off the main road. Can you do it, lad?”
“I’ll try hard, Captain.”
“Hand-deliver this dispatch to Brigadier Bozakolski. Tell him that Company B did not show up. We are proceeding north.”
“Yes, sir.”
He watched Tyrowicz spur out, driving his horse. He wheeled to Styka. “Move the advance scouts out. First platoon take the point. Use flank guards. Be on the road in five minutes, column of twos. Shake it up.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was chilly in the dawnlight. The men beat warmth into themselves, and darts of frosted air spurted from their mouths. The first rays of light penetrated the woods, changing the world from ugly gray. Up and down, the crisp orders to mount up. There was no cursing or griping. A sobering tension filled them all. Some of the more pious were on their knees saying quick Hail Marys. Strange, Andrei thought, this isn’t much of a praying company. He looked at his watch again. It would be fully light in another forty minutes. Where the hell was Company B! Where the hell were they!
Andrei’s stomach knotted in much the same way as it did before a soccer match. Was this quiet morning and Styka’s bad tea war?
The first sergeant returned. “We are formed up, sir.”
Andrei nodded and watched the sergeant trot off out to the road.
The woods was empty now. Andrei checked the saddle buckles on Batory. He chewed a piece of black bread, sipped from the canteen, and slipped it back into the saddlebag. He looked up at his magnificent black beast. The horse was nervous.
Andrei pressed his forehead against Batory’s neck. “We render thanks unto Thee for our lives, which are in Thy hands, and for our souls, which are ever in Thy keeping.”
Why did I pray? I have not prayed since I was a boy. Batory whinnied and went up on his hind legs. “You feel it too, don’t you, boy? Steady, fellow.” Andrei swung astride his horse and soon had him calm and trotted out to the road.
“Move out!” Styka barked.
The forward platoon galloped off. The flanks fanned out, and the communicators positioned to keep contact. They advanced in a slow trot, transfixed by the brightening day. North for an hour, then two, three, and each kilometer filled them with greater uneasiness. There was no sign of Company B. It was beyond normal limitations. Either they had had their orders changed or ... trouble.
Styka heard it first. The column stopped without a command. Everyone’s eyes went upward. There was a distant hum in the sky. Then black specks appeared high, high overhead, almost beyond sight.
“Off the road,” Andrei ordered quietly.
They went into the ditch on the Polish side of the border road, dismounted, and held their restless horses still. Two hundred pairs of eyes fixed on the sky.
“... sixty. Sixty-one, sixty-two ...”