Time flew by, and the New Kingdom of Poland finally lived up to expectations. After its one-wave push failed, it decisively went down on its knees.
There was no helping it. A gap in strength was not something that could be made up with empty boasts.
The people who shouted the loudest were often the biggest cowards on the battlefield.
A bunch of big shots called on the people to resist to the death, yet they themselves took to their heels and ran. Even Ferdinand was left speechless. At the very least, shouldn't they have put on a show?
What happened to the integrity of men of letters?
Even if they could not face death as though returning home, they should at least have waited until the Germans came before running, right?
Didn't they know this would crush morale?
The New Kingdom of Poland had only eight or ten million people, and its strength was far below that of its historical counterpart. Other than being equally capable of stirring up trouble, there was simply no comparison.
In less than a month, the New Kingdom of Poland came to a spectacular end, leaving only scattered guerrilla forces still resisting.
Aside from putting on a war blockbuster for the world's people—a battle that swept everything away like rotten wood—it left nothing behind.
No, that was not quite right. There was also the Polish Government-in-Exile, which had now fled to France to seek shelter.
Poland was finished. Could France still enjoy peace and tranquility?
The answer was: no!
Ferdinand was not disappointed. On July 18, 1939—the thirty-eighth day after the end of the Polish War—the Germans could not wait to declare war on France.
It was not that the Germans were in a hurry. The Italians were the ones who were anxious. They