Chapter 267: Chapter 50: Operation Danube
August 20, 1968, Prague.
Werner frowned, staring at the two telegrams in his hand. He didn’t even notice the cigarette ash falling onto the table.
The first was from Gunter at Koko Headquarters: "Do not evacuate. Wait a few more days. You are needed on-site to supervise the final cargo handover. While you’re at it, investigate business opportunities after normalization."
The second was from Von Brown of the Stasi: "I need you to report on the situation from the ground. You must confirm the movements of several key figures on the list of reformists."
"Fuck."
Werner slammed the telegrams onto the table and stood up, pacing back and forth in his hotel room.
He knew what was going to happen tonight.
As a Transmigrator, he clearly remembered what the history books said—late on the night of August 20, 1968, to the early morning of the 21st, the Soviet Union, along with other Warsaw Pact Countries, would launch a sudden invasion of Czechoslovakia.
It was precisely this certainty that gave him the courage to stay in Prague all the way until daytime on August 20th.
He knew it was safe until then, that the Soviet Army wouldn’t move prematurely.
But now—
Damn Gunter. Damn Von Brown.
Werner walked to the window and lit a new cigarette.
’The advantages of a Transmigrator made me too confident.’
He thought he had mastered history’s script, that he could dance precisely on the timeline.
But he had overlooked one thing—he wasn’t a spectator; he was a participant in this world.
And a participant would inevitably be constrained by this world.
The Stasi could give him orders. Koko could assign him missions.
He couldn’t defy them.
’I can’t rely entirely on the Transmigrator’s halo.’
’This world isn’t a game I can manipulate at will.’
Werner took a deep drag from his cigarette, letting the nicotine jolt his nerves.
A few seconds later, he suddenly laughed.
The laugh was soft, but it carried a strange sense of excitement.
’If I can’t avoid it, I’ll face it head-on.’
He stubbed out his cigarette and sat back down at the table.
As a Transmigrator, he was about to witness a moment for the history books firsthand.
Not by reading about it in a book or seeing it in a documentary, but by standing at the very center of history, feeling the vibration of tanks rolling through the streets, hearing the shouts of the crowd and the sound of gunfire.
How many people ever got a chance like this?
Besides, Von Brown needed him to report on the situation from the ground, which meant he would be involved in the event.
He wouldn’t just be a witness; he might even become a person of influence.
Werner stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the tranquil Prague nightscape.
From the direction of Wenceslas Square came the sporadic honking of car horns and the laughter of young people.
Those people were still dreaming—dreaming of freedom and openness.
In a few hours, Soviet tanks would crush those dreams.
’And I will be in the front row, watching history unfold.’
Werner took a deep breath, his gaze turning sharp.
He checked to make sure his identification and cash were in his briefcase, then lay down on the bed, fully clothed.
’Rest for a while first.’
’When the tanks arrive, the real test will begin.’
************
「East Berlin, Ministry of Defense building. At that same moment.」
The conference room was thick with smoke, the long table flanked by high-ranking East German military officers and Stasi officials.
Minister of Defense Heinz Hoffman sat at the head of the table, his face ashen.
Before him lay a telegram that had just arrived from Moscow, with a few short lines written in Russian.
"Gentlemen." Hoffman raised his head and looked around at everyone present. "Moscow has just sent its latest directive. The East German 7th Panzer Division and the 11th Motorized Rifle Division—" He paused, his voice growing heavier. "—will not participate in the ground offensive."
The room erupted in a commotion.
"What?!" A young officer shot to his feet. "Comrade Minister, we’ve been massed at the border for three weeks! Fifteen thousand soldiers, five hundred tanks, ready to move at a moment’s notice! And now you’re telling us we’re not to engage?"
"Sit down," Hoffman said coldly.
The young officer gritted his teeth and sat down, his face a mask of indignation.
Sitting on the other side of the long table, Von Brown lit a cigarette, watching everything with a blank expression.
As a senior Stasi official, he was attending this military meeting because the Stasi needed to coordinate with the military’s operation—or rather, with their "non-operation."
"What reason did Moscow give?" asked the commander of the 7th Panzer Division, a veteran in his fifties who had fought in World War II. "Why the last-minute change of plans?"
Hoffman was silent for a few seconds, then pushed the telegram to the center of the table.
"See for yourselves."
Several officers leaned in to read the telegram, and their expressions changed.
"1938..." a chief of staff murmured, reading aloud. "Nazi Germany occupies Czechoslovakia..."
Von Brown exhaled a cloud of smoke and said lightly, "Moscow is worried that if German tanks appear on the streets of Prague again, even if they’re painted with the East German emblem, it will stir up the Czechs’ national hatred. When that happens, the difficulty of the suppression operation will multiply, and international public opinion will explode."
"But we aren’t Nazis!" the young officer said angrily. "We’re in the same bloc. We’re going to help our Czech brothers resist Western subversion!"
"The Czechs won’t see it that way," Von Brown sneered. "To them, a German tank is a German tank. The memory of thirty years ago won’t disappear just because the emblem on the hull is different."
Hoffman rapped the table. "That’s enough. This is Moscow’s decision, and we must carry it out." He looked at the commander of the 7th Panzer Division. "Relay the order immediately. The troops are to stand by, responsible only for sealing the border and providing logistical support. They are not to cross the border by a single step."
The commander gritted his teeth and saluted. "Yes, Comrade Minister."
"One more thing." Hoffman turned to Von Brown. "As for the Stasi, what are your tasks?"
"Three tasks." Von Brown stubbed out his cigarette and took a document from his briefcase. "First, hermetically seal the border to prevent Czech refugees from flooding into East Germany. Second, monitor domestic intellectuals and dissidents to prevent the ideas of the Prague Spring from spreading here. Third—" He paused. "—gather intelligence on the Czech reformists to prepare for a potential purge."
"Very good." Hoffman nodded. "Comrade Ulbricht is very concerned that the Prague Spring will affect domestic stability in East Germany. You must make this your top priority."
"Understood." Von Brown stood up. "I’ve already sent people to Prague. We have a few informants on the ground there who will provide a continuous stream of intelligence."
Hoffman glanced at him. "Who did you send?"
"A Koko deputy director named Werner, and our senior agent, Erich Neumann," Von Brown said concisely. "Werner has extensive contacts in Prague, and Erich is familiar with the situation in the Czech Republic. They will complete the mission."
"I hope so." Hoffman stood up. "Gentlemen, Operation ’Danube’ will commence tonight at 23:00 hours. The armies of the Soviet Union, Poland, Hungary, and Bulgaria will cross the border simultaneously. Although we in East Germany will not be participating directly in the battle, we must be fully prepared to provide all necessary support. Understood?"
"Understood!" everyone answered in unison.
After the meeting, Von Brown walked out of the building and lit a cigarette.
The night wind blew against his face, carrying a hint of chill.
He looked up at the East Berlin night sky, his thoughts on Werner, who was now in Prague.
’I hope the kid makes it back alive.’
’After all, he’s still useful to me.’
Von Brown exhaled a puff of smoke and turned toward the black sedan parked by the roadside.
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