As he stood there in the dim pre-dawn dusk, listening to the beautiful and ill-fit classical music, Hacha took a deep breath- already redolent with the distantly-remembered but never forgotten smell of death- and remembered how the last month had brought him to this point...
The German armies hit the Poles like a force of nature.
The Polish took the wrong lessons from the Czechoslovakian conflict. They saw that and assumed that troops defending their homeland in entrenched defenses would always defeat ill-motivated assault troops, despite all numbers. Thus, they built a rather desultory line of trenches on the border and stuck in second-rate division- after all, they were defending their homes, the reasoning went, and would fight like tigers anyway. The elite divisions were kept in reserve for an absurd counterattack envisioned towards Berlin after the main German assault force broke on the line.
The Nazis had other plans.
It took three hours to clear the Polish defenses, and by midday of the first attack multiple and massive salients had been punched deep into Polish territory, with hardly any battalions, companies, or even platoons staying in position. So quickly did things go that the Nazis had been caught all out of position; they anticipated four days for clearing the intial belt fortification, and it had taken less than one. As a result, forty eight precious hours were burned which could have made all the difference for Czechoslovakia, had Lady Luck been more kind. The Poles didn't know it, but they were already doomed.
In a massive meeting engagement outside Warsaw, Guderian's panzerarmee emasculated the 'elite' Polish troops in hours, killing thousands and capturing hundreds of thousands. Across Poland smaller, single division forces caused mayhem throughout the country. The rest of the forces; Two full Army Groups, almost as much as had been assembled for the Battle of the Sudeten Line, executed a sharp right hook. In a piece of historic irony, a minor German functionary of the General Staff died of heart failure midway through the turning movement- with a smile on his face, incongrously, he whispered; "Keep the right flank strong..."
Marshall Machnik had seen it coming, but had not been able to stop it. Divisions still recovering from the brutal battles of the line were rushed eastwards, but timetables slipped, errors mounted, and Panzerarmee Zwei under von Bock hit the Czech-Polish border a full day before Czech reinforcements. The only units in the area, a green mountain division, resisted heroically, but had no positions to fight from and soon capitulated. The Germans, many of whom were veterans of the brutal fighting outside Karlsbad, did not allow many prisoners to survive, a grim foreboding of what was to come.
The eastern Slovak part of the country was overrun in days, and soon German forces stood poised on the Hacha Line which was intended to slow up any attack. It failed, utterly. The Germans had learned better trench-assault tactics, mostly from their Great War experience; the Hacha Line held for only three days, despite reinforcements being fed in almost constantly. The Nazis, many survivors recall, were fighting with an almost religious zeal to prove that they were the master race, that no pitiful small nation would stand in their way or check them militarily. And finally, on this their third major attempt, they succeeded.
In the predawn gloom of September 25th, the swastika rose over Troppau, the sight of the first mauling of German forces in Czechoslovakia. With it, the flank of the Hacha Line had been turned, and a five mile gap had been broken through. All available forces were committed to battles; The manpower pool had been drained entirely. Nothing but city police stood between Nazi forces and Prague.
In a storybook, or movie, some brave ragtag force would hold up the Nazi tide just long enough to save the nation. No doubt some plucky band of misfits, deprived of all respect, would hold out against all odds for just a few more hours. But Lady Luck smiled, threw her dice, and came up snake eyes. There are such things as miracles- as Colonel, now General, Markovsky would attest- but Czechoslovakia had used all her share.
Division after division poured in through the gap, overrunning the clear terrain that made up the industrial heart of the nation, while savage battles were fought all along the Hacha Line as it was rolled up from both sides and surrounded- again, little quarter was asked for or received. It was war to the knife.
And on September 28th, 1939, German forces reached the outskirts of Prague herself, and Emil Hacha tried to escape to still-neutral Yugoslavia.