(Unsigned, circulated internally through Sicherheitsdienst channels)

I arrived in Warsaw by armored train under gray skies, the air thick with coal smoke and the hiss of steam valves. The city has been remade. Where once stood chaos and ruin, now rises the disciplined face of the Reich.

The avenues are wide, stripped of clutter, lined with banners that snap in the wind. Automaton patrols march at measured intervals, their brass pistons steaming in the frost. Their mirrored visors reflect the black eagles that hang from every façade. The people keep their distance — silent, heads lowered, moving quickly about their duties. It is order made visible.

The old quarters still bear scars, but even those scars have been harnessed. Factories along the Vistula churn without pause, their chimneys belching smoke, their gears grinding day and night. They produce what we need — automaton parts, artillery, munitions — the city itself now a machine feeding the Reich’s greater engine.

Yet Warsaw is more than industry. It is a lesson. The ghettos, emptied and sealed, remain as silent exhibits of what has been purged. Streets stand deserted, buildings intact but lifeless, guarded by sentries who allow no entry. To the passing visitor, it is a reminder of discipline and resolve: a race extinguished, a chaos erased.

I walked through Aleje Jerozolimskie where the Gestapo headquarters dominates the avenue. Its brass-shuttered windows gleam in the winter sun, calculating engines ticking behind them as files and records accumulate. Nearby, trams roll smoothly on reinforced rails, their passengers quiet, efficient, compliant. The city breathes in rhythm with the Reich.

At night, the gaslamps burn with a pale blue filament, their glow sharp against the frost. Officers gather in cafés along Nowy Świat, where steam samovars hiss into porcelain cups and German voices carry above the subdued murmur of Poles. The music is German, the posters are German, the very pulse of the city is German.

Warsaw has been tamed. What was once a nest of rebellion now stands as an example: a conquered capital that thrives only when it submits. To the outsider, it is simply another occupied city, orderly and quiet. To those who know better, it is proof that the Reich’s will cannot be resisted — it can only be obeyed.

(File annotation: Agent posing as civilian traveler. Observations confirm stability and order. No overt unrest detected.)