ISOT Back to the Past, aka Poland Saves the World from World War II.

Batrix2070 · 2023-02-07T17:43:52+00:00

Third Republic of Poland September 18 1938 Inhale, exhale. "Calm down Franek," he thought. "After all, it's nothing, no big deal. You could handle the Marshal, you can handle this Prezes*." He pulled the train of thought, but despite his attempts, something kept him going. It certainly wasn't the shock of riding that strange train, or the current appearance of Warsaw. It was something he expected, even liked. The current appearance of the Paris of the East exceeded all expectations of the future. In fact, he was sure that Warsaw was the greatest city in the world, compared to which distant Vienna, where he had spent a long time, seemed a mere village. Well, the only thing he didn't like was the behavior of women and young girls. The outfits they wore seemed like ordinary rags, much to his dislike. And their language. Good God what happened to Polish girls that without hesitation they can say to someone, fuck off! And to such an old man? Unthinkable. Evidently there was a lack of a father in their lives.... He paused for a moment, under Marshal such a vulgar gathering would have been chased to the four winds. And the Prezes as well as his people seemed unmoved. It was as if they didn't give a damn what the stupid youth would think or say. He didn't know whether he should applaud this attitude or rebuke it. He didn't know the current political relations, he only knew that there was a ruling Law and Justice party, some opposition whose members seemed too dumb to take over. The only thing that seemed familiar to him was that everything is decided by the man behind the scenes. Until recently it was Marshal Pilsudski, now it is Prezes Kaczynski. And everyone dances as he plays them, and the rest are lackeys used as needed. "General Kleeberg?" a female voice called back. The general looked at the older woman standing at the door to the office. As far as he knew her name was Basia and she was the Prezes's secretary. "Yes?" "Prezes Kaczynski is expecting you." she replied and in her voice one could hear loyalty to her superior, as well as a slight fear. "Good," he replied, then got up from his chair, a terrible plastic awfulness in his opinion, and followed her into the study. The study itself, although it was from a different era, aside from more modern lighting and a different style of furniture, was not too different from what he himself used to think of as the study of an important man. Well, maybe it lacked a certain military style that Pilsudski displayed, but one could sense from the start that this room belonged to an intelligent man, and by the way it was noticeable that he had some sense of humor. What caught his eye was the globe standing on the desk, next to the Prezes himself, on which there was only the future Poland. From what he heard before he came here, the Prezes was supposed to be some kind of megalomaniac obsessed with Poland and unable to see the world outside of it. Personally, he didn't think it was an affront, why should it be? Enough of Poland's "smart" people who see everything foreign and ignore their own. The first look into the eyes of the Prezes and already Kleeberg knew one thing. Despite the similarities, Kaczynski is a completely different person from Pilsudski. For better or worse. "General Franciszek Kleeberg, I welcome you cordially. Please be seated as well as please do not salute me, I am simply the Prezes, not the Marshal." Kaczynski spoke up first, and Kleeberg realized that he had reflexively saluted. Slightly surprised and embarrassed, he pulled off his hand and officer's cap then sat down in the chair in front of the desk indicated by his host. "What are you drinking? Coffee? Tea?" asked the host "Coffee, please." Then he added after a moment, "plain, without milk and unsweetened." "You heard Basia, bring two coffees, one for me and the kind the general wanted." The secretary nodded wordlessly and left the office, closing the door behind her. Prezes Kaczynski looked intently at the General, the latter reciprocated the look. For a long moment the two men probed each other, trying to see as much as they could about each other without saying a word. The long silence was only broken by the President with the words "Brześć nad Bugiem** must be an interesting place, General." Kleeberg nodded "That's right, a decent Polish city." The chairman sadly nodded "Yes, a Polish city. One of the many taken from us by the Soviets after the war." Kleeberg squirmed, one of the things he learned about earliest, right after the event that brought future Poland to this time. Not very pleasant news. "Do you know that my grandparents just before the war bought a house there?" the Chairman surprised him. "Why?" he asked curiously "Grandfather got a position in Brześć, they were supposed to move there just before the war, but its outbreak and then the attack of the Soviets on September 17 thwarted their plans. In view of this, they decided to escape from the Reds to Warsaw. History has shown that this was a good idea." The general nodded "And may I know who your grandfather was?" The chairman smiled "He was a sizable landowner and head of the expedition of the Baranovichi Railway junction." Kleeberg marveled, "It's just under the border!" Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Basia with two cups of coffee. She quietly placed them on the desk then left closing the door. Kleeberg took a sip, coffee like coffee he assessed. The chairman, in turn, looked at him. Kleeberg looked at the door, then asked, "It's been nice Mr. Prezes but can we get to the point?" The Prezes nodded. "So let's start, I guess that you, like me, believe that the existence of two Polish states in the long run, not only is not desirable but everything should be done to unite both the Second Republic and the Third Republic into one country." "I agree, the coming years are written in history extremely uninteresting." the Prezes commented. Kleeberg felt that was the understatement of the year. "Although, at least now, Poland has more than enough ground to keep the Borderlands with it, while keeping Stalin at bay." Kleeberg took his word for it, so many cars or products in the store he found on the other side of the Bug River he had never seen with his eyes in his life. And those Border Guards, well they weren't just anything. "No less, General. We need you and your forces more than you imagine." Kleeberg looked at him questioningly. "You see, this event took us back to a time when we were expanding the Armed Forces significantly for reasons quite similar to the current global uncertainty." "I heard." replied the General perfunctorily, further unable to believe that the Soviet Union had collapsed and its rotten successor Russia was getting a thrashing of the millennium from Ukraine! How? He didn't know. After all, when the Poles tried to help them almost two decades ago, the whole deal crumbled like a house of cards under the onslaught of the Bolsheviks. And in the future? Ukraine came back and was not going to be killed. "Therefore, we badly need people for the military. No... we need people for everything. We are short of hands to work, we are short of people for the army. Fortunately, there are quite a few people in the Borderlands who can bridge the gap." The Prezes continued. Kleeberg nodded, there were no small number of people in the Borderlands. Especially in Eastern Lesser Poland, although quite a few of them were Ukrainians. Though from what he gleaned from conversations, few Poles really minded. A completely different attitude than in his time. Nevertheless, something else also occupied his head. "Mr. Prezes, if I may ask." The Prezes nodded, "What do you intend to do about Hitler and the Munich Crisis?" The Prezes replied puzzledly, "Like what? What a superpower should do." By the way, the venom in his voice frightened Kleeberg. He sensed immense hatred in it. Despite his inner resistance, he had to ask. "Why?" The answer the Prezes gave did not please Kleeberg. *Literally Chairman but I left it in Polish for greater effect and distinction. He is one of a kind. **Brest-on-the-Bug