Edited: 08/06/2023
【 Chapter 1 – Re-enlisting in the Nazi German Army?! 】
The day after completing military service is a mixture of joy, relief, and a sense of uncertainty about the future for many young adults in South Korea.
Yoon Sung-il, who was just an ordinary young Korean, thought he would feel the same way. However, it wasn’t until he realized that the day after was not just uncertain but completely dark that he understood.
“Lieutenant, it’s time to wake up.”
What is this? Is this some kind of joke? Waking up to… not the familiar ceiling of my barracks but a field tent? Is this a battlefield tent?”
I could have sworn I peacefully fell asleep at home after being discharged yesterday…
Feeling a haze in my mind, I asked the Caucasian who was looking at me quizzically.
“Who… are you?”
What is this? Why is my pronunciation so garbled? It’s like someone who’s trying Korean for the first time as a foreigner.
“Herr1 Leutnant?”
Oh no, what the… It’s not Korean! It’s German! What’s going on? I can understand it naturally though. As I was getting flustered, the Caucasian in front of me looked even more puzzled and called me again. So, I think he called me, presumably recognizing me.
“Herr1 Leutnant Schacht?”
However, I was still in shock from looking at this man’s attire, so I couldn’t gather my thoughts to speak. It’s a military uniform. Military uniform. But it clearly isn’t the uniform of the Republic of Korea Army. And how on earth would a Caucasian be wearing the uniform of the Republic of Korea Army in the first place?
Is this some kind of prank? Hidden camera? But unfortunately, I could immediately tell that it wasn’t even that.
Amidst the dizziness, random fragments of memories associated with the presumed existence of “me” began to resurface.
In the midst of a splitting headache, I instinctively asked the soldier in German, as if breathing. The rank… Private2, it seems.
“Private2, what day is today?”
The Private2, with a slightly relieved expression, answered with a more relaxed face.
“It’s February 4th, Lieutenant.”
“And the year?”
“Excuse me? It’s 1937.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Please tell me this is a damn tasteless joke… The soldier’s expression was worsening again, but I was willing to bet my limbs that my own expression must have been even more ridiculous. It was some Caucasian’s hand in front of me that looked nothing like mine; it wasn’t the hand of Yoon Sung-il, a Korean!
I was supposed to be the person who had just been discharged and was planning to return to university. The person who should have been ecstatic and celebrating their newfound freedom after completing military service. Where did that pitiful person who fell asleep while savoring their newfound freedom go? And who the hell am I?
Even the yellow sky that wasn’t visible when that damn hook-shaped senior yelled at me from above is looming right before my eyes. I struggled to regain my fading consciousness and asked
“Who is the Führer3?”
“Uh… Well, of course, in Great Germany, it is Adolf Hitler, sir.”
I pinched my cheek.
…Ouch, that hurts?
I want to stop thinking.
…But I can’t, can I?
Oh… My god.
Damn it… You son of a bitch.
I thought the day of enlistment would be the worst day of my life.
But to joke about it, saying that reenlistment, which military personnel wants to avoid the most in their lives, happens right after discharge?
Just the thought of it would drive me insane, but to reenlist in the Wehrmacht4, under that madman Adolf Hitler, right after discharge?
Is this God some kind of devil, or is there clearly something seriously wrong with me…
Fortunately, it wasn’t as if the last piece of conscience this so-called “God” abandoned in me was the only thing left. Even though my consciousness had been transferred into someone else’s body, I still had a sense of who I was.
Initially, it was confusing, but my memories remained intact, allowing me to understand and speak German fluently. Furthermore, this individual, or rather, the body I now inhabited, was not only proficient in English, surpassing my original self, Yoon Sung-il, but also good in French, which was close to the lingua franca of this era, and even Spanish.
My name is Dietrich Schacht. I was born on August 15, 1911. It feels strange even mentioning my birthday as if God himself has some issue with me, but regardless, I am a young pure-blooded German with no connection to Korea during the peak of Japanese colonial rule.
My father is Hjalmar Schacht. His full name is Hjalmar Horace Greeley Schacht, but Horace Greeley is a name my American enthusiast grandfather whimsically added. So, he is usually referred to as Hjalmar Schacht.
Not only does he hold U.S. citizenship, but he is also a Ph.D. in economics. Needless to say, he is the Minister of Economy under the Nazi regime and the President of the Reichsbank (Central Bank).
So, this guy Dietrich is not just a silver spoon but a golden spoon. If we were to compare it to Korea, his father is both the head of the Bank of Korea and the incumbent Minister of Economy. Oh my goodness, I was just an ordinary citizen of the Republic of Korea.
So, the fortunate part ends here, and as for the bad parts…
Everything else, without exception.
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February 5, 1937
Near the Southern Outskirts of Madrid, Spain
“Heil Hitler!”
“Heil Hitler!”
Raising my right hand high towards the sky and shouting, the German man in his thirties responded appropriately. In modern-day Germany, or rather anywhere in Europe, one could easily get arrested just for making such gestures, and if luck was not on your side, you could even end up beaten to death. Yet here I am, willingly engaging in such reckless behavior.
“How are you feeling today, Lieutenant?”
“Thanks to your consideration, I’m doing well, Captain!”
Just yesterday, I was unable to overcome the sudden changes and felt disoriented, forcing myself to stay in bed, pretending to be unwell. I prayed for it to be a dream and finally managed to fall asleep late at night. However, when I woke up, to my dismay, nothing had changed.
I seriously contemplated shooting myself in the head as a desperate solution, but even if I were to do that, there’s no guarantee it would take me back to Korea. Besides, the thought of experimenting with shooting oneself in the head is genuinely terrifying.
“Well, that’s fortunate. Let’s ensure that today’s duty proceeds smoothly. It’s the day of the mission commencement.”
“Yes!”
Fortunately, my immediate superior, Captain Volkhart Kaufmann, was not a fan of formalities and was an understanding individual. Moreover, since the unit was in a standby state, he simply let it slide.
To be honest, it seems that Dietrich’s father being the Minister of Economics played a role as well.
Honestly, looking back, it was a crazy thing to do. Not just pretending to be sick, but actually feeling mentally unwell, and doing it in Wehrmacht4. It’s insane.
If I were caught, I would be in serious trouble, facing punishment or even expulsion from the military. This is a crazy army, where they shout and scream and treat you like garbage.
Fortunately, I have the memories of Dietrich to guide me. At least I know what I need to do. We are not in Germany right now, but in Spain.
Currently, Spain is divided between the Republican faction and the Nationalist faction, engaged in a civil war.
One side consists of communists, democrats, and anarchists who have formed an alliance known as the Republican faction.
At the start of the civil war, the Republican faction was often portrayed as champions of justice fighting for the freedom of the people in the Western world. However, even this side has a record of massacring residents who cooperated with Catholic priests or the Nationalist faction.
Although the Republican faction emerged victorious in the elections, the Nationalist faction, composed of royalists and fascists, opposed the outcome and sparked the civil war.
This side was filled with hardline military personnel and fascists who harbored an intense hatred for the “Reds5.” They were wreaking havoc and setting the entire Spain ablaze during the war, to the point where it goes without saying.
And here we are, in the midst of this damn Spanish civil war, assisting Francisco Franco, the ringleader of the Nationalist faction.
As a dispatched volunteer unit from Germany, our official designation is the Condor Legion6.
Although it’s called a legion, we were a small-scale unit that was discharged on paper to maintain appearances and avoid attracting too much attention from Britain and France. We were sent as civilian volunteers in a smaller contingent, and among them, we were specifically an army unit.
Indeed, the Condor Legion6 itself was dispatched for the experimental operation of the Luftwaffe7 (German Air Force).
Of course, being a voluntary unit is just a cover, as we are clearly under the command of the German Army, with our ranks and support directly provided by our homeland.
The 2nd Company of the 1st Battalion, under the Condor Legion’s 1st Armored Division.
Even though it’s not a regular unit of the German Army, but rather a single armored division within the Condor Legion6, and not even a full-fledged division but rather a grouping of five battalions, I honestly don’t know why they decided to label it as the 1st Battalion. Nonetheless, I was part of the 2nd Company of the 1st Battalion, and Captain Kaufmann was the company commander while I served as the company executive officer.
“Heil Hitler!”
“Heil Hitler.”
Not long after, other platoon leaders, who were of the same rank as me, joined in, and Captain Kaufmann received our salute… the Nazi-style salute that would get you immediately caught if done in modern-day Europe. Will I ever get used to this?
“Good morning, soldiers. The objective of this mission is to secure key positions around the two hills located on either side of the Jarama River in eastern Madrid. Our superiors aim to occupy that area and block the road connecting central Madrid and the capital of the Reds5, Valencia.”
I get furious even while listening to the mission briefing. Me, being part of Nazi Germany’s defense forces?
I was definitely just an ordinary man from South Korea, and yet, out of all places to end up, it had to be this damn place?
I don’t expect to become a fantasy world hero with a beautiful heroine, but I just can’t believe I ended up in this damn place called World War II! Send me back to Korea, you damn god!
“We operate under the command of Colonel Ricardo Rada, responsible for the southern front. Our initial objective is to secure Rivas-Vaciamadrid, located southeast of Madrid. Once the central force succeeds in crossing the river, we will move towards the Pingarrón hills beyond the Jarama River. Once this position is occupied, it will serve as an artillery base. As always, we will advance forward and protect the unit providing artillery support from the enemy’s rear. Any questions?”
“No, sir!”
“Good. The operation will commence at 11:00. You are free to conduct maintenance until 10:00. Dismissed. Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler!”
As I walked out, lost in contemplation and questioning whether it was right for me to raise my arm and shout “Heil Hitler” as if it came naturally, one of my fellow soldiers tapped me on the shoulder.
According to Dietrich’s memories, the leader of the 1st Platoon…. Clemens Fleck. He was both his fellow recruit and closest comrade.
“Hey, Dietrich. Are you okay?”
“Clemens… Yeah, I’m fine.”
Looking at the concerned face of the German, who feels both completely unfamiliar and strangely familiar, gives me a peculiar feeling.
He doesn’t resemble the image of a demonic Nazi German, the exterminator of Jews and a mass murderer at all.
“You still look pale. Don’t push yourself too hard. Let’s have a drink during our break.”
“Yes, thank you for your concern.”
The situation may be incredibly terrible, to the point where words can’t describe it, but the brief conversation with Clemens gave me a similar feeling to being with comrades back in Korea.
For now, the mission comes first. In Korea, I was just an ordinary soldier who had completed my military service, but here, I’m considered an officer among the soldiers…
Immediately after the commencement, the operation was progressing smoothly. The Republican forces seemed completely unprepared for our offensive and were being pushed back, while the Nationalist forces continued to advance.
Hitler was deeply concerned about the possibility of provoking Britain and France by intervening in the Spanish Civil War and paid great attention to it.
Therefore, the Condor Legion6 took on the form of auxiliary troops and mostly engaged in air support and rear unit training. The dispatched army units also focused primarily on tank and artillery support.
In the end, it’s inevitable that everything will be revealed, no matter how much they try to hide it. Honestly, I don’t know much about the Spanish Civil War.
Looking at those fictional characters who are transported to another world or the past and possess remarkable memory and various knowledge, it’s impressive. However, in my case, my mind was completely blank.
Considering my interest in World War II and Germany, I regretted not having looked into the Spanish Civil War. However, my regret about not knowing much was of no use.
As far as I know, in the Spanish Civil War, the Nationalist faction led by Franco emerged victorious. They were responsible for the deaths of a significant number of people, even continuing acts of violence after the war ended. As a result, they faced international isolation and ostracism without needing to join the Axis powers.
While I had images of impressive German weapons like the Tiger or Bf 109 in my mind, a slow and outdated biplane flew overhead. In front of the enthusiastic Spanish soldiers advancing, there was a tiny Panzer I tank that barely resembled a tank. It had not the imposing main gun that comes to mind when thinking of tanks, but rather two small cannons mounted on it, and it rumbled along.
To make matters worse, the uniform I was wearing wasn’t the elegant officer uniform of the mighty German Wehrmacht4, but rather a shabby Spanish officer uniform. It seems I have no dreams or romance left.
Even if I were wearing a German officer uniform right now, I doubt I would have the luxury of fulfilling any of those fantasies.
Since we were primarily tasked with artillery escort duty and had little direct engagement with the enemy, we spent most of the operation chasing after the tail of the Republican forces.
Among them, I found myself accompanying Captain Kauffman, who claimed to be a platoon leader. As I wasn’t directly commanding a squad, I had even less to do.
The sight of the deployed troops, numbering over 20,000, marching in various directions was impressive, but what caught my attention more were the abandoned corpses scattered throughout the area.
I didn’t feel disgusted or repulsed at the sight of unfamiliar corpses. After being deployed to the Condor Legion6 and several months passing, I had become accustomed to such scenes. However, as a modern-day individual, my mind felt drained every time I saw lifeless bodies.
How many soldiers must have died? Neither the Republican forces nor our German army bothered to retrieve the corpses. I understand that we were in the midst of an operation and engaged in rapid advances, leaving no time for such tasks. But even before that, I couldn’t sense the inherent necessity.
Soldiers ultimately have the job of killing the enemy. I understood that intellectually, having completed my military service in Korea as well. However, in the Korean military, where many individuals are simply dragged into service to fulfill their mandatory duty and move on, are there really people who think and serve with that mindset?
As I looked up, I could hear the buzzing sound of a biplane, the He51, which was already considered an obsolete relic in World War II.
It is a peculiar sensation to have the knowledge of Dietrich, who is known for being an expert in Luftwaffe7, and the memories of Yoon Sung-il, who immediately associates the term “Luftwaffe’s main fighter aircraft” with the Bf109, intertwined within me.
Who am I, really? Am I Dietrich or Yoon Sung-il? Am I a member of the Nazi German armed forces or a freshly discharged university student from South Korea?
I still have a desperate hope that this is Yoon Sung-il’s dream and that it will all end when I wake up. The despair I feel when I see something other than my room’s ceiling upon waking up is indescribable.
Honestly, I don’t know what to do or how to handle this situation. The Republic of Korea, which should have existed, is non-existent, and Korea is under the rule of the Governor-General of Chōsen (Chōsen Sōtokufu). And to make matters worse, the looming presence of World War II is approaching.
It’s a war where tens of millions of people are dying. Tens of millions! Just by seeing the common sight of corpses on the streets here in Spain, I can already grasp the horrendous nature of war. And now I’m expected to experience World War II?
Indeed, at this moment, Dietrich Schacht is a wealthy individual and the son of a high-ranking Nazi official. But if my memory serves me right, Hjalmar Schacht, his father, falls into conflict with Göring and is soon expelled.
Even if things continue to go well for him, what are the chances of surviving until the end as a member of the German military in that hellish World War II?
Even if I manage to survive the hardships, I’ll probably end up being punished as a war criminal in Nuremberg for fighting under that madman Hitler. No matter how much I think about it, it can’t get any more wretched than this. What possible crime have I committed to end up in this predicament?
“Well, Schacht, are you okay? You don’t look too good…”
Perhaps my expression was visibly displeased, as Lieutenant Kauffman approached me and started speaking.
In both the present moment and based on Dietrich’s memories, he was a superior officer who appeared better than the hostile officers and seniors I encountered during my military service in Korea.
Do all the Germans involved in the Second World War turn out to be mad, racist, and genocidal maniacs? Even if these individuals have become numb or entangled in war crimes, it’s disheartening to think that they face criticism from their superiors. Perhaps they will meet their fate before that happens, or perhaps they will perish along the way.
“No, Captain. I will ensure smooth progress of the operation.”
“Hmm, since we are a rear support unit, we may not directly engage in combat, but let’s remain cautious nonetheless.”
Captain Kauffman just nodded in response and continued walking ahead.
Fighter planes filled the sky, and in the distance, the sounds of gunfire and artillery echoed from the battlefield.
Was this wretched situation really not just a dream but a harsh reality?
There was a glimmer of hope that maybe, if I died, I would wake up and return to Korea. But what if I died for real? It would be so unfair, and I would be filled with regret and anger!
For now, I must survive. Let’s live and see. Even if I have to endure frustration, I cannot allow myself to die.
1Herr – A title or form of address used of or to a German-speaking man, corresponding to Mr. and also used before a rank or occupation.
2Private – the lowest Army rank, normally held only by new recruits.
3Führer – Leader; a political title used by Adolf Hitler to define his role of absolute authority in Germany’s Third Reich (1933–45).
4Wehrmacht – The Wehrmacht was the unified armed forces of Nazi Germany from 1935 to 1945.
5Reds – Communists were often referred to as “Reds” for their allegiance to the red Soviet flag.
6The Condor Legion was a unit composed of military personnel from the air force (Luftwaffe) and army (Wehrmacht) of Nazi Germany, which served with the Nationalist faction during the Spanish Civil War of July 1936 to March 1939.
7The Luftwaffe was the aerial-warfare branch of the German Wehrmacht before and during World War II.
Thank you for reading!
